“Mm. When I first got out of the military, things were tough at home, so I came south to make a living. Getting into the mine district was good luck—I found a skilled master.”
“What about your master…” Feng Man was surprised she hadn’t seen Cheng Lang’s master; he hadn’t come to the wedding banquet either.
“My master started mining with others in the early years of the founding of the nation. His family had tomb raiders for generations, so he had inherited knowledge from childhood. Over decades, he honed a pair of eagle eyes. But his skills were too strong, too respected by the workers, which made him a target of envy. The uncle-nephew pair You Changgui and You Jianyuan had it out for him and schemed to send him off to survey deep in the mountains and forests, where he’s hard to contact.” Cheng Lang’s brows darkened, like storm clouds gathering. “When Master comes back, we’ll go pay our respects with a drink.”
“Good, that’s only right.”
Feng Man listened to Cheng Lang describe the various operations in the Liberation Mine District and once again confirmed that the largest mine in Ink River City was truly in trouble. The leadership was suppressing talent and hollowing out state assets—they were complete parasites.
As for the baby betrothal partner, he had wisely left that terminally ill mine district long ago. The book seemed to mention that he was promoted by a benefactor, who was a villainous big shot in the book—heartless in love, unmarried for life, ruthless and decisive in his actions, single-mindedly focused on his career. By chance, that benefactor had arranged a job for the original body’s baby betrothal partner and personally mentored him in teaching. Now that she thought about it, was that Cheng Lang’s master?
Feng Man analyzed it carefully. Yes, it had to be.
After leaving the mine district, the two returned to their new home. The square house was clean and tidy, surrounded on three sides by azure brick walls forming an embrace thick enough for arms to hug around.
There were still ingredients left from yesterday, all stored in the freezer Cheng Lang had bought. But with the weather growing hotter, Feng Man had little appetite despite picking through them. In the end, she grabbed a handful of vibrant green leeks, washed and chopped them, mixed them with flour, and made leek pancakes.
The oil in the pan sizzled. She dropped in the moist batter mixed with chopped leeks, frying them slowly until golden brown. While frying the pancakes, Feng Man sneaked a few bites and casually made a cucumber salad on the side.
With the heat sapping appetites, clear porridge with light dishes and leek pancakes were just right.
“No meat this meal—aren’t you craving it?” Feng Man teased Cheng Lang while sipping her cool porridge.
“Not really. I’m fine with or without meat.” Cheng Lang glanced over but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he said, “These taste better than restaurant food—more suitable for summer.”
His casual words reminded Feng Man that summer had arrived, so she could adjust what she sold to eat!
That night, after washing up, Feng Man lay in bed still pondering. These days off for her wedding leave were perfect for researching new dishes—something light and refreshing for summer, not greasy or heavy.
She was so focused on making money that it took the slight dip of the mattress beside her to remind her of a fact: Cheng Lang had gotten into bed.
The large double bed was divided between them, covered by the red wedding quilt that still carried the lingering ambiguity of newlyweds.
Last night had been a blur, and she had been utterly exhausted, so Feng Man hadn’t felt much tension or shyness. But today she was full of energy. Lying in bed now with her new husband beside her, her emotions inevitably surged.
Skipping the dating phase, a man and woman who barely knew each other jumping straight to marriage—that was probably the hallmark of the era.
Yet the man made no move. Last night he had been like a wooden log, and tonight he was just as upright and proper.
Feng Man, who sought plots in smutty short stories and spice in cuckold tales, prided herself on having rich theoretical knowledge. At this moment, she couldn’t help but wonder: could Cheng Lang really not know what to do?
She had spent over a month near the mine district and had some understanding of Cheng Lang. He was all about making money and had no interest in romance. For someone like that not to know… it was possible.
Her thoughts raced, and Feng Man’s mind wandered further. She even began to suspect if Cheng Lang had some hidden condition…
Or maybe he had only married her because she insisted, bound by the baby betrothal agreement their parents had set years ago. Deep down, he wasn’t willing—he was just a marriage partner, content to live casually.
