Chapter 42: Wild Boars Have No Taste for Fine Bran

After showing Qin Jun a couple of tricks, Qin Zhike found a spool of thread, tore off a length, and tied off both ends of the pig intestine.

"This is to keep the fat inside," Qin Zhike explained as he worked.

At first, a few others helped and listened, but soon, only Qin Jun remained.

Qin Zhike shook his head, "I'm afraid this craft of mine is going to be lost."

Qin Jun felt a pang of emotion; skill thrives on diligence and withers with neglect. A dozen years or so from now, the countryside would see extreme polarization. Some people would toil away at manual labor year-round to earn money, while others would simply linger in the village, wasting their lives away. Yet, the older generation like Qin Zhike truly never stopped working; many were still doing construction work even at seventy.

Just like Qin Zhike now—he was incredibly efficient. No matter what he did, he made it look simple and effortless, whether it was preparing the intestines or boiling them. Before Qin Jun could finish his musings, the fatty intestines were already out of the pot. Cooked over a wood fire, it seemed surprisingly fast.

"They aren't fully cooked yet, and they don't need to be. Overcooking shrinks them, which wastes portions. This level of doneness is perfect; a quick stir-fry later and they’ll be fragrant!"

As he pulled the intestines from the pot, Qin Zhike began slicing them quickly while they were still hot. He soon had half of them cut. "See that? Why is it called 'fatty intestine'? Because it’s prone to accumulating fat inside! And it’s that fat that makes it taste so good when cooked."

"It’s just that things have been tough in the village for the past few decades. We rarely get to eat meat, so naturally, people forgot how to prepare this. Why, our Qin family used to run a cured meat business!"

Qin Jun asked, surprised, "Our family used to sell cured meat?"

Qin Zhike smiled. "Why wouldn't we? Our family even produced scholars! But why am I telling you all this? Those were turbulent times. My father—your great-great-uncle—and his generation had it rough. Otherwise, how could we have ended up..."

Qin Zhike stopped abruptly. He glanced at Qin Jun and, seeing only a child, let a smile return to his face. Qin Jun smiled back and didn't press further. After all, he wasn't really a child. In the future age of information explosions, the secrets of the village would eventually come to light. Why was the Qin family so united? Why were all the men militia members? It wasn't because they were naturally docile; it was a forced, survival-based obedience.

Years ago, their ancestors had ventured into the Northeast because they couldn't survive at home. Before the founding of the nation, the Northeast was never peaceful. The men of the Qin family were hot-blooded and refused to be bullied, so they turned to the life of outlaws. How else would the Qin family have come by those gold bars?

It was only 1979 now; such things couldn't be spoken of, so Qin Jun played the part of the ignorant child. He was content to wait and enjoy the meal. For Qin Jun, this was the happiest day since his rebirth.

He was eating pure meat—no side dishes, just the dry-fried fatty intestines. The intestines were sliced into rings, like little swimming tubes, with a layer of white, fat-like grease still visible inside. As the iron pot heated them, they released the aroma of roasted meat. The fat melted into the pan, frying the intestines until they were perfectly tender.

Qin Jun could see that Qin Zhike’s method wasn't complex—just a bit of salt and soy sauce. But the result was truly fragrant and delicious. Of course, there was that distinct offal scent, but it was acceptable. As many say, if it didn't have that smell, it wouldn't be authentic fatty intestine. A good cook has the skill to turn the mundane into the miraculous; without that skill, one might ruin even the finest ingredients.

Today, the dozen strong men in the village were all very satisfied. Each had five large steamed buns—two taels each, plump, soft, and fragrant with every chew. It felt like he hadn't tasted such pure white flour buns in two lifetimes. This long-lost, wonderful flavor was truly nostalgic!

As Qin Jun ate slowly, he watched the others. They were all bowed, chewing silently, saying nothing, yet their faces said it all: satisfaction, sorrow, and reluctance.

Yes, reluctance. They were eating their buns and intestines with a mix of contentment and hesitation. The silence in the courtyard grew heavy until Qin Zheng couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright, it's not like you're eating poison! You’re like wild boars that can’t handle fine bran!" Qin Zheng scolded. "We’ve made a rule: the kiln provides meals, but you must finish at least half of what’s served, or you won't have the strength for the afternoon’s work. This is the rule, and it must be followed. Jun, say something."

Qin Zheng trailed off. He was at home, and his own children were watching. No matter how the elders or women pulled or even swatted at them, the children wouldn't leave. The aroma was just too enticing.

Qin Zheng held a white bun in his hand, but the more he ate, the harder it felt to swallow. These things used to be reserved for the elderly and the children; now that the workers were eating them while the kids watched, who could feel at ease?

Qin Jun wasn't heartless. He had started off joyful, but as the silence took over, he realized the problem. In this era, it wasn't that the children weren't striving; even he, at nearly fifteen, had to rack his brains just to get a decent meal.

"Don't feel bad," Qin Jun said. "We're poor now, but will we stay poor forever? Listen to the village, follow our lead, and one day we'll be eating so much meat we'll get sick of it. One day, the fat will be so common that even the dogs won't want it, and we'll be eating lean meat and gnawing on bones!"

"Pfft... Hahaha..." Someone with a low threshold for humor burst out laughing.

"Jun, that’s a bit of an exaggeration!"
"Yeah! Who wouldn't want to eat fat?"
"Fat that even dogs won't eat? That’s because we can't get it now! Fat is so expensive, we can't afford to buy it."
"Our village is doing alright. If we work hard raising pigs all year, what can't we eat?"
"Would you really dare to eat it? Only because things have been better the last few years and the authorities aren't breathing down our necks for the mandatory pig quota. Otherwise, do you think you'd be able to slaughter your own?"
"Is that the point? The point is, when will that day come?"
"I don't want to gnaw on bones, let the dogs have them! I'm not fighting a dog for food."
"Hey, our village used to have a lot of dogs, but later on, we had to eat the dogs!"

That last comment killed the mood. The courtyard fell silent again. Qin Jun had to liven things up once more.

"Why is no one talking about how we'll be able to eat meat every day? Think about it. If we have meat every day, will these kids still be this hungry? Understand this: if you want to eat meat every day, you have to work hard. If you're hungry and weak, how can you handle heavy labor?"

"Eat, go ahead and eat. We won't be short of food for these kids in the future. You don't believe me? Captain, there’s plenty of money in the account now, isn't there? Since our village started from nothing, why not pay out a month’s wages in advance? With the New Year coming and the winter slaughter season starting, we should give everyone some extra money to build up their strength. Otherwise, they'll just rely on this one meal and won't dare to eat properly."

"Don't be misers with the money in your hands. Think about the future; this will be every month. Imagine, thirty yuan a month—you’ll have to plan how to spend it! Think about it, that's three hundred and sixty yuan a year! We used to work our hearts out for a whole year just to earn a hundred. Now? One person’s wages for two or three months equal an entire family's annual income. Why wouldn't you dare to eat well?"

"So, rules are rules. Eat at least half. Alright, that’s all I have to say."

As Qin Jun finished, the silence lingered for a moment, and then the atmosphere began to liven up again.