Mr. Pig's family wasn't considered prominent in the Wolf Kingdom, but they lived more comfortably than anyone else.
Their three-room brick cottage was painted clean and white, sunflowers grew in the yard, and morning glories climbed the fence; even their few white geese were more spirited than others'—as Mrs. Pig put it,
"Life should be like a freshly steamed bun, full of warmth."
That evening, Mr. Pig herded the last white pig into the pen.
The pig grunted as it swayed its plump rear, its coat as shiny as if it had been oiled, making him feel wonderful inside.
"This year's market prices will be good for sure," he muttered, stroking the stubble on his chin. "Once this batch of pigs is ready for market, I can get my wife a new steamer and buy the third child a set of new textbooks."
He brushed the dust off his hands, turned back into the house, and changed into decent clothes—a stiffly starched blue cloth jacket with a small red flower pinned to the cuff, which Mrs. Pig had just sewn for him that morning.
Then, he drove his newly bought small wooden cart. The wheels were made of oak and made a "gulu gulu" sound as they rolled, much more respectable than his old creaky cart.
The destination was the "Snore Tavern" in town.
As soon as he reached the door, a dog Waiter in a red vest wagged his tail and greeted him: "Mr. Pig is here! The wind is strong today, shall I park your cart in the shed for you?"
"Ah, thanks for the hard work."
Mr. Pig handed over the car keys. On the keychain hung a small pig-shaped wooden plaque, hand-carved by the third child.
He straightened his lapels and, to the dog Waiter's farewell of "Take care," entered the tavern with his round belly leading the way.
"Oh, Boss Pig is here!"
"What are you drinking today? The newly arrived berry juice wine is very sweet!"
The tavern instantly became lively.
Mr. Rabbit was leaning against the bar nibbling a carrot and waved as soon as he saw him enter;
Mr. Ox sat at a corner table with a coarse porcelain bowl in front of him, the ale inside still bubbling;
Even Mr. Fox, who usually liked to hide in the shadows, gave him a nod.
Mr. Pig found a seat by the window and sat down. Just as he filled his glass, someone approached to strike up a conversation.
He took a sip of wine, his face glowing red and his voice becoming bright:
"Life this year is comfortable! The country is very stable. The pigs in my pen are each growing like little mountains. When I sell them at the end of the year, I'm sure to make a fortune!"
Beside him, Mr. Ox smacked his lips enviously, his hooves tapping lightly on the floor:
"Your wife's bun shop is also doing great business; I heard it sells out every day before noon. Your family's life is truly like sesame flowers on a stalk—rising higher with every step."
"That's right!" Mr. Pig lifted his chin proudly and took another gulp of wine. "I'm telling you, money is only called money when it's kept in circulation..."
Before he could finish, Mr. Fox, sitting opposite him, suddenly spoke slowly, the tip of his tail sweeping gently under the table:
"No matter how good business is, it's not as good as having successful children. My boy ranks first in his grade every time at school, and the teachers praise his intelligence every day. I wonder how your three little piglets are doing in their studies lately?"
These words were like a needle, instantly puncturing Mr. Pig's pride.
The smile on his face collapsed, and the hand holding the wine glass paused as he let out a sigh:
"Don't even mention it! Those two rascals, the eldest and the second, only know how to doze off in class. Out of ten homework problems assigned by the teacher, they get eight wrong, and they even talk back when I say a few words to them. Only the third one is okay; he's got a sharp mind and can even help his mother with the accounts after school."
He paused, took another gulp of wine, and his eyes drifted out the window:
"It's still better now, being born in such a stable country. Back then, when I was their age, let alone going to school, it was lucky enough to have a full meal. Take going to a tavern to drink, for instance—"
Mr. Pig clicked his tongue three times and shook his head, saying:
"Who would have dared to be so carefree before? You might be halfway through a drink when an ill-mannered stray black wolf would pounce out, eyes glowing green, staring at you and drooling."
The surrounding animals burst into laughter.
Mr. Rabbit laughed so hard he clutched his stomach: "Big Brother Pig is telling your black wolf story again?"
Mr. Ox also teased: "You always say you encountered a black wolf before, but with your small frame, how were you not eaten?"
Mr. Pig immediately stiffened his neck and slammed his wine bowl onto the table:
"Ignorance is truly terrifying! Haven't you read journey to the west? Do you know Zhu Bajie? That was Marshal Tianpeng descended to the mortal realm, and I'm related to him!"
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his round arms, and gestured:
"When I met that black wolf in the tavern back then, I gave a great shout, 'Monster, where do you think you're going!', and with one punch—"
Imitating a storyteller, he suddenly threw a punch.
"That black wolf let out a howl and ran away with its tail between its legs!"
"Hahaha!"
Mr. Rabbit laughed until tears came out,
"Stop lying! I was there that time; it was Mr. Bear who drove the black wolf away while you were so scared you hid under the table!"
"You rabbit, what do you know!"
Mr. Pig shook his head with a profound look of 'you guys don't understand me,' "Ignorance is truly terrifying."
The laughter in the tavern grew louder; even the Owl Boss doing accounts behind the bar couldn't help but smirk.
Just then, Mr. Fox suddenly put down his wine glass, his ears twitching:
"Speaking of which, have any of you seen a picture book called romeo and juliet lately?"
As soon as these words were spoken, the noisy tavern fell silent for a few seconds, followed by a chorus of sighs.
Mr. Pig was the first to respond, the tipsiness on his face fading slightly:
"Don't mention that book; the ending was written so that it makes my heart feel stifled. Yesterday when I was telling it to my third child, when I got to the part where Juliet drew the sword, his tears fell."
"Isn't that the truth!"
Mr. Ox let out a heavy sigh and wiped his face with a hoof. "When my wife read it, she cried through three handkerchiefs, saying those two children suffered too much."
To everyone's surprise, once the book was mentioned, all the animals in the tavern opened up—it turned out everyone had read it.
Mr. Rabbit said the part where Romeo climbed the balcony was very romantic, "much more romantic than when my partner gives me carrots";
Mr. Ox lamented that love is truly great, "to even give up one's life for the other";
Mr. Fox shook his head, saying that if Romeo had been a bit smarter and seen through the trick earlier, it would have been better.
They chatted animatedly, from the couple's first meeting to the family feud, from the moonlit vow to the parting in the tomb; speaking of the emotional parts, even the usually toughest dog Waiter had reddened eyes.
It wasn't until the moon hung on the treetops that Mr. Pig stood up unsteadily, his tongue a bit tied:
"I... I'll hire a designated driver, go home... go home and tell my partner about what you all said... about that Romeo..."
He pulled out his coin purse, slapped it on the table, and called over a Dog Designated Driver in a yellow vest. He wobbled outside, still muttering:
"Tomorrow... tomorrow I'll have my third child write a story too, write... write one with a happy ending..."
The animals in the tavern laughed as they saw him out, watching the wooden cart "gulu gulu" disappear into the night, then lowered their heads to continue chatting about that picture book they both loved and hated.
Moonlight spilled through the window onto the empty wine glasses, as if adding a touch of gentle lingering sorrow for the lovers who couldn't reach a happy ending.