The aroma of cured meats fills the air.
The cold wind before the Lunar New Year felt like sandpaper with ice shards scraping against my exposed skin.
Life in Kaoshan Village was completely sealed off by the heavy snow and ice, turning it into a cold, isolated island cut off from the world.
However, in Ling Zhan and Shen Yan's thatched cottage courtyard, amidst this deathly white silence, a growing and more solid sense of human warmth and life was stubbornly rising.
The newly pasted thick window paper blocked the biting draft, the crackling sound of firewood burning in the stove never stopped day and night, and the salted meat stew bubbling in the big iron pot every day emitted a domineering and tempting rich and salty aroma, making people's mouths itch.
More than twenty children, plus the increasingly chubby little golden monkey, their faces gradually turning rosy from the ample food and the warmth of the stove, filled the yard with their lively, chattering laughter. This unexpected warmth, a feeling of 'comfort', even stirred within Ling Zhan's cold and hard heart.
This rare warmth gave her even more enthusiasm to produce more supplies even in the harsh winter so that life could be more prosperous.
Add to that Shen Yan's knack for finding every opportunity to make a living and being shrewd with money, and this originally precarious little family miraculously radiated a strange, struggling, and vibrant vitality in the harsh winter.
On this day, the sky was unusually clear.
The pale sun hung listlessly in the gray sky, sparingly casting down a meager ray of light.
A patch of snow in the front yard had been cleared, and a makeshift drying rack made of thick tree branches had been set up. Ling Zhan was directing several older children to hang up the last batch of carefully salted and processed salted fish.
Her movements were swift and precise, her fingertips slightly red from the cold, yet her expression was as focused as if she were setting up a meticulous trap. The salted fish were plump, their skin taut, gleaming with a wet, oily sheen in the dim light, their fine scales occasionally reflecting a glint of cold light.
A strong, pungent, and salty odor filled the air, causing two speckled chickens to pace restlessly outside the fence, clucking.
Shen Yan, wrapped in the thick, dark gray cotton-padded coat he so vehemently disliked yet relied on so heavily, and comically with a red floral headscarf given to him by Sanya wrapped around his head, was squatting in the corner of the yard. In front of him were several chipped earthenware bowls, filled with a thick, fragrant dark brown sauce made from coarse salt, dark red peppercorns, dark brown star anise, and brown cinnamon fragments.
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing a section of his forearm with smooth lines but covered in sauce splatters. With practiced ease, he gave several wild rabbits, which had been cleaned and gutted and looked exceptionally plump, a full-body "deep spa" treatment. He kneaded and pressed them vigorously with his fingers, making sure that every texture was soaked in sauce.
This rabbit was carried over and forced upon us by Zhang, a hunter from the village, a few days ago.
They said they were thanking Ling Zhan for "acting on behalf of Heaven" and taking down the Black Tiger Gang, so that these poor hunters would suffer less exploitation when they went to town to sell their hides.
"The salt must be thoroughly kneaded! Inside and out, even between the bones! The pressure must be even, like this!"
While deftly flipping and pounding the rabbit meat, Shen Yan was passing on his "secret recipe" to Er Gou and Da Niu, who were helping him. He looked exactly like a head chef in a restaurant kitchen instructing his apprentices!
"This sauce is a secret recipe that I learned from the head chef when I was working as a kitchen helper at 'Drunken Immortal Restaurant,' risking getting hit on the head with a spatula! The meat marinated in it smells so good it'll waft for miles, enough to make the neighbor's kids cry with envy and drool!"
Er Gou and Da Niu slurped their saliva, mimicking him by vigorously rubbing their little hands on the small pieces of rabbit meat they had been given. Sauce smeared all over their hands and even onto their noses, but they were completely oblivious. Shen Yan looked at their cat-like faces and sauce-covered hands, and clicked his tongue in disgust!
He glanced at the hard-won "sausage-cased gloves" in his hands, which were barely made from pig intestines, rolled his eyes, and let them be.
"Oh my! Busy here! Goodness, this smell is so tempting!"
The kind-hearted Aunt Wang carried a large basket covered with a faded blue cloth.
I trudged through the thick snow, crunching as I went.
Her husband was Wang the carpenter in the village.
