Ji Yunli's breathing grew heavy; she planned to take a nap before heading to work in the afternoon.
Once the bedroom door clicked shut, Chen Chen stared at the spatial button on his wrist, which looked like a watch. His fingertips rubbed the cool surface twice—inside lay five thousand pigs, all missing their ribs and tails.
He took a deep breath and thought quietly: "Extract."
A pig, missing a chunk of meat, materialized on the plastic sheet spread across the living room floor. A mix of metallic pork scent and faint fresh grass drifted through the air—even pigs from local farms didn't smell this way.
When his stainless steel chef's knife struck a bone, it emitted a dull "clack". The blade didn't chip, but the impact left his thumb numb.
"I really should be more careful," Chen Chen muttered, opening a "Butcher's Disassembly Tutorial" video on his phone. The screen's glow reflected off the sweat on his forehead.
In the video, a professional butcher wielded a boning knife with ease, effortlessly separating ribs from the meat. Chen Chen, on the other hand, struggled for twenty minutes just to pry apart a solid piece of pork belly, alternating fat and lean. Yet the meat carried a distinct "freshness"—even after half an hour on the living room floor, it smelled clean. Still, his arms were sore and heavy, each lift a labor.
By the time Chen Chen packed the three pounds of pork belly, one pound of tenderloin (thanks to his limited skill), and a front leg for Zhang Xuehua, he glanced at the clock—half past ten.
At 11:15 a.m., Zhang Xuehua's security door opened right on schedule.
She took the bag, brushing her fingers over the meat, and her eyes lit up.
"小 Chen, this meat is so fresh!" she exclaimed.
She flipped the meat, checked its texture, inhaled deeply, and then lowered her voice: "Honestly, is this mountain-raised free-range pork? A few years ago, I tried it at a relative's house, and even that wasn't this good. I spent six months asking around but never found anything like it again."
Chen Chen's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly offered his prepared explanation: "Aunt Zhang, don't worry. These pigs are raised by a friend up in the mountains. They eat vegetables, grains, and grass—no feed at all."
Back home, Chen Chen tossed the canvas bag onto the sofa and collapsed onto the floor.
The living room still carried a faint pork aroma, but he didn't want to move. His arms felt as if filled with lead.
For a moment, he imagined the pigs in his spatial pocket "glowing." Thinking of Zhang Xuehua's expression earlier, a smile crept onto his lips.
Meanwhile, at Zhang Xuehua's home, the kitchen was filled with the sweet, savory aroma of braised pork tenderloin.
Coated in starch, the pork tenderloin hit the sizzling pan. Golden, crispy, and juicy, Zhang Xuehua couldn't resist tasting a piece. The exterior was crisp, the interior tender, juices dripping down her chin. This meat was even fresher than what she had tried at her son's restaurant.
In another wok, broad bean paste was being fried until deep red. She added sliced pork, preparing twice-cooked pork; the meat curled, fat melting into the oil, blending with the green pepper's aroma, filling the kitchen with a mouthwatering scent.
"Grandma, today's pork is different from before!" Wu Jianguo stuffed a big bite of twice-cooked pork into his mouth. Chewing, his eyes widened. "This tastes more authentic than the pork we raised back home. Where did you get it?"
Zhang Xuehua smiled proudly. "This morning, I bought it from the young couple downstairs who sell buns—100 yuan per jin. The buns you praised earlier? Same meat. At first, I worried they used lymph meat, but they showed me a test report from a reputable city lab. Our son knows the person in charge there; he can check tonight."
"100 yuan per jin?" Wu Jianguo paused, then picked up a piece of tenderloin. "Worth it! Look at this meat—it's not sticky, with a hint of sweetness. Ten times better than supermarket frozen meat."
In less than ten minutes, the two polished off two plates of meat, barely touching the vegetables on the side.
At 6 p.m., the sound of keys turning echoed from downstairs. Zhang Xuehua's grandson, Wu Lele, rushed into the kitchen, sniffing excitedly.
"Grandma, it smells amazing! Are you making braised pork?"
