Jiang Chun reached out and picked up a big meat bun, “ah-wu” [onomatopoeia for taking a big bite; like “nom” or “chomp”] one bite, and instantly her whole mouth was left fragrant.
Other than the backwardness of ancient times, pork is really fragrant ah.
After all, pigs all grew up eating grain and wild vegetables, were truly locally raised pigs, something that pigs grown up on feed in modern times simply cannot compare to.
She in just two or three bites finished off a meat bun, then picked up the bowl and drank a big mouthful of tofu brain.
Tofu brain that had brine and chopped pickled mustard greens in it, entered the mouth smooth and salty-fragrant, the taste was quite not bad.
She couldn’t help but drink another big mouthful.
After putting down the bowl and lifting her head, she saw Song Shi’an just dumbly sitting there, the buns and tofu brain in front of him not touched.
“Fujun, how come you’re not eating? Not hungry in the belly?” [“Fujun” (夫君) = husband, used by wives in ancient or formal contexts]
She opened her mouth and urged with a sentence.
Thinking for a bit, Jiang Chun picked up another meat bun, held it forward, and smiled as she asked: “Or is it that you want to eat meat bun?”
She had written Song Shi’an, this handsome-strong-tragic male supporting character, with a growth background that he suffered from a serious illness in childhood, and only survived after being taken in as a recorded disciple by Master Liaochen of Ci’an Temple.
From then on, he could only eat vegetarian, could not touch meat or fish.
The Song family was implicated by their son-in-law, the Prince of Yan, and had their household confiscated. After Song Shi’an was sold off, he was bought back by Jiang He and became the Jiang family’s live-in son-in-law.
Other villagers could only eat meat and fish during New Year or festivals, but the Jiang family was a butcher family — the thing they lacked least was meat and fish.
So in the original work, not only did the Jiang family cook with lard, every dish would have meat in it.
This truly made things hard for Song Shi’an who ate vegetarian — could only dry-eat steamed buns or bean rice.
The original host even thought that he was scorning her poor cooking skills, and so her dislike of him deepened by several degrees.
Song Shi’an had suffered severe torture in prison, his body was already weak, and he needed medicine to maintain his health every day.
With nutrition not keeping up like this, he developed chronic illness; from then on, if there was even a bit of wind or movement, he would fall ill and not get up, coughing non-stop, and in serious cases even cough up blood.
Truly. Handsome-strong-tragic.
Song Shi’an withdrew his thoughts, ignored Jiang Chun’s outstretched hand, picked up the porcelain bowl holding tofu brain, and brought it to his lips to lightly sip a mouthful.
After putting down the porcelain bowl, he used his scallion-white slender fingers to pick up a vegetarian bun from the oil paper bag, and lightly bit into it at the lips.
Slowly chewing in his mouth.
Jiang Chun almost stared dazed.
She thought to herself: As expected of me, to have written such a beauty — every move and gesture is a joy to look at, simply a feast for the eyes, just watching him is enough to feel full!
Everyone has a heart that loves beauty, Jiang Chun was no exception, all the more since this beauty was a character personally written by her?
But she was not a love-brained person. [“恋爱脑” = “love brain,” slang for someone who loses themselves when in love]
Romance was just a seasoning in her life after living it well, not the whole of it.
If one day these two things came into conflict, although reluctant in heart, she would still choose to divorce Song Shi’an.
Of course, that was talk for later.
For now, she would treat Song Shi’an well, work hard to nurse his body back to health, and in the future use this kindness as leverage in return, so that he would take their father and daughter into the capital to enjoy blessings.
One must know, when she wrote this book back then, the capital city of Great Zhou, she had modeled it after Bianliang of the Northern Song Dynasty, writing out all the flourishing splendor of Bianjing.
As a modern person, who wouldn’t want to see with their own eyes the real-life scene of Along the River During the Qingming Festival? [清明上河图 is a famous panoramic scroll painting from the Northern Song, depicting bustling life in Bianjing (modern Kaifeng).]
Besides, living in the capital was obviously much more convenient than living in this godforsaken Daliushu Village where not even birds take a dump.
Jiang Chun withdrew her hand and directly stuffed the meat bun she was holding into her own mouth.
Beauties are good, but the meat bun in her hand was more solid.
She wiped out a whole steamer basket of big buns in one go, then finished the tofu brain down to the last drop — and surprisingly still felt unsatisfied.
No helping it — this body was born strong. A two-hundred-jin fat pig she could easily carry on her shoulders.
With great strength came great appetite. Steamed buns the size of a bowl’s mouth — she could eat seven or eight in one breath, and when drinking porridge, she had to use a porcelain basin.
