Chapter 15: Now That We Have a Way to Make a Living, Who Should We Choose as Our Helper?

However urgent the need for money, we must first establish a business.

As for the nine-square wooden tray, attracting customers isn’t the immediate priority.

Su Yi’an waited until He Xingchen finished writing the nine large characters before entering the house. Inside, Mother He and Wan Xu were frowning and murmuring softly over the table, where the pig intestines Su Yi’an had bought lay.

“Yi’an, this thing…” Wan Xu covered her nose and mouth, unwilling to even say its name.

Even during the He family’s poorest times, they had never bought offal. It was simply too difficult to make it taste good.

“Mother, I bought some pork. Please chop it into fine mince. I’ll wash these intestines by the river first—they’ll come in handy.” Su Yi’an picked up the pig intestines and placed them in a wooden basin.

She then grabbed a handful of flour from the flour sack and poured it into a bamboo tube.

Mother He, though unsure of Su Yi’an’s plan, didn’t object. The girl clearly had her own ideas, and buying meat today meant she intended to cook something.

What exactly she planned to make remained a mystery.

Yongyang Village had a small river where villagers usually drew water and washed clothes. The river’s source was in the mountains, and following its course led uphill.

Most villagers preferred washing clothes by the river, rarely venturing into the mountains.

“Sister Su, I want to go with you!” He Ningwen exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she saw Su Yi’an preparing to climb the mountain again. She hurried to fetch her own small wooden basin.

Mother He, though worried, decided it was better to let them go than risk them running into village ladies and being gossiped about. She reluctantly allowed them to take a cleaver, warning them repeatedly not to venture too deep into the mountains this time.

“We know, Mother!”

Su Yi’an led He Ningwen along the riverbank, climbing higher into the mountains. As they ascended, the current grew swifter and the air colder.

Su Yi’an found a spot with a large, flat rock. Having forgotten to bring a scrubbing board, she would have to clean the intestines directly on this stone.

She used He Ningwen’s wooden basin to scoop water and washed the rock twice, scrubbing until it felt smooth to the touch.

“Sister Su, how do you do this?” He Ningwen crouched beside her, peering into the basin.

“I’ll show you first. Watch me,” Su Yi’an said. She took a section of pig small intestine, removed the fatty oil from its surface, poured flour from the bamboo tube onto it, and scrubbed it with her hands.

But that wasn’t all. After cleaning the outside, she carefully turned the intestine inside out, revealing a much dirtier inner layer.

Su Yi’an repeated the process, rinsing the intestine multiple times until it was completely clean.

“Sister Su, I think I’ve got it!” He Ningwen rolled up her sleeves, washed her hands in the river, and looked eager to try.

Su Yi’an was happy to let her take over. The task seemed simple but was time-consuming, especially the repeated scrubbing. She always felt it wasn’t clean enough and worried about damaging the delicate lining with too much force.

He Ningwen worked carefully and diligently, scraping away every trace of fat from both the inner and outer surfaces. By the end, the intestine was spotless.

“Sister Su! Is this good enough?” she asked proudly, holding up her work.

“Almost. Put the cleaned ones in a basin of water to soak. We’ll remove the membrane after we’ve finished cleaning them all.”

He Ningwen didn’t know what “stripping the membrane” meant, but she followed instructions without question.

The two worked diligently for a while longer, until all the small intestines were thoroughly cleaned.

Next came the “membrane stripping.” Su Yi’an demonstrated the technique, and He Ningwen carefully peeled off the outer layer.

Since the intestines had been scraped both inside and out, the membrane came off easily.

“This is the sausage casing. Give it another rinse, and we can go home and stuff the sausages,” Su Yi’an said, guiding her hands. The younger woman learned quickly, soon producing a complete casing on her own.

After cleaning up and washing the stones, they carried the wooden basin home under the midday sun.

He Ningwen was filled with curiosity about this new food. Something that took so much effort to prepare must taste extraordinary.

At home, Mother He had already prepared the meat. Two pounds seemed like a decent amount, but it wouldn’t be nearly enough for sausages.

“Grandma, are we making wontons?” He Xingchen asked, pointing at the lump of meat filling.

“Want wontons? Once you finish writing your characters, Grandma will make them for you,” Mother He replied, unaware of what had happened earlier. She still thought the well-behaved child before her was the same one who had refused to practice writing.

He Xingchen held up his branch and said proudly, “I’ve written so many big characters! Grandma, come and see if you don’t believe me.”

“He has written quite a few,” Wan Xu remarked as she emerged from the house, drawn to the window by their conversation.

The ground was covered in grids filled with neatly written characters, far more orderly than usual.

“Why the sudden change of heart? Didn’t you say you didn’t want to study anymore?” Mother He asked.

He Xingchen stammered, refusing to answer. This was a secret he needed to keep to himself; telling them would only upset his grandma and mother.

Fortunately, Mother He didn’t press. As long as he was willing to study, the reason didn’t matter.

As Su Yi’an and her group descended the mountain, they encountered a young woman climbing up, clutching half her face and sobbing.

