Chapter 11

In the vegetable patch, there was a section of chili plants, which were still flourishing. But winter had yellowed the leaves, and though many chilies remained, lack of sunlight meant they wouldn’t grow further. Once colder weather came, the remaining fruit would freeze.

It would be a waste not to harvest them.

Du Heng fetched a basket and collected all the chilies, big and small. The final batch was tender but irregular, less spicy, mostly kept for personal consumption rather than pickling.

He gathered a little over half a basket, estimating five to six pounds. He considered selecting some decent ones to sell in the county town for a few coins.

But the trip to the county would take several hours on foot, and with his limp, it would take at least twice as long.

Selling the vegetables was secondary; he mainly wanted to explore the town and better understand the area. Just as he was thinking about how to sell them, someone called out to him.

“Du Heng, picking vegetables?”

He looked up to see Qin Xiong on the main road. In the village, only a couple of people knew his name—sure enough, it was Qin Xiong.

“Second Uncle.”

Qin Xiong was driving a cattle cart, likely just leaving home. Du Heng called out.

“Are you heading out?”

“To sell in town,” Qin Xiong replied.

Du Heng’s brows twitched. “Second Uncle, could you take me along?”

Qin Xiong jumped down from the cart and strode toward the field. “What are you going to town for?”

“These chilies will freeze if left on the plants. I harvested most of them. I want to sell some in town, get a little money for salt,” Du Heng explained.

Qin Xiong glanced at the basket. “That’s quite a bit, but these last, irregular chilies aren’t worth much, and many people sell them too.”

“Any money is better than none. Otherwise, leaving them to rot would be wasteful, even for two people to eat.”

Qin Xiong worried a little. Without Qin Xiaoman there, Du Heng might get lost or cause trouble, but seeing Du Heng careful and considerate, he realized a lame man wouldn’t run off. If he wanted to go, it wouldn’t hurt to let him.

Moreover, even as a live-in son-in-law, he was still a man. He couldn’t just be confined to the house. In the future, he would need to support the family. Since he wasn’t afraid of selling vegetables like a woman, his willingness to contribute was commendable.

“All right. You can sell next to my meat stall. Come back in the afternoon.”

“Great!”

Du Heng was delighted. Seeing that selling only chilies might not be much, he also picked a few radishes, some green onions, and garlic sprouts from the field, then hurried to join Qin Xiong on the cart.

On the way out, Du Heng saw the processed pork on the cart. He asked casually, “Was this slaughtered in the village?”

“It’s from the neighboring village,” Qin Xiong explained. “They came yesterday to place the order. If it were from our village, we could’ve thrown in some pig’s blood, but from another village, it’s too far.”

“And how’s the market now?” Du Heng asked.

Qin Xiong found the boy quite talkative, unlike other young people in the village who tended to be shy. Driving the cart alone could get boring, so he was happy to chat.

“It’s winter now. Next month is New Year, and the county town is already getting busy with people preparing for the festival. Business is pretty good. By the twelfth month, meat prices should rise.”

Du Heng nodded. “Winter makes it easier to do business. The cool weather keeps meat from spoiling. In summer, it’s a different story.”

“Exactly. In summer, if meat isn’t sold within two days, you either have to sell it cheap—or sometimes, even selling cheap doesn’t work.”

Du Heng said, “If you can’t sell it cheap, you can always smoke it into preserved meat or make sausages. It takes extra work, but smoked meat sells at the market too. Coated in ash, it lasts longer. Even if it doesn’t sell right away, you won’t have to worry.”

“Ha!” Qin Xiong laughed. “You’ve got some sense, kid. Next year, I’ll try it that way.”

“When smoking meat, it’s best to use pine or cypress branches. If you have fruit peels, throw them in too—the smoked meat comes out more fragrant.”

“Alright, I’ll tell your aunt at home,” Qin Xiong said cheerfully, reaching into his coat to hand Du Heng a handful of snacks. “Take these—they’re soft and sweet.”

Du Heng took them and saw it was a handful of chestnuts—the same ones he and Qin Xiaoman had delivered that morning. Judging by Qin Xiong’s tone, Li Wanjü hadn’t mentioned who had sent them.

Du Heng’s brows twitched. Peeling the chestnuts, he said, “Xiaoman picked these on the public hill yesterday. He said you liked them with wine.”

Qin Xiong chuckled, then scolded under his breath, “That woman!”

“Here, Second Uncle,” Du Heng said, offering the peeled chestnuts. His hands were long and graceful, refined even, which made Qin Xiong feel awkward. His own hands were thick and clumsy, and even his daughters-in-law weren’t this considerate. He quickly said, “Go ahead, eat them.”

“I’ve had plenty at home. Xiaoman specially sent these for you,” Du Heng replied.

Qin Xiong, feeling a bit guilty, grabbed them and popped them into his mouth. “These are really well roasted—better than what’s sold in town.”

After chatting briefly, they arrived in the county town. By now, it was mid-morning—the busiest time of day. Streets teemed with buyers and sellers, carts and horses sharing the road. It took a quarter of an hour just to reach the meat market.

Qin Xiong had a stall there. Arriving a bit late, he found the market bustling with people bargaining and chatting. Busy attending to regular customers, he pointed toward the entrance.

“You sell over there. I’ll tell the market supervisors—no one will chase you off.”

Du Heng nodded and moved his vegetables to the designated spot at the entrance.

He could’ve set up right next to Qin Xiong’s stall, but the strong smell of meat inside the market discouraged vegetable buyers. The entrance had good foot traffic and was cleaner.

Once his items were set, Du Heng walked around the vegetable market nearby before returning to arrange his stall.

With just a few items, he didn’t even need to shout—the passing crowd could see his goods. The sun was out, making it a little warmer. He stood with hands in pockets, calling out politely:

“Ma’am, want some fresh chilies? Picked this morning, very fresh.”

“Just bought meat, might as well grab a couple of garlic sprouts to stir-fry with it,” a woman replied.

Du Heng’s sales pitch worked; some people approached. “Your chilies don’t look as good as those in the market.”

“These are from our village. Last batch of the season. Not too spicy—perfect for cooking.”

“How much?”

“Three copper coins per jin.”

The woman considered it reasonable. Appearance wasn’t critical for home use, and these chilies were plump and fresh, cheaper than the market. She agreed quickly. “Give me one jin.”

Qin Xiong peeked from inside his stall. Du Heng handled himself well—not at all like a pampered young master. Qin Xiong thought back to when his own family had been well-off—he probably would’ve helped run the business too. He was pleased.

“Second Uncle, can I borrow the scale?”

“Take it, I have two.”

Du Heng hurriedly borrowed it to weigh the woman’s purchase.