I couldn't take it anymore; when I went home for Chinese New Year, the family genealogy book ha

After the pigs were slaughtered, the passionate men stepped back from the front lines.

In the square, the real protagonist made his appearance.

Dozens of women wearing aprons and headscarves, led by Hu Lahua, took over the entire venue.

The meat from fifty pigs was neatly cut up and piled up like small mountains on a makeshift cutting board set up in the square.

The pork was covered in white fat, bright red lean meat, and glistening pork skin, along with the thoroughly cleaned offal.

The entire square was filled with the fresh smell of meat.

"Everyone, get your hands and feet moving faster!"

With her left hand on her hip and her right hand holding a gleaming iron ladle, Hu Lahua stood in front of fifty super-sized iron pots, each over a meter in diameter, like a general reviewing his troops, shouting orders.

"Fang Cui! Take some people to cut the pickled cabbage! Remember, cut it into big chunks; it'll be more satisfying when it's stewed!"

"You guys over there, cut the pork belly into pieces the size of mahjong tiles, so thick you can stand chopsticks upright in them! Anyone who cuts it too thin won't get any meat tonight!"

"And you lot! Chop the bones to death! Only by chopping them open can you extract the marrow oil!"

Under her direction, dozens of women worked diligently and methodically.

The sounds of chopping vegetables, mincing bones, and clattering pots and pans blended together to create a lively kitchen symphony.

But the most eye-catching stall was the one personally overseen by Hu Lahua – the blood sausage stall.

This was a family skill passed down for three generations. It was this skill that allowed her father to pass on the title of the number one butcher in Qingshui Town to her.

Before her was a huge wooden basin filled with freshly drawn pig's blood, its color bright and clear, without any congealing.

Hu La Hua scooped a spoonful of her secret spice powder and poured it into the pig's blood. The powder contained roasted soybean powder, finely chopped scallions and ginger, and more than a dozen kinds of dried ingredients that she couldn't name.

She stirred rapidly with a long chopstick, her movements so fast they left afterimages.

Fang Cui, who was standing next to her, had already handed over the prepared sausage casings, which were crystal clear after soaking in the water.

Hu Lahua picked up one end of the sausage casing with her left hand, held a funnel with her right hand, scooped up a spoonful of blood paste, and with a flick of her wrist, the blood paste was smoothly poured into the sausage casing.

Her movements were fluid and efficient, fast yet controlled, and a long blood sausage quickly took shape in her hands.

Once the filling was the perfect length, she quickly tied a knot with a thin cotton rope, and a perfect blood sausage was complete.

The whole process took only a dozen seconds.

The filled blood sausages were directly put into a large pot of boiling water next to them.

As the blood sausage was added to the pot, an indescribable, overpowering aroma burst forth, carried by the boiling steam.

It wasn't just the aroma of meat; it was the freshness of pig's blood, the richness of spices, and the smoothness of oil, all mixed together to create a highly aggressive flavor.

"It smells good! It smells fucking good!"

Old Jin, who was squatting not far away smoking, took a deep sniff, forgetting to smoke, and saliva dripped down the corner of his mouth.

Jiang Youfu, the village's head chef, also came over, circling around the big pot, his eyes glued to it.

"Sister-in-law, your cooking is amazing! It smells even better than what my dad used to make!"

This fragrance seems to have a life of its own.

Riding the biting winter winds of December, it drifted out of Jiangjia Village, across the fields, and across the stream.

It drifted directly to Liushu Village, Wangjiazhuang, and even the entrance to Dahe Town, several kilometers away.

Willow Tree Village.

The villagers who were digging sweet potatoes in the field suddenly stopped using their hoes.

"What does it taste like?"

"It smells like... meat?"

"Wow, whose stew smells this good? It's like Chinese New Year!"

Wangjiazhuang.

Several old men who were playing cards at the village entrance threw their cards onto the table.

"Stop fighting! This smell is making me uneasy. Let's go take a look!"

Dahe Town.

At the market at the town entrance, vendors and customers alike craned their necks toward Jiangjia Village.

In no time, people pushing bicycles, driving tricycles, and even driving dilapidated trucks all spontaneously rushed towards the source of the fragrance—Jiangjia Village.

At the village entrance, Wang Dagou was leading the security team to maintain order when they saw a long, dusty line surging towards the village entrance from afar.

The leader was Chen Dashan, the village chief of the neighboring Liushu Village.

He rode a 28-inch bicycle with two bottles of Lao Bai Gan (a type of Chinese liquor) hanging on the handlebars. Before he even arrived, his voice preceded him.

"Is anyone from Old Jiang's family here? What big celebration is going on in your village? The smell is so enticing, even the dogs in our village are drooling! They're all barking and trying to run this way!"

Following behind him was a large, dark mass of people, numbering at least two or three hundred.

Just as Wang Dagou was about to step forward to stop him, Jiang Chen's voice came from behind.

"Guests are always welcome!"

Jiang Chen had reached the village entrance at some point. He smiled and waved his hand in the direction of Chen Dashan.

"Da Gou, don't stop him!"

"Go to the cafeteria and bring out all the bowls and chopsticks! Add another hundred tables to the square!"

"Tell the kitchen to let everyone in the surrounding villages taste the pork stew from Jiangjia Village today! Plenty to go!"