Chasing Jade (Zhu Yu)

The twelfth month brought snowflakes drifting down, while a large pot of boiling water sat in the courtyard. The snowflakes melted into steam before they could even touch the water.

The trampled snow on the ground had turned into muddy slush. A door plank, propped up on stools beside the pot, held half a butchered hog.

Fan Changyu raised her knife and chopped off a hind leg with a single stroke. The chopping board trembled, sending bone fragments and minced meat flying.

The cleaver in her hand had a thick, pitch-black spine, with only the tip gleaming like snow—so sharp it was frightening just to look at.

A skinning knife and a boning knife lay beside the chopping board, both with the same black iron blades and gleaming edges, clearly part of the same set as her cleaver.

Today, the Chen family in town was slaughtering their New Year’s pig, hosting a lively feast for neighbors and relatives.

Guests huddled around the fire pit inside stole glances at Fan Changyu working in the yard and whispered among themselves:

"Fan Er’s family just finished mourning—why did the Chens invite Changyu, a mere girl, to butcher the pig?"

"The Chen family and Fan Er’s were close—they don’t care about such taboos…" The speaker’s voice unconsciously softened as they remembered the Fan family’s tragedy, casting a furtive glance outside.

Amid the fine snowflakes, the young woman wielding the knife to carve the hog wore a plain, slightly worn padded dress. Tall and slender, her dark hair was tied up, revealing a fair and delicate profile. Though she looked lean, her movements were swift and efficient.

When Fan Er’s wife first arrived in Lin’an Town with him, she had drawn many covetous eyes. Some jealous women even muttered behind her back that she must have come from a brothel—such was her striking beauty. Her two daughters took after her, both exceptionally pretty.

The younger one, only five, was still too young to tell, but if the elder daughter hadn’t been betrothed to the Song family’s boy since childhood, the suitors knocking on the Fan family’s door would have worn out their threshold.

Someone sighed. "Fan Er and his wife died at the hands of bandits, leaving only two girls behind. Fan Da is heartless, only scheming to seize his brother’s property. Life has been hard for Changyu and her sister. We thought things would improve once Song Yan passed the provincial exam and Changyu married into his family—who knew the engagement would fall through? But that girl’s got grit. She took up her father’s trade, supporting the family by butchering hogs, stubbornly keeping the Fan household afloat. The Chens hiring her today is just helping her business."

Hearing these details, the crowd couldn’t help but sigh. But then an even lower voice chimed in:

"I heard it was the eldest Fan girl who brought misfortune upon her parents. Even her younger sister, sickly since birth, was cursed by her. The Songs only rushed to break off the engagement after a fortune-teller revealed her fate as the 'Star of Doom and Isolation'..."

The previous speaker scoffed. "And where do you think the Songs got that fortune read?"

The murmurs grew louder. To anyone with eyes, the Songs’ timing in calling off the engagement spoke volumes.

As the old saying goes: "Promotion, wealth, and a dead wife." Song Yan had passed the provincial exam—he was destined to become an official. Why would he marry a butcher’s daughter now?

The chopping board in the yard wasn’t far from the main house, and Fan Changyu couldn’t help but overhear the gossip about herself. Yet her expression remained unreadable.

Her parents had been gone for over a month. She had long made peace with it.

As for her and Song Yan—it was just another tale of Qin Xianglian and Chen Shimei.Back then, the Song family couldn’t even afford a coffin. Mother Song had taken Song Yan to kneel in the street, kowtowing to passersby, begging for help to buy a simple coffin to bury her husband. They kowtowed until their foreheads bled, yet no one offered assistance. It was only when Changyu’s parents saw them and took pity that they stepped in to buy the coffin for the burial.

Mother Song was overwhelmed with gratitude and proposed a betrothal between Changyu and Song Yan, promising that once Song Yan passed the imperial exams, he would marry her and she would live a life of ease.

Later, the two families became neighbors, and Changyu’s parents often helped the widowed mother and her son. Mother Song was determined for her son to take the imperial exams but couldn’t afford the tuition fees. Before Song Yan passed the county-level exams, much of the tuition had been covered by Changyu’s father.

Song Yan proved diligent. He earned the title of xiucai several years ago and passed the provincial-level exams this autumn, attracting the attention of many local gentry. Even the county magistrate held him in high regard, and rumors suggested he was keen to take Song Yan as his ideal son-in-law.

Mother Song’s attitude then grew ambiguous, as if she now felt the daughter of a butcher was unworthy of her scholar son.

Changyu’s mother noticed Mother Song was no longer as amiable as before and worried she might suspect them of leveraging past favors. She suggested calling off the engagement, but Mother Song adamantly refused, insisting the Song family was not one to forget kindness.

After Changyu’s parents died unexpectedly, rumors spread—no one knew from where—that she was cursed, having brought misfortune upon them.

When Mother Song came to break off the engagement, she used the same reasoning, claiming a fortune-teller had declared their birthdates incompatible. If they married, she would not only bring misfortune to Song Yan but, having already lost her parents, would also doom Mother Song.

Thus, Song Yan smoothly dissolved the betrothal without a trace of blame for ingratitude, leaving Fan Changyu as the dreaded Star of Doom and Isolation, shunned by all.

Changyu shook off the thoughts and exhaled sharply.

Too many troubles—best not dwell on them.

After butchering the pig, she collected her pay and took her leave without even stepping into the main house. During the New Year season, people valued auspiciousness. The Chen family, having just held a funeral, didn’t mind hiring her for the job, but she knew better than to linger.

The host didn’t press her to stay and gave her a bucket of offal as she left.

This was an unwritten custom in the village—when hiring a butcher, aside from payment, a piece of pork was traditionally given as well, though offal often served as a substitute.

