Chapter 24: This Body of Mine is Truly Useless!

Worried about being seen counting her coins in public, Su Yi’an didn’t take out her purse. She paid with the silver she had left.

The butcher recognized Su Yi’an. When he saw her buying four pounds of pork, two pounds of backfat, and a small bucket of pig intestines, he tossed in three bones as a bonus.

“Are you making something special, miss, or just stocking up for the Year-End?” the butcher asked casually, glancing at the neighboring stall.

Su Yi’an packed the meat into her basket and replied calmly, “I’m buying extra in case the price goes up.”

Pork was still thirty-five wen per pound, but Su Yi’an had heard it could rise to forty. The thought of raising a couple of piglets at home crossed her mind.

The butcher didn’t press further, but he offered a warning: “Lately, others have been buying pig intestines too. If you need them next time, let me know in advance, or I might run out.”

Su Yi’an paused. “Alright, I’ll be sure to tell you beforehand next time.”

Buying pig intestines wasn’t unusual this time of year. Poor families who couldn’t afford pork could still buy offal for a few wen. It wasn’t particularly tasty, but at least it was meat.

Still, it was rare for someone like Su Yi’an to buy a whole bucket. Butcher Wang’s comment seemed to hint that someone else was buying the same thing in large amounts. She couldn’t understand why.

The more she thought about it, the more suspicious she became. Too many coincidences forced her to suspect something was off.

She looked up and met He Yunhuai’s gaze. Both were startled—clearly, they’d reached the same conclusion.

“Sister Su, do we need to buy anything else?” He Ningwen asked. “If we keep using rice and flour like today, we’ll run out soon.” She wondered how much money they’d need if they ate this way every day.

Su Yi’an lifted her basket. “Let’s get more rice and flour. I’ll make something delicious when we get back.”

No child could resist good food. Even money-minded He Ningwen smiled brightly and took her hand. “I’ll do whatever Sister Su says!”

Among the He family, only He Ningwen still called her that. He Yunhuai had never thought much of it—until Yang Dalao’s words today.

“Sister Su, Sister Su.” The name echoed in his mind, each syllable reminding him painfully that Su Yi’an had been forced to marry him. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong to him. She shouldn’t be suffering like this.

Seeing him lag behind, He Ningwen called, “Second Brother, slow down and rest. Sister Su and I will go ahead. We’ll meet you at the alley entrance.”

Su Yi’an looked back and saw his pale face and bloodless lips. She immediately regretted forgetting he was still recovering.

“You rest here. We’ll hurry back,” she said, returning to guide him to a nearby stone bench.

Watching her rush away, He Yunhuai’s heart sank further. This body of mine… truly useless.

Coarse flour cost five copper coins per pound. Su Yi’an bought ten pounds, plus two pounds of brown rice, spending over sixty coins in total.

They hadn’t made enough today to cover their costs—but that was business. Money came and went.

The rice and flour were heavy, so Su Yi’an and her younger sister switched their baskets.

He Ningwen looked at the bulging basket. “Sister Su, you’re so wise! You knew we wouldn’t have enough room if we carried the stove and pot, so you left them at the old woman’s house, right?”

Su Yi’an coughed awkwardly. She hadn’t thought that far ahead…

They’d left their belongings behind to save money. The oxcart ride to town cost twelve copper coins round trip. By storing their things and walking instead, they saved ten a day—even after paying the old woman two for storage.

But looking at He Yunhuai now… those savings were no longer worth it.

It was one thing to think about. Another to see.

Since the weather had turned cold, the oxcart driver had returned to the village after getting a full load. There was no cart available now.

“Walking is fine,” He Ningwen said, rubbing her red cheeks. “The oxcart was so fast, the wind made my face hurt.”

Su Yi’an nodded. “Then let’s walk slowly and rest when we’re tired.”

The trip back was slower, with frequent roadside breaks. No one had to ask why. He Yunhuai understood perfectly.

He needed to rebuild his strength.

Meanwhile, the apprentice chef sent by Chef Li waited until they left Huai’an Town before rushing back to the restaurant.

He’d been loitering for days, waiting to see them. But they hadn’t sold sausages. They’d only bought pork from Butcher Wang and some rice and flour.

