The aftermath of the harassment at the city gates left a bitter taste in Chen Yuan's mouth, far stronger than the copper tang of blood. It was the taste of helplessness.
He sat on the porch of the shed, watching the sun dip behind the hills. The mud was finally drying, cracking into intricate patterns on the ground, but the ruts left by the cart wheels were deep scars.
"Hei Tan," Chen Yuan called out softly.
The black bull raised his massive head from the trough where he was chewing mouthfuls of fresh Alfalfa. He snorted, steam rising from his nostrils.
"If we can't go through the front door, we find a side door," Chen Yuan muttered.
He stood up, his joints popping. He walked over to the storage shed where the supplies were kept. He pulled out a rough burlap sack.
"Little Stone!" he shouted. "Saddle the donkey. We're going to the slaughterhouse district."
"Now, Boss?" Little Stone asked, running over. "It's almost dark."
"The later the better," Chen Yuan said. "We are buying what others throw away."
* * *
The slaughterhouse district on the west side of the Prefecture City was a place the average citizen avoided. It was a maze of mud, blood, and offal. The smell was overwhelming—a mixture of manure, fear, and rotting meat.
Chen Yuan pulled his scarf up over his nose. He guided the donkey cart past the main gates, where the Lin family's agents were loading prime cuts onto pristine carts, heading for the restaurants and wealthy estates.
He went around the back, to the "Waste Gate."
Here, the less desirable parts were carted out to be boiled down for glue or fed to the dogs.
A burly man in a leather apron, stained dark red, was shoveling heaps of oddments onto a pile of lime.
"Halt," the man grunted, leaning on his shovel. "No scavengers. This goes to the rendering pit."
"I'm not a scavenger," Chen Yuan said, jumping off the cart. "I'm a buyer."
The man laughed, a wheezing sound. "Buyer? For what? The hooves? The horns?"
"The shanks," Chen Yuan pointed to a pile of lean, sinewy legs that had been cut off below the knee. "The flank. The silverskin. And the hearts."
"Hearts we sell to the poor," the man said. "But the shanks? The tendons? They are tough as leather. You can't chew that unless you boil it for three days."
"I don't want to chew it," Chen Yuan said. "I want to dry it. How much for the pile?"
The man narrowed his eyes, calculating how much he could get away with. "These are heavy. Hard to haul. Two copper coins a catty."
"Two coins?" Chen Yuan shook his head. "I'll give you one coin for the shanks and tendons. But I'll take fifty catties. And I want the hearts for three coins a catty. Deal?"
The man spat on the ground. "Fine. One coin for the tough stuff. Three for the hearts. Load it yourself. I'm not touching it."
Chen Yuan and Little Stone spent the next hour heaving the heavy, bloody pieces onto the cart. It was cold, slimy work. By the time they were done, Chen Yuan's arms were burning.
"Boss," Little Stone whispered. "People are watching."
Chen Yuan looked up. In the shadows of the alley, a few Lin family toughs were leaning against a wall, smoking. They looked amused.
"Let them laugh," Chen Yuan said, wiping his hands on his pants. "They think we are picking up trash. Good."
He climbed onto the cart. "Let's go. We have work to do."
* * *
The kitchen of the Chen household was transformed into a butcher's shop that night.
Chen Yuan had cleared the tables. Piles of lean, tough meat sat on cutting boards.
"Slice it," Chen Yuan instructed, holding a large cleaver. "Against the grain. Strips, thick as a finger."
"Against the grain?" Wang Shi asked, looking at the meat with disgust. "San Lang, this is the worst cut. The soldiers will break their teeth on this."
"Not if we prepare it right," Chen Yuan said.
He took a strip of the tough shank meat. He placed it on the board and began pounding it with a wooden mallet. *Whack. Whack. Whack.*
The impact broke down the connective tissues, flattening the meat and making the fibers separate.
"See? It softens the structure. Now, marinate it."
He had prepared a large clay pot of marinade. It wasn't the savory-sweet blend he used for bacon. This was functional.
