Eating Qi-Blood Soup

"What is it?"

Feng Chen had already guessed it was most likely news of Liu Dagang's death, but his face remained utterly ignorant.

Lin Qing'er hurried over to him, tipping up her face. Her voice was urgent and low. "Husband, it's the village chief. The village chief was beaten to death!"

Feng Chen's eyes flew wide open, his brow furrowing into a deep crease. His face was full of shock. "Really? When did it happen? What exactly happened?"

"..."

Lin Qing'er then told him, word for word, all the news she had heard in the village.

Zhao Laosan had gone to take care of something. He knocked for a long time without anyone answering, then pushed open the door and saw the village chief and his wife lying in the courtyard, blood all over the ground, their heads chopped off.

The villagers had gathered to look, but they all said the village chief had committed too many evils in his lifetime. No one was willing to collect the bodies, and the door had been shut again.

After listening, Feng Chen fell silent for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "Sigh, the village chief was truly too miserable."

Lin Qing'er looked at him, her gaze lingering on his face for quite a while.

She lowered her head to look at her toes, then raised it again. Her lips moved, and she stepped a little closer before asking in a lowered voice, "Husband, tell me honestly. Did you know about this long ago?"

Feng Chen shook his head, wearing an innocent expression. "Why would you ask that? I don't know anything."

"Is that so?"

Lin Qing'er tilted her head. Her gaze drifted toward the dog meat hanging from the kitchen beam, then returned to him, her face full of confusion.

"Then why did that big dog we dealt with last night look so much like the village chief's big yellow dog?"

She had actually wanted to ask ever since they had dealt with the dog yesterday.

The dog had a large, sturdy frame, and once it was cleaned, its yellow coat showed through.

There was only one big yellow dog in all of Green Mountain Village with fur that pure.

She had merely been too tired last night, so she had held back from asking.

Now that she had heard the village chief was dead, the shadow of suspicion in her heart surfaced once more.

Feng Chen smiled and shook his head, reaching out to lightly flick her forehead. "You're thinking too much. It was just a wild dog that ran in from who knew where. Also, you're not allowed to talk about this outside, understand?"

"The village chief's death is a major matter. We're just a small household, so don't invite trouble."

Lin Qing'er shrank her neck. Much of the cloud of doubt on her face dispersed, and she obediently replied, "All right, Husband. I understand."

She did not ask any more questions.

Since her husband said not to speak of it, then she would not.

Perhaps some things did not need to be understood completely.

Seeing that she was no longer pressing the matter, Feng Chen pulled her into the kitchen and laid out the things he had bought today on the stove one by one.

Pork hind leg meat, spine bones, an entire rack of fresh ribs—the kitchen beam was hung full of heavy meat, more plentiful than even the New Year.

There were also several packets of medicinal herbs, fine white salt, a jar of rapeseed oil, and a bolt of dark-blue coarse cloth for her to make them both a change of clothes when she had time.

Lin Qing'er's eyes widened further and further, and the last trace of suspicion from before was swept away by joy.

Feng Chen took out a pair of new shoes and handed them to her. They were flat shoes with blue cloth uppers, tightly layered soles, and two pale-yellow flowers embroidered on each shoe.

Lin Qing'er froze at first. Then her smile was like a lantern being lit, spreading from the corners of her lips to the corners of her eyes.

She held the new shoes and examined them over and over, her fingertips carefully tracing the embroidery. Raising her head, she said softly, "Thank you, Husband."

"No need to thank me." Seeing how dearly she treasured them, Feng Chen's heart warmed as well.

The two began making lunch.

Feng Chen took the dog meat, hind leg meat, and spine bones down from the beam, while Lin Qing'er picked wild vegetables, washed rice, and tended the fire.

The chunks of meat were blanched to remove the blood, then simmered slowly in fresh water with ginger slices and salt.

Before long, the fragrance of meat slipped out through the gaps in the pot lid, heavily wrapping the entire kitchen.

As they worked, Lin Qing'er also realized that there had to be at least two hundred jin of meat hanging from the beam. The medicinal herbs were wrapped in such fine oiled paper that they were clearly not cheap.

The salt jar, oil jar, and that bolt of cloth—how much silver must all of it have cost altogether?

She turned her head and asked, "Husband, when did our family get so much money?"

Feng Chen was crouching before the stove, feeding in firewood. The firelight cast his face into alternating brightness and shadow.

