Transaction

The night deepened, and the Xingyi Martial Arts Hall fell into a profound silence.

The oil lamps in the front courtyard had long since been extinguished, leaving only a single dim, yellowish glow in the corner of the kitchen.

Chen Jianghe squatted before the stove, staring at the meat and bones he had bought, his brows furrowed tightly.

When he first began his martial arts training, he had intended to bring the meat back to Loach Bay for his mother to cook.

The trouble was that the Black Tiger Gang members were like wild dogs catching the scent of blood, constantly prowling around Loach Bay.

If he stewed the meat at home, the aroma would drift out, and if those gang members—whose noses were sharper than any hound's—caught a whiff, there was no telling what kind of trouble it might invite.

Fortunately, he was now considered a member of the martial arts hall; although he had only paid the tuition, he was at least officially registered.

No matter how arrogant the Black Tiger Gang was, they wouldn't dare touch him while he was under the hall's banner, and with more than ten days left until the end of the month, his mother's safety should be secure for the time being.

"I must succeed in 'changing energy' as soon as possible," he muttered to himself.

Once he successfully "changed energy" and became a formal disciple of the hall, he could beg his master to see if his mother could find work at the hall—boiling water, washing clothes, or sweeping the courtyard would all suffice.

Even if the hall was dilapidated, it was still better than living in constant fear outside.

Chen Jianghe drew the butcher's knife he carried with him; he never let it leave his side, keeping it tucked behind his waist even after entering the martial arts hall.

His cuts were incredibly steady, not the haphazard chopping of a layman, but a precise separation following the natural grain of the muscle.

Fat was separated from lean, sinews were meticulously trimmed away, and the meat clinging to the bones was scraped clean.

He discovered that his Grandmaster-level butchery skill was not only fast and accurate, but also allowed him to clearly perceive where the "essence" lay within the flesh while processing it.

Which piece of meat should be sliced thin, which bone marrow was the most succulent, and which fascia needed to be removed—it had almost become instinct.

With this kind of blade work, the loss of the meat's essence was minimized; if he had chopped it randomly, retaining sixty or seventy percent of the nutrients would have been considered good, but through this masterful, effortless carving, he could preserve at least ninety percent.

When such meat was boiled, the broth was always three parts richer, and the texture of the meat was far more tender.

Chen Jianghe curled his lips into a bitter smile. "I suppose this counts as a form of aid to my martial path!"

The fragrance of the meat gradually intensified, mingling with a unique, mellow aroma that permeated the kitchen.

The clay pot gave off a soft "gurgle-gurgle" sound, and the broth had boiled down to a milky white.

Just as Chen Jianghe was about to taste it, a soft "creak" suddenly came from the kitchen doorway.

"Yo, this scent—it's truly intoxicating."

Chen Jianghe's heart tightened, and he whipped his head around.

He saw Su Derong leaning lazily against the doorframe, his folding fan tapping rhythmically against his palm. His expression held its usual casual smile, but his gaze was already fixed on the bubbling clay pot.

"Third Senior Brother?" Chen Jianghe was somewhat surprised and quickly stood up. "Why are you..."

Su Derong cut him off, waving his fan as he strolled inside. "Why am I still at the hall? Every family has its own troubles; don't ask."

He stopped by the stove, leaned over to sniff, and his eyes brightened slightly. "Fragrant! Tsk tsk, you've got real skill, kid."

Chen Jianghe didn't know how to respond, so he silently stepped back half a pace.

Su Derong pointed his fan at the clay pot and looked at him. "It's almost ready, right? Can I... share in the feast?"

Chen Jianghe finally snapped out of it and quickly said, "Yes, of course! Please wait a moment, Senior Brother, I'll boil it a little longer."

He squatted back down before the stove, carefully controlling the fire. Su Derong stood there without a word, watching quietly.

After about another quarter of an hour, Chen Jianghe felt it was ready and stood up to lift the lid.

A rich, savory aroma rushed out; the broth was milky white, and the chunks of meat trembled slightly within it.

He picked up two coarse clay bowls and ladled out two full portions, each containing meat and a bone filled with marrow.

"Senior Brother, please."

"Sensible." Su Derong took the bowl and, not minding the heat, took a sip from the rim.

He narrowed his eyes, savoring the taste, and let out a long breath after a moment. "Fresh. The meat is tender, not stringy, and the marrow has completely melted into the broth. Your skill is no worse than the chefs at the Zuichun Brothel."

He hesitated for a moment before adding, "It's just a bit bland."

Chen Jianghe smiled bitterly. "There's no salt."

Su Derong was stunned, then slapped his thigh with a "smack." "I knew something was missing!"

