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

When night falls, the entire Jiangjia Village is as bright as day.

In the cultural square, sixty temporary stainless steel lampposts cast warm yellow light on every inch of the ground.

Hundreds of round tables stretched from the center of the square all the way to both sides of the main road at the village entrance, so densely packed that they seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

A red disposable tablecloth was laid on the table, fluttering in the wind.

The fruits of fifty pigs have all been transformed into the impressive dishes served in basins, bowls, and plates before us.

In the very center, the dish is a stew made from fifty large iron pots of pork.

The pickled cabbage was cut into palm-sized pieces and stewed together with pork belly, blood sausage, and glass noodles for a full two hours until the broth was so thick it could be pulled into strands.

The sliced ​​pork belly with garlic sauce is as thin as a cicada's wing. The slices are arranged on a plate and drizzled with chili oil and garlic sauce. Just looking at it makes your mouth water.

Stir-fried liver tips, stir-fried pork kidneys, braised pork hock, pork skin jelly, braised pig's head meat, salt and pepper ribs—at least twenty dishes on each table, piled up so high that there was hardly any room left.

The liquor is homemade corn liquor.

Sixty degrees.

It's spicy when you first taste it.

It warms the stomach.

It has a strong staying power.

Wang Dagou stood on a high platform at the edge of the square, holding a megaphone in his hand, his face as red as Guan Yu's.

"Brothers! Sisters-in-law! Today is the pig-slaughtering feast that Jiangjia Village hasn't had for over a decade! Brother Chen said that today we won't talk about money, business, or anything else—just one word: eat! Anyone who doesn't eat their fill is letting these fifty pigs down!"

"good--!"

Hundreds of people cheered in unison, the sound almost shattering the light bulb on the lamppost.

The corn liquor was unscrewed, and it spilled all over the table with a clatter.

The sounds of clinking glasses, shouts, and smacking lips mingled together, and the heat from the entire square rose into the sky, condensing into a cloud of white mist in the December night.

Jiang Chen sat at the old man's table, with Su Qing on his left and Wang Dagou on his right.

Sitting opposite were Third Grandfather Jiang Wanhai, Attorney Zhou, Jiang Mancang, and Jiang Shitou, the pig-slaughtering champion who had made a name for himself today.

Jiang Shitou was shirtless, with three large bowls of corn liquor in front of him, and he had already finished two bowls.

My hands were shaking when I picked up the third bowl.

"Brother Chen! I...I'll toast you!"

Jiang Shitou still stutters when he speaks, but his voice is so loud that it can be heard three tables away.

Jiang Chen raised his glass and clinked it with his: "Stone, when you held that pig down today, the whole village cheered for you. You deserve this drink."

Jiang Shitou grinned, tilted his head back and gulped down the wine, then grabbed a piece of pork knuckle and devoured it in three bites.

At the next table, He Dazui was eating meat in silence with his head down.

He didn't touch the bowl of blood sausage in front of him.

Fang Cui came over from behind and put two pieces of blood sausage into his bowl.

"Uncle Big Mouth, this is the first batch that came out. Aunt Spicy Flower specially saved it for you."

He Dazui glanced at the dark red blood sausage in the bowl, and his face turned pale instantly.

"Take it, take it, take it!"

Fang Cui laughed, picked up the bowl, and turned to leave.

Laughter filled the entire square, and the air reeked of alcohol.

Jiang Youfu was the last to sit down and eat.

As the head chef for today's 50-table banquet, he went into the kitchen before dawn.

I was busy chopping vegetables, seasoning, watching the heat, and directing the helpers for over ten hours straight, my feet were swollen from standing.

Once all the dishes were served, he tore off his greasy apron, wiped it on his head, picked up a large porcelain mug, and began toasting each table, starting from the end of the table.

"Bro! Cheers!"

"Sister-in-law! Eat and drink well!"

"Hey bro! How's the pork stew today? Good enough?"

He had to drink three cups at every table he sat at.

Fifty tables.

One hundred and fifty cups.

Halfway through the toast, Jiang Youfu's legs started to sway.

The beads of sweat on his bald head glistened under the light, and his face was as red as a monkey's bottom.

My tongue is no longer very obedient, and I'm starting to slur my words.

"Okay, okay... drink, drink, drink..."

Fang Cui, who was watching his condition from the side, leaned over and tugged at his sleeve.

"Sixth Uncle, that's enough. If you drink any more, something bad will happen."

"Get out of the way!" Jiang Youfu flung Fang Cui's hand away. "I'm happy today! I still have to toast my great-grandfather! Anyone who tries to stop me will have to deal with me!"

Fang Cui couldn't stop her, so she could only follow behind.

Jiang Youfu carried the large porcelain mug, swaying as he passed table after table, finally arriving at the very center of the square—the table where the old man sat.

Jiang Chen was discussing tomorrow's plans with Attorney Zhou when he caught Jiang Youfu strolling over out of the corner of his eye.

"Sixth Uncle, come, sit here—"

He hadn't finished speaking.

With a "thump".

Jiang Youfu knelt down on both knees in front of the old man.

The corn liquor from the large porcelain jar spilled all over the floor, and the liquor splashed onto the old man's trouser leg.

The sound in the entire venue seemed to have been muted.

He stopped making smacking noises.

The clinking of glasses stopped.

The boasting has stopped.

Even the two old men at the next table, who were fighting over the last piece of pig's head, froze in mid-air.

Hundreds of eyes turned to the center of the square.

Jiang Youfu knelt on the ground, his shoulders trembling.

He raised his hand and wiped his face haphazardly with his sleeve—it was hard to tell if it was sweat or tears.

