The Qinghua in He Zifeng’s Family is Truly Majestic
The villagers couldn’t resist coming to admire the magnificent horse, their hands itching to touch it. If only such a handsome steed belonged to my family! With a horse, travel would be so much easier.
Some couldn’t resist reaching out to pet it.
Qinghua snorted disdainfully, and the offending hand immediately withdrew. The villager chuckled awkwardly, “This horse has quite the temper.”
He Zifeng said, “A young stallion, barely a year old—be careful, it likes to kick.”
At this warning, the crowd quickly stepped back, wary of the horse’s hooves.
Yet, despite its fiery temperament, Qinghua’s beauty kept the onlookers from leaving.
Seeing the horse growing irritable, He Zifeng patted its head and took it for a walk to stretch its legs. The tall, spirited horse pranced lightly, its steps lively like a playful child.
After two laps around the village, He Zifeng led it up the mountain to groom its coat. Qinghua nuzzled against him affectionately, and He Zifeng gave its back a gentle pat before returning home in high spirits.
The rich aroma of simmering pork bones wafted from the courtyard, wrapping the house in a warm, homely fragrance.
He Zifeng went to the small kitchen to find Qiu Yu, who was stirring the pot with a ladle.
He wrapped his arms around Qiu Yu’s waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. Qiu Yu chided softly, “Don’t fool around.” Three sisters-in-law were still in the yard cleaning pig offal. If they came into the kitchen for bowls or jars and saw them like this, how embarrassing would that be?
“Yu’er, are you tired?” He Zifeng rarely used such affectionate words.
Qiu Yu’s face burned. The words tickled his ears like a whisper. “Not tired.”
He Zifeng took his hand. With their son not at home, he no longer had to maintain the stern fatherly image and could indulge in closeness with Qiu Yu. He leaned against Qiu Yu’s shoulder, then kissed his ear before standing straight.
Qiu Yu turned and hugged He Zifeng tightly.
He Zifeng embraced him fully and said, “How about we stop selling the scallion pancakes?”
After their scallion pancakes became popular, two other stalls started selling them too—even undercutting their price by one copper coin. The competition had hit them hard. Previously, their pancakes sold out quickly, but now it took until noon to clear stock. Making the pancakes required grinding flour, kneading dough—it was laborious and time-consuming.
Now that they had a horse-drawn cart, focusing on braised pork bones and marinated meats would be easier, allowing them to return home earlier.
Qiu Yu agreed. “Alright.” Dropping the scallion pancake business would lighten their workload significantly. Still, the pancakes had earned them 1,200 copper coins daily. They’d have to compensate by selling more braised pork bones.
But they wouldn’t stop immediately. They planned to taper off, making just 100 portions the next day—enough for the inn and the escort agency—and informing their regular customers that they’d no longer sell pancakes.
After effortlessly preparing the 100 portions (compared to their usual 300), He Zifeng heard Gouzi’s Father calling for him outside.
Washing his hands, He Zifeng stepped out to find Gouzi’s Father utterly entranced by Qinghua. A fellow horse lover, he marveled at the steed’s sturdy build. “This horse is in excellent condition!” His own rented horse was aging and needed careful maintenance. He planned to return it after this year and find a replacement—but none compared to Qinghua’s magnificence. He even considered offering to buy it.
But Qinghua only obeyed He Zifeng, baring its teeth at Gouzi’s Father.
Unfazed, Gouzi’s Father chuckled. “A spirited horse is a good horse!”
He Zifeng approached, stroking Qinghua’s neck. The horse immediately calmed. “None of that. Be polite.”
The horse lowered its head, displaying uncanny intelligence.
Gouzi’s Father’s eyes widened. “Incredible!” Envy and admiration warred within him.
Noticing Qinghua’s feed, Gouzi’s Father frowned. “This hay won’t do. It dulls the coat. I know a hay seller—gets his stock from the grasslands, tender and fresh. And horses shouldn’t just eat hay; they need beans too!” Since renting his own cart, Gouzi’s Father had consulted experienced horse breeders and learned much.
He Zifeng nodded. “Where can I buy good hay?” Since the horse was his, he’d care for it properly.
Gouzi’s Father said, “I’ll tell the seller tomorrow. He’ll come by in the afternoon—he’s got seven or eight types of hay, all top quality.” Then he smacked his forehead. “Ah! I got so caught up in the horse, I nearly forgot my real business!”
Sheepishly, he explained, “Your family’s food is excellent. Could I buy some from you? I’ve got a big market day the day after tomorrow.” He’d envied others profiting from food stalls but lacked the skill. Now that He Zifeng and Qiu Yu were succeeding, he wanted in.