Soy sauce (expensive, but necessary for salt), salt, ginger juice (to mask the gamey taste), and a heavy dose of crushed Sichuan peppercorns. The numbing spice would help preserve the meat and cover any off-flavors from the cheap cuts.
"Massage the spices in," Chen Yuan ordered. "Every strip. Then we hang them."
"Hang them where?" Liu Shi asked.
"The smokehouse," Chen Yuan said. "But not heavy smoke this time. We use the residual heat and a very small fire. We are drying, not cooking. We want to suck every drop of water out of this meat until it is hard as wood."
*System, analyze dehydration process.*
**[Analysis: 'Jerky' Production.]**
**[Goal: Maximum preservation, minimum weight.]**
**[Method: Low heat (50-60°C) with airflow for 12-15 hours.]**
**[Result: Weight reduction of 60%. High protein density. Shelf life: 6 months without refrigeration.]**
The family worked through the night. Even Cousin Bao was pressed into service, though he complained constantly about the smell of the peppercorns making him sneeze.
* * *
Two days later, the "Iron Rations" were ready.
Chen Yuan took a piece of the finished jerky. It was dark, almost black. It was hard. He bent it; it didn't snap, but it didn't yield easily.
He put it in his mouth and chewed.
It was tough. It required jaw work. But as he chewed, the concentrated flavor of the meat and the numbing spice exploded. It wasn't a delicacy for a banquet. It was fuel.
*Chew, chew, swallow.*
"Good," he muttered.
He packed ten catties of the jerky into a rough canvas sack. He didn't take the donkey this time. He rode Red Cloud, the chestnut mare.
"Xu Tie, you stay here," Chen Yuan said. "Watch the house. If the Lin family comes, don't engage."
"You're going alone?" Xu Tie frowned.
"I'm going to the militia. It's safe."
* * *
The Prefecture Militia barracks was a sprawling complex of wood and stone. The drill yard was empty, as the soldiers were resting in the shade.
Chen Yuan dismounted and tied Red Cloud to the post. He slung the heavy canvas bag over his shoulder and walked to the gate.
"I'm here to see Captain Liu," Chen Yuan told the sentry. "It's about supplies."
"Captain is in the armory," the sentry said, pointing.
Chen Yuan found Captain Liu inspecting a pile of rusted spearheads. The Captain looked tired; his uniform was dusty.
"Chen Yuan?" Captain Liu looked up, surprised. "I heard about the trouble at the gate. The Lin family dogs."
"I'm here to offer a solution, Captain," Chen Yuan said, dropping the heavy sack on the ground with a *thud*.
"Solution?"
"Rations," Chen Yuan said. "You asked last time about what I could supply. I have it."
He opened the sack. The dark, dry strips of meat looked unappealing in the dim light of the armory.
Captain Liu peered inside. "Leather straps?"
"Tried it," Chen Yuan said. He handed a piece to the Captain. "Chew it."
Captain Liu took the strip. He looked skeptical. He bit into it.
*Chomp.*
His teeth barely made a dent. He raised an eyebrow.
"Chew, Captain. Give it a minute."
Captain Liu chewed. His jaw worked. Slowly, the meat softened, releasing the salt and spice. He swallowed.
"It's... salty. Spicy. And..." He took another bite. "It makes you thirsty."
"It makes you alert," Chen Yuan said. "This is dried beef shank and heart. It's not tender, but it is pure muscle fuel. One catty of this is equal to three catties of fresh meat in energy. And it doesn't rot. You can keep it in a saddlebag for six months in the heat."
Captain Liu stopped chewing. He looked at the bag with new eyes.
"We have trouble with the supply trains in the summer," he said slowly. "Fresh meat spoils in a day on the march. We usually eat hardtack and beans. The men get weak."
"This gives them strength," Chen Yuan said. "And it's cheap."
"How cheap?"
"Fresh meat is twenty coins a catty," Chen Yuan said. "This takes two catties of fresh meat to make one catty of dry. Plus labor, salt, and spices. I sell it to you for fifteen coins a catty."
