A few more days passed, and it was finally market day. The market in Pingshan Village took place every other day. Thanks to its convenient location, it was one of the most bustling markets in the area. Everything from household necessities like needles and thread to pickled vegetables, small stools, and tables could be found there. Of course, most of the items were homemade or locally produced—nothing as refined or complete as those sold in the city—but they were practical and affordable. 

Li Xiaohan looked around curiously, both fascinated and excited, searching for the things they needed. 

“Mother, the pork is over here,” she said, tugging Madam Wang toward a stall. It wasn’t much—just a few pieces of pork laid out on banana leaves. Since most buyers at the local market couldn’t afford much, the vendor only brought what he expected to sell. 

“Uncle, do you have any pork fat left? How much is it per jin?” Li Xiaohan asked directly. 

“You’re too late, the pork fat’s already sold out. How about this pork belly? It’s fatty enough—fifteen wen per jin,” the butcher replied. Pork fat was a prized item and always sold out early. 

“Mother, what do you think?” Li Xiaohan asked, turning to Madam Wang on purpose. 

“Let’s… let’s get two jin,” she answered, already working out the cost in her head. 

“We’ll take two jin of pork belly. Oh, Uncle, how much is that bone over there?” Li Xiaohan asked, pointing to the bare bones with hardly any meat on them. 

“That bone is three wen per jin. If you take two pieces, I’ll give it to you for five wen total,” the butcher offered. Bones with no meat were heavy and unpopular, so he sold them cheaply. 

“Mother.” Li Xiaohan tugged at Madam Wang’s sleeve. She nodded, so Li Xiaohan happily said, “We’ll take two bones.” 

The butcher quickly cut two jin of pork belly and strung the two bones together with straw. “That’ll be thirty-seven wen altogether.” 

Li Xiaohan frowned slightly. “Can you chop the bones for me?” 

The marrow wouldn’t come out unless the bones were broken, and that was the best part. 

In her past life, Li Xiaohan had traveled to Guangdong Province, where people especially loved bone soup. Even with all the warnings about fat and purines, she couldn’t resist the deliciousness of marrow soup. 

That layer of soft, oily marrow could be slurped up in one go. It melted on the tongue and slid down the throat so smoothly, it always left you wanting more. 

Fragrant, tender, and silky—it was perfect for putting on a little winter weight. 

“Chop the bones?” The butcher hesitated. 

“Yes, you can’t get the marrow otherwise.” 

Li Xiaohan’s expression was so calm and natural that the butcher almost thought he’d been wrong all along. 

Though he found her a bit troublesome, the butcher reluctantly raised his cleaver and chopped the bones. 

Sigh—as expected. His beloved butcher’s knife got a nicked edge. He’d have to sharpen it properly when he got home. 

Unaware of the butcher’s grief, Li Xiaohan cheerfully finished buying the pork and spotted a nearby fish stall. 

She went straight over, ignoring the big, fat tilapia, eels, and breams, and instead pointed at a pile of small fish. “Uncle, how much for these?” 

The old fisherman gave her a strange look. Wasn’t she supposed to buy the bigger fish? “If you want the whole pile of small fish, you can have it for seven wen.” 

Li Xiaohan estimated the pile weighed about three jin. It seemed like a good deal, so she tugged on Madam Wang’s hand. “Mother, let’s buy them.” 

After buying meat and fish, they saw a woman selling pickled mustard greens at a very low price, so Li Xiaohan bought two bunches as well. 

Now they had meat and fish. They still had sugar, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar at home. With their baskets full, Madam Wang and Li Xiaohan returned home. 

Back home, Madam Wang first washed the bones and put them straight into the pot. 

“Mother, wait—add some ginger. I love ginger.” 

Li Xiaohan knew she couldn’t convince Madam Wang to blanch the bones first to get rid of the smell—once the fat was rendered out, there was no way they’d pour it away. So she encouraged her mother to add lots of ginger to mask the gaminess. 

Naturally, Madam Wang did whatever her daughter asked. If she wanted ginger, they had plenty growing on their mountain side; she could use as much as she liked. 

With the bones simmering in the clay pot, Madam Wang and Li Xiaohan got to work on the pile of small fish. Each fish was only two fingers long, and cleaning out the guts was labor-intensive. In the end, they probably wouldn’t yield more than a few taels of meat, which was why they were so cheap. 

“Mother, aren’t we planning to render the fat from the pork? Why don’t we fry the small fish too, along with the fatty bits of meat? Fried meat keeps longer,” Li Xiaohan explained slowly. 

Madam Wang gained confidence from cooking wild vegetables the day before. After thinking it over, she nodded and said, “Alright, let’s fry them.” 

That noon, Li Xiandong and the others spent their midday surrounded by the aroma of frying oil. Having already worked up a sweat, the smell made their stomachs growl even more—they felt like they could eat an entire cow. 

When lunchtime finally arrived, no one needed to be called—they all gathered around immediately. 

The main dish was small fish fried until even the bones were crispy. There was no need to spit out the bones; you could chew through the whole fish—salty, fragrant, crispy, and crunchy. Everyone couldn’t stop eating. 

Everyone’s eyes lit up as they ate. Normally, except for those too poor to afford proper food, no one would give these small fish a second glance. After all, aside from bones and spines, they had little meat and took a lot of effort to gut and scale. With all that trouble, why not cook something better? 

But now, they realized it wasn’t that small fish weren’t tasty—it was that their own cooking methods had been lacking. Done like this, all anyone could say was: delicious. 

After frying the fish and meat, the leftover oil was poured back into the oil jar. The pan, now seasoned, was perfect for stir-frying loofah gourds. A few cloves of wild garlic were added first for fragrance, followed by the gourd slices. Stir-fried over high heat, the gourds turned out tender and sweet, leaving a refreshing aftertaste. 

By the end, even the broth from the vegetables was being used to dip their flatbreads. 

That lunch was delicious and satisfying. Even the normally reserved and steady old craftsman gave a thumbs-up. 

“This host,” he said, “is a good one.”