As night deepened, the Xingyi Martial Arts Hall fell silent.
The oil lamps in the front courtyard had long since gone out. Only a faint, yellow glimmer remained in the corner of the kitchen.
Chen Jianghe squatted in front of the stove, staring at the meat and bones he'd bought, his brows furrowed.
When he'd first started training, he'd planned to take the meat back to Loach Bay and have his mother cook it.
The trouble was, those Black Tiger Gang members were like a pack of wild dogs that had caught the scent of blood, always circling around Loach Bay.
If he stewed meat at home and the aroma drifted outside, those gang members—with noses even sharper than wild dogs'—might catch the scent. Who knew what kind of trouble that could cause?
Fortunately, he was now part of the martial arts hall. He'd only paid the tuition, but at least his name was on the rolls.
No matter how brazen the Black Tiger Gang was, they wouldn't dare do anything to him while he was here. Besides, there were still more than ten days until the end of the month, so his mother should be safe for now.
"I have to master changing force as soon as possible," he murmured.
Once he succeeded at "changing force" and became an official disciple of the hall, he could ask his master whether his mother might come and earn a living here—boiling water, doing laundry, sweeping the courtyard, anything at all.
No matter how rundown the martial arts hall was, it was still better than living in fear outside.
Chen Jianghe drew the Butchery Blade he always carried. He never let it out of his sight; even after joining the martial arts hall, he kept it tucked behind his waist.
His blade moved with steady precision. He didn't simply chop the meat into chunks; he separated it along the grain of the flesh.
Fat went with fat, lean meat with lean meat, and he removed the tendons separately. He scraped every last bit of meat from the bones.
He'd discovered that his Grandmaster-level butchery skills weren't merely fast and precise. When handling meat, he could clearly sense where the "essence" lay within the flesh and blood.
Which cuts should be sliced thin, which bones held the richest marrow, which membranes needed to be removed—it had all become instinct.
This way of cutting preserved the essence in the meat far better. If someone chopped it haphazardly, they'd be lucky to retain six or seven parts out of ten of its nourishment. But with his butchering, he could preserve at least nine.
Stewed afterward, meat prepared this way yielded a broth that was richer by far, and the meat itself turned out more tender and silky.
Chen Jianghe tugged at the corner of his mouth and smiled ruefully. "I suppose this counts as a boost to my martial cultivation, too!"
The aroma of meat grew richer, mingling with its distinctive, hearty fragrance as it filled the kitchen.
The earthenware pot burbled softly, its broth now a milky white.
Just as Chen Jianghe was about to taste it, the kitchen door let out a quiet creak.
"Well, now—that smell is tempting."
Chen Jianghe's heart tightened. He whipped around.
Su Derong was leaning against the doorframe, casually tapping his folding fan against his palm. His face wore its usual lazy smile, but his gaze had already settled on the bubbling pot.
"Third Senior Brother?" Chen Jianghe was taken by surprise and hurried to his feet. "Why are you..."
Su Derong picked up where he left off, strolling inside as he fanned himself. "Why am I still at the martial arts hall? Every family has its own troubles. Don't ask."
He stopped beside the stove and leaned over to sniff. His eyes lit up. "That smells good! Tsk, you've got some skill, kid."
Chen Jianghe didn't know what to say, so he simply stepped aside.
Su Derong pointed at the pot with the end of his fan and looked up at him. "It's almost ready, right? Could I... have a taste?"
Only then did Chen Jianghe catch on. "Of course! Please wait a moment, Senior Brother. I'll let it cook a little longer."
He squatted back down by the stove and carefully tended the fire. Su Derong stayed where he was, watching quietly without a word.
About a quarter of an hour later, Chen Jianghe decided it was ready and stood to lift the lid.
A rich aroma wafted over him. The broth was milky white, and the chunks of meat trembled gently in it.
He took two coarse pottery bowls and filled them with broth, placing meat and a marrow bone in each.
"Senior Brother, please."
"You know how to treat a guest." Su Derong took the bowl without minding the heat and sipped from its rim.
He narrowed his eyes and savored the taste. Only after a long moment did he breathe out. "Delicious. The meat's tender without being dry, and the marrow's melted right into the broth. Your cooking's every bit as good as the chefs at Zuichun Brothel."
He hesitated, then added, "It's just a little bland."
Chen Jianghe smiled ruefully. "I don't have any salt."
Su Derong froze, then smacked his thigh. "I knew something was missing!"
He drained the bowl in a few gulps, smacked his lips, and looked reluctant to stop.
