Chapter Seventy-Six: Setting a Trap

Cough, cough! The antics with drinking and showing off earlier—everyone, please don’t try that at home, or you’ll likely end up kneeling on a keyboard when you get back.

Continuing onward, since the Lunar New Year had only just passed and the month wasn’t over yet, no one was particularly short on supplies. People were putting up for sale things they normally couldn’t bear to eat, hoping to earn a little extra for the household. So, there were plenty of delicacies for sale.

“Hey! Man, that pig’s head is pretty fat. How much is it?” Chen Liang stopped at a stall selling pig heads.

Pork from this era was truly delicious—far superior to the supermarket feed pigs Chen Liang was used to. He’d sneaked some home a few times before, but after his mother tasted the difference, she forbade him, telling him to stay home and not bother buying groceries anymore, warning him he was just being fooled.

Damn it, who said people from this era were easy to trick, and couldn’t tell the difference between feed pigs and home-raised pigs? Step forward, I swear I won’t hit you.

The pig head before him was at least five fingers thick with fat, easily from a three-hundred-pound hog.

“No weighing, thirty yuan. Take it if you want,” the old man shone his flashlight at Chen Liang and named his price.

Another old man sizing people up for prices, “Here, take your money.”

The old man counted the bills, handed Chen Liang a straw rope, and paid him no further mind.

Chen Liang threaded the rope through the pig’s nose, out its mouth, tied a knot, and swung the head up into his hand.

He wandered a bit more, and as dawn broke, Chen Liang strode out of the market with his hands behind his back.

Today’s haul was glorious: five big pig heads, several dozen pounds of pig trotters, and six pig tails.

Those pig tails, when braised, turned out sticky and tender—a real treat. Perfect for drinking nights, each person gnawing on a tail, absolutely delicious!

When he got home, the folks in the courtyard were already up. Seeing Chen Liang lugging two pig heads and a dozen trotters, they all glanced his way.

Back home, his mother was cooking. One look, and she sent Chen Liang to deliver one pig head to Shazhu’s house. “Today’s Shazhu’s first visit to the bride’s family. Who knows how well he’s prepared the gifts? Hurry and send one over.”

“Got it,” Chen Liang replied. Seeing his mother about to start cleaning the pig heads and trotters, he thought for a moment and stopped her.

“Mom, take a break. There’s a cook right here! I’ll ask Shazhu to help—he’ll handle it.”

His mother was glad not to deal with the pig heads; it was such a hassle. “That’s great, saves me a lot of trouble!”

A banging at the door echoed through, triggering an unhappy shout from inside. “Who is it, disturbing people’s dreams so early?”

Shazhu had been dreaming of Liu Siyuan and woke up grumpy, nowhere to vent his anger.

“It’s me, Chen Liang! Open up!” Chen Liang called back.

“Oh, Liangzi, what are you doing up so early? Did your wife kick you out of bed, or is the quilt not warm enough?” Shazhu muttered as he opened the door, still wrapped in his clothes.

Chen Liang rolled his eyes—classic single man talk. Just wait until you marry Liu Siyuan. If I don’t teach her a few tricks to make you walk holding the wall every day, I’ll eat my hat.

“Look at you! My mom was afraid you’d show up without proper gifts, so she told me to bring a pig head and trotters for you.”

He handed Shazhu the pig head and trotters. “And help me braise another set—tonight, the two of us can have a drink!”

“Thank Chen’s mom for me! How much was it? I’ll pay you!” Shazhu had prepared plenty of gifts himself, but the more, the merrier.

“Forget it! As if I need your money. Tonight, just bring a couple of your good bottles when you get back.”

After dropping things off, Chen Liang went to the alley to buy small wontons—Little Yu’s prized favorite.

Breakfast was unusually lavish today: golden cornmeal porridge, big steamed buns made from mixed flour, and bone broth wontons with thin skins and generous fillings. Chen Liang ate two bowls of wontons and eight big buns!

Finally, a huge bowl of cornmeal porridge to wash it all down—he ate like a glutton, matching Little Yu’s daily food intake in one sitting.

After his usual routine dropping his wife at work, Chen Liang arrived at the factory and, as always, went to check in with his uncle.

When he entered the office, he saw his junior, Borba, was there too. Just as he was about to greet him, he realized something was off in the room.

After watching for a moment, Chen Liang grew dissatisfied. “Uncle, what’s going on? Why did you make him cry?”

“Go ask him! This brat is just like you—drives me mad!” Uncle Lu Youwei, still fuming, shouted at Chen Liang.

“Alright, calm down. I’ll handle it. You two really are a handful,” Chen Liang rolled his eyes at him.

He walked over and tugged Borba. “Come on, why are you standing here like a lamppost? Waiting for your master to die so you can collect the body?”

This junior of his, towering at two meters with a face like a bandit, was like other Mongolian men—good at singing and dancing, but extremely sensitive.

He handled outsiders well, but among close friends, he was like a child—easy to cry when scolded.

Ever seen a two-meter-tall cowboy cry? Today, you’ll see.

“Tell me, what happened? Look at how angry you made the old man.”

“It’s Master’s fault! I… I… I like a girl and wanted to ask Master for advice. He flatly refused, scolded me for being blind, said she was setting a trap for me and I couldn’t even tell!”

Watching Borba choke up again, Chen Liang felt exasperated and hurried to comfort him. “The old man, really. How could he break up a couple like that? I support you, but you’ll have to tell me the whole story.”

Hearing this, Borba latched onto Chen Liang, pouring out his grievances in tearful, broken sentences.

“Alright, stop crying. Aren’t you worried someone will see? Wipe your face.” Chen Liang handed him a handkerchief prepared by Little Yu.

The situation was simple—a classic hero saving a beauty. But the beauty in question was not so simple.

Chen Liang glanced at his junior with a complicated expression. Love had clearly clouded his judgment. But, brother, before basking in love, could you consider your own looks?

How blind must that girl be to fancy you? Have you ever thought about that?