bookpub Chapter 7 Buying Meat
Chapter 7 Buying Meat
Lin Mu practiced diligently for three more days.
During the day at the martial arts school, he would listen attentively to the instructor's lectures while wiping the weapon racks.
The instructor corrected Zhou Yu and Chen Yuan's movements, and he remembered every word.
Every night, the courtyard gate is tightly closed, and the wind howls under the moonlight.
Step forward with your left foot, throw out your right fist, lower your shoulder, twist your waist, and exhale to generate power. Repeat this over and over until your arms are sore and your back is soaked with sweat.
The numbers in the booklet remained unchanged.
【Long Wind Fist: 99/100 (Unripe)】
It's a crucial step, but I just can't seem to get past it.
He also considered sneaking into the inner courtyard.
The inner courtyard is where Master Hu personally teaches; you might hear even more profound things there.
But as a menial servant, there was no reason for him to appear during training.
Lin San said he would come back in half a month to clean the warehouse.
Counting the days, it's the day after tomorrow.
We need to speed up the process.
Lin Mu withdrew his fist and stood still.
He looked down at his thin arms and sighed softly.
He only eats two meals a day: at noon he eats coarse flour steamed buns and vegetable soup at the martial arts school, and at night he goes home and eats a cold pancake.
They will inevitably lack qi and blood.
Perhaps we should start from this point. He touched the money bag, feeling the warmth of the copper coins.
The next evening, after finishing his chores at the martial arts school, Lin Mu did not return to the village, but instead went into the butcher shop at the west end of the town.
The butcher shop was located in a dirt alley. The storefront was small, with several pieces of meat hanging at the entrance, and flies buzzing around it.
Various kinds of meat were piled on the cutting board in the shop. They were dark in color and had some cracked edges, so they were obviously not slaughtered that day.
A dark-skinned, fat man sat behind the chopping board, his arms bare, wearing a shiny apron around his waist, and holding a thick-backed machete in his hand.
His face was full of fleshy muscles, with a tuft of black beard on his chin, and his eyes were as sharp as knives.
Lin Mu walked into the shop, his gaze sweeping over the meat on the cutting board. He reached out and poked a piece of dark red meat; his fingertip sank in, but the meat didn't spring back.
"What are you poking at?" The burly, dark-skinned man slammed the knife down on the cutting board, his voice as rough as sandpaper. "Buy it or not? If not, get lost!"
Lin Mu remained silent, then walked to the other side and looked at a small piece of meat hanging on the iron hook. The meat was bright red, with clear texture and a glossy surface, clearly indicating that it had just been slaughtered that day.
"How much is this one?"
The burly, dark-skinned man glanced at him sideways: "That piece isn't for sale. It was ordered by Boss Zhao of Xihe Restaurant; he needs it every day, exclusively for his VIP guests."
Lin Mu withdrew his hand and asked, "What's the price of the beef?"
"Thirty coins a pound."
Lin Mu touched the money in his sleeve pocket—eighty coins.
Even if you take everything out, you can't even buy three pounds.
"Where's the dog meat?"
"Twenty-eight coins."
"horsemeat?"
"One tael of silver per catty."
Lin Mu's brows twitched slightly.
One tael of silver, one hundred coins, that's his wages for two months.
"What about the tiger meat?"
The burly, dark-skinned man scoffed, "Two taels of silver as the starting price? Do you have that kind of money?"
Lin Mu then pointed to a small ceramic jar in the corner: "What's that?"
"Deer blood." The burly, dark-skinned man didn't even look up. "It's very expensive; a small bowl is enough for you to work for half a year. Drinking it will cause your blood and qi to become restless; most people can't handle it."
Lin Mu stood there for a while, then turned and left.
The curtain of the butcher shop fell behind him, and the curses of the fat, dark-skinned man chased after him: "You poor bastard, you're delaying my business!"
Lin Mu didn't return to the village; instead, he headed towards the town center.
Xihe Restaurant is the only restaurant in town. It has two floors and an impressive facade.
A couplet hangs on two wooden pillars at the entrance, and an apricot-yellow wine flag flutters in the evening breeze under the eaves, bearing the four black characters "Xihe Restaurant".
Lin Mu went around to the back door, pushed open a greasy wooden door, and entered the kitchen.
The stove was a mess, and several kitchen helpers were busy washing vegetables and chopping meat. In the corner, a round-faced boy was squatting on the ground scraping fish scales.
"Little Fatty".