Before heading home with the offal, Changyu stopped by the pharmacy to pick up two prescriptions.

One for her younger sister, the other for the man she had rescued.

The day before, she had taken a butchering job in the countryside and found a bloodied man lying in the snow on her way back, likely a victim of bandits.

Remembering her own parents had died at the hands of bandits, Changyu took pity and carried him home.

To her surprise, none of the town’s clinics dared treat a man halfway to the underworld. She couldn’t just abandon him in the street, so she brought him home and asked a neighbor—a former veterinarian turned carpenter—to try his hand at saving him.

She wasn’t sure how the treatment was going, but at least the man was still breathing.

The prescription had also been written by the neighbor.

With the medicine in hand, Changyu headed home.

The Fan residence was nestled in the crowded civilian alleys of the western part of town, where houses stood shoulder to shoulder.

The alley was dark and damp, moss creeping along the walls. The aging houses on either side had peeling plaster and worn wooden doors and windows, exuding a musty, decaying odor.As fate would have it, Fan Changyu had just entered the alley when she ran into Mother Song and her son.

Both were dressed in newly tailored winter clothes made of fine fabric. Mother Song even wore gold earrings, her demeanor no longer meek and pitiful as before, but rather proud and self-assured.

After Song Yan passed the imperial examination, local gentry and wealthy merchants had sent silver and even houses as gifts. Naturally, the Song family was now basking in glory.

As the saying goes, fine feathers make fine birds. Song Yan, dressed in a dark blue robe embroidered with bamboo leaves, exuded an air of scholarly refinement, no longer looking as shabby as before. He now carried himself like an elegant young nobleman.

Fan Changyu had just come back from slaughtering pigs at the Chen family. She carried a leather satchel holding her butcher knives, her patched old coat splattered with blood from the work. In one hand, she held a packet of medicine, and in the other, a wooden bucket filled with offal—a rather disheveled sight.

Mother Song subtly stepped aside, even waving a handkerchief in front of her nose. Her fingers, too, now bore a gold ring.

Truly, they had come into wealth.

The alley was narrow, and neither mother nor son spoke. Fan Changyu didn’t spare them a glance either, walking past them as if they didn’t exist, her offal bucket in hand. "Watch your step—"

As she brushed past them, the bucket accidentally grazed Song Yan’s new robe, leaving a large wet stain of blood on the fine fabric.

Mother Song watched Fan Changyu stride away, her face turning green with anger. "That blind girl! This is Hangzhou silk!"

Song Yan’s expression remained unreadable. "Mother, let it go."

Mother Song scowled. "Fine. In a few days, we’ll be moving out of this wretched place anyway!"

Meanwhile, Fan Changyu had just reached her doorstep when a five-year-old snowball of a child came darting out from the neighbor’s house. "Elder Sister, you’re back!"

The little one was as delicate as a porcelain doll, her arms outstretched for a hug, a gap in her smile where a tooth was missing.

Fan Changyu grabbed the back of her younger sister’s collar. "Don’t touch me—my clothes are dirty."

Xiao Changning obediently stopped, then took the medicine packet from her sister’s hands when she saw how much she was carrying.

She had the same almond-shaped eyes as Fan Changyu, though hers were rounder and more childlike, her cheeks plump like a chubby little doll.

The neighbor’s wife came out at the sound of their voices and smiled at Fan Changyu. "Changyu, you’re back."

The neighbors were an elderly couple. The husband, surnamed Zhao, was a carpenter who spent his days either crafting furniture for others or selling woven baskets at the market, returning only in the evenings.

The two families got along well. Whenever Fan Changyu had to leave home, she would entrust her younger sister to the neighbor’s wife, unwilling to leave the child alone.

Fan Changyu responded with a cheerful "Aye!" and pulled out a bundle of pork liver wrapped in palm leaves from the offal bucket. "Uncle likes this—take it and stir-fry it for him as a side dish with his wine."

The neighbor’s wife accepted it without hesitation, then added, "That young man you carried back last night has woken up."

Fan Changyu paused in surprise. "I’ll go see him in a bit."

After her parents’ death, only she and her younger sister remained in the household. It wouldn’t be proper to let an unrelated man stay with them. Last night, after bringing the injured man to the neighbor’s husband for treatment, she had borrowed a room from them to house him temporarily.

Xiao Changning looked up and chirped, "That big brother is so pretty!"

Pretty?Fan Changyu was both amused and exasperated. She reached out to touch the little bun on her younger sister's head, saying, "Since when do we use 'pretty' to describe a man?"

But when she had found the man, his face had been covered in dried, blackened blood, barely recognizable as human. By the time she carried him back yesterday evening, she had been in such a hurry to get medical help that she hadn’t even thought to clean his face.

She truly had no idea what he looked like.

Fan Changyu went back to her room to change out of the clothes she wore for butchering before heading next door.

Winter dusk always arrived especially early. Before the hour of You had even passed, the sky had already darkened.

When Fan Changyu entered the room, the dim light made it hard to see clearly. She could only make out a vague, huddled shape on the bed.

The air inside was thick with an indescribable mix of herbal medicine, blood, and sweat.

The cold weather must have made Uncle Zhao and Aunt Zhao fear the man wouldn’t survive—they had sealed the doors and windows tightly and even lit a charcoal brazier in the room. The heat intensified the odors.

But Fan Changyu had been to pigsties while catching hogs, so the smell didn’t bother her much. She only frowned slightly upon entering before moving to the table to light the oil lamp.

A warm, orange glow from the small flame illuminated the cramped space. When she turned back to look at the bed, she finally saw the man’s face clearly and froze for a moment.

Now she understood why Changning had called him pretty.