"You little foodie, we've been waiting for you," Zhang Xuehua said, lifting the lid of the clay pot. A rich, fragrant aroma of pork hit him. Big chunks of pork belly glistened, tender enough for a chopstick to pierce, soaked with flavorful sauce—even the crevices in the bones were delicious.
She served a small portion to Lele. The boy blew on it and popped it into his mouth. The soft, glutinous skin melted instantly, and his eyes sparkled like stars. "Grandma, this is even better than the steak Auntie brought from abroad last time! I want more tomorrow!"
"Alright, Grandma will make it for you again tomorrow," Zhang Xuehua laughed, her wrinkles deepening with joy, then turned to serve her daughter-in-law Wang Meisheng a bowl of pork trotter soup.
"Xiaomei, try this. The trotters are tender and nourishing."
Wang Meisheng sipped, savoring the flavor. "Mom, your cooking is amazing! Even the famous pork trotter soup I had in S City can't compare."
Wu Suowei stayed silent, putting down his chopsticks. Owning several businesses, including a well-known five-star hotel in C City, he had tasted countless premium meats. Yet this braised pork reminded him of home-slaughtered pigs—no, even better.
"Mom, where did you get this meat?" he asked, tapping the edge of his bowl. "It's rare to find authentic mountain-raised free-range pork in the city these days. I hope no one added artificial flavors."
"You little girl, watch your words!"
"Xiao Chen said it's from his friend. He even showed me the city's top testing lab report."
Wu Suowei pulled out his phone, stepped onto the balcony, and called the lab contact. Before he could speak, the other party laughed: "Old Wu, what's up? Has your chef developed a new dish again?"
"Not exactly. I just have a question."
"Why so formal? Just say it."
"Have you tested any pork recently?"
"Hold on, let me check."
"Yes! I remember now—a full-body pork test report. That meat was exceptional, ranking top in every indicator. Amino acids were nearly 30% higher than ordinary pork. Nutritional value far exceeded regular pork, and it tasted amazing. The best I've ever had."
After hanging up, Wu Suowei returned to the table, taking a bite of the braised pork, his eyes widening. "Mom, get some more tomorrow. I want to take some to the hotel and the lab."
By 7:30 p.m., the small plaza in the residential center was bustling.
Zhang Xuehua, in a red square-dance outfit, held a Bluetooth speaker. She had just started the music when a few old friends surrounded her.
"Xuehua, why are you late today?" Aunt Li asked, catching a whiff of meat on her. "What's that smell? Smells amazing."
"Exactly! I smelled it as soon as I came downstairs," Aunt Wang nodded. "Did you braise pork at home?"
Zhang Xuehua placed the speaker on a stone slab, clearing her throat. "I hit the jackpot today! Mountain-raised pigs at 100 yuan per jin! I used it for braised pork; Lele ate two big bowls of rice. Even my son says it's better than what he gets at five-star hotels."
"They even sent it to the city lab for testing—completely safe. The nutritional value is higher than regular pork, and the taste is amazing. That young couple even used the same meat for their own buns!"
More and more people gathered around. Hearing "100 yuan per jin," nobody thought it was expensive. Residents here were retired officials or business owners; they weren't short of money, only wary of wasting it on poor-quality food.
"Xuehua, help us get some too!" Aunt Li tugged her hand. "My dad keeps craving braised pork, but the meat I bought before never tasted right."
"Yes, get us some too. Do you have offal? My son loves pork liver," Aunt Wang added.
Zhang Xuehua was ecstatic. She pulled out her phone and found Chen Chen's WeChat—the nickname still "Morning Light" from yesterday.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, forgetting the square-dance music: [Young man, how much pork do you have left? Many people here want some.]
At that moment, Chen Chen had just woken up, chewing on leftover bread from the morning.
When his phone vibrated, he thought it was Ji Yunli texting. Opening it, his eyes lit up—Aunt Zhang was giving him a business opportunity!
He sat upright, typing quickly: [Yes yes yes! I have all parts of the pig except tails and ribs, including offal. Zhang Jie, how much do you need?]
The reply came almost instantly: "I want two whole pigs."
