Chapter 13: Killing the Turtle

Time quickly reached noon.

“Sis, I’m hungry.”

Meng Shiqiao was drooping again, too tired to call out. There were still three turtles left unsold in the basin.

Meng Ling pointed across the way, “Isn’t there someone selling pancakes? And buns too. Go buy some.”

Meng Shiqiao hadn’t eaten buns for a long time. He had been smelling the aroma drifting over and was already about to drool.

“Boss, two big meat buns, two vegetable buns!”

Each bun was about the size of a palm.

“Sis, eat buns.”

Meng Ling took the buns; the vegetarian ones were filled with chive stuffing.

The warm, soft buns filled her mouth with the fragrant scent of chives, rich and lasting—a taste so good she couldn’t stop.

Taking a bite of the meat bun, the full juice filled her mouth, the lean meat tender and savory.

Meng Ling slurped up the nearly overflowing juice.

“Sis, these buns are too delicious, I want to eat more,” Meng Shiqiao licked his lips, still craving.

Meng Ling nodded, “Then eat another one.”

The buns were indeed delicious, but she was already full.

In the afternoon, they sold one more turtle, then no one came by. There were still two left—one two jin (about 1kg), one three jin (about 1.5kg).

Meng Shiqiao was ready to call out one last time—if no one bought them, they’d have to take them home.

By now, the market was less crowded; most people had finished buying. The leftovers were waiting to be sold at a discount.

“Young man, how much for these turtles?”

The two were busy tidying up and only looked up after hearing the voice. An elderly lady, about fifty-something, bent over and leaning on a cane, spoke with difficulty.

“Grandma, fifteen wen per jin,” Meng Ling said.

“I only have about twenty-three copper coins. Can I buy that smaller one?”

Meng Ling took the money and counted—twenty-three coins.

“That’s enough. I’ll tie it up for you,” Meng Ling said and tied the turtle with a grass rope.

“That’s good. My eldest grandson hasn’t been well lately, I’ll buy a turtle to help nourish him,” the old lady said hoarsely.

“Okay, here you go. Take care!”

Meng Ling handed the turtle to the old lady.

“Let’s go home!” Meng Shiqiao shouted excitedly.

He silently counted the money—just enough to buy the bow. They still had 208 wen left, plus his 15 wen lucky money. It was enough.

By the time they returned home, it was already evening. Meng Qingqing sat on a bench under the eaves eating honey.

“Sis is back.”

“Oh, Qingqing, did you miss sister?” Meng Ling picked her up and wiped honey from the corner of her mouth.

“Missed you,” Qingqing smiled.

She curiously looked at the two sheep behind Meng Ling.

“Here, this is for you.”

Meng Ling took out a rattle drum and shook it in front of her.

“Hehe, thank you, sister.”

She took the rattle drum and tried to spin it like her sister, but couldn’t figure it out—just shaking it back and forth with her hands.

Seeing it still made noise, she shook it even harder.

“Oh, you’re back! Sold everything?”

Shen Yun came out from inside and asked.

“Still one left!” Meng Ling replied.

“Mom, look what this is!” Meng Shiqiao said, pulling a sheep from the basket.

“A sheep! You bought a sheep!”

Shen Yun was very happy. The family was getting richer—pigs and sheep now. Maybe one day they’d have cows too.

“There’s still one more in the basket,” Meng Shiqiao said happily.

Shen Yun couldn’t believe it—two sheep bought at once! She quickly went over to check and indeed found another one. This was a happy event for the family; she smiled brightly.

Neighbor Aunt Zhang, hearing the laughter from Meng’s yard, came out to see. Once inside, she saw the lamb on the ground.

“Oh, even bought sheep! I say, little sister, did you find gold recently?” Aunt Zhang asked cautiously.

Recently, they kept buying this and that—turtles, chickens—it seemed good things were coming their way, so she wanted to check.

“Ah, what do kids know? Just wasting money on curiosities,” Shen Yun smiled.

“Who wastes money on curiosities? This is your Meng Liang’s doing, letting them buy these big things and trusting them,” Aunt Zhang said, her eyes fixed on the lamb, her envy hard to hide.

“Ah, this eldest girl is thirteen, soon to be fourteen—not young anymore. By next year, she’ll marry and leave home.”

Shen Yun brought over a nearby bench for her to sit.

Aunt Zhang waved her hands, “No, no, I have to go check the cooking on the stove. If it burns, my husband will be furious.”

After Aunt Zhang left, Meng Ling was about to cook when her father returned.

“Dad, can you kill the turtles?” Meng Ling asked.

“Uh… I don’t know how,” Meng Liang hesitated.

He had seen turtles before but never killed one; as a kid, he had only eaten one once.

“I know how, just not strong enough. Dad, you do it like I say,” Meng Ling said.

How could she know? Meng Liang was puzzled.

Seeing his doubt, she added, “I saw someone kill turtles at the market today and took notes.”

Meng Liang nodded, took the turtle, and quickly killed it and chopped it into pieces as she instructed, putting the pieces in a basin.

“Sis, are we having turtle stew with chicken tonight?” Meng Shiqiao asked, seeing the prepared turtle.

“Yeah, go kill the chicken. Tonight we’ll have turtle stew with chicken. If you don’t kill it, then it’ll just be turtle stew,” Meng Ling said with a mischievous smile.

Meng Liang watched silently. He had learned to kill chickens at ten; it was good for the second child to learn too.

“Sis, do you think I’m scared to kill a chicken?”

Meng Shiqiao headed to the chicken coop and quickly caught the castrated chicken they bought last time.

Meng Ling had already taken the knife and handed it to him.

He took it and recalled how his dad killed chickens, mimicking the motions.

“Not good enough!”

Meng Ling said, “Put the knife down first. Grab the chicken’s wing with your left hand, then hold the chicken’s head with your right hand between the left index finger and thumb. Pinch the skin behind the head so the neck skin is tight, then pluck off some feathers below the neck—about two or three fingers wide.”

“When cutting, tilt the blade slightly downward. Remember to hold tight with your left hand.”

“After cutting the blood vessels and windpipe, immediately grab the chicken’s two legs and hang it upside down so the blood drains into a bowl.”

“Finally, tuck the head behind the wings and cross the wings behind the back to fix the head. This way, blood won’t spill everywhere.”

Meng Ling finished explaining, but he was still fumbling with the chicken’s head.

Typical—knowing it in his head but not in his hands.

“Step aside! I’ll do it. Watch carefully!”

Meng Ling couldn’t bear it anymore. She grabbed the knife in one hand and the chicken in the other.

Her movements were clean and fast; the chicken twitched a bit, then stopped moving.

“Learned it?”

“Yes,” Meng Shiqiao nodded.

Whether he really learned or not was unknown.

Meng Ling continued, “Then go catch another one to kill.”

Meng Shiqiao nodded and went back to the chicken coop.

“Come back!”

Meng Ling said with no patience, “You really went.”

Weren’t you the one who told me to go?

You were the one who said no.

Being a little brother is really hard!