The more she thought about it, the more that seemed likely. Feng Man understood; after all, how long had it been since they reunited? Teaming up to live well was already pretty good.
Suddenly, there was movement beside her. Feng Man sensed it and realized Cheng Lang had shifted closer. She looked up.
The man was truly handsome—sword-like brows and starry eyes, with a rigid demeanor full of masculine appeal. Perhaps noticing his new wife’s odd expression, his thin lips parted: “What are you thinking about?”
Feng Man stared at his lips. They were thin yet well-shaped, straight when not smiling, and enticing when he smirked. Compelled by impulse, she brought up a recent topic while gazing at his thin lips: “Have you thought about whether you can quit smoking? Of course, I’m not forcing you. If the addiction is too strong and you can’t, I’d understand.”
Since Cheng Lang just wanted to live an ordinary partnered life, Feng Man still hoped he could improve his habits.
Cheng Lang clearly hadn’t expected Feng Man to bring this up now. Suddenly thinking of a certain non-smoking man, his expression darkened slightly, a playful smile tugging at his lips: “I can quit, but the reward…”
“There will be rewards!” Feng Man liked Cheng Lang’s attitude—open to discussion, a perfect marriage partner. “I can give you extra pocket money each month, or pick out clothes for you. Or if you have any hobbies, I can indulge them…”
“A kiss?” The abrupt voice interrupted Feng Man’s reward plans.
Almost reflexively, she doubted her hearing: “What did you say?”
Cheng Lang repeated in the same flat tone as asking what was for dinner: “A kiss?”
Feng Man was momentarily stunned. This was the first time she had encountered someone so direct yet calm in requesting a kiss—even as a reward for quitting smoking.
The man before her seemed a bit cute, but also awfully greedy! He wanted a kiss just for quitting smoking…!
“Sure!” Feng Man nodded generously, though her smile was hard to hide. She directly pushed the man away. “Then stay far from me if you don’t succeed in quitting.”
Hmph, who was afraid of whom!
Feng Man took a week off for her new marriage, only occasionally going to help Sister Xiaojuan with the sesame flatbread, guiding her on the firing temperature while researching new dishes.
Sesame flatbread sold steadily, but she couldn’t rely on just one item forever. Even the best things lost popularity when customers got tired of them. Introducing new products was basic business sense.
Two days before her wedding leave ended, Feng Man went to the market with her cousin-in-law. With sesame flatbread sales stable, they locked in steady pork supply from a butcher stall and grabbed some offcuts this time.
“With the heat, people get tired of rice, noodles, even sesame flatbread. Cool salads and braised meats are the most comfortable.” Sales had to adapt to weather and temperature—no sticking to the same old thing.
As regular customers, the butcher gave them a good price: one yuan per catty for pig head meat and offal.
Dong Xiaojuan was much more relaxed now. These days, she sold sesame flatbread like Feng Man and didn’t need to man the stall all day. But she couldn’t bear to drop the soda, snacks, and now ice pops for summer, so she was still busy from dawn to dusk.
But no matter how busy, it wasn’t suffering— she was making money! Who wouldn’t be happy!
The real misery was busting your ass and still not earning much—that was disheartening!
Now Dong Xiaojuan was full of vigor. In the courtyard of Feng Family Home, she and the others washed the offal and pig head meat together. These offcuts had a strong gamey smell if not handled well, making them unpalatable.
They changed the water in the basin repeatedly, then blanched them in a pot with ginger slices, green onions, and cooking wine. When Dong Xiaojuan fished them out and drained them, Feng Man’s brine in the other pot was nearly ready.
A mix of over ten spices made the brine, including types hard to find in Ink River. They were ones Feng Man had bought on her trip south with Cheng Lang, passing spice regions—this was their moment to shine.
Large chunks of pig head meat and offal absorbed the rich, deep brown brine in the iron wok. The braising aroma wafted with the steam, filling the kitchen and gradually spreading with the breeze.
After school, Fan You Shan bolted straight to his cousin’s house. Entering the courtyard, he caught the rich braising scent and swallowed hard: “Auntie, what’s this braised stuff? It smells amazing!”
He took a deep breath, the fragrance soothing his lungs and mind-bogglingly delicious.