The buns nearly slipped from Chen Chen's hand. Two whole pigs? He stared at the screen three times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
Aunt Zhang wanting two pigs right away—she wasn't just any customer; she was a gold mine! He took a deep breath and typed: [Got it! Do you need the offal too?]
"Yes. Five sets of large intestines, two pig stomachs, ten kidneys, seven livers, one additional stomach. That's all for now."
"Two stomachs?" Chen Chen shook his head with a laugh and quickly typed: [Alright, Zhang Jie. I'll deliver them first thing tomorrow morning.] Then he sent the price breakdown. His fingers flew across the calculator app: one set of large intestines 300 yuan, five sets 1,500 yuan; liver 50 yuan each, seven 350 yuan; kidney 100 yuan each, ten 1,000 yuan; three stomachs 600 yuan; two pigs, estimated 500 jin each, 90 yuan per jin, totaling 90,000 yuan. Altogether about 93,000 yuan—that was over three months' salary for him and Ji Yunli combined.
Staring at the number, his fingertips burned with excitement.
Still, at 100 yuan per jin, this pork was many times the market price; even he felt a twinge of guilt.
But for him, the pigs cost nothing, not even refrigeration. His only "expense" was physical labor.
He gritted his teeth—first, he had to earn this money. Once stable, he would buy a slaughtering machine to process the meat.
The sky hadn't fully darkened yet when Chen Chen pocketed his phone and ran out.
He first went to a hardware store by the farmer's market, spending 800 yuan on two professional boning knives. The blades gleamed coldly; the owner said they were used in slaughterhouses and could even cut through beef bones.
Then he went to a scale shop and picked two electronic scales—one 30-kg for small cuts and offal, one 500-kg for whole pigs. The shopkeeper joked while moving the scales to the curb: "Young man, opening a butcher shop?"
"Something like that," Chen Chen mumbled, thinking: These pigs are heavy… how am I going to move them?
He took a taxi to Fatty's house to borrow a truck. Fatty was lounging on the sofa playing games after work.
"What do you need the truck for?" Fatty paused, eyeing Chen Chen's boning knives. "Don't tell me… you're going to slaughter pigs?"
"Just helping deliver something heavy," Chen Chen lied. "I'll use it tomorrow morning and return it before noon. I'll fill the tank."
Fatty waved him off. "Don't worry about gas. Just use it." He tossed the keys over. "By the way, when are you bringing me some of those buns you mentioned? They were amazing."
Chen Chen caught the keys, relieved—the truck had enough space for two pigs.
At 9:30 p.m., Chen Chen picked up Ji Yunli at the bus stop. Streetlights stretched her shadow long. The moment he mentioned that Zhang Xuehua had ordered two pigs, her canvas bag dropped with a thud, spilling the lunch boxes inside.
"You said… two? Each 500 jin, one 90 jin… that's 45,000… two makes 90,000… plus organs… Chen, are we about to get rich?" Ji Yunli's voice trembled.
"Keep it down," Chen Chen quickly pulled her into the shade of a tree. "The money's not in hand yet, don't get carried away." Yet his own heart raced, fingertips trembling.
"Are we still selling buns tomorrow?" Ji Yunli suddenly remembered the morning. "Many people asked if we'd be open again, saying they want to buy more."
Chen Chen frowned—he had to deliver the pigs first thing and slaughter them on-site. No time for a stall.
But if they didn't go, telling customers "we'll be back tomorrow" would become an empty promise, making them unreliable.
"We have to go, absolutely," he said through gritted teeth. "We'll make fewer buns, about a hundred. Start the stall at six in the morning, pack up by seven, then deliver the pigs. The security guard said we can't sell there, right? We'll explain—it's the last time. After that, we'll find a new location."
"Alright!" Ji Yunli grabbed the lunch boxes, eyes sparkling. "I'll start kneading dough at four tomorrow. You rest well."
The night breeze carried a hint of chill, yet their hearts felt warm as spring.
Chen Chen looked at Ji Yunli laughing like a child beside him and suddenly realized: this job brought them more than just pork—it brought the good life they had long yearned for.