He finished the broth in his bowl in a few gulps, smacked his lips, and looked unsatisfied.

He stared at the remaining meat broth in the pot for a few moments before suddenly saying, "Jianghe, let me discuss something with you."

Chen Jianghe looked up, puzzled. "Please speak, Senior Brother."

Su Derong waved his fan and said slowly, "Look, I plan to stay at the hall for a while. I have some annoying matters at home I don't want to deal with. But the food here, you know—coarse grain cakes and pickled vegetables; eat enough of that and you'll go mad from the boredom."

He paused, the tip of his fan pointing at the pot. "How about this? Jianghe, I won't eat your food for free. From now on, I'll provide the meat, and you do the cooking. Stewing, roasting, stir-frying—whatever you like. Once it's done, we'll split it. How about that?"

Chen Jianghe was stunned.

Su Derong had spoken casually, but he understood the meaning behind the words.

In the outer city of Yilin County, meat was a truly precious commodity. A pound of pork belly cost two hundred wen, and an average family might not even be willing to eat it once a month.

Su Derong's lighthearted "I'll provide the meat" was equivalent to taking on the greatest expense.

As for him, he only needed to provide his skills and labor.

This was no "discussion"; it was clearly a roundabout way of helping him.

Chen Jianghe immediately set down his bowl, stood up, and gave Su Derong a solemn bow: "Senior Brother's kindness, Jianghe will keep in mind."

Su Derong gestured with his fan, his face returning to that lazy smile: "It's just mutual benefit. I provide the meat, you provide the labor; a fair trade. Besides, your soup-making skills are worth this price. If I went out to find a cook, I'd likely spend even more."

Suddenly remembering something, he rummaged through his robes, pulled out a palm-sized cloth bag, and tossed it to Chen Jianghe: "Here, catch."

Chen Jianghe caught it.

The bag felt heavy in his hand, and through the coarse fabric, he could feel fine, granular contents. He untied the string and took a peek, his breath hitching—salt.

Snow-white, fine-grained salt. This small bag held at least half a jin.

In these chaotic times, salt was more precious than meat. The salt industry in Yilin County had long been firmly gripped by the five great families of the inner city. When commoners bought salt, not only was the price high, but it was often mixed with sand and impurities. Only the wealthy families in the inner city or merchants with significant connections could obtain such pure, fine salt.

Su Derong had just pulled out half a jin as if it were nothing...

Chen Jianghe looked up at Su Derong, his eyes complex: "Senior Brother, this is too valuable!"

Su Derong, however, didn't care at all, pointing at the salt bag with his fan: "Just take it. Cooking without salt makes the flavor drop significantly. I have more; just ask me when you run out."

He paused, then added: "Keep this salt hidden. Don't let others see it. It's always better to avoid unnecessary trouble."

Chen Jianghe gripped the salt bag tightly and said in a low voice: "Thank you, Senior Brother."

Su Derong waved his hand, squatted back down by the stove to sip his soup, and suddenly asked: "Jianghe, the way you handled the meat earlier was quite unique. Who did you learn it from?"

Chen Jianghe was silent for a moment before saying: "I worked as a day laborer in the slaughterhouse of the Shen Mansion for three years."

Su Derong immediately realized: "No wonder. Your blade work was so precise—separating the sinew from the meat perfectly."

He finished the soup in his bowl, sighed in satisfaction, tapped his knees lightly with his fan, and said as if offhandedly: "For us practicing Xingyi Fist, 'changing strength' is the first hurdle. To put it plainly, this hurdle is about nourishing and strengthening the innate vital energy in your bones, then shifting from muscular force to sinew-and-bone force. That blood and qi is the foundation; without sufficient meat to nourish it, no matter how high your talent is, you won't survive the grind."

He looked at Chen Jianghe: "You are currently at your most depleted state. Nourish yourself well, don't skimp. As long as you make it taste good, eat your fill!"

Chen Jianghe nodded heavily: "I understand."

Su Derong stood up, stretched, and placed the empty bowl back on the stove: "Alright, the soup is finished, and the deal is set. I'm going back to sleep. Eat the rest in the pot; you're at the stage where you need to build up your blood and qi, so don't shortchange yourself."

With that, he walked away, waving his fan.

The kitchen returned to silence.

Chen Jianghe looked at the bag of salt, then at the simmering meat soup in the pot, a warmth rising in his chest.

He sat back down by the stove and slowly drank the hot soup. A warm current spread from his stomach, diffusing into his limbs and bones. His fatigue lessened, and his blood and qi seemed to show signs of recovery.

While still warm, he once again set himself into the "Three-Body Stance" in the open space.