He Zifeng said, “We’ve been selling braised pork bones to the county inn for 50 coins per pound. But with their markup, it might not sell as well at the market.”
Gouzi’s Father waved this off. “You’re overthinking it! Market days draw crowds from nearby villages and the county town. Sure, some haggle, but others spend freely. A friend of mine brought back a cart of candied dates—bought for 5 coins, sold for 30. They were gone by noon!”
Meat was different. Rich or poor, everyone craved it. And Qiu Yu’s cooking? The aroma alone would have customers lining up.
Convinced, He Zifeng said, “We charge the inn 50 coins per pound. It’s costly to make, but for you—45 coins. Take it or leave it; no hard feelings.”
Touched by the discount, Gouzi’s Father agreed. “Deal! I’ll take 100 pounds the day after tomorrow. Depending on sales, I’ll adjust later.” He planned to sell at 70 coins, a tidy profit.
He Zifeng nodded, and Gouzi’s Father left happily.
When He Zifeng relayed the deal to Qiu Yu, the latter was delighted. Raw pork bones cost just 3 coins per pound. With seasoning and firewood, their cost was 20 coins per pound. Selling 100 pounds at 45 coins meant a profit of 2.5 taels of silver.
Qiu Yu said, “I’ll buy more seasonings tomorrow.” Soy sauce, sugar, wine lees, and sauces vanished quickly. If they were turning braised pork and marinated meats into a proper business, these supplies were essential.
Village Chief Liu arrived unexpectedly. The three sisters-in-law greeted him respectfully.
He Zifeng and Qiu Yu hurried out. “Chief, welcome!”
Exchanging puzzled glances—visitors kept coming today—He Zifeng went to greet him.
Chief Liu beamed. “Zifeng, you left manure fertilizer, right? I had Zhu Zi and Da Zhuang spread it on your fields today. Once winter snow covers it, the soil will be rich by spring. Ten taels for two acres? That’s a steal!”
Though Chief Liu had always been kind, this hands-on help was unprecedented. He Zifeng thanked him profusely and offered to help, but the chief refused. “You’re busy cooking. Leave the dirty work to us!” With a hearty laugh, he added, “Just wanted to let you know.”
Then he and his men shouldered baskets and left.
Even Qiu Yu was stunned. “Since when does the chief do manual labor?” As the village’s highest authority, he never lifted a finger for anyone.
He Zifeng said, “Let’s send them each a bowl of braised pork knuckles with soybeans later.” Half the village drooled over their dishes, but few could afford them. Though they sold the food, the prices were steep for villagers.
Their refusal to sell only sharpened the craving. Braised pork knuckles were now the most prestigious gift.
About half an hour later, the chief and his men finished. Skilled farmers, they made quick work of the task. Zhu Zi and Da Zhuang headed home, while Chief Liu returned to chat with He Zifeng.
Spotting the prepared bowls of pork knuckles—generous portions with broth and soybeans, fragrant and tempting—the chief’s mouth watered. He tried to decline politely, but the aroma was irresistible.
“You two are too kind! Such a small favor didn’t warrant this. But since it smells so good, I’ll take it as a treat for this old man.”
He Zifeng said, “If you like it, I’ll send more next time.”
Chief Liu waved his hands. “No, no! This is for your business. Just this once!” Carrying the bowl home, he left a trail of envious villagers in his wake.
Zhu Zi and Da Zhuang also received portions, delighting them. “He Zifeng is truly generous!”
Zhu Zi’s father said, “This stuff isn’t cheap. Help him out whenever you can. He’s a lone household—it’s not easy for him.”
Zhu Zi agreed. “Of course! Brother He and I grew up together. If he needs me, I’m there.”
His father sighed. “You’re no match for He Zifeng. In such a short time, he’s got a house, land, and now a horse-drawn cart. Impressive!” He clicked his tongue. “Pity his father’s so blind. Such a fine son, driven away by cold treatment.”
Noticing his father’s melancholy (and still sober), Zhu Zi lightened the mood. “But you’re wiser than him! Our family’s harmonious.”
Pleased, his father said, “Go buy some wine. Let’s drink!”
Zhu Zi happily obliged, running into Da Zhuang on the same errand. Both, buoyed by He Zifeng’s gift, felt like it was New Year’s. Da Zhuang said, “Next time Brother He needs help, call me. Not for the food—he’s just worth helping.”
Zhu Zi nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
As they bought wine, villagers shouted, “Strangers at the village entrance!”