He smiled, tossed the split wood into the stove, patted the ash from his hands, and said lightly, "I met a good person on the road. That good person gave it to me."

"Really? There are good people like that?" Lin Qing'er's eyes went wide, her spatula stopping in midair.

In all her life, the greatest kindness she had ever seen was Aunt Li lending them two jin of coarse grain. That was already kindness reaching the heavens.

Feng Chen nodded solemnly. "Yes, there really are good people like that. I just don't know if I'll be able to meet one again in the future."

Lin Qing'er said earnestly, "Husband, if you meet them again next time, remember to treat them to a meal. We can't be ignorant of proper courtesy."

Feng Chen found it amusing, but still replied solemnly, "Of course."

An hour later, lunch was ready.

Coarse rice was served with stewed dog meat, hind leg meat, and wild vegetable soup. The meat had been stewed until soft and falling apart, separating with a single pinch of the chopsticks. Emerald-green wild vegetable leaves and a few glistening drops of oil floated in the soup.

Feng Chen ate three large bowls of rice and half a pot of meat, not putting down his chopsticks until the hunger in his belly had been filled.

After eating, Feng Chen took three portions of High-Grade Blood-Qi Medicinal Herbs from their oiled-paper packets.

There were eight kinds of herbs: sliced astragalus, whole codonopsis roots, dark-red segments of angelica, and several Blood-Qi Herb leaves that the pharmacy clerk had specifically warned possessed "the fiercest medicinal potency."

He poured them all into a clay pot, added plenty of water, and set it over the stove to simmer.

Lin Qing'er came over to help him watch the heat. When the fire was too strong, she pulled out two pieces of wood; when it was too weak, she added a handful of dry grass.

Half an hour later, the clay pot lid was lifted, and a rich medicinal fragrance surged straight up.

It was not the bitter, pungent smell of ordinary medicinal soup, but a mellow, warm scent carrying the sweetness of ginseng and the slight bitterness of angelica, mixed with the indescribable sharp heat of Blood-Qi Herb. Just smelling it made the blood inside one's body seem to grow several degrees hotter.

The medicinal liquid had already boiled down into a thick, dark-brown broth.

Feng Chen took the clay pot off the stove and brought over two bowls.

He looked at Lin Qing'er's frail body, her wrists so thin they seemed as though they would break with a little force, then ladled out a small bowl of medicinal liquid and set it beside her.

"These are Blood-Qi Medicinal Herbs. They can nourish your body. Drink this small bowl."

Lin Qing'er hurriedly waved her hands and took half a step back. "Ah, Husband, I don't need it. You train every day and use up so much energy. You should drink it instead."

She pushed the small bowl toward Feng Chen, carefully afraid of spilling even a single drop.

Feng Chen picked up the bowl and placed it in her hands. His tone was gentle, yet brooked no refusal. "If I tell you to drink it, then drink it. Be good, or when you can't beat me at night from now on, let's see how you'll still make a fuss with me."

Lin Qing'er blushed, lowered her eyes, and stopped refusing.

Holding the small bowl with both hands, she nodded lightly. "I understand, Husband."

Once the medicinal liquid had cooled enough to drink, Feng Chen lifted the clay pot and tipped his head back, gulping it down.

The medicinal liquid was slightly bitter, followed immediately by a warm current sliding from his throat into his stomach.

In less than a moment, a surging heat rose from his abdomen and spread along his meridians toward all four limbs and every bone in his body!

It was not the ordinary warmth of eating a meal, but like red-hot molten iron being poured into his veins, stirring all the qi and blood throughout his body. High-Grade Blood-Qi Medicinal Herbs truly were extraordinary.

He set down the clay pot and suppressed the surging medicinal power within him. "Qing'er, once you've finished drinking, go rest. I'm going to train."

"All right, Husband."

Feng Chen strode quickly into another room, leaving the door slightly ajar, then resumed the Fierce Tiger Fist Stance Technique.

He closed his eyes, immersed his mind, and sensed the qi and blood within his body.

Driven by the medicinal power, the qi and blood inside him had become vast and turbulent, like a river after a dam had burst, rushing and pounding through his meridians.

He mobilized this surging qi and blood to continuously temper his fleshly body. As the qi and blood passed through his muscles, they swelled and tightened slightly, each bundle of fibers becoming denser and more solid!

As it seeped into his bones, a hot, aching swelling arose from their depths, as though they were undergoing a reconstruction.