Zhao Meng looked up and saw Lin Mu. He wiped his hands, which were used to kill fish, on his apron and grinned, "Lin Mu? What brings you here?"
Lin Mu squatted down and briefly explained the situation.
After listening, Zhao Meng thought for a moment, then stood up and called out to the kitchen, "Uncle Dayou! Come here for a moment!"
The curtain was lifted, and out came a middle-aged man who was so fat that his neck was almost invisible. His round face was shiny with oil, his apron was covered in oil stains, and he was holding half a steamed bun in his hand.
Zhao Meng leaned closer and whispered a few words.
Zhao Dayou looked Lin Mu up and down.
He was wearing a slightly worn light blue short-sleeved shirt, with a rag tied around his waist and an empty plate in his hand. He had obviously slipped out during the break between serving the dishes.
He took a bite of his steamed bun and mumbled, "Want to buy the leftover meat? No way. It's the restaurant's rule that all leftovers must be thrown away; outsiders can't touch them."
Lin Mu didn't reply. His gaze swept over the steamed bun in Zhao Dayou's hand and then fell on several bowls and plates piled up in the corner of the kitchen. These were left by the guests. Some of the bowls still had half a piece of meat left in them, oily and not yet poured into the swill bucket.
"You ate quite a lot too," Lin Mu said.
Zhao Dayou paused the steamed bun in his mouth, his expression changing.
Lin Mu continued unhurriedly:
"Uncle Dayou, if this meat isn't disposed of today, it'll rot by tomorrow."
"Instead of throwing it away, sell it to me."
"If you save up the meat you save, you'll have enough for a few drinks at the Drunken Flower Pavilion."
Zhao Dayou squinted at Lin Mu for a moment, then turned to look at the few bowls of leftover food in the corner, gritted his teeth, and said, "You're quite tight-lipped?"
"Say what should be said, and don't say what shouldn't be said."
Zhao Dayou stuffed the steamed bun into his mouth, walked to the corner, picked out two pieces of meat that were still relatively intact, and wrapped them in oil paper.
One piece of beef weighs about two ounces; another piece, dark red in color and with coarser marbling, is horse meat, also weighing two ounces.
"Beef is 28 coins a catty, and the horse meat will be priced the same as beef. It's four ounces in total, so I'll charge you 20 coins."
Lin Mu said, "Eighteen coins."
Zhao Dayou glared at him: "You—"
"Long-term," Lin Mu said.
Zhao Dayou stared at him for a few breaths, then slammed the meat on the cutting board: "Take it away, take it away, don't let anyone else see."
Lin Mu counted out eighteen coins from his sleeve pocket, placed them on the chopping board, took the oil paper package, and stuffed it into his pocket.
Zhao Meng escorted him to the back alley, lowering his voice: "Lin Mu, what are you buying all this dried meat for? Are you practicing martial arts?"
Lin Mu nodded.
Zhao Meng hesitated for a moment, then took out two coins from his sleeve and stuffed them into Lin Mu's hand: "My wages for today aren't much... take it."
Lin Mu glanced at the two coins, did not refuse, and put them into his sleeve pocket.
By the time we got back to Willow Leaf Village, it was already completely dark.
Lin Mu didn't dare to light a fire.
The firewood at home should be used sparingly, and besides, lighting a fire at night would attract attention with the smoke billowing from the chimney. He scooped a bowl of cold water from the water vat and opened the oil paper package.
The beef was thinly sliced, dark red, with a fine texture, and had a faint fishy smell.
He took a bite; the meat was cold and a bit tough to chew, but after swallowing it, a warm sensation rose in his stomach, as if a fire was rising from his stomach.
Horse meat is darker in color, almost purplish-red, with a coarse texture, and is difficult to chew.
The cold horse meat had an indescribable gamey smell, but after swallowing it, the heat was even more intense than that of beef, like a red-hot wire running from the throat straight to the lower abdomen, making the whole body feel hot.
Lin Mu finished all four ounces of meat, drank two bowls of cold water, stood up, and walked into the courtyard.
They practiced their stances until late at night.
But in the end, the booklet remained unchanged.
He practiced it again, twice, three times.
The moon rose above the rooftop, and the only sound in the courtyard was the whistling of the wind.
Nothing has changed.
What should I do?
Lin Mu stopped, leaned against the wall, and looked up at the sky.
Finally, he gave a fierce look in his eyes, then turned around, went into the house, closed the door, and lay down fully clothed.