Chapter 12.1

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Daylight streamed in through the door and windows, brightening the entire room. The girl’s youthful spirit and radiance were even harder to contain. She spoke almost naturally, as though it were an indisputable truth: “Of course it’s a pity. In hundreds of years of the Dayin Dynasty, how many Wu’an Marquis have there been?”

Fan Changyu counted on her fingers as she spoke to him. “The choke point of Jinzhou in the northern borderlands—he was the one who reclaimed it. The twelve counties of Liaodong, which were lost after countless sacrifices of fine ministers and generals over decades—he took them back too. The Battle of Jinzhou was highly controversial, yes, but when Jinzhou was seized by the Beijue, didn’t the Zhongyuan people within the city suffer a massacre?”

“General Xie died standing, preserving his dignity, yet the Beijue hung his body from the city walls for all to see. The civil officials heaped scorn on the Wu’an Marquis, calling him cold-blooded and cruel. But weren’t those soldiers and civilians who perished in Jinzhou sixteen years ago innocent too? How is it that with just a few words, they can dismiss the crimes of the Beijue and forget about those who died? Without the Wu’an Marquis, I wonder who else could have defended the northwest.”

Xie Zheng had heard countless self-righteous criticisms of his Battle of Jinzhou, but this was the first time anyone had spoken in his defense.

A strange feeling stirred in his heart, and he couldn’t help but take a closer look at the young woman before him. “You certainly have courage to speak like that.”

Fan Changyu looked at him, puzzled. “What the officials say is their business. We common folk aren’t fools. Sure, the Wu’an Marquis might be ruthless in military matters, but he’s not as heinous as those scholars make him out to be. Should we ordinary people curse the Wu’an Marquis for fighting too fiercely, instead of cursing those corrupt officials who line their own pockets with our hard-earned money? How messed up would our heads have to be to think like that!”

Xie Zheng replied, “…Don’t people use his name to scare children into behaving at night?”

Fan Changyu, slightly embarrassed, responded, “My dad looked pretty fierce when he was butchering pigs. The folks in town used his name to scare the kids too.”

Xie Zheng: “…”

He raised his hand to press his brow, remaining silent for a long moment, as if the resentment and gloom within him had miraculously dissipated a bit.

…

At lunchtime, Fan Changyu first offered incense at her parents’ memorial tablets. Since Xie Zheng had heard her mention her father earlier, he glanced at the small altar against the wall in the main room.

After seeing the names on the tablets, he suddenly asked, “Is your uncle’s name Fan Daniu?”

Fan Changyu looked a bit surprised. “How did you know?”

Xie Zheng replied, “Your father’s tablet.”

Fan Changyu glanced at the inscription on her father’s tablet, which read “Fan Erniu,” and immediately understood his reasoning. “My father’s given name was indeed Erniu, but he got lost as a child and only reunited with his family after he grew up. Later, people in town gave him the nickname ‘Fan Tiger,’ so that’s what everyone called him.”

===
Fan Tiger (樊老虎 – Fán Lǎohǔ) – A nickname given to Fan Changyu’s father by the townspeople. In Chinese, “Lǎohǔ” (老虎) means “Tiger,” with “Lǎo” (老) often used as a respectful or affectionate prefix. Nicknames like these are common in rural settings and often reflect a person’s traits, trade, or reputation. Here, “Tiger” likely alludes to his fierce demeanor as a butcher, as well as the strength or respect he commanded locally.
===

Xie Zheng nodded slightly, his gaze drifting to her mother’s tablet. He noticed that her mother didn’t even have a surname listed; the name inscribed was simply “Lihua,” a simple name that seemed typical of a rural woman.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Were your and your sister’s names chosen by someone special?”

The couple didn’t seem like the type to come up with refined names like Changyu and Changning.

Fan Changyu brought the dishes to the table and replied, “No, my mother chose them.”

At the mention of her mother, her expression held a hint of pride. “My mother was quite remarkable. She could read and write, and she even knew how to blend fragrances and make powders. While other butchers’ homes often reeked of the trade, our clothes, once cleaned, were always scented with her special fragrance. We never had any unpleasant odors.”

A trace of surprise appeared in Xie Zheng’s usually indifferent gaze. “Your maternal family must have been quite well-off?”

The ability to read and write or to create perfumes was unusual enough on its own; combined, they suggested a background of considerable status and resources.

Fan Changyu shook her head. “I never met my maternal grandparents. My mother wasn’t a young lady from a wealthy family; my father met her when he was working as a bodyguard on a journey. She had only worked as a maid in a lord’s household.”

Lihua did indeed sound like a maid’s name.

“If she had been a maid from a noble family, it wouldn’t be surprising for her to know such things,” Xie Zheng remarked.

Fan Changyu said, “Too bad I’m not as smart. I used to study characters with my mother, but every time I looked at a book, I’d get a headache. I didn’t learn much about blending fragrances either. If I had, I’d have another way to make money by now.”

Recalling the scene of her swinging a club to fight, Xie Zheng commented with an unreadable expression, “Perhaps you’re more talented in other areas.”

Fan Changyu nodded in agreement. “I think so too. If I hadn’t learned butchering from my father, we’d probably have lost the house and land by now, and Ningniang and I would be out on the streets.”

Little Changning, who was struggling to pick up a meatball, looked up with wide, glistening eyes like two round grapes. “Ningniang doesn’t want to live on the street.”

Fan Changyu helped her sister, who had been trying to grab the meatball for a while, finally place it in her bowl. “We won’t be living on the street. One day, we’ll even get a big house in the county town.”

Reassured, Changning returned her focus to the battle with her meatball, occasionally chatting with Fan Changyu between her attempts.

In contrast to the lively chatter between the two sisters during their meal, Xie Zheng barely spoke after he picked up his chopsticks, embodying the old saying, “Speak not while eating, nor while sleeping.” His table manners were refined—something that couldn’t be said for Fan Changyu.

Butchering was physical work, so she needed more food than most women. She simply picked up a large bowl, shoveling in rice with gusto. Changning, imitating her, nearly buried her whole face in her bowl. The two of them, big and small, moved in perfect unison.

When they set their bowls down with a contented sigh, it was as if the food had tasted even better because of it. For Xie Zheng, it was the first time in his life witnessing women eating this way, and his expression was…complicated.

In the afternoon, Fan Changyu called Carpenter Zhao over to help fix the broken front gate, while she took her money to the market to buy pigs. She needed to deal with Fan Da’s marriage scheme, which had caused her shop to close for three days just as business was picking up. If she didn’t reopen soon, all the reputation she had built with her braised meats would go to waste.

Before she left, Xie Zheng suddenly asked her, “Since your mother could read and write, does your family keep paper, ink, brushes, and inkstones?”

Fan Changyu said, “Yes, we have some. Do you need it?”

Xie Zheng nodded. “I’d like to borrow them.”