Song Shi’an, on the other hand, was shocked by her appetite. If not for being used to big storms and waves in his previous life, able to stay steady, he’d probably have dropped the bun in his hand to the ground.
Because Jiang Chun disliked him, she never ate at the same table with him, so he hadn’t known her appetite was this astonishing.
Meat buns as big as a grown man’s palm — she actually ate eighteen of them in one breath, plus a big bowl of tofu brain.
And not only did she not feel stuffed, she even had an expression like she still wanted more.
Could it be the rice bucket turned into a spirit? [“饭桶成了精” = “the rice bucket became refined” — a sarcastic way of calling someone a glutton or suggesting absurdity from overeating]
Jiang Chun saw that Song Shi’an was chewing slowly and carefully, only just biting into his second bun — she had no patience to wait for him to finish, so she got up on her own.
Casually putting the bowl she had used into the porcelain basin on the stove counter, then she pointed at the basin and said to him: “After you finish drinking the tofu brain, put the bowl here too. I’ll wash it later.”
After saying that, she didn’t wait for his reply and pushed the door open to go out.
She lifted the oilcloth hanging under the eaves and spread out the yellow soybean stalks covered beneath it to dry.
Daliushu Village was located in Qizhou Prefecture, belonging to the Qilu region. Before corn had been brought over from the Americas, the agricultural structure of this area was crop rotation between wheat and soybeans.
The Jiang family were butchers, mainly killed pigs. They didn’t have much farmland, only three mu of high-field by the river. [Mu = a traditional unit of area in China; 1 mu ≈ 666.7 square meters or about 1/6 of an acre.]
When Jiang Chun transmigrated over, it happened to be the season for harvesting soybeans. Her first day up was a full-intensity day of farm work — she nearly got exhausted to death.
The soybeans she had worked so hard to harvest — while the weather was good, she had to quickly thresh them.
Otherwise, if Heaven didn’t cooperate and it rained at this crucial moment, it would be a big problem.
After spreading the soybeans from three mu of land flat in the courtyard, she went to the west storage room and hauled out the flail, and started beating the soybean stalks one flail after another.
This was a strength-demanding task. After two quarters of an hour of high-intensity flailing, Jiang Chun was already drenched in sweat and panting heavily.
She sat down on the ground, wiping sweat with her sleeve while complaining in her heart: “Serves you right for writing a farming novel. Now look, retribution’s come. Heaven threw you in to farm for real, didn’t it?”
Farming novels are actually all otherworld fantasy novels — plant crops casually and they harvest like crazy, harvest casually and the granary’s full.
Reality is that I’m just threshing soybeans from three mu of land and already feel like a dead dog. What beauty, what not — right now there’s not a trace of tender thoughts, I just want to lie flat on the ground and go full ‘lie flat.’”
She was just resting when the courtyard gate suddenly gave a “creak” and was pushed open.
Jiang Chun thought it was her old dad Jiang He coming back — who would’ve thought, looking up, the one who came was her paternal grandmother, Li Shi.
She called out, “Nainai.” [奶奶 = paternal grandmother]
Li Shi had a pair of small eyes exactly like her older female cousin, Old Woman Liu.
At this moment, those two small eyes were staring dead at the soybean stalks on the ground, clicking her tongue in praise: “Yo, your family’s soybeans sure are solid and plump. Much better than your second uncle’s.”
Jiang Chun immediately became alert: “Ours are the high-field by the West River, bought at a hefty price. If they’re not even as good as second uncle’s mid-field, then who’d still buy high-field?”
She deliberately emphasized the words “hefty price.”
But it was useless.
Li Shi went straight to the point: “Don’t slack off. Hurry up and thresh. After you’re done, pack me two dou worth — I’ll go to Widow Li’s place to trade for tofu.”
“Other folks trade a jin of soybeans for a jin of tofu. Your soybeans are this good — I reckon eight liang could get a whole jin.” [1 斗 (dou) = approx. 15 jin (斤), so 2 dou = 30 jin (about 15kg); 1 斤 (jin) ≈ 500g; 1 两 (liang) = 1/10 of a jin = 50g]
Jiang Chun: “……”
A dou in Great Zhou equals fifteen jin. Two dou means thirty jin.
This old woman really dared to ask with the lion’s mouth wide open. [“狮子大开口” = asking for way too much]
Jiang Chun gave a light snort and spoke in a yin-yang tone: [“阴阳怪气” = sarcastic, passive-aggressive tone]
“What kind of words are those, Nainai? Second uncle’s family planted a full twenty mu of soybeans.
And yet you’re running over to our house to ask for soybeans — anyone who didn’t know might think second uncle’s unfilial, can’t even spare you a piece of tofu to eat.”