"Fifteen coins?" Captain Liu laughed. "You're losing money, Chen Yuan. Just the fresh meat cost alone is forty coins."
"The meat I use... is not the meat you buy," Chen Yuan smiled. "I use the parts the rich throw away. I buy it for one coin a catty. I turn trash into iron. I sell it to you for fifteen. We both win."
Captain Liu stared at him. "You are a cunning fox, Chen Yuan. The Lin family won't like you undercutting their fresh meat sales."
"The Lin family sells to the rich," Chen Yuan said. "You guard the border. The Lin family doesn't walk the border. You do. I'd rather sell to the men who keep the wolves away."
Captain Liu nodded slowly. He respect that.
"I'll take the bag," he said. "Fifty catties. Let the men try it on the patrol next week. If they don't get sick and they have energy... I'll sign a contract for the summer."
"Deal."
* * *
Chen Yuan returned home with a small pouch of silver—seven hundred and fifty coins for the sample batch. It wasn't a fortune, but it was cash flow.
He found the family in the yard. Wang Shi was scolding Cousin Bao for dropping a basket of eggs.
"Bao!" Chen Yuan called out.
"What?"
"Pack your things," Chen Yuan said. "You're moving to the city."
Bao froze. "Moving? Why?"
"I rented a small shed near the West Gate," Chen Yuan said. "I need a storage place for the raw meat and a distribution point for the jerky. You are going to manage it."
"Me? Manage?" Bao pointed to himself, shocked.
"You can't farm, you can't study, and you complain too much," Chen Yuan said blunt. "But you know how to talk to people, and you know the city streets. You will receive the carts from the villages, oversee the drying process in the city smokehouse, and handle the deliveries to the barracks. I'll pay you a wage, plus a percentage of the sales."
"Percentage?" Bao's ears perked up.
"Ten percent of the profit."
Bao's eyes widened. Ten percent of a military contract?
"I... I can do that!" Bao stammered. "I can manage a shed!"
"It's hard work," Chen Yuan warned. "You sleep there. You watch the meat. If one piece molds, you answer to me."
"I'll watch it like a hawk!" Bao puffed his chest out.
Chen Yuan nodded. It got Bao out of the house, away from his parents' bad influence, and gave him a stake in the business. It also allowed Chen Yuan to focus on the ranch while having a presence in the city.
* * *
That evening, Chen Yuan sat on the hill, watching the sunset.
Little Ming was packing his trunk. Tomorrow, he would leave for the Prefecture School. He would be living in the dormitories, only coming home on holidays.
Chen Yuan watched his younger brother fold his clothes carefully.
"Brother," Ming said softly.
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared."
"Don't be," Chen Yuan said, walking over. He placed a small bundle on the bed. "Take this."
"What is it?"
"Jerky," Chen Yuan smiled. "If the food at the school is bad, or if you miss home... chew on this. It tastes like the ranch."
Ming picked up the piece of dried meat. He looked at Chen Yuan.
"Thank you, Third Brother. For everything. The books, the robe, the inkstone."
"Study hard," Chen Yuan said, ruffling his hair. "Become an official. Make the laws. And maybe... make a law that says ranchers can sell their meat without being harassed."
Ming laughed, wiping a tear. "I will."
The next morning, the family saw Ming off at the village entrance. He climbed into a passing ox-cart, carrying his trunk. He didn't look back. He was walking into his future.
Chen Yuan stood there long after the cart had disappeared into the dust.
"Alright," he finally said, turning back to the hill. "He's gone. Now we work."
The house felt emptier. The table had one less person.
But the ranch felt fuller. The cows were lowing. The grass was growing. And the smell of spices and drying meat drifted from the shed.
Chen Yuan walked up the hill.
"Little Stone!" he shouted. "Bring the water buckets! The Alfalfa is thirsty!"
"Coming, Boss!"
The season of survival was over. The season of expansion had begun.