A black leather boot was lifted by a horse whip, traced a perfect arc in the air, then fell into the pool under the two men’s stunned gaze, splashing water and scattering the fish swimming leisurely together in the water.
The white-robed man hastily stood up. His left foot was shod, but his right foot remained bare. He gazed at the sunken black boot with a trace of despair.
Zhenzhen smiled as she retracted her horse whip, cupped her hands toward them: “I bid you farewell.” She immediately turned and left under their astonished and helpless gazes.
A boot falling into water wasn’t a big deal. The pool was shallow and clear—he could easily fish it out without any loss. But still, wearing a soaking wet boot for most of the day would ultimately be quite uncomfortable—just like the feeling their jokes gave her.
After traveling for another incense stick’s worth of time, the deer meat shop appeared in Zhenzhen’s view. It was a courtyard with a storefront, with a workshop behind it, appearing quite substantial in scale. From afar, Zhenzhen caught a strange smell drifting on the wind—like the stench of salted black beans, but not quite. Sniffing more carefully, this smell was then masked by the rich black bean odor. Zhenzhen dismounted, found a shady spot to tie her horse securely, then walked toward the deer meat shop.
Pujiang’s meat shops usually hung half a freshly butchered pig or sheep at the storefront to attract customers, but this shop didn’t hang fresh deer meat—only a dried deer head hung at the signboard.
As soon as Zhenzhen approached, a burly man around forty enthusiastically greeted her: “Is this customer wanting to buy deer meat? We have a complete variety here—jerky, roasted strips, stuffed roasts, five-spice jerky, sweet crispy jerky, and meat sauce.”
Zhenzhen looked toward the shelves and indeed saw various meat jerkies displayed throughout the room in dazzling array, but no fresh deer meat was visible.
That strange foul smell came in waves again, making Zhenzhen involuntarily cover her nose. Seeing this, the burly man immediately pointed to the right and explained, “A black bean workshop opened near our shop, so you can smell some odors here.”
Zhenzhen had a sudden thought and presented a pitiful expression to the man, hesitating and stammering: “Actually, I’m not here to buy meat… My family situation isn’t very good… My brother and sister-in-law think I’m useless and want to drive me out, so… I need to find some work.”
The burly man restrained his smile, frowned, and looked her up and down. Zhenzhen lowered her eyes, struggling to appear gentle and harmless. The man finally spoke, calling toward the back courtyard for a woman in her fifties or sixties to come out and take Zhenzhen to the back courtyard for questioning.
The woman questioned Zhenzhen closely about her background. Zhenzhen made up a false name and fabricated a pitiful story. When the woman pressed for details, Zhenzhen showed no flaws, and when there were occasional discrepancies, she could subsequently round them out. Finally, the woman asked if she knew cooking skills. She answered: “I’ve usually made pickled vegetables with my sister-in-law, so I know something about it.”
The woman asked again about pickling methods. Zhenzhen described Shizhen Lou’s pickle-making process, and the woman nodded approvingly. She then took out a document, wanting Zhenzhen to press her handprint and sign.
Zhenzhen took it and was about to examine it carefully when she suddenly became alert, returned the document to the woman, and said, “I can’t read. What’s written on this? Please tell me, Grandmother.”
The woman said, “It just says that when you work here, everything you see in the workshop cannot be spread outside. If you leak even half a word, whether by public or private punishment, you submit to whatever the shop owners decide.”
Zhenzhen knew something about Pujiang’s usual employment contracts and understood that many shop owners indeed required hired workers not to reveal internal techniques and processes, but consequences discussed in such harsh terms as “public or private punishment” were almost nonexistent. Zhenzhen became even more curious. After considering, she still signed.
The woman put away the contract and verbally informed Zhenzhen of her wages. To Zhenzhen’s surprise, this was an amount double the prevailing wages for small workers in the city.
The woman led Zhenzhen into the workshop. The courtyard there was piled full of baskets of black beans and some buckets containing mud-like substances. As Zhenzhen followed the woman all the way into the workshop rooms, she felt the stench growing stronger, especially heavy in the rooms, making people nauseous.
Several large pots were set up in the room with hot soup boiling inside. Large chunks of meat rolled in the dark brown sauce. A woman around thirty with a sturdy build stood beside the pots, occasionally stirring the bottom.
There were several large buckets beside the stove, filled with bright red raw meat. Zhenzhen thought this must be the deer meat, walked closer and lowered her head to look carefully, but unexpectedly a wave of putrid stench hit her face, nearly making Zhenzhen faint.
The woman stirring the pot saw her expression was abnormal and smiled at her: “After working for two days, you’ll get used to it.”
The woman introduced to Zhenzhen: “This is Sister Sun.” She handed Zhenzhen over to Sister Sun, instructing her to learn carefully from Sister Sun, then left first.
Sister Sun brought Zhenzhen to the courtyard and pointed at several buckets of rotten mud beside the water vats, saying, “The meat is inside. You take it out, wash it clean, then give it to me.”