Before Li Shi could snap back, Jiang Chun turned her tone again and began to sell misery:
“It’s not that your granddaughter is unwilling to part with these two dou of soybeans, it’s just that our own family doesn’t even have enough.”
“My live-in husband has a weak constitution. The doctor said he can’t eat meat or fish. This little bit of soybean we have, all of it needs to be taken to the oil press in the county to extract soybean oil.”
“Ten jin of soybeans yields one jin of oil — this bit of soybeans at home can only yield thirty to forty jin of oil. What’s that even good for?”
“I’m actually wracking my brains over whom I can borrow some soybeans from — how about you, Nainai, take pity on your granddaughter’s husband and help borrow us eighty to a hundred jin from second uncle’s house for oil pressing?”
That iron rooster Li Shi instantly blew up. [“铁公鸡” = literally “iron rooster” — slang for a miser; someone who won’t part with even a feather]
“Good heavens, you Chun-niang! Not only are you not thinking of being filial to me, your old granny, you even want to fleece your second uncle — you really do have a heart as black as coal!”
Jiang Chun sneered coldly: “Back then, Grandpa left behind twenty mu of family land. You gave second uncle ten mu, kept ten mu for your own retirement, and kicked my dad out with nothing — that wasn’t black-hearted?”
Li Shi showed not even a sliver of guilt, responding righteously: “Your father had no sons. Of course the Jiang family estate should be left to Tong-ge’er, the male who will carry on the family name in the future.”
This Tong-ge’er referred to Jiang Tong, son of second uncle Jiang Hu.
Jiang Chun snorted in disdain: “Then you go ask that Tong-ge’er, the man who’ll carry the family in the future, for soybeans. I, this money-losing good-for-nothing, don’t have soybeans to give you.”
Li Shi saw she wouldn’t budge no matter what and huffed angrily: “Where’s your father? You stingy money-losing thing, I’m not going to argue with you, I’ll go ask your father.”
Jiang Chun stood up, grabbed the flail, and gave the soybean stalks on the ground a loud, crackling round of pounding.
Then she turned her head to look at Li Shi and gave a mocking chuckle: “Now that I’ve taken in a live-in husband, I’m the one holding up the house, the pillar of the family. You guess — will my father listen to you, the old mother who made him walk out with nothing, or to me, the daughter who’ll be supporting him in his old age?”
Li Shi, sounding fierce but weak inside, said: “No matter what, I’m still the mother who gave birth to and raised him. He could ignore his own mother? Not afraid of the villagers stabbing his spine full of holes with their gossip?”
Jiang Chun “puchi” laughed aloud: “Granny, you being such a black-hearted mother, the villagers haven’t stabbed your spine full of holes — what’s my dad got to be afraid of?”
Li Shi had just opened her mouth when suddenly, the courtyard gate gave a creak and opened again.
Jiang He entered, a carrying pouch slung over his shoulder, a blood-dripping hemp sack in his hand. Afraid of dirtying the front gate, he squeezed in with difficulty.
“Chun-niang, Master Mao gave twenty jin of meat and two sets of offal. Go ask around the village who wants to buy meat — sell it cheap…”
Jiang He had already heard the sound of the flail outside the courtyard, and knew his daughter was threshing soybeans, so he started shouting the moment he entered the gate.
The words had only gotten halfway out when he caught sight of Li Shi’s face full of resentment.
His expression immediately turned a bit unpleasant.
Jiang Chun, playing the villain who files the complaint first, shouted: “Dad—Nainai said our family’s soybeans are better than Second Uncle’s and wants to take two dou to trade tofu from Widow Li!”
If this isn’t what you call father and daughter — Jiang He immediately grumbled in a muffled voice:
“Trade tofu for what? Even I can’t bear to trade tofu for myself to eat. These soybeans at home aren’t even enough to press oil for that live-in husband of yours to eat!”
With both father and daughter saying this, even if Li Shi didn’t want to believe it, she had no choice but to believe.
She turned her head and glared fiercely toward the west room, cursing hatefully:
“Brought in that good-looking but useless thing, all day long just spends money and more money — expecting him to carry on the ancestral line for you, Jiang Da? That’s simply dreaming. Might as well count on Tong-ge’er!”
“Good-looking but useless, all day long only spends money and more money”…
Song Shi’an: “……”
He was only weak in body — not deaf in the ears.
Jiang family’s father and daughter partnered up shamelessly to use him as a human shield to brush off Old Lady Li, and Old Lady Li seized the chance to scold the mulberry while pointing at the locust tree. [“指桑骂槐” = scold one person while seemingly referring to another — indirect insult]
This bunch from the Jiang family — not a single one was decent. As expected, they really all ought to be wiped out, not one left.