Chapter 5: Expert Pig-Raiser

After finishing all that, Li Lan casually grabbed a handful of pine needles from the firewood pile to wipe the grease off her palms, then eagerly picked up her chopsticks and snatched a slice of meat into her mouth.

She chewed slowly, her eyes brightening with each bite—she thought, I never would’ve guessed; this kid’s usually lazy as dog shit, but his cooking ain’t half bad.

So she grabbed a second slice, then a third…

Before he knew it, she’d eaten six slices right under his nose.

Seeing the situation turn dire, Li Heng, who was stir-frying cabbage, twitched his face and couldn’t help speaking up:

“Hey, there’s only about twenty slices of meat total—can’t you wait till dinner to eat?”

Li Lan acted as if she hadn’t heard, ignoring him completely, and kept eating.

“Wow! Bro, you’re eating cured pork tonight!” At that moment, a clumsy voice came from the door—Big Sister Li Yan, her belly swollen, had hurried over drawn by the smell.

He half-turned and asked: “Big sister, have you eaten yet?”

Li Yan stared at the cured pork, her eyes gleaming green with hunger, and shook her head vigorously: “Not yet, not yet.”

Dinner consisted of two meat dishes and one vegetable: smoked bamboo shoots with cured pork, cabbage, and a bowl of pickled chili peppers.

And there was also the coveted white rice.

In the Li family of 1987, this was already an extremely lavish meal.

Normally, such a feast only happened during festivals or when guests came.

But the remaining cured pork all ended up in Big Sister’s mouth—she ate until grease dripped from her lips, and devoured three full bowls of rice in one go.

Li Heng and Li Lan watched silently, saying nothing, Moqidi only picking up dried bamboo shoots and cabbage to go with their rice.

When only one last slice of pork remained at the bottom of the bowl, Li Yan, belatedly realizing, scratched her head and chuckled sheepishly:

“I’m almost done, bro, sis—go ahead and eat too.”

There’s only one piece left—what’s the point of eating it?

How could they eat it?

Split it between himself and Second Sister?

Li Heng silently grumbled to himself, yet his face showed no hint of blame.

Li Lan glanced at her sister’s pregnant belly, then at Li Heng across the table, picked up two sour red chilies, dropped them into her bowl, and stood up to carry it outside under the eaves.

Li Yan, intimidated by Second Sister’s fiery temper, nervously whispered:

“Bro, is my second sister mad at me? Because I ate all the meat?”

Li Heng picked up the last slice of meat and placed it in her bowl, smiling to reassure her: “No, big sister, don’t overthink it—we’re sisters, why would we be mad at you?

You came in and saw that me and Second Sister had already eaten plenty.”

Li Yan thought back to the scene when she’d entered—yes, she’d definitely seen Second Sister eating meat—and immediately felt less guilty, lowering her head to put the last slice in her mouth:

“Then I’ll eat it—this pork is so good, so fragrant.”

Watching her chew the pork greedily, Li Heng’s heart ached—he carefully picked out every last shred of meat from his bowl and gave it all to her.

Big Sister married into a humble, honest family; her husband is still an apprentice, learning carpentry from a master in neighboring Huaihua, barely scraping by with no real wages.

Last year, her mother-in-law went up the mountain to gather herbs and was gored by a wild boar, leaving her permanently disabled—she’s still taking medicine and drowning in debt.

That’s why Big Sister keeps coming back to her parents’ home—Tian Rune feels sorry for her and always prepares something tasty to help her get basic nutrition.

After dinner, the full-to-bursting Big Sister volunteered to wash the bowls and chopsticks. Li Heng refused, wanting her to rest, but she shoved him out of the kitchen anyway.

That’s just how she is—stubborn to the bone. Once she’s eaten all the meat, she must find some chore to make up for it, or her conscience won’t settle.

Li Lan swept the left corner of the room clean, laid down a board of pig feed on the floor, and began chopping pig fodder.

The family raised four pigs—two large, two small; the big ones weighed nearly three hundred jin, the small ones about seventy or eighty jin.

They also had one yellow ox, used for spring plowing.

Though Second Sister was fierce, she was also hardworking—whenever she was home, the pigs and ox were pampered, her hands even quicker than Tian Rune’s, looking every bit the seasoned farmer.

Oddly enough, pigs she fed grew faster and better than anyone else’s—wildly fast, often ready for market in just six months.

