Chapter 20: Only Dogs Eat This

Behind him, Yang Dajun caught up. "Liu Xing, are you going to sell river snails tomorrow? If you are, take me with you."

"And take my Ma Lei as well," a middle-aged woman by the riverbank added with an awkward smile.

"I'm not sure if I'll have time tomorrow," Liu Xing intended to refuse, but, knowing how hard life was for folks in the village, he thought for a moment and said, "I'll head over to the Donghe police station area later. If you want to come, just come along."

"But let me say this first—I can't guarantee we can sell the river snails," Liu Xing added after a pause.

"Then forget it," Yang Dajun replied, knowing Liu Xing wouldn't lie to him. He shook his head and walked off.

The woman on the riverbank, carrying the morning's catch of snails in her basket, turned and left as well. She was clearly upset; after all, she’d hoped to make some money from the snails, only to be disappointed.

Anyone would be disheartened in her place.

At that moment, Zhou Qiuxiang was still gathering snails by the river. Seeing the sun beating down, Liu Xing called out, "Mom, stop now and come back to cook lunch. Dad’s already home."

"Alright!" Zhou Qiuxiang washed her face and climbed up from the riverside.

Liu Xing fetched the black calf and helped his mother lift the baskets of snails onto its back. After gathering all the snails on the riverbank into the baskets, they headed home, leading the calf.

...

Back home, Liu Xing began washing the snails.

With limited time, he didn't wash them especially thoroughly—just enough to get the mud off the shells before tossing them back into the baskets.

By now, Liu Dazhao was walking almost like a normal person again. He was about to unload the unsold snails from the bicycle when he saw Liu Xing washing more and couldn’t help but discourage him. "Quit washing those. Even if you wash them, you won’t sell them. Yesterday was just luck, that’s all."

"Is that so?" Liu Xing smiled, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

He’d long known his father wasn’t cut out for business. Liu Ye had inherited the same temperament—never willing to go to the market to sell vegetables. If he was forced to, you wouldn’t find a trace of him the next day.

The reason? Embarrassment.

Of course, his father was only marginally better than Liu Ye in that regard. But he wasn’t much good with words; at the market, he hardly said a thing all morning.

That might be why the snails never sold, or maybe they just hadn’t found the right spot.

Whatever the reason, Liu Xing knew he had to look into it again. He wanted to see whether yesterday’s success was luck, or just a matter of character.

Seeing Liu Xing’s stubbornness, Liu Dazhao didn’t say anything more.

Instead, he helped unload the snails from the bike and went into the kitchen to help with lunch. Before long, he brought out a large bowl of pork marrow bones and set them under the eaves.

Liu Xing was surprised and asked, "Dad? Why are you putting the marrow bones outside? Don’t you know they’re a delicacy?"

"Delicacy my foot! There’s nothing but bone left. Your mother doesn’t even know what to do with them," Liu Dazhao grumbled, turning back to the kitchen to tend the fire.

Hearing this, Liu Xing sensed something was off. He quickly put down what he was doing and hurried into the kitchen. When he saw a plate of lean meat on the stove, he immediately understood.

He shot his parents a look, then went out to retrieve the marrow bones, chopped them with a cleaver to expose the marrow, and placed them in the big iron pot.

"What are you doing?" Liu Dazhao asked in confusion.

Even Zhou Qiuxiang looked puzzled. Most of the meat had already been scraped from the bones—what was the point of bringing them back inside?

Liu Xing didn’t answer. Instead, he fetched five or six ladles of water from the vat and poured them into the iron pot. "I’ll skip lunch today and just eat marrow bones. None of you try to fight me for them."

"Who’d want them? Only dogs eat bones," Liu Dazhao said with a laugh, shaking his head.

Zhou Qiuxiang thought Liu Xing was just being childish but didn’t interfere. There were two stoves in the kitchen and plenty of firewood—if Liu Xing wanted to fuss around, let him.

But soon, she sensed something was amiss.

After Liu Xing added oil, salt, star anise, cinnamon, and other spices, a faint fragrance began to waft from the big iron pot—a meaty aroma, fresh and mouthwatering, irresistible.

As the water came to a boil, the scent grew stronger and drifted out of the kitchen. Not only did it attract the neighborhood stray dogs, but even Guazi came over, craning her neck to peer into the pot and swallowing hard. "Mom, what are you cooking for lunch? It smells amazing!"

"It’s not me, it’s your brother," Zhou Qiuxiang replied.

But truly, the aroma from the pot was incredible. She couldn’t help but lean closer for a better look.

Liu Dazhao edged over too. While Liu Xing was out, he secretly fished out a marrow bone and started gnawing on it. Most of the meat had been trimmed off, but if you looked carefully, you could still find a few bites.

Just those few bites made Liu Dazhao’s eyes light up. "My goodness! The meat on these bones is delicious!"

"Dad, what are you doing?" Liu Xing entered the kitchen, drawn by the aroma, and caught his father in the act. He couldn’t resist calling him out.

He couldn’t be blamed—after all, his father had just claimed he didn’t care for bones.

Yet here he was, sneaking bites. If he didn’t say a word, he’d feel a little wronged.

Liu Dazhao’s face flushed. "What am I doing? Just helping you taste it. I don’t care for bones—only dogs eat bones."

With that, Liu Dazhao threw the unfinished bone back into the pot and awkwardly left the kitchen.

Zhou Qiuxiang suppressed a laugh, trying hard not to show it.

Liu Xing, on the other hand, laughed freely.

Noticing Guazi practically drooling, Liu Xing filled a big bowl halfway with marrow bone soup and poured some rice into it. "Here, try this and see how it tastes."

"Mm! Mm!" Guazi took the bowl, squatted by the door, and started eating. After savoring the delicious flavor, she cried out in delight, "Wow! It tastes like braised pork, but even better!"

Braised pork can be cloying if you eat too much, but marrow bone soup mixed with rice just got tastier with each bite—it never felt heavy.

"Of course," Liu Xing said, placing a meaty marrow bone in Guazi’s bowl. "There’s still meat on it—you can gnaw it off, and suck out the marrow for extra nutrition. When you’re done, don’t throw away the bones. Boil them a few more times and you’ll have soup for days!"

"Really?" Guazi picked up the bone with her little hands and started chewing right by the door as Liu Dazhao watched. When she finished, she sucked out the marrow, making happy slurping sounds.

From Guazi’s little gourmand expression, it was obvious how delicious it was.

Liu Dazhao couldn’t hold back any longer. He rushed into the kitchen for a bowl and chopsticks. "Wife, let’s eat—hurry up and eat!"

"But I haven’t even finished cooking the stir-fry!" Zhou Qiuxiang protested.

"What stir-fry? We’ve got this right here!" Liu Dazhao ladled out half a bowl of marrow bone soup, added some rice, and after tasting it, grabbed another marrow bone from the pot and headed outside.

"What are you doing?" Zhou Qiuxiang called after him.

He’d just claimed he didn’t care for bones, and now he was feasting on them—what about dignity?

"Just eating, that’s all!" Liu Dazhao replied, relieved to see Liu Xing pretending not to notice his hypocrisy.

Only now did he realize his son was much more capable than he’d thought. Who knew marrow bones could taste so good, simmered in soup?

He remembered seeing butchers throwing these bones out for the dogs and never thought it a waste, but now he realized what a shame it was.

If they’d discovered this secret earlier, their family wouldn’t have spent the whole year longing for the taste of pork.

But as he recalled his earlier claim that only dogs ate bones, he felt a bit embarrassed—but that feeling was quickly washed away by the taste of the marrow. It was just too delicious; in all his years, he’d never tasted anything so good.