Then he opened his mouth and howled.

"Grandpa—!"

His voice was loud and hoarse, as if it were being forced out of his throat, and it reeked of alcohol and sounded like he was crying.

"I, Jiang Youfu, have let the Jiang family down!"

Old Master Jiang Wanshan sat in his chair, his hand holding the copper pipe still.

His cloudy eyes looked at Jiang Youfu kneeling in front of him, and he remained silent.

Jiang Chen put down his chopsticks, got up and walked over.

"Sixth Uncle, you've had too much to drink. Come, let me help you up."

He bent down to pull Jiang Youfu's arm.

Jiang Youfu just wouldn't get up.

He was rooted to the ground like a nail, his hands braced against the earth, his fingernails digging into the soil.

"Brother Chen, don't pull me! Let me speak! If I don't tell you today, I won't be able to close my eyes in peace for the rest of my life!"

Jiang Chen's hand froze in mid-air.

He glanced at the old man.

The old man nodded slightly.

Jiang Chen stepped back and stood to the side.

Jiang Youfu straightened up, raised his face, which was covered in tears, and looked at the old man.

"Thirty years ago..."

His voice began to tremble.

"The village suffered a disaster, and all the crops were ruined. Every household had no food to eat. I was twenty-five that year, with elderly parents and young children to support. My mother was so hungry that she couldn't get out of bed..."

The square was so quiet that the only sounds were the wind and the hum of machines in the distant greenhouses.

"I had no other choice. I crawled into the ancestral hall in the middle of the night..."

Several elderly people's expressions changed.

"Steal that bronze incense burner from the altar..."

Jiang Youfu's voice grew louder and hoarser.

"I carried it to the scrap yard in the next town and sold it for thirty yuan. I exchanged it for half a bag of sweet potato flour."

“Pah!”

Jiang Baichuan, who was at the next table, dropped his chopsticks on the table.

That bronze incense burner is an old artifact passed down through generations of the Jiang family.

It is said to be an artifact from the late Qing Dynasty, which has been enshrined in the ancestral hall for generations, and three sticks of incense are burned for it during festivals.

Then one day he suddenly disappeared.

The whole village searched the place thoroughly, thinking a thief had broken in.

The old man even reported it to the police back then, and it took several months to resolve.

Thirty years have passed.

No one expected that the person who stole the incense burner was Jiang Youfu.

Jiang Youfu raised his right hand and slapped himself across the face twice, the sounds crisp and loud.

"This has weighed on my mind for thirty years! Thirty years!"

His voice was cracked, as if his throat was being torn apart.

"I dream every night that my ancestors are standing at the entrance of the ancestral hall, scolding me! Calling me a spendthrift! Calling me a thief!"

He kowtowed three times, his forehead hitting the hard ground with a dull thud.

When he looked up, blood was already seeping from his forehead.

"Grandpa, today, with this bowl of wine, I kowtow to you! I kowtow to the whole village! I, Jiang Youfu, am a thief! I admit it!"

There were hundreds of people in the square, but no one spoke.

Only the sound of the wind and Jiang Youfu's intermittent sobs could be heard.

Jiang Chen stood to the side, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

He looked at the old man.

Jiang Wanshan sat in a chair, holding a copper pipe in one hand and resting the other on his knee.

Those cloudy old eyes stared at Jiang Youfu kneeling on the ground for a long time.

Finally, the old man sighed.

That breath was long, as if squeezed out from the deepest part of his chest, carrying the marks of seventy-eight years of hardship and worldliness.

Get up.

Jiang Youfu was stunned, and looked up at the old man with his blood-stained forehead.

"Blessed are you, I remember the disaster that year."

Jiang Wanshan's voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet square, every word carried far.

"I saw your mother so hungry she couldn't get out of bed. I also saw your father begging outside and losing two toes to the cold."

The old man tapped his pipe, and the ash fell to the ground.

"Several people in the village almost starved to death that year. You traded that bronze incense burner for half a bag of sweet potato flour, and your mother survived, as did your younger brother."

He paused.

"A bronze incense burner, exchanged for two lives. This deal wasn't a loss."

Jiang Youfu's lips trembled violently, and his face was covered in tears and snot.

"This matter is over." The old man raised his hand. "Get up. No one is allowed to mention it again."

Jiang Youfu lay on the ground and cried loudly.

It wasn't the kind of wailing that involves yelling at the top of your lungs; it was a trembling, trembling cry, the kind of cry that comes after a stone that has been pressing down for thirty years has finally been removed.

Fang Cui ran over with red eyes, squatted down and held Jiang Youfu's arm.

"Sixth Uncle, get up. Great-Grandpa doesn't blame you anymore."

Jiang Chen also squatted down, and together with Fang Cui, they lifted Jiang Youfu off the ground.

When Jiang Youfu stood up, his legs were so weak that he could not stand steadily and he hung on Jiang Chen.

"Chen-ge'er... thank you... thank you, great-grandfather..."

Jiang Chen patted him on the back.

"Sixth Uncle, sit down and have some water to calm down."

He settled Jiang Youfu in a chair next to him.

The atmosphere in the square slowly warmed up from its frozen state, and a buzz of discussion began to emerge.

But everyone spoke much softer than before, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Amidst the buzzing, another pair of eyes watched the entire process from beginning to end.

That was Jiang Wanhai, the third grandfather, who was sitting diagonally opposite the old man.

His hand, holding the wine glass, hadn't lowered from the moment Jiang Youfu knelt down.

The corn liquor in the glass had gone completely cold.

But his eyes were red.