Zhenzhen covered her nose, picked up a wooden stick by the bucket, reached into the bucket to probe, and fished out a piece of meat. Following Sister Sun’s instructions, she carried water to pour into a wooden basin and washed the meat. The meat from the rotten mud gradually revealed bright red flesh that looked like fresh meat, yet it was putrid and foul-smelling, obviously completely rotten.
Looking around, Zhenzhen saw quite a few wooden buckets containing meat piled all over the courtyard. She immediately wondered: Where did this shop get so much deer meat? Deer meat was rare in the Central Plains. If transported from distant places, why not first process it into jerky or dried meat for transport instead of processing rotten meat here?
She forcibly suppressed her nausea and frowned as she washed piece after piece of rotten meat. Sister Sun saw her appearance and laughed: “Don’t mind that it stinks now—once it’s cooked with black beans, it’ll be fragrant.”
At noon, the first batch of meat was cooked. Indeed, the cooked meat’s flavor mixed with the salty black bean taste actually merged into a rich meaty fragrance that could make one’s mouth water. It smelled full-bodied and layered, clearly very well-seasoned.
Sister Sun took out a piece, sliced it, and handed it to Zhenzhen to taste. Zhenzhen hastily declined with waving hands, but secretly examined the meat. She felt the muscle fiber texture resembled beef or horse meat, showing no signs of decay, and presumably would taste without any off-flavors.
Zhenzhen claimed she had a poor appetite and only ate a little vegetables and rice for lunch. Sister Sun had a large appetite—she swept away several dishes of vegetables and three bowls of rice, and also took out a jug of rice wine to drink alone.
Seeing this, Zhenzhen immediately went over to help her pour wine. When she finished drinking and became drowsy, Zhenzhen rubbed her back and shoulders. Sister Sun laughed heartily and repeatedly praised Zhenzhen for being sensible.
Zhenzhen chatted with her, saying she had suffered much hardship before but never expected to find such work now—the labor wasn’t tiring, the people she met were good, and the wages were so high. She had truly hit great fortune.
Sister Sun said the master’s business was good and the meat shop earned quite well, so the wages given were also high.
Zhenzhen said, “Good though it is, deer meat is a rare commodity. If there’s occasionally no stock, or something goes wrong with long-distance transport, wouldn’t it affect business?”
Sister Sun waved her big hand: “It won’t. It’s not transported from far away—this meat is available locally. There won’t be shortages either. The goods have been a bit scarce these past two days, but the master has thought of a way, and there will be more soon.”
Zhenzhen was surprised and asked where locally there were deer. Sister Sun didn’t answer and fell asleep on her own.
Zhenzhen took advantage of her deep sleep to look around everywhere. She saw that besides meat, there were no other deer parts like heads or hides in the workshop. Finally, Zhenzhen climbed the workshop’s surrounding wall to survey the area and discovered that the neighboring black bean workshop’s courtyard had not only black beans but also horse hides drying, with a dead horse piled in the corner of the yard.
Zhenzhen was shocked and instantly understood the truth about the “deer meat”: the shop purchased dead horses, skinned them, buried them in rotten mud to keep the meat color bright, then stewed and roasted them to sell as fake deer meat. Because horse meat texture resembled deer meat and was cooked with black beans to mask the original flavor, buyers couldn’t distinguish it either. The shop hired impoverished workers who, because of the generous wages and threats of private punishment, wouldn’t report the truth even if they knew it, which is how the shop could operate until now.
Near sunset, the day’s meat stewing was finished. Sister Sun told Zhenzhen to stay in the workshop, but Zhenzhen said she still had luggage at home to pack and would come tomorrow. She thus took her leave and hurriedly went to where she had tied her horse.
But the horse was nowhere to be found. Zhenzhen estimated it had most likely been stolen by the meat shop owners. Not daring to make an issue of it for now, she quickly left the area.
After walking about three li away, she saw in the distance a horse lying on the grassland with a long-robed man sitting beside it, striking a broken urn scattered at his feet with a horse whip while singing a song with mournful meaning.
At that time, a red sun was slowly sinking along the edge where water and grass met. Golden-red afterglow shone from the direction opposite Zhenzhen onto the man’s broad sleeves fluttering in the wind, making him look like a silhouette radiating a halo.
He leaned against the setting sun, striking the urn and chanting: “Whose land is this in Hao Village, gathering souls regardless of wise or foolish? How urgently the ghost marshal urges, human life cannot hesitate even slightly…”
Zhenzhen walked slowly toward him and recognized him as the white-robed man she had encountered that morning. At this moment his clothing was neat and tidy, the soft-winged Tang cap on his head worn meticulously straight. His solemn expression showed a trace of sorrow, vastly different from his earlier laughing and talking appearance. The azure-robed man was nowhere to be seen.