In their tight-knit community, outsiders were rare. Curiosity piqued, everyone craned their necks to see.
Two men approached—one brawny like an ox, the other thin as a reed. The mismatched pair headed straight for He Zifeng’s home.
The brawny man knocked. He Zifeng opened the door. “Who are you looking for?”
“He Zifeng.”
“That’s me.”
Qiu Yu and the three sisters-in-law gathered warily.
He Zifeng said, “The yard’s a mess, so I won’t invite you in. State your business here.” With basins of pig offal everywhere, there was no space.
Unfazed, the brawny man said, “The town chief is my grandfather. He heard about the county affair and told me to tell you—‘A plucked pheasant can’t soar.’ He thought well of you when he met you. Now, the county yamen is hiring, and he recommended you. Report the day after tomorrow. They even sent your uniform ahead.”
The villagers listened intently, envy simmering. Someone quickly fetched Chief Liu, who arrived wiping wine from his lips.
Becoming a yamen runner was a dream for village men—a secure, prestigious job. Without a respected recommender, even 20 taels might not secure the position.
“What wonderful news for our village!”
“He Zifeng, your fortunes are rising!”
Chief Liu laughed. “I always knew he was capable. Tell the old chief I vouch for He Zifeng—he won’t disappoint.”
He Zifeng, overwhelmed by the opportunity, expressed deep gratitude.
The chief’s grandson added, “My grandfather doesn’t recommend lightly. You must have merit. Do well, and you’ll go far.”
Chief Liu inwardly marveled. Such open endorsement! With this backing, He Zifeng’s future was secure.
The thin man then spoke. “My master, Master Dian, sends you this inkstick. He encourages you to live well.”
Master Dian, traveling for studies, had witnessed the legal drama. Disgusted by the light punishment for Wan Hai (who’d caused a death), he’d gifted He Zifeng premium ink—symbolizing justice prevailing.
Qiu Yu, ever gracious, presented each visitor with a food box of braised pork knuckles and soybeans.
Grateful, the men departed with the gifts.
News spread. Village chiefs from neighboring areas arrived with gifts of grain and cloth. He Zifeng reciprocated with pork knuckles, depleting their stock for the next day’s stall.
As more chiefs visited, the villagers grasped the message: this was solidarity with He Zifeng, the true victim in the recent tragedies.
While others pitied Liang Zi’s death and Wan Hai’s mother’s accident, they’d overlooked He Zifeng—whose house was burned, who was nearly framed for murder.
The old chief’s words rang true: “A plucked pheasant can’t soar.” Wan Hai was the pheasant—unworthy.
Now, with a yamen position secured, no one would dare bully He Zifeng again.
The villagers, belatedly realizing his rising status, rushed to offer gifts—live chickens, grain, more. He Zifeng politely declined.
As for the He family’s old estate? Its gates stayed shut. Let them rot.
Meanwhile, the braised pork knuckles reached the old chief. Though his teeth weren’t what they used to be, the aroma tempted him. “That He lad is thoughtful. You and your father eat it.”
His grandson and son eagerly set the table. Lifting the lid unleashed a mouthwatering fragrance. The old chief’s nostrils flared.
The two men devoured the tender, flavorful meat—the skin and tendons melting at a touch. The soybeans, simmered to perfection, dissolved on the tongue.
Envious, the old chief said, “Let me try a piece.”
Too late. Only one portion remained.
Scolding them, he said, “No respect for elders! You didn’t even offer!”
His grandson grinned. “Why not ask Master Dian? A man of his status wouldn’t eat ‘peasant food.’ No point wasting it.”
The old chief sent him to inquire.
The grandson returned crestfallen. “Too late. He already gave it away.”
Resigned, the old chief kept the remaining soybeans for his evening wine.
Unbeknownst to them, Master Dian’s “giving it away” was a ruse. Though he typically disdained such fare, the old chief’s interest piqued his curiosity.
Tasting a soybean, then a bite of pork, he murmured, “No wonder they asked for it.”
His servant reminded him, “Young Master, the carriage is ready. We must depart.”
Master Dian sighed. “I don’t want to leave.” This was the first meal here that truly satisfied him. “Pack everything. I’ll eat it on the road.”
The servant hesitated.
A raised brow settled the matter.
As the servant packed the food, Master Dian summoned the one who’d delivered it. “You remember where He Zifeng lives?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We’ll visit on our return.”
Satisfied, Master Dian boarded his carriage.
Author’s Note: Today’s update is here early—no more tonight!
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