Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

The next morning, before dawn, the morning star hung on the treetops, its color white from the cold.

Zhao Shanhe got out of bed quietly.

Looking at his wife and daughter sleeping soundly on the kang (a heated brick bed), Lin Xiu frowned even in her dreams, holding her daughter tightly in her arms. Zhao Shanhe's heart softened, and he tucked the drafty corner of the quilt around them.

He didn't wake them. They were both terrified by what happened last night; they needed to get some more sleep.

Zhao Shanhe went to the outer room, splashed his face with cold water, and instantly perked up.

He picked up the roe deer hide that he had cleaned overnight from the corner of the wall. The hide had been scraped clean, and the fur gleamed with an oily sheen in the morning light. He then wrapped the remaining dozens of kilograms of roe deer meat in a clean white cloth and neatly stacked it in the old basket.

"Old buddy, whether we can turn things around today depends on you."

Zhao Shanhe patted his basket, pushed open the door, and plunged into the swirling snow.

……

Market day in Qingyang Town.

Although it was only a little past seven o'clock, the market was already bustling with people.

The market days of those days were the liveliest places in the surrounding villages. Vendors selling frozen pears and persimmons, fried dough sticks, and tobacco leaves called out their wares in a cacophony of voices. The white breath and the steam rising from the oil mingled together, creating a truly authentic and vibrant atmosphere.

Zhao Shanhe found a conspicuous spot that wouldn't block the way and put down his basket.

Unlike the novices who shouted at the top of their lungs, he skillfully draped the roe deer skin over his basket with the fur side facing out.

This is called "making an appearance".

In this industry, you can tell whether something is good or bad just by looking at it, without having to say anything.

Sure enough, within ten minutes, many passersby stopped in their tracks.

"Wow, what a find! Is this a Siberian roe deer?"

"The fur is so smooth, it's a winter pelt! It would be so warm to make a mattress with it."

Several old men in sheepskin coats gathered around, but they only looked and no one made a bid. After all, these days, no one has much spare money to buy such "luxury items."

Zhao Shanhe wasn't in a hurry. He crossed his arms, holding a rolled-up cigarette (unlit) between his fingers, and scanned the crowd with his eyes.

He's waiting for the real buyer.

Just then, the crowd was pushed apart by a chubby hand.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! Don't block my view of the goods!"

A middle-aged man wearing a dark blue Zhongshan suit and white gloves, but sporting a large belly, squeezed in.

This man was fair-skinned and clean-cut, clearly someone who had eaten rich and oily food all year round, a stark contrast to the sallow-faced and emaciated farmers around him.

His little eyes lit up the moment he saw the roe deer skin.

But he didn't rush to start. Instead, he looked at Zhao Shanhe and then at the cuts on the leather.

"You're an expert."

The fat man took off his gloves, ran his hand along the grain of the fabric, then pushed it against the grain, nodding in satisfaction.

"The skin was peeled beautifully; the only cut on the entire hide was under the neck, without damaging any hair. This is the 'tube skin' technique, and there aren't many people who know this skill anymore."

Zhao Shanhe laughed and tucked his pipe behind his ear:

"Boss, you have a good eye. It just came down from the mountain last night, it's still fresh."

The fat man chuckled and pointed to the white cloth bundle in his basket: "Just selling the skin? Where's the meat inside?"

Zhao Shanhe lifted a corner of the white cloth.

The red and white striped roe deer meat was exposed, and it didn't freeze solid in the cold air, but instead exuded a fresh and wild aroma.

"Good! The meat has been cleaned thoroughly, with no bone fragments."

The fat man swallowed hard, finally abandoning his airs, and asked directly:

"Brother, I'm Liu Changchun, the head chef of the county's state-run hotel. A few high-ranking officials are coming to inspect these days and specifically requested wild game. I'll take all your stuff; name your price."

The onlookers burst into discussion.

"The head chef of a state-run hotel? No wonder he's so fat!"

"Buy it all? How much would that cost? This young man is rich!"

Zhao Shanhe had a good idea of ​​what was going on.

Liu Changchun, nicknamed "Fatty Liu," is a big shot in Qingyang Town. He holds the purchasing power for the state-run hotel and is a man who truly knows his stuff and can afford to pay a high price.

"Master Liu is straightforward."

Zhao Shanhe didn't mince words; he held up one hand and gestured a number:

"I've cleaned the meat for you thoroughly, about forty pounds. This stuff is harder to get than pork these days, so I'll give you a dollar and twenty cents, no coupons required."

"This pelt is a genuine winter pelt, with a glossy and smooth coat, and it hasn't been cut. The purchasing station is offering five yuan, but I won't ask for more. You can give me ten yuan. To round it up, you can give me sixty yuan, and take everything."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Sixty yuan!

These days, a strong laborer working in a production team for a year would only receive a dividend of a hundred or so yuan. A second-level worker's monthly salary was only thirty-odd yuan.

This basket of stuff is worth more than two months' wages for someone who doesn't eat or drink!

Liu Changchun frowned slightly, clearly indicating that the price was a bit higher than the market price.

But when he looked at the perfect roe deer pelt and thought about those difficult leaders, he realized that if he couldn't supply this wild game, his position would be in jeopardy.

He gritted his teeth:

"Fine! Sixty it is! It's only because your stuff is really fresh; I would have left long ago if it were anyone else."

As he spoke, Liu Changchun unbuttoned his Zhongshan suit and reached for his money in his inner pocket.

Zhao Shanhe's palms were slightly sweaty.

Sixty yuan!

With this money, we can not only pay back the money we owe the clinic for medicine and buy Niu Niu a new cotton-padded coat, but also buy dozens of kilograms of flour so that our family can have a prosperous New Year!

However, just as Liu Changchun's hand touched the wallet, and Zhao Shanhe's hand was about to take the money—

"Make way! Make way!"

"Market Management Office is conducting an inspection!"

A few rough shouts, like a flock of crows, instantly shattered the lively atmosphere.

The crowd scattered in panic to both sides.

Three men wearing red armbands and carrying rubber batons walked over with an air of indifference.

The leader, whose face was covered in pockmarks, was none other than Ma Mazi, Zhao Shanhai's junior high school classmate.

Ma Mazi, his hat askew, scanned Zhao Shanhe's stall with his triangular eyes, his gaze lingering on the bulging basket on Zhao's back, a cold smile that he had long planned curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Wow, it's quite lively here."

Ma Mazi used a rubber stick to pick up the valuable roe deer hide as if it were a rag, and said in a sarcastic tone:

"Someone reported that people here are selling meat from diseased or dead animals and operating a wild animal business without a license."

He abruptly turned his head, staring at Zhao Shanhe with a malicious glint in his eyes that screamed, "You're dead today!"

"Kid, this is yours, isn't it? Come with us!"

Liu Changchun, who was taking out his money, froze, his hand hanging in mid-air.

He glanced at the fierce-looking Ma Mazi, then at Zhao Shanhe, and his brows furrowed tightly.

Zhao Shanhe stood there, looking at Ma Mazi's disgusting face, and then he remembered the direction Zhao Xiaoyu had run back to last night.

He didn't panic.

Instead, a cold smile slowly appeared on his lips.

Second brother, you really are still that coward who only knows how to use underhanded tricks.

Zhao Shanhe took a step forward, blocking his basket. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a firm tone:

"Comrade, you're saying I'm diseased, dead flesh? Are your eyes just for venting your anger?"