Lying on the grassland was precisely the golden-tinged horse Zhenzhen had seen during the day. It had been dead for some time, but blood and saliva still flowed from its mouth and nose. Zhenzhen recalled Sister Sun’s words and roughly guessed that the shop owners had probably poisoned the lush grass and water nearby, causing passing horses to die.
She sighed quietly to herself. After the man finished singing a passage, she took out money from her person and threw it clinking into the broken urn.
He was startled awake by this sound, looked up at her, then at the money in the broken urn, somewhat bewildered: “I was singing a funeral song for my horse.”
“The last time someone struck an urn here was a blind man singing lotus ballads for his deceased dog,” Zhenzhen said indifferently.
The white-robed man smiled brightly and actually picked up all the money from the urn one by one, then stood up and bowed deeply to Zhenzhen: “In that case, many thanks, Miss.”
Zhenzhen glanced at his feet: “Are your boots dry?”
The white-robed man said, “No, but wearing them from morning to evening, I’ve become quite adapted.”
Zhenzhen smiled slightly and instructed further: “Quickly find someone to burn your horse… If anyone wants to buy your horse or suggests burying it, absolutely don’t agree.”
The white-robed man asked strangely, “Why?”
Zhenzhen turned and walked away, leaving behind one sentence: “Just remember these words—it won’t harm you or your horse.”
Having no horse for transport, Zhenzhen walked alone for nearly half an hour but still hadn’t reached the city gate. With dusk gathering and the surrounding scenery becoming increasingly blurred, Zhenzhen felt quite anxious. At this moment, she suddenly heard someone calling from behind: “Miss, please wait!”
Looking back, she saw the white-robed man rushing over, panting heavily.
Zhenzhen waited for him to run up to her and asked: “Is the horse settled?”
The man said, “Yes. After you left, two people came and repeatedly urged me to sell them my dead horse. I didn’t agree. They then said they’d help me dig a pit to bury it, but I also refused. After they left, I called over several shepherd boys, gave them money, and asked them to bring some firewood to build a fire and burn the horse.”
Zhenzhen nodded and ignored him, walking forward on her own. The man followed step by step, asking how she knew people would come to buy the horse or want to bury it. Zhenzhen absolutely refused to answer, so he smiled and said, “Could it be that Miss is in my same profession and can also predict the future?”
Zhenzhen stopped and looked him up and down, asking in surprise, “You’re a fortune teller?”
The man nodded: “I know a bit about mysterious arts, hexagram divination, and the eight trigrams.”
Zhenzhen then asked, “Can you tell what happened to me today?”
The man observed her physiognomy carefully, pondered for a moment, then said, “Miss went to work at a meat shop today.”
“Oh?” Zhenzhen raised her eyebrows slightly. “What else?”
“This meat shop doesn’t sell fresh meat—it sells stewed and cooked meat,” the man continued explaining.
“Then can you tell the purpose of my trip?” Zhenzhen asked again.
The man thought briefly, then said, “That’s a bit difficult. This involves Miss’s family background—I’d need to read your palm to know.”
Zhenzhen thought it over and ultimately couldn’t resist her curiosity, so she extended her right hand before his eyes. The man gently supported her hand and brought it to a slightly lit area to examine carefully: “Miss’s family circumstances are quite good. Though not extremely wealthy, you don’t worry about food and clothing, and your family has considerable surplus income.”
“Can you tell what business my family does?” Zhenzhen asked impassively.
The man examined her palm again, frowned for a moment, then stroked her palm with his thumb as if wanting to make the palm lines clearer. This gave Zhenzhen a strange feeling, and she unconsciously drew back a little.
“Mm,” the man seemed not to notice her reaction and said seriously, “If my guess isn’t wrong, Miss’s parents should be in commerce. According to the palm reading, it’s related to food and dining—tavern owners, right? So Miss’s trip today was originally intended to buy meat.”
Zhenzhen was truly somewhat amazed: “Your skills are quite good. How long have you been in this profession?”
The man answered, “One day.”
Zhenzhen was stunned. After thinking, she said, “You look like a scholar. Could it be your travel funds ran short, so you temporarily decided today to change professions and read palms for a living?”
“Not so,” the man smiled. “If I didn’t change professions, how could I touch your hand?”
Zhenzhen immediately felt her face burn like fire, while his eyes were bright and clear as he gazed at her leisurely, a trace of smile spreading from his eyes to his lips.
Zhenzhen was both embarrassed and annoyed, immediately wanting to shake off his hand, but he gripped her hand even more tightly and whispered in her ear, “If I don’t touch your hand, how can I hold it and run with you?”
Zhenzhen was startled and followed his gaze to look behind her, only to see a group of burly men holding clubs rushing toward them. The leader rode a tall horse. Though still far away, from his clothing she could vaguely make out that it was the man guarding the meat shop.
The white-robed man said no more, gripped Zhenzhen’s hand tightly, and led her running toward the city gate.