"Uncle Zhu!" Wang Meilan laughed. "If you don't have a dead cat or dog, can't you just use a dead chicken or goose? It's so hot out. Leave it under the sun for a day, and it'll stink, right?"
"Whoa!" Upon hearing this, Zhu Dashan's eyes lit up. He gave Wang Meilan a thumbs-up and said, "You're a sharp one, Youcai's wife. Killing a chicken instead of a sheep... now that's a whole lot cheaper."
"Exactly." Seeing she had convinced him, Wang Meilan smiled and said, "Uncle Zhu, if you don't have any chickens at home, we do. I can sell one to you."
"No, no!" Zhu Dashan waved his hands, quickly refusing. But then he suddenly remembered something and sighed. He muttered, as if to himself, 'If I'd known this earlier, I wouldn't have let my daughter-in-law stew that chicken.'
"What was that, Uncle Zhu?" Zhao Youcai, who was standing nearby, asked in confusion.
