Chasing Jade (Zhu Yu)

The next day, Fan Changyu arrived at her family's butcher shop early in the morning with fresh pork and braised meat.

The morning market was already bustling with vendors hawking their wares, and elderly women wrapped in thick coats, baskets in hand, were picking through stalls and haggling over prices.

After setting up her goods on the cutting board, Fan Changyu greeted a few butchers who had been close with her father as usual. This time, however, their responses were somewhat reluctant.

Puzzled, she was about to wonder why when an old woman shopping for groceries, likely drawn by the steaming, fragrant pork head meat on display, asked, "Is this braised pork head meat also a giveaway?"

Fan Changyu assumed the woman had heard about her previous offer of free braised offal and replied sheepishly, "Auntie, pork head meat isn’t cheap, and the braising spices are expensive too—how could I give it away?"

The woman pursed her lips and turned her gaze to the braised offal nearby. "Then is this braised offal free?"

Fan Changyu said, "I gave it away for one day when my shop reopened for good luck, but now it’s not free anymore. If you want to buy it, it’s two coins for an ounce."

The woman’s expression instantly darkened. "Other butcher shops give it away for free—yours actually charges for it?"

Fan Changyu grew even more confused. "You mean all the butcher shops on this street give away braised offal with purchases?"

The woman huffed. "Why would I lie? Go see for yourself!"

"Here you go, take care!"

Just then, a deal was struck at Guo Butcher’s stall across the street. His loud call drew Fan Changyu’s attention, and she saw the woman who had bought meat not only carrying pork but also holding a packet of braised offal wrapped in oiled paper.

Guo Butcher noticed Fan Changyu looking his way and deliberately turned his face away, busying himself with rearranging the meat on his stall.

A large basin sat in the corner of his cutting board. From a distance, it was hard to see what was inside, but now it was clear—it must be braised offal.

Fan Changyu’s eyes widened. That shameless old man! Back when she had given away freebies, he had been so jealous he nearly stormed over to flip her stall on the spot. He had even repeatedly warned her not to give away freebies in the future. Yet now, he was using the same tactic to attract customers!

Looking around, she noticed the neighboring stalls also had basins of braised meat on their cutting boards. No wonder the other butchers had seemed off when she greeted them earlier.

The woman pressed, "So, are you giving it away or not? If not, I’ll just buy from another shop!"

Fan Changyu immediately said, "I’ll give it away!"

After all, offal wasn’t worth much, and the braising spices weren’t just for the offal—they were also used for the pork head meat. She might as well keep using the offal as a giveaway to promote her braised meat!

When everyone sold pork, some buyers couldn’t tell the difference in quality. But using braised offal as a giveaway was different—the color and aroma couldn’t be faked!

This might actually work in her favor!

The woman had already taken a liking to Fan Changyu’s braised meat. The stuff elsewhere looked dull and lacked fragrance, but hers had a rich, glossy red hue—clearly superior.

Hearing that Fan Changyu was also offering freebies, the woman beamed. "Give me five pounds of rump meat!"

Fan Changyu swiftly chopped five pounds of pork rump, weighed it, and handed it over, then sliced five ounces of braised offal as a bonus.

The woman sniffed the offal and exclaimed how delicious it smelled. Before leaving, she added, "Your giveaway is excellent—I’ll tell my neighbors to come buy from you too!"Fan Changyu smiled and agreed, promising to give the old lady more giveaways next time. The old lady happily walked away with her meat.

Others saw that she had bought fresh meat from Fan Changyu’s shop and also taken a pack of braised offal. The color of the offal in Fan’s shop was particularly appealing, so they couldn’t help but step forward to ask the price. In the end, without exception, they all bought meat from Fan Changyu’s stall.

Those who came to buy meat and vegetables noticed the crowd gathered in front of Fan’s shop and instinctively assumed her goods must be better, so they squeezed in to take a look as well.

Before the morning market was even halfway over, the fresh meat and braised offal in Fan Changyu’s shop had been snatched up, leaving only half a braised pork head unsold.

In contrast, the other butcher shops only managed a few sales—and those were only because Fan’s meat had sold out, forcing customers to settle for second best.

Guo Butcher, seeing customers finally approaching his stall, eagerly promoted the pork on his chopping board: “Take a look—top-quality belly pork! I’ll even throw in some braised offal!”

The shopper peeked at the dull, grayish offal in his basin and immediately pursed their lips, shaking their head. “The giveaways from Fan’s Meat Shop—their braised offal is glossy and bright red. Did you just boil yours in water and sprinkle a bit of salt on it?”

“I’ll come earlier tomorrow and buy from Fan’s again!” The shopper put down the piece of pork they had been inspecting and walked away without another word.

Guo Butcher’s face twisted in displeasure. He glanced at the pork in his shop, then at the braised meat in the basin, and in a fit of anger, kicked over a nearby stool, muttering vulgar curses under his breath.

The commotion naturally caught the attention of the neighboring stalls.

Fan Changyu’s meat shop was directly opposite Guo Butcher’s, so she saw it all clearly.

A butcher’s wife from a friendly neighboring stall whispered to her, “To be honest, none of us really want to do this giveaway business—it’s thankless work.”

After all, when one shop started offering giveaways, business boomed. But once every butcher shop on the street began doing the same, and none stood out in taste, sales returned to how they were before—just selling plain pork—except now they had to throw in a free portion of braised offal for nothing.

The butcher’s wife continued, “But that Guo fellow has more schemes than a beehive has holes. A few days ago, he kept insisting you shouldn’t give away freebies, yet the very next day, he started doing it himself—no shame at all. A few of us went to reason with him, but he was completely unreasonable. If anyone tried to confront him physically, he’d just flop to the ground and accuse them of assault. On top of that, he has an uncle serving as a clerk for the county magistrate. None of us can do anything about him, but we couldn’t just stand by and watch him steal all the business with his giveaways, so we all started offering braised offal too.”

