The butcher was never a good man. Patting the wild boar on the ox cart, he frowned and said, “Eight hundred wen, you can keep the offal, but the pig’s head is mine. Hurry up, or I’m leaving.” This bastard saw Henry Clark carrying a child into Huichun Hall and knew he was desperate for money.

“Your brother is sick. I’m only offering a price because I pity you two brothers. Need the money, right? Eight hundred wen, it’s right here in my pouch. If you want to sell, do it quickly. Once the market disperses, you won’t have time to sell it off bit by bit.”

“Butcher Bolton, if this pig sells for less than one and a half strings at Dousha Pass tomorrow, I’ll cut off my own head and let you sell it as a pig’s head. This is heartless.” The lame man selling baskets couldn’t stand it and spoke up to support Henry Clark.

“Get lost! Lame or not, you think you can reach the sky? I’m offering eight hundred wen today, take it or leave it.” Butcher Bolton’s words left the lame man speechless with anger.

“Uncle Green, don’t be angry. If it comes to it, I won’t sell today. I’ll give this pig to Mr. Scott to cover the medical fees. After all, this illness won’t get better in a day or two. I just don’t want to keep troubling Mr. Scott. The old man always gives us medicine for free, but he needs money to buy herbs too. That’s why I planned to sell the pig.” Henry Clark helped the lame man gather up the scattered baskets and comforted him.

“All right, one string of cash. That’s all I have today, but I want the whole pig.” Sensing things weren’t going his way, Butcher Bolton quickly interjected.

“Uncle Bolton, your butchering skills are among the best in Dousha Town. I hear it’s a family craft—you can tell at a glance how much meat a pig will yield. Please give me a fair price. This pig isn’t mine, and I’ve already promised the ears and offal to Mr. Scott and Ethan Scott. I’m a man of my word and would rather die than lie. Please raise your offer a bit.”

Hearing Henry Clark’s flattery, Butcher Bolton regained some face, stroked his chin, and nodded. “This is a fine pig, at least five fingers of fat, though the skin’s a bit thick. It’s not easy for you, looking after your brother. In a moment, I’ll butcher the pig—ears and offal for you, the rest for me. I’ll pay one string and two hundred. You need the money urgently, and that’s all I can scrape together right now. I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

Henry Clark quickly cupped his fists in thanks. “Uncle Bolton, you’re righteous. I appreciate it. The pig is yours for one string and two hundred. I’ll just take the ears and offal, the rest is all yours.”

Butcher Bolton chuckled, and together with Henry Clark, drove the ox cart to the meat stall. Two helpers came over to hang the pig on the rack. It was time to get to work. Wild boar skin can’t be used, so it had to be skinned with a knife, skipping the step of scalding off the hair with boiling water. Later, the skin could be tanned and sold to a leatherworker to make armor.

Just as he was about to start, a crisp voice called out, “My young lady says we want this pig—two strings of cash.” A little maid in a green jacket stood on the road, craning her neck and waving a handkerchief.

Butcher Bolton’s face instantly darkened. This was clearly someone coming to steal his business. But seeing the luxurious green-oil carriage pulled by a mule, he knew he couldn’t compete with such wealthy folks.

Henry Clark didn’t even look at the maid, eagerly waiting to watch the butcher at work. Seeing the butcher hesitate, he urged, “Uncle Bolton, go ahead! I’m looking forward to seeing your family’s legendary skills.”

Butcher Bolton paused, pointed at the little maid, but Henry Clark impatiently said, “Confucius said, ‘Do not look at what is improper.’ Our deal is done. I just want to watch you butcher the pig, nothing else.”

“They’re offering two strings, and your Uncle Bolton can’t match that.” Butcher Bolton continued joking with Henry Clark.

“Even eighty strings would be too late. If she wants to buy, she should buy from you. Do you think I’m just talking nonsense? Butcher the pig—I’m waiting for the ears and offal. Once I take mine, you can sell the rest to her.”

Hearing Henry Clark’s blunt words, the little maid glared at him angrily, shook her handkerchief in frustration, and returned to the mule cart. The driver shouted, and the cart wobbled off toward Dousha Pass.

Butcher Bolton grinned and gave Henry Clark a thumbs-up, then turned to deal with the pig. His skills were indeed impressive; in no time, the whole pig was cut into pieces. The helpers cleaned the intestines and stomach thoroughly, scrubbing them with rice flour before handing them to Henry Clark.

Henry Clark slung a pouch of copper coins over his back, carried the pig’s ears in one hand, and loaded a big basin of offal onto the ox cart. After bidding farewell to Butcher Bolton, he returned to Huichun Hall.

“How did you look after the child? She was burning with fever before you brought her in. I’ve just given her acupuncture to release the heat. Remember, keep a wet cloth on her head at all times. Have her drink this medicine for three days straight. If she gets through these three days, she’ll be fine.”

Mr. Scott’s words left Henry Clark stunned. Was this reliable or not? What did he mean, “If she gets through three days, she’ll be fine”? In his own time, any doctor who dared say that would have acid thrown in his face.

Looking at Mr. Scott’s sincere face, Henry Clark could only bow in thanks, offer a pair of pig’s ears to settle the medical bill, and ask Mr. Scott’s son to prepare another dose of medicine to clear the heart and moisten the lungs. Only then did he carry the now-sleeping little girl onto the ox cart. Seeing that it was nearly noon, he hurriedly drove the cart home.

Chapter Fourteen: Chief Foster’s Test