Chapter 89

Chapter 89: Handling It

Tang Yi Xiao came back from outside with his mouth set in a hard line.

Qin Hui Yin was making pea starch noodles, her hands dusted with white powder. One look at his expression and she laughed. “Who upset our Brother Xiao?”

“I went to wash the intestines,” he said, scowling, “and people kept passing by and acting like they were making small talk. Really, they were probing what business we’re doing.”

Qin Hui Yin didn’t even look surprised. “That’s normal. We go into the county seat all the time and keep hauling things home. At first they can hold back, but the longer it goes on, the more they can’t help themselves.”

She lifted a strand of noodles and shook off the extra starch. “You’re a boy, and you’re young. Fewer people question you. Sister Lu Wu and I haven’t had a quiet day either. Today alone, plenty of people came to our door or blocked us outside to ask. I think the whole village is talking about whether our family struck it rich.”

Tang Yi Xiao’s brow furrowed. “So what did you say?”

“Sister Lu Wu didn’t say anything,” Qin Hui Yin said. “She told them to ask Mother. I made up a story. Believe it or not, that’s the answer they’ll get from me.”

“These people are so idle.” Tang Yi Xiao’s voice sharpened. “What does how much we earn have to do with them? If we earn more, does that mean we have to give them a share?”

Qin Hui Yin set the noodles aside and wiped her hands. “People are complicated. If we were struggling, they’d sigh and offer a little sympathy. But if we live too well, they catch envy like a sickness. Still, most people only throw out a few sour words. It won’t affect us, and we don’t need to act like every shadow is a knife.”

Li Tao Hua and Tang Da Fu came back from the fields with dirt on their hems and tiredness in their shoulders. After hearing the children, they admitted villagers had tried to pry from them, too.

Qin Hui Yin told them the version she’d fed Granny Zhang.

Li Tao Hua rolled her eyes. “I just asked if they wanted to buy. If they do, they can take out the money.”

Tang Da Fu scratched the back of his head, awkward. “I told them I only do the grunt work. I don’t know anything else.”

“You can’t be too careful,” Qin Hui Yin said. “Everyone should stay alert and listen for anything unusual.” She paused, then added, “It would be great if we could get two dogs.”

Tang Da Fu nodded slowly. “I can handle that. I know a dog dealer. His dogs are trained—either for hunting or as guard dogs. But they aren’t cheap. About five or six hundred wen each.”

“That’s too expensive,” Li Tao Hua said at once.

Qin Hui Yin’s eyes lit up. “Good dogs cost more. Uncle Tang, is the dog dealer in town?”

“Yes. He sells dogs year-round.”

“Tomorrow we’re going into town to buy ingredients,” Qin Hui Yin said. “We’ll stop by and pick one out.”

—

The next day was market day. Villagers streamed toward town with baskets and bundles, all talking over one another as they walked.

Third Master Tang took Tang Da Fu’s family into town first, then turned around to pick up Li Tao Hua’s family afterward.

Knowing they needed ingredients, Third Master Tang drove the ox cart straight to the market. After they bought what they needed, he helped load everything onto the cart, tying down the bundles with practiced hands.

“Isn’t that Tang Da Fu and Li Tao Hua?” someone whispered nearby. “They’re buying meat.”

“I’ll go see what else is on their cart.”

Madam Wang and Granny Zhang had come to the market with eggs to sell. The moment they spotted Tang Da Fu’s household, they didn’t even bother hawking their eggs. Instead, they crept toward the ox cart, eyes darting, fingers already reaching for the cloth draped over the load.

Third Master Tang came back carrying a bucket of pig intestines and caught them lifting the old cloth to peek inside.

“What are you doing?” he barked, slamming the bucket down.

Intestine juice splattered up, dotting their sleeves and skirts. The stench hit like a slap. Madam Wang gagged, eyes watering, nearly retching up last night’s meal.

“We’re just taking a look,” Madam Wang snapped, though she backed away a step. “Do you have to be so nervous? Third Uncle, you’re getting stranger and stranger. Anyone who didn’t know better would think you were their servant!”