A few days ago, Ling Zhan asked Wang the carpenter to help him make some sturdy wooden basins and repair doors and windows.
Not only did they pay the wages at market price, but before leaving, they also slipped a small bag of precious salt and two thick pieces of cotton cloth as a thank-you gift.
In Kaoshan Village, this is an extremely kind and rare act, one that happens only once every ten years.
Aunt Wang pushed open the half-closed wooden door, and before she could even stand up straight, her eyes lit up!
She immediately noticed the drying rack was filled with a dazzling array of salted fish and salted meat.
He couldn't help but tsk repeatedly at the bright red, oily, and tempting braised rabbit in the basin over there.
"Look! Look at this setup! The New Year's goods are all so plentiful and sleek, even more abundant and impressive than the village head's house! It's all thanks to Madam Ling's abilities! She can ward off evil spirits and manage the household well!"
She praised him sincerely, her voice so loud it made the snowflakes on the eaves fall down in a flurry.
Hearing the sound, Ling Zhan turned his head and gave Aunt Wang a very slight nod as a greeting.
The movement of hanging the last salted fish on his hand remained as steady as a rock.
Shen Yan immediately perked up as if a switch had been flipped.
He quickly stood up and hastily took off his greasy sausage casing and gloves.
He wiped the non-existent sweat from his forehead with the back of his relatively clean hand.
His face instantly broke into that warm, spring-like smile he'd honed through his life in the streets—it was truly dazzling.
"Aunt Wang! You've graced us with your presence! Come in and warm yourself by the fire! It's freezing cold here, you must be shivering!"
As he spoke, he reached out and took Aunt Wang's heavy basket with remarkable ease. "Wow, this is quite a lot! What kind of treasure is it?"
Aunt Wang laughed and slapped his hand away, then placed the basket on a clean stone millstone in the yard with a "smack," and deftly lifted the blue cloth: "This is shabby stuff! It's bean flour ground by our own stone mill! We've been steaming several pots of sticky bean buns since dawn till dusk! They're still piping hot! I know you kids are so greedy, so I brought them here to sweeten your mouths!"
Inside the basket, the golden, round sticky rice cakes were neatly arranged, and wisps of white steam carried a rich aroma of beans and sweet, glutinous rice, wafting straight into one's nose.
"Oh my! Aunt Wang! You're truly a living Bodhisattva!"
Shen Yan's eyes widened, and he sniffed dramatically. These sticky rice cakes were a priceless sweet treat in the dead of winter! He immediately yelled into the house, "You little rascals! Listen up! Sanya! Simao! Huzi and Douya! Get out here! Aunt Wang has brought the magic pill!"
The room erupted in cheers and jubilation. Several little ones burst out like hungry wolves released from their cages, drooling as they stared longingly at the tempting golden filling.
"Thank you, Aunt Wang!" the children said in unison, their voices sweet and clear.
Looking at the group of children with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, Aunt Wang felt a warmth in her heart. Without saying a word, she grabbed a few still-hot steamed buns and stuffed them into the hands of the youngest child: "Eat them while they're hot! There's plenty for everyone!"
She turned to look at Ling Zhan, her expression a mixture of simple gratitude and unease: "Madam Ling, the salt and cloth you gave me last time... were too, too precious! My husband has been talking about it for days, saying he feels unworthy of it! He said that the hinges on your door are still a bit stiff, and he'll come over this afternoon to apply some tung oil to them, making sure they're as smooth as a young woman's braid!"
"No need for that. It's nothing."
Ling Zhan finally finished hanging the fish and walked over. His voice was still calm, but he nodded to Aunt Wang again, "Sticky rice cake, thank you."
Her gaze swept over the basket, then glanced at the pile of scraps of fabric and thread in the corner, a mess made by the children sewing, and added, "If Carpenter Wang has some free time, could you please make two palm-sized wooden boxes with simple pull-out lids? To store needles and thread."
As she spoke, she deftly pulled out a few polished copper coins from her old purse and handed them over.
Aunt Wang waved her hands hastily as if she'd been burned: "Oh dear! Madam Ling! You can't ask for any more money! That's too much trouble! My husband could carve those two little boxes out with his eyes closed! It's no trouble at all! Leave it to me!"
She absolutely refused to accept the money, feeling that although Ling Zhan was a man of few words and aloofness, he was honest and kind, and worth befriending wholeheartedly.