Fan Changyu understood that this auntie was explaining so much to avoid any misunderstanding, so she said, “I get it, Auntie.”

The butcher’s wife, secretly pleased to see Guo Butcher suffer today, glanced in his direction and couldn’t resist gloating. “Thank goodness you’re back, Changyu. Let’s see how much longer he can keep giving away that saltwater-boiled offal.”

Guo Butcher, relying on his relative in the county government office, had always been arrogant and looked down on everyone. The vendors on this street had long been fed up with his attitude.

In the past, only Fan Changyu’s father had dared to stand up to him without fear. But after the accident that took Fan’s parents, Guo Butcher acted like the local tyrant of the street, barking orders and throwing his weight around every day.

Fan Changyu didn’t spare Guo Butcher another glance. After selling the last half of the pork head, she began counting the copper coins in her drawer.Today's slaughtered pig weighed just over eighty pounds. The fresh meat and braised meat together sold for over two strings and three hundred copper coins. After deducting the one-string cost of buying the pig, the net profit was one string and three hundred coins!

Fan Changyu threaded the copper coins onto a thin string, hefting the weighty bundle in her hand, her mood lifting noticeably.

The property transfer would be completed soon, and the butcher shop's business was gradually stabilizing. Life for her and her younger sister would only get better from here!

Once she saved enough money, she would take her sister to the capital for medical treatment. She'd heard the best things in the world were in the capital, including the finest physicians—

After closing up shop, Changyu took the money to the market. After purchasing medicine for the two sickly members at home and some spices needed for braising broth, then setting aside one string for buying another pig, only a few hundred coins remained.

Changyu sighed softly. Only when managing a household does one truly understand the cost of daily necessities.

Selecting some New Year goods, she headed home. Before even entering the alley, she spotted a snow-white gyrfalcon flying high into the sky from the direction of her house—likely the same one she'd seen before.

Changyu wondered curiously: Did that gyrfalcon often hunt for food around here?

If it came frequently... then there might be a chance to catch it?

The gyrfalcon vanished from sight in an instant, but Changyu was already calculating how much money it might fetch at the market if caught.

Arriving home, she pushed open the courtyard gate and immediately noticed the half-open window in the man's room. Draped in a dark old robe, he sat at his desk with hair cascading around him, his expression serene. His slender, scabbed fingers held a brush as he concentrated on writing something.

Outside the window stood a red plum tree planted by her father for her mother years ago.

Perhaps sensing its original caretakers were gone, this winter the tree had produced only a single small bud.

Amidst branches laden with frost, that solitary splash of color still couldn't compare to even one-tenth of the beauty of the man inside.

Fine snowflakes blew through the window, some settling in his jet-black hair. The features beneath those dark locks were exquisitely refined yet chillingly aloof.

Changyu's breath caught slightly. When the man looked up, she didn't avert her gaze but continued observing him openly. "Aren't you cold with the window open?"

Xie Zheng met her eyes, noting her unwavering stare. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly before he looked away. "The room is too dark. The window provides better light," he replied in his characteristically cool, clear voice.

Changyu made an acknowledging sound. After putting away her purchases in the main room and checking on her napping sister, she brought him a charcoal brazier.

The room felt as cold as outdoors, likely from the constantly open window. Noticing the stack of ink-covered papers on the desk, she couldn't help asking, "What are you writing?"

He'd produced so much—had he been freezing here all morning? Didn't he feel the cold?

Xie Zheng finished the final character. Having no brush rest, he placed the ink-laden brush on the chipped edge of the inkstone. "Eight-legged essays," he answered flatly.

Changyu knew what these were—Song Yan had often scrimped to buy them, three hundred coins per volume.

Surprised, she asked, "You can write eight-legged essays?"Xie Zheng continued to brush her off with the same excuse he had used on Zhao Mu Jiang: "Just some observations from traveling around. Small-town bookstores have uneven quality in their collections—they’ll take anything flashy enough to impress."

Fan Changyu choked on her words, thinking how unlucky those scholars buying Eight-legged essays must be.

The thought that Song Yan might have scrimped and saved to buy such essays in the past gave her a secret thrill.

She cleared her throat and finally remembered his injuries. "The roads are slippery in the snow. Even if the snow is swept away, there might still be thin ice. Your wounds just reopened yesterday—it’s too dangerous to go out on crutches so rashly..."

Had she rambled on like this just because she was worried about him?

Xie Zheng was momentarily stunned before lowering his gaze and saying, "I asked the old man next door to bring them back for me."

Fan Changyu’s expression softened slightly, but thinking of why he had written the essays, she pressed her lips together. "Since you’ve agreed to the sham marriage with me, I’ll keep my promise to let you recover properly. The current tight finances are just because the property hasn’t been transferred yet. You... don’t need to do this."

The idea of a severely injured man braving the cold wind to rack his brains writing Eight-legged essays to help with household expenses weighed heavily on her conscience.

A cold gust blew into the room, stirring Xie Zheng’s unbound hair. He studied the woman before him, her delicate brows furrowed, and his indifferent expression grew subtly complex.

Not wanting her to misunderstand, he said, "I was just idling away. Writing essays to pass the time—it’s not what you think."

The more he said this, the more Fan Changyu became convinced of her own suspicions.

After all, who would write Eight-legged essays in freezing wind just to pass the time? Her emotions tangled into a complicated knot.

Pursing her lips, she said, "Don’t worry about me being poor. I can afford to take care of you!"

With that, she left the room, leaving Xie Zheng alone at the desk. His slender fingers pressed against his temple, his gaze deep and inscrutable, as if pondering something deeply troubling.