Hence, people gave her the nickname “Pig-Raising Expert.”

Even several well-off families had set their sights on her, repeatedly visiting Tian Rune to persuade her to consider marrying them off to their sons.

But Li Lan looked down on all those trifling offers—she simply replied, “I’m going to be a city person,” and turned them all down.

Of course, their persistent interest was also fueled by her beauty.

She looked almost exactly like Tian Rune in her youth—beautiful, so much so that anyone in the village or nearby hamlets would praise: “What a lovely girl.”

While the two sisters worked, Li Heng didn’t rest either.

He first lit a pile of half-dry firewood in the stove, then blocked the stove entrance with a board, placed a wire mesh on top, spread out the fish and shrimp he’d caught that day, covered them with several old newspapers, and weighed down the edges with firewood.

That was it—done.

The fish and shrimp would be half-dried after a night of smoking, but he had to check every one or two hours to prevent burning.

…

In the evening, cold wind howled through the cracked window seams, stinging the skin.

Damn it!

This damn weather just changes on a whim—here comes another nasty spell.

He picked two intact old newspapers, rummaged through a drawer corner for a dozen thumbtacks, and grumbled as he became a patchwork repairman.

The carefree Li Yan had run over to the Chen family next door, joining the crowd to watch the show—and like everyone else at the crossroads, she was eagerly waiting for the midnight bowl of noodle soup.

By custom, during such “white funerals,” the host family would serve free noodle soup at midnight for neighbors to enjoy a rare treat.

In this era, there was little entertainment, and everyone lived in poverty—when such an opportunity arose, the whole family would rush over without hesitation, and anyone could eat three bowls.

Even tiny children, unlike the refined kids of later times, found one bowl more than enough.

Besides, the Chen family was a well-known wealthy household in the village—they’d slaughtered pigs and oxen in the afternoon, and even generously bought four mountain goats; the soup was incredibly rich, and no one bothered sleeping, all eagerly waiting.

Watching Big Sister’s joyful face in the crowd, Li Lan scowled, wanting to call her back—but then she glanced at her sister’s swollen belly, and swallowed her words several times.

Finally, Li Lan muttered, “Another spineless one,” and went back inside.

Six people lived in three earthen rooms; Grandma had been taken away by the eldest aunt.

When they were young, Li Jianguo and Tian Xiao’e shared one room with Li Heng, while Grandma shared another with the two girls.

Later, as they grew taller, Li Heng and Li Lan were forced to move to the cramped second floor—each got a narrow side room, separated by wooden boards against the wall.

Between the two rooms lay mostly firewood and straw—and one black, chilling coffin.

The coffin was Grandma’s.

Li Heng bent down and crawled into the makeshift room, sat on the hard wooden bed, feeling suffocated—he couldn’t sleep. Having lived a comfortable middle-aged life, he found it hard to adjust to this old era of hunger and cold.

He felt the task was immense: improve their living conditions, earn money to treat his father’s illness, restore his mother’s dignity lost at the Chen household, and lift the whole family out of poverty—all required money, big money, and he couldn’t bear to wait even a minute.

This wretched poverty—just one more glance made him feel sick.

Time waits for no one; every second counted.

Holding this conviction, he began desperately rummaging through his memory for every novel and magazine he’d ever read.

In his past life, he’d been a government official, then worked in education—his time was plentiful, and influenced by his father, his greatest hobby had always been reading newspapers and books.

Of course, he’d also occasionally played badminton, basketball, and practiced boxing.

To please Song Yu, he’d even learned to play the piano halfway through life.

He could say he’d read widely—hundreds, if not thousands, of classic Chinese and foreign literary works had passed through his eyes, filling his entire study.

But now, given the current social conditions and his living environment, he was stuck—no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t decide where to start.

Submitting to newspapers? Not even a thought.

In his past life, he’d had tens of millions in savings. Now, reborn, a few yuan or tens of yuan in manuscript fees felt like pennies—useless, and Li Heng couldn’t muster any enthusiasm.

Only masterpieces would do.

They say fame comes early—knowing the dazzling future ahead, and seeing his family’s desperate poverty, he didn’t have time to waste.

After much thought, his mind finally settled on three novels.

They were “The Ruined Capital,” “The Sea of Life,” and “To Live.”

(End of Chapter)