Shen Yan, who had been watching closely from the side, immediately smiled and tried to smooth things over.
"Aunt Wang, please don't refuse!" he said with a grin. "My wife is the most honest person in the world. She believes in 'clear accounts even between close brothers and good neighbors!' One thing at a time! If you don't accept it, she'll be too embarrassed to bother Uncle Wang again next time! Right, my wife?"
He gave Ling Zhan an exaggerated wink. Ling Zhan remained expressionless, neither responding nor refuting him, but simply looking at Aunt Wang.
Aunt Wang, overwhelmed by Shen Yan's twisted logic and unable to withstand Ling Zhan's silent yet powerful gaze, could only awkwardly accept the copper coins with a flushed face. Her opinion of the couple rose even higher: "Alright then! I'll have my husband come over this afternoon to take the measurements! I guarantee it will be sturdy and easy to handle!"
As they were talking, two more people crept up onto the path outside the courtyard.
It was the unfortunate widow Zhao from the east end of the village and her twelve-year-old son, Shuanzhu, who was as thin as a bean sprout.
Zhao, the widow, lost her husband at a young age and raised her son alone, her life was more bitter than bitter herbs.
A few days ago, a once-in-a-century snowstorm struck, and half of her already dilapidated thatched hut collapsed, nearly burying the mother and daughter alive. Without a word, Ling Zhan, along with Shen Yan and several older children, braved the biting wind and snow to rebuild the beams and thatch the house with a thick layer of straw. Before leaving, he even gave her half a sack of millet to survive. Widow Zhao carried a pitifully small basket on her arm, containing a dozen or so eggs of varying sizes, collected over who-knows-how-long, each one polished to a gleaming shine. Shuanzhu, hunched over, struggled to carry a rough earthenware jar wrapped in layers of patched, tattered cotton-padded clothes.
"Madam Ling! Young Master Chen!" Widow Zhao called out from afar, her voice trembling with tears. "I really... I really don't have anything to offer... eggs laid by our old hen... and some sweet potato liquor that Shuanzhu's father brewed before he passed away, which has been buried in the cellar for several years..."
She was uneasy and almost dared not look directly at Ling Zhan as he handed her the basket of eggs; her hands were trembling.
Shuanzhu carefully placed the earthenware pot on the cold ground, as if holding an ancestral tablet, and clumsily lifted his tattered cotton-padded coat—a strong, spicy, earthy yet unusually mellow and fiery aroma of cheap liquor suddenly dispelled the other smells in the yard!
Shen Yan's nose twitched twice like a hunting dog, and his eyes suddenly lit up!
In the dead of winter, a bite of this sizzling sweet potato liquor is a treasure for dispelling the cold, promoting blood circulation, and comforting the soul!
Ling Zhan glanced at the basket of eggs—a luxury item for the Zhao family—and the jar of wine, clearly a treasured possession, and her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. She recognized the hole in the roof of the Zhao widow's house and Shuanzhu's thin clothes. She didn't take the basket of eggs, nor did her gaze linger on them. Her eyes fell directly on Shuanzhu's hands, frozen red like carrots, cracked and covered in chilblains. Her voice was low and clear:
"I appreciate the thought. Take the eggs back."
Her tone left no room for argument, "I'll cook something nourishing for the child."
She paused, then turned her gaze to Chen Yan, who was staring intently at the wine jar, his Adam's apple bobbing noticeably. "The wine," she said, raising her chin slightly, "is left."
Shen Yan was intoxicated by the alluring aroma of the wine when she heard this and was taken aback. In a flash, she saw the profound meaning that flashed in Ling Zhan's calm and unwavering eyes and instantly understood—the eggs were the lifeblood of the Zhao family and could not be accepted; the wine would be left behind, which would not only accept this heavy sentiment but also preserve the dignity of the widow Zhao and satisfy her own craving.
He secretly thought to himself, "This shrew is truly frightening when she gets meticulous!"
His face immediately broke into an extremely sincere and exaggerated smile of gratitude, and he took a step forward and steadily picked up the earthenware pot that was still warm from his body.
"Oh! My dear Aunt Zhao! You're a lifesaver!"