Her clothes were soaked, and grains of rice clung to the hem. It was unclear whether she had wet them while cooking or if someone had thrown water on her.

“That’s Second Aunt He’s new daughter-in-law,” He Ningwen whispered, tugging at Su Yi’an’s sleeve.

“Why is she going up the mountain alone?” Su Yi’an watched her retreating figure with growing unease.

The man’s flushed face, bloodshot eyes, and soiled clothes, combined with the recent incident at Second Aunt He’s house, made everything clear.

“Should we go after him?” He Ningwen asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Before they could act, a man with a flushed face and panting breath rushed toward them.

Su Yi’an reacted swiftly. She pulled her younger sister behind her, positioning herself in front. Her left arm cradled the basin while her right hand reached for the cleaver inside.

“Li… Little Sister! Did you… did you see anyone go up the mountain just now?” The man recognized He Ningwen and seized upon her like a lifeline.

“Yes, Second Brother Zhong,” she replied, leaning forward. “Just follow the mountain path. We passed Sister-in-law on our way down. She couldn’t have gone far.”

Single-mindedly focused on finding his wife, the man failed to notice Su Yi’an’s earlier defensive posture. He thanked them and hurried up the path, vanishing into the trees.

“That’s Second Aunt’s second son, He Zhong,” He Ningwen explained.

Su Yi’an nodded, relieved it was just a family member. The man’s sudden appearance had startled her.

Seeing He Zhong go to search for his wife, they dismissed the incident and returned home, focusing on making sausages.

Wan Xu watched in astonishment as the greasy pig intestines transformed into sausage casings before her.

When Su Yi’an added another handful of pepper and a pinch of sugar to the seasoned meat filling, Wan Xu’s eyebrows furrowed. Could this possibly taste good?

Su Yi’an stuffed the meat into the casings, divided them into segments with embroidery thread, and pricked each link with a needle.

Mother He, silent until now, seemed to grasp the process. “Will we just steam them later?” she asked with a smile.

Cooking options were limited to boiling, steaming, and stir-frying. Stir-frying would cook the casings too quickly, and boiling would let water seep through the holes. Steaming seemed best.

Su Yi’an’s lips curved upward, but she didn’t answer.

Seeing their confusion reassured her. It seemed no one here had seen sausages before.

She remembered learning that sausages had existed since the Northern Wei dynasty, though back then, sheep intestines were used.

Yet the people here didn’t seem to know about them. She wondered if a temporal anomaly had created this blend of historical eras.

“Could it be boiled?” Mother He asked hesitantly.

“Yes, but not yet,” Su Yi’an replied, lifting the sausages and patting them to remove trapped air.

She scanned the room and pointed to a protruding ledge by the window. “Let’s hang them there. About ten days should do it. Then we can boil them.”

The window belonged to He Yunhuai’s room. Since he spent his days lying on the *kang*, he would hear if anyone tried to steal the sausages at night.

Ten days… for already-cured meat? Would it really not spoil?

Wan Xu didn’t voice her doubts. They’d find out soon enough.

After chores were done, they realized they hadn’t made lunch. They’d assumed the pork would be ready to eat, but now they had to wait ten days.

Luckily, they still had wild vegetables. Mother He fired up the stove and made a pot of dumpling soup.

After lunch, Su Yi’an remembered the embroidery thread she’d been carrying. Since she couldn’t embroider, she gave it to Wan Xu and told her about the embroidery shop.

“So many pouches for only ninety-odd *wen*?” Even after deducting the thread cost, they could still make half. Wan Xu’s interest was piqued, and she glanced at He Songyuan, hoping he’d help her decide.

“If you want to do it, go ahead. Just don’t overwork yourself,” he said, squeezing her hand gently.

Flustered, Wan Xu pulled her hand away and nodded. “Mm-hmm,” she murmured, accepting the thread.

“Sister-in-law, you could start with handkerchiefs or pouches. I’ll ask the embroidery shop about prices next time I’m in town,” Su Yi’an offered.

“I’ll embroider some and show them to you. If you like them, you can take them to sell,” Wan Xu replied.

He Songyuan, still bedridden, watched her enthusiasm with a pang of sorrow. If only he could walk and share the burden…

“Brother, do you know any woodworking?” Su Yi’an asked.

He paused. “I know a little carving, but I can’t make furniture.”

He assumed she wanted him to fix their wobbly table.

“That’s enough,” Su Yi’an said, then explained the Nine-Grid Wooden Tile Matching Game.

The rules were simple, but the challenge was carving identical wooden tiles.

He Songyuan’s interest was instantly piqued. “This isn’t difficult at all. Bamboo might be even better. If I had bamboo and a carving knife, I could definitely make them.”

Su Yi’an felt relieved. She finally had someone to help.

As for setting up a stall, she wasn’t ready to mention it. Women rarely did such things alone, and the He family had no experience with it.

After considering everyone, she realized the most suitable person was He Yunhuai, currently bedridden. She didn’t need him to walk—just to stand.

If he could recover enough to ride the oxcart to town and accompany her, that would be enough.

Lost in thought, Su Yi’an looked toward the bed—only to find He Yunhuai already watching her. Their eyes met once again.