“Are you sure they didn’t sell any sausages?” Chef Li asked, setting down his cleaver. “They couldn’t have sold them all already. Did another shop buy their stock?”

If that were true, it would be a huge problem.

Chef Li pressed him: “What exactly did they buy from the butcher? Tell me truthfully.”

“Backfat, pork, and the pig intestines you’ve been having me buy, Master,” the apprentice answered, holding back resentment. He dared not speak up about how he’d been made to clean pig intestines every day.

“No other meat? No other restaurants?”

“No, I kept a close eye on them. Just those things. Three or four pounds of meat, tops. Afterward, they left town, probably heading home,” the apprentice said, estimating by sight and by habit.

Their clothes and demeanor made it obvious—they were outsiders.

Chef Li considered this. If true, they were still making sausages. But who was buying?

“Stay away from the restaurant for the next few days. Keep watch at the town entrance. If they come back, see where they go, what they do. Try to find out which village they’re from,” Chef Li instructed, tossing him half an ounce of silver.

“This is yours. And keep your mouth shut.”

The apprentice pocketed the money with a solemn nod, swearing secrecy.

Chef Li waved him off, uninterested in empty promises.

Knowing they’d bought pig intestines, Chef Li became more convinced: the sausage casing wasn’t chicken or duck, but pig intestine.

But how could pig intestines be processed into such a fine layer?

He glanced at the cleaned intestines in the corner and resolved to study them more closely that evening.

Back in Yongyang Village, Madam He was pacing anxiously. Every so often, she rushed to the gate to check the road.

She was still uneasy about them setting up a stall in town.

“Grandma, you’ve checked a hundred times already. Are Aunt and the others back?” He Xingchen asked, sliding a bamboo tile onto the nine-square grid.

The weather had grown cold, and He Xingchen no longer practiced calligraphy outside. Instead, he spent his free time playing the bamboo tile game with his father.

Mother He paused, then turned back and dragged Xingchen out. “If you’re curious too, come check with Grandma.”

Xingchen eagerly followed, tossing the tiles into his father’s lap.

In the quiet room, only He Songyuan and Wan Xu remained.

Wan Xu was sewing baby clothes for their unborn child. The garments were made from faded but intact fabric repurposed from an old padded jacket.

He Songyuan picked one up. His smile faded. He leaned closer and rested his arm against her.

Wan Xu, still focused on what flower pattern to embroider, suddenly felt warmth at her back. He’d pulled her into his arms.

“What’s gotten into you? So improper,” she teased. “Someone might laugh if they saw you.”

He hadn’t embraced her like this in a long time. Resting his head on her shoulder, he murmured, “I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl.”

She set aside the needlework and touched her belly. Whether son or daughter, she would love them the same.

“What do you want?” she asked softly.

He gazed at her, heart suddenly aching. He kissed her cheek.

“Being improper in broad daylight?” she scolded, blushing, grateful they were alone.

“I love them both. Whatever you give birth to, I’ll cherish,” he said, adding, “Maybe I should move in with you. I’ve been worried lately.”

Wan Xu lightly slapped his arm. “Mother and Xingchen are here. Besides, you and Second Brother get along well—don’t keep switching rooms.”

He conceded. She was right. As someone bedridden, he’d be helpless if anything happened at night.

“Whatever you say,” he muttered, nuzzling the crook of her neck.

After walking an extra quarter hour, Su Yi’an and the others reached the village entrance.

They’d stopped often, so they weren’t too tired. Su Yi’an touched He Ningwen’s forehead and, relieved to find it dry, said, “Tell me if you start sweating.”

While she fussed over He Ningwen, He Yunhuai quietly wiped the sweat from his brow so they wouldn’t see.

He Ningwen beamed now that they were nearly home. “Good sister, I promise I won’t get sick again. Really!”

Su Yi’an hummed. “Then let’s go home and show everyone the money we earned.”

With copper coins jingling in her purse, Su Yi’an felt much brighter than when they’d left. If every day went like today, they might earn half a tael of silver before year’s end.

With that, they could get through winter—and celebrate the New Year properly. Life, it seemed, was starting to look hopeful.