He patted the earthenware jar, "This wine is fragrant! Authentic! Strong! Thank you so much! Shuanzhu, good lad! Commendable filial piety! You've got potential!"
He patted Shuanzhu's thin shoulder hard, and without saying a word, stuffed the two largest sticky rice cakes that Aunt Wang had just given him, which were still steaming hot, into Shuanzhu's cold hands.
"Here you go! Share it with your mother! It's fresh out of the pot! It's still piping hot!"
Shuanzhu was flattered and held the warm, sweet bean bun. Looking at Shen Yan's bright and dazzling smile, and then secretly glancing at Ling Zhan's cold but not disgusted eyes, his tense little face finally broke into a silly grin, revealing a set of slightly uneven white teeth.
Zhao's widow's eyes instantly turned red. She wiped her eyes with the back of her chapped hand, her lips trembling as she kept muttering to herself.
"This...this is too much...this kindness is too great..."
The courtyard was suddenly filled with lively chatter and warmth.
The savory aroma of the braised pork, the fiery spiciness of the cheap liquor, and the children munching on sweet bean buns, all undeterred by the cold, gathered around Chen Yan to watch him magically conjure up the cured meat—
They chirped and laughed, like a flock of happy little sparrows basking in the warm sun.
Ling Zhan remained silent, standing at the edge of the crowd.
He still exuded that chilling aura that kept strangers at bay, yet strangely, he didn't freeze this hard-won liveliness.
This heartwarming scene of tenacious growth in the icy and snowy landscape is seen by some as a poisoned steel needle.
It pierced my heart deeply.
The other end of the village road.
Village head Wang Fugui was wearing a shiny, slightly worn sheepskin coat, his hands tucked into his pockets, his sparse goatee twitching with each step.
He was flanked by two obsequious nephews, who were strolling over leisurely, ostensibly to "inspect winter defenses and assess the people's conditions." His thin, gaunt face and murky eyes, like those of a venomous snake, swept over the bustling Ling Zhan family courtyard—
Especially when he saw that the villagers, such as Aunt Wang and Widow Zhao, who usually bowed and scraped to him, were now all smiling and genuinely surrounding Ling Zhan and that flirtatious Shen Yan, he even heard Aunt Wang's grating remark, "It's even more presentable than the village head's house!"
Then, seeing the dazzling array of salted goods on the drying rack, the tempting red and shiny braised rabbit meat on the ground, the golden bean buns in the children's hands, and the earthenware jar in Chen Yan's arms that exuded the aroma of wine... a surge of evil fire mixed with jealousy, resentment, fear, and the challenge to authority rushed straight to the top of his head!
It burned so badly that his heart, liver, and lungs ached!
Ever since this ruthless woman single-handedly took on the Black Tiger Gang.
After throwing the evidence of the crime into the county government office.
Wang Fugui's days as a local tyrant in Kaoshan Village were getting worse and worse!
The villagers used to fear him because he held the lifeline of land taxation in his hands, and he was on friendly terms with the town's tax collectors and even Scarface Biao of the Black Tiger Gang.
Now the Black Tiger Gang has fallen and its members have scattered.
The town was said to be in a state of panic, and a new group of people had come to disown him.
Ling Zhan is a living devil who is impervious to reason, unyielding to both soft and hard tactics, and capable of breaking bones when he gets physical!
Wang Fugui's absolute and unquestionable position is on the verge of collapse!
What's even more hateful is!
This woman looks cold and hard like a stone, but she's quite clever at winning people over and currying favor with the villagers!
Look! Eggs! Steamed buns! And that wine that looks like it's been treasured for many years!
These things should have been sent to Master Wang's courtyard every year!
Wang Fugui felt a tightness in his chest, making his face turn pale.
He coughed heavily, his cough sounding like phlegm.
He straightened his sunken chest, put his hands behind his back, and strode out to the outside of Ling Zhan's fence with what he thought was a dignified but actually pretentious gait.
That gloomy gaze, like a poisoned hook, was fixed on the cold figure in the courtyard.
He deliberately raised his shrill voice, dragged out the tone, and spoke in a sarcastic tone.
"Oh! Madam Ling! Young Master Chen! How lively! The New Year's goods prepared here are truly 'abundant'! If you didn't know better, you'd think a nouveau riche had appeared in our Kaoshan Village!"
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