After staring at the remaining broth in the pot for a moment, he suddenly said, "Jianghe, how about we discuss something?"
Chen Jianghe looked up in confusion. "What is it, Senior Brother?"
Su Derong fanned himself leisurely. "You see, I'm thinking of staying at the hall for a while. There are some family troubles I'd rather not deal with. But you know what the food here is like: coarse-grain cakes with pickles. Eat that too long, and your mouth goes flat as a bird's."
He paused, pointing the tip of his fan at the pot. "Here's the deal. I won't just eat your food for free. I'll supply the meat from now on, and you cook it. Stew, roast, stir-fry—whatever you like. Once it's ready, we'll split it. How does that sound?"
Chen Jianghe was stunned.
Su Derong had said it casually, but Chen Jianghe understood what he meant.
In Yilin County's Outer City, meat was a genuine luxury. A catty of pork belly cost two hundred copper coins, and ordinary families might not be able to afford it even once a month.
Su Derong had tossed out, "I'll supply the meat," as if it were nothing, but that meant taking on the biggest expense.
All Chen Jianghe had to contribute was a little skill and effort.
This wasn't a "discussion" at all. It was clearly Su Derong finding a roundabout way to help him.
Chen Jianghe immediately put down his bowl and stood, giving Su Derong a respectful bow. "I'll remember your kindness, Senior Brother."
Su Derong raised his fan slightly, wearing that same lazy smile again. "We each get what we need. I provide the meat, you do the work—it's a fair deal. Besides, your stewing skills are worth the price. And hiring a cook from outside might cost me even more."
He suddenly remembered something, rummaged around in his clothes, and pulled out a small cloth pouch about the size of his palm. He tossed it to Chen Jianghe. "Here, catch."
Chen Jianghe caught it.
The pouch felt heavy in his hand. Through the coarse cloth, he could feel tiny grains inside. He untied the drawstring and peered in. His breath caught—salt.
The grains were fine and snow-white. There had to be at least half a catty in the pouch.
In these troubled times, salt was even more precious than meat. The Five Great Families in the Inner City had a firm grip on Yilin County's salt trade. Ordinary people not only paid high prices for salt, but often got sand and dirt mixed in. Salt this pure was available only to wealthy families in the Inner City or merchants with connections.
Su Derong had casually taken out half a catty...
Chen Jianghe looked up at Su Derong, his expression complicated. "Senior Brother, this is far too valuable!"
Su Derong didn't seem to care. He pointed at the salt pouch with his fan. "Keep it. Food tastes a lot worse without salt. I have more where that came from. When you run out, just ask me."
He paused, then added, "Keep this salt somewhere safe. Don't let anyone else see it. It's always better to avoid unnecessary trouble."
Chen Jianghe gripped the pouch tightly and said quietly, "Thank you, Senior Brother."
Su Derong waved it off and squatted by the stove again, sipping from his bowl. Suddenly, he asked, "Jianghe, the way you handled the meat just now was unusual. Who taught you?"
Chen Jianghe was silent for a moment before answering, "I worked as a day laborer in the Shen Mansion's slaughterhouse for three years."
Su Derong immediately understood. "No wonder. Your blade's so precise—sinew stays sinew, meat stays meat."
He drained his bowl and breathed out in satisfaction, tapping his knee lightly with his fan. As if making idle conversation, he said, "We practice Xingyi Fist, and changing force is the first hurdle. Put simply, you have to nourish the innate vitality in your body until it's strong and abundant, then shift from using your muscles to using your tendons and bones. Your qi and blood are the foundation. Without enough meat to replenish them, you can train yourself ragged, but even the most gifted won't make it through."
He looked at Chen Jianghe. "You're at your most depleted right now. Make sure you eat well, and don't skimp. As long as it tastes good, you can have as much as you want!"
Chen Jianghe nodded firmly. "I understand."
Su Derong stood and stretched, setting his empty bowl back on the stove. "All right, I've had my soup, and we've struck our deal. I'm going back to sleep. Eat the rest of the pot yourself. You're building your qi and blood right now, so don't shortchange yourself."
With that, he strolled away, fanning himself.
Silence returned to the kitchen.
Chen Jianghe looked at the pouch of salt, then at the bubbling meat broth. Warmth welled up in his chest.
He sat back down by the stove and slowly drank the hot broth. A warm current spread from his stomach through his limbs and bones. His fatigue eased, and his qi and blood seemed to stir back to life.
While the warmth lingered, he once more assumed the Three-Body Stance.