Chapter Fifty-Two: Beef with Raised Hooves

The next day was market day. Brother Zhang went to town and returned with a slab of beef, five pounds of assorted beef offal, and ten pounds of pork.

Lately, with Yan Chunhua staying at their home to guide the work at the farm, the family had been eating better than usual. This was also because Chen Xin had brought back some extra money and had specifically instructed them not to skimp on food, lest their guest feel slighted. Yan Chunhua wasn’t one to be wasteful and had advised the Zhangs not to go overboard, insisting she was content to eat whatever they did. Yet the Zhang family was always honest and sincere, and with the promise of a brighter future tied so closely to Yan Chunhua, they felt that any amount of effort was only right.

Now that Chen Xin had come home again, there was even less chance they would let the two women go without.

In addition to the beef and offal, Brother Zhang had purchased beef shank bones and pork backbones. These were for making soup—little Zhang Zhang’s favorite. Whether it was to be served with porridge or noodles, he was especially fond of bone broth.

When Brother Zhang returned, Chen Xin and her second sister were out in the fields, checking on the chili peppers. It wasn’t quite the peak season yet, but some of the peppers were already ripe enough to eat. They’d heard that a nearby township had planted twenty acres of greenhouse chilies for the first time this year, and the market response had been good. There was a real possibility that greenhouse cultivation would soon be promoted throughout the county.

“Do you think we should build a greenhouse here too?” Chen Xin’s second sister mused.

Chen Xin surveyed the land around them. She thought it would be a lot of work for little gain—even a loss. Still, a small greenhouse might be useful for growing specialty fruits, like blueberries. But in her opinion, it was still too soon. Most people’s lives hadn’t reached the point where they could afford such luxuries. Even in the more developed provinces and cities, people were cautious with what they ate and bought; here, in these third- and fourth-tier towns, most folks were still focused on simply having enough to eat.

“Alright, it was just a thought,” her sister conceded, seeing Chen Xin’s opposition. She sat down on a large stone at the edge of the field, her pregnant belly prominent, nibbling on a wild fruit she’d picked in the mountains.

The fruit resembled a wild pear, though it wasn’t the right season. It was said to be unique to this region—something only pregnant women seemed to crave, as everyone else avoided it. Chen Xin had tried a small piece earlier and had nearly cracked her teeth on it.

There weren’t many early peppers, but Chen Xin picked some to try making a sauce. She’d heard from her sister that their grandmother used to be an expert at making chili paste, but ever since the youngest brother had passed away, grief had prevented her from making it again. Now, it was her second sister who prepared the sauce, and it was only passable.

“The youngest loved our mother’s chili paste. Whenever he came home on leave, he didn’t want anything else—just that paste. He’d even take some back to share with his comrades. After he died, every time Mother made the sauce, she’d think of him and cry so hard that our eldest brother forbade her from making it anymore, fearing she’d ruin her eyesight.”

Chili paste was already hard on the eyes, and with constant crying and rubbing, it was bound to cause harm. That much couldn’t be denied. But now, when people spoke of Chen Xin’s brother-in-law, Grandmother Zhang was much better. Perhaps, as time passed, her grief had dulled, or maybe the presence of her eldest grandson, carrying on her son’s bloodline, had given her a new sense of purpose. In any case, she no longer collapsed at the slightest mention of him.

When they returned home, Brother Zhang had already been back for a while and was washing the meat. Yan Chunhua was helping. Although they weren’t chatting or laughing, Brother Zhang’s expression was noticeably more relaxed around Yan Chunhua, and he even smiled from time to time.

A thought crossed Chen Xin’s mind, but she decided now wasn’t the time. She’d observe a little longer and discuss it with her second sister in a few days.

“Are all these bones for soup?” Chen Xin asked, noticing they were beef shank bones. She instructed Brother Zhang to chop them with an axe, wash them thoroughly, and put them in the big pot to simmer.