“Bullshit,” Third Master Tang cursed. “Da Fu’s family isn’t like you, spewing filth. Don’t complain the intestines stink—your mouth stinks worse. Get lost. Don’t come near.”

Granny Zhang pinched her nose and tried to recover her smile. “But didn’t they say they sell flatbreads and meat? Why are they buying all these pig intestines?”

“What’s it to you?” Third Master Tang snapped.

Granny Zhang pressed again, voice coaxing. “Third Brother, you’re with them all day. You know them well, don’t you? Tell us. We won’t tell anyone.”

Before he could explode again, Qin Hui Yin came over carrying pig liver wrapped in leaves. She took one look at their guilty faces and sighed.

“Auntie Wang, Auntie Zhang,” she said, sweet as sugar, “if you have questions, ask me directly. Don’t make things difficult for Third Grandpa.”

Granny Zhang brightened as if this were exactly what she’d wanted. “Yin Girl, why are you buying so many pig intestines and pig liver? That stuff isn’t tasty—it always has a smell.”

“To feed the chickens,” Qin Hui Yin said without blinking. “Boil it, chop it up, and mix it with some rice bran. It’s a big tonic for chickens, and it makes them start laying sooner.”

Granny Zhang froze. “You’re buying this on purpose for the chickens? Was it given to you for free?”

“All of it together cost five wen,” Qin Hui Yin said.

Madam Wang scoffed. “So it costs money and you still buy it? Your chickens eat better than people. But since your family is making money now, you don’t care about a few wen.”

Qin Hui Yin nodded solemnly. “Auntie’s right. We can still afford a few wen.”

She tilted her head as if suddenly remembering something. “My mother is coming over. Auntie Wang, Auntie Zhang—do you have anything you want to ask her?”

Granny Zhang’s hand shot out and caught Madam Wang’s sleeve. “We have things to do,” she said quickly, tugging her away. “We’re leaving.”

Li Tao Hua’s temper was famous. Granny Zhang had no desire to be splashed with trouble after already being splashed with intestines.

As they retreated, Madam Wang hissed under her breath, “Money to burn, buying pig intestines to feed chickens. This whole family is sick.”

“Let’s hurry up and sell the eggs,” Granny Zhang muttered. “This smell on us is unbearable.”

Granny Zhang couldn’t help thinking the Tang family was strange. Pig intestines didn’t seem like something people could eat. Other than feeding chickens or dogs, what else could they do with them? She refused to believe Li Tao Hua would put such things in her own mouth.

At the egg stall, a well-dressed auntie covered her nose in disgust. “Did you crawl out of a dung pit? Go, go! You stink to death.”

Granny Zhang forced a smile. The woman’s clothes were fine fabric without a single patch, and a bright silver hairpin glittered in her hair.

“Big Sister,” Granny Zhang said, voice humble, “I just finished working and rushed into town. I want to sell the eggs from home and buy half a jin of meat to nourish my grandson. Big Sister looks like someone with status—you can surely afford eggs…”

Madam Wang bristled at the way Granny Zhang bowed and scraped for someone who’d insulted them. But Granny Zhang was old and had a simple, honest face; when she played pitiful, she looked like a lonely woman trying to keep a household afloat.

The auntie frowned, then bought her eggs anyway.

Madam Wang tried to step in, too, but the woman took the eggs and walked away, still wearing a disgusted expression.

Madam Wang turned to other passersby, but the moment anyone caught the smell clinging to her clothes, they backed away. No one even gave her time to open her mouth.

And she wasn’t like Granny Zhang. Granny Zhang could bend. Madam Wang could only harden. Her face was sharp, her eyes downturned, her glare fierce. No matter what words came out of a face like that, people didn’t believe her, and they certainly didn’t feel sympathy.

By the time it was time to head back to the village, Madam Wang still hadn’t sold her eggs.

Granny Zhang suggested, “Cut the price by two wen. Sell ten eggs for eight, and move them first.”

Madam Wang snapped, “No.”

She carried the eggs all the way back to the village, shoulders tight with anger, seething every step of the road.