“Come sneak a taste—braised pig head meat, offal, and eggs.” Feng Man prodded the meat with chopsticks, timing it perfectly to remove from the pot.
Dong Xiaojuan took over nimbly, waiting for it to cool slightly before slicing.
The braised pig head meat gleamed red and bright, sliced thin with tender skin and meat—fatty yet not greasy, chewy, mouth-filling with braising flavor.
The offal mixed heart, tripe, and lungs, each sliced: the heart fresh and tender, liver firm and rich, tripe crisp yet soft, all infused with brine—perfect for summer.
The eggs were cracked halfway before braising, shells webbed with fissures but intact, allowing brine to seep in during cooking for deep flavor. One bite combined egg richness with braising taste uniquely.
With the scorching weather, rice and noodles were too hot, killing appetites amid the irritability. The cooked peanut porridge cooled to room temperature—milky broth wrapping plump, expanded rice grains, simmered soft with peanuts for a cooling, nutty refreshment that cut grease.
That evening, Fan You Shan devoured two big bowls of peanut porridge with braised pig head meat and offal, plus Feng Man’s special pickled radish skins—crisp and refreshing, whetting his appetite.
“Auntie, it’s so good! I ate two bowls!” Fan You Shan’s belly was stuffed, no room left for snacks.
Feng Man teased him: “Your stomach’s bulging—watch out or you’ll turn into Tian Peng Marshal.”
Dong Xiaojuan’s family rental had two months left, so they planned to move over then, renting two rooms from her cousin’s place. It’d make it easier for the families to look after each other, especially with Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan’s business booming.
“Sister Xiaojuan, tomorrow besides sesame flatbread, add these: peanut porridge and braised meats. They’ll sell like hotcakes in summer.”
“What prices?” Dong Xiaojuan had worried about high prices at first, but Feng Man’s sesame flatbread changed her mind. Good stuff sold itself—she followed Feng Man’s lead now.
“Porridge with a small dish of pickled radish skins in the bowl as sides. The main braised meats in three-tael bags for sixty fen, same oil paper bags as the flatbread—weight them accurately each time. Braised eggs are easy: two fen each.”
A catty of raw pig head meat yielded about seven and a half taels cooked, minus spices, brine, and packaging. Priced at three taels for seventy fen, paired with porridge, radish, or an egg—it made a full meal.
“Got it!” Dong Xiaojuan gradually grasped Feng Man’s ideas. Selling required variety to draw customers.
Cheng Lang had gone to the mine district today. On the brink of bankruptcy, it was undergoing a regime change with piles of procedures. Only as the sun set did he return home with Fan Zhenghua.
The cousins bumped into each other on the street. Now, drinking porridge and eating braised meats at the table, they savored the delight.
Fan Zhenghua glanced toward the inner room, where his wife and Feng Man scribbled and discussed big plans at the desk: “See? Marriage changes things—feels like a real home. And your wife’s capable. Our Juan won’t listen to anyone now, just ‘Maman says this, Maman says that.’ Even I can’t get a word in.”
Cheng Lang’s lips curved in a smile: “Mm.”
After settling business, Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan grabbed yesterday’s wedding bride and groom outfits to wash—they hadn’t had time before.
Passing through the hall on their way out, Fan Zhenghua, eating fragrant braised pig head meat at the square table, reminded them: “Check your pockets for red envelope money—don’t let it get washed to bits.”
“No way.” Feng Man said so but reached into Cheng Lang’s trouser pocket anyway.
Cheng Lang, mid-sip of porridge, caught her movement and suddenly thought of something. His eyelid twitched.
Dong Xiaojuan joined in, the two digging into Feng Man’s red wedding dress and Cheng Lang’s black trousers. They each pulled out a small square packet.
Taking them out—hey, family planning supplies!
Another feel—more?
Another—more?!
Another—more?!!
Four packets total, eight in all!
Dong Xiaojuan and Fan Zhenghua exchanged looks. The old married couple chuckled ruefully: “Young folks have fire in their veins.”
Feng Man: “…”
Cheng Lang: “…”