“We’ll stew the leg bones first. Let’s set aside the pork backbones and cook them in a few days,” she said. Then, turning to her second sister, she suggested, “Maybe it’s time to buy a freezer from town. With this weather, meat spoils quickly, and if we cure it, it just doesn’t taste as good as fresh.”

A freezer would cost several thousand—a steep price for the Zhangs, who wouldn’t normally consider buying something so expensive, especially since they didn’t usually need one. So when Chen Xin made her suggestion, the family fell silent.

“A freezer isn’t a bad idea,” Yan Chunhua interjected. “You’ll be raising bamboo rats soon, and there will be things you’ll need to keep chilled. Otherwise, having to shop every day is a waste of effort.” What she said was true—even if Chen Xin hadn’t brought it up, she would have suggested it herself. Whether they bought one or not was for the Zhang family to decide.

“Let’s buy one, then. Tomorrow, I’ll go down to town and order one. They can deliver it up here,” Brother Zhang decided.

The road was better this year than before—not fully rebuilt, but the village chief had organized some hands, coordinated with the neighboring village, and arranged for the dirt road to be leveled. Large potholes were filled with stones, and the surface was tamped down with mud. Rain would still wash some away, but with regular maintenance, vehicles could pass much more easily now.

The town, recognizing the village’s determination, had agreed to their requests and contacted experts from the agricultural university for an inspection. The first phase of planning was still underway, but the preliminary preparations and the initial round of funding had already been secured. So recently, the village chief, the party secretary, and several able-bodied men were constantly busy.

If it weren’t for Brother Zhang’s bad leg, the village chief would have included him as well. These were good opportunities to make an impression with the higher-ups, making it easier to request support for future endeavors.

But the chief knew the Zhangs were committed to establishing their farm—they’d even brought in a technician—so he didn’t trouble them with other tasks and promised that the village would support them in whatever they needed.

The chief was loyal, and the Zhangs weren’t the type to neglect their own work for other pursuits. They focused on their own affairs and didn’t burden the village unnecessarily.

As Chen Xin was simmering the beef bone broth, the party secretary’s son came running up, peering into the yard and calling out that there’d been a call from town. Zhang’s application for agricultural support had been approved: they’d been granted a three-year interest-free loan, and Brother Zhang was to bring his ID and documents to town the next day to complete the paperwork.

He didn’t leave right away, but instead stared wide-eyed at Chen Xin, sniffing the air and asking what she was cooking that smelled so good.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner, Second Brother? My eldest bought beef and beef shank bones. I’m making soup—we’ll have Qiaojiao beef tonight,” Chen Xin invited.

“Qiaojiao beef? What’s that?” He knew beef, of course, but had never heard of “Qiaojiao” beef. Was it some special breed?

Chen Xin laughed. “It’s a local specialty from Meizhou. It’s actually quite simple—the key is the broth. A good broth should be clear, fragrant, and full of flavor. After blanching the beef, it’s cooked in the broth, then sliced. The offal’s prepared the same way. When it’s time to eat, you use a bamboo strainer to blanch vegetables in the broth and lay them in a bowl, then top with the sliced beef and offal, and sprinkle chopped scallions and cilantro on top. If you like it spicy, you can dip it in ground chili and Sichuan pepper—so aromatic! It used to be sold at street stalls, where people had nowhere to sit properly, so they’d simply squat or prop up their legs while eating—hence the name, Qiaojiao, or ‘propped-leg’ beef.”

Chen Xin made it sound easy, but in truth, brewing a pot of this broth was no simple task. It required a number of medicinal herbs and was prized for its disease-preventing, warming properties, which was why it was so beloved in Meizhou. Chen Xin had actually gone there to learn the craft herself.

But the Zhangs couldn’t get all the herbs she needed—only the most common ones—so in her eyes, the soup was still lacking. Yet to everyone else, the aroma and flavor were already…