The Butcher's Little Husband - Chapter 72

Tian Xiaoman wasn’t just afraid to kill the chicken—he couldn’t even watch it being done.

That year, his Amu had twisted his arm before the New Year, so Tian Xiaoman helped him. However, when it came time to kill the chicken, he couldn’t bring himself to touch its neck.

His Amu, watching anxiously from the side, told him to close his eyes and just use force, since Father Tian and the twins were not around.

Tian Xiaoman, gathering his courage, finally tried to cut the chicken’s neck. He thought he had killed it and let go. But to his horror, the chicken suddenly flipped over, flapping its wings wildly, blood spurting from its neck. The yard quickly resembled a crime scene.

Letting out a terrified scream, Xiaoman ran straight back into his room, convinced that the chicken had turned into a ghost—it was dead, yet still moving! 

Tian Amu didn’t know whether to laugh or scold him. It clearly hadn’t been killed properly.

But seeing how shaken Xiaoman was, Tian Amu knew the boy wouldn’t come out again. So Amu locked the gate, went to fetch Father Tian to help clean up the bloody mess, and muttered to himself that if they didn’t take care of it, the whole courtyard would be “red and festive” for the New Year in the wrong way.

Since that day, Xiaoman had developed a lasting fear of chickens. He refused to kill any that were still alive—especially roosters. 

So when he learned that they were slaughtering one this morning, he immediately put down his bowl and went back to his room, telling Li Wenxuan to call him only after it was done.

Li Wenxuan was puzzled. Killing a chicken wasn’t like butchering a pig—by the time Xiaoman even closed the door, it would already be over. Still, he didn’t ask further. He picked up a kitchen knife and went outside.

Pulling the big rooster out of the coop, he noticed it seemed to sense its fate, clucking frantically. Wenxuan found the noise irritating. He tightened his grip on its neck until the sound stopped—the bird was nearly strangled.

Li Amu hurriedly called out, “Don’t strangle it! This big chicken can give us a bowl of blood. If you strangle it, the blood won’t flow out properly.”

Li Wenxuan relaxed his grip slightly and placed the chicken on a large stone in the yard, setting a big bowl underneath to catch the blood.

With a single cut across the neck, the blood flowed freely, splashing into the bowl. The rooster flapped a few times and went still. Wenxuan’s cut was deep and clean.

“Xiaoman, you can come out now. The chicken’s dead!” Li Wenxuan called, lowering the chicken.

Tian Xiaoman ran out, relieved to see the chicken was truly dead. He noticed the bowl of blood and his eyes lit up, recalling a delicious dish.

At that moment, Li Amu approached with a basin of hot water, preparing to soak the chicken and remove the feathers. 

Tian Xiaoman squatted next to him and asked, “Amu, can you make some chicken blood for me? And maybe the offal too?”

“Of course,” Li Amu said with a smile. While the chicken was meant for the New Year’s sacrifice to the ancestors, the offal could be used for other dishes.

Tian Xiaoman beamed with happiness. He loved the New Year, with its constant stream of delicious food. The day before, Li Amu had fried meatballs and cooked spinach in the evening — both were delicious.

As he thought about it, his stomach growled. He didn’t know why he was always so hungry lately. 

He turned to Li Wenxuan, who was sharpening a knife nearby, and said, “I’m hungry.”

Thinking he was talking to him, Li Amu suggested, “There’s some porridge left in the pot. How about I heat it up?”

Tian Xiaoman quickly shook his head. He wasn’t craving porridge. 

Li Wenxuan, having heard, set down his knife, washed his hands, and approached.

“What would you like to eat? I’ll go buy it for you.”

He could make the trip quickly and return in no more than an hour. 

Tian Xiaoman didn’t want Li Wenxuan to think he was making a fuss, so after a moment of thinking, he said, “I want Ayun’s tofu pudding.”

It was available in the village, and it wouldn’t take long for Li Wenxuan to return. Plus, he hadn’t had it the last time, so now was the perfect opportunity to try it.

Li Wenxuan grabbed a jar and left. Lately, whenever Tian Xiaoman gave him those expectant looks, he found it hard to resist.

Li Amu didn’t mind Li Wenxuan buying food. If it made Tian Xiaoman happy, it was no trouble at all. But as he thought about the situation, he couldn’t help but ask, “Xiaoman, are you and Wenxuan getting along well?”

“Yes, why?” Tian Xiaoman asked, puzzled by the question.

“Well… how are things in bed?” Li Amu added hesitantly.

“Amu, why are you asking that?” Tian Xiaoman blushed slightly. It was awkward to discuss such things with his elder. He felt it was something better suited for talking with friends like Xiaoguo.

“I’m just wondering,” Li Amu continued. “Lately, you’ve been eating a lot, but have you considered… you might be pregnant?”

Tian Xiaoman froze. After a moment, he understood and quickly replied, “No, I’m not pregnant! I’ve always eaten a lot!”

He had seen pregnant gers, pale and thin, who couldn’t eat much and often vomited. That wasn’t him at all. How could he possibly be pregnant?

Li Amu felt a bit disappointed. hey had only been married for less than two months; it was too soon anyway. Still, Xiaoman had been eating far more than before and hadn’t gained any weight. When he first married in, his appetite wasn’t like this at all.

Before Li Amu could ask further, Li Wenxuan returned, holding a jar. “Xiaoman, I got the tofu pudding.” He’d also picked up some freshly ordered soy milk while he was there.

Tian Xiaoman leapt up, grinning. “Husband, you’re the best! I’ll go make the sauce!”

He quickly prepared the sauce, chopping green onions and adding it to the dish. He then set everything on the stone table.

“Amu, you have some too. Wenxuan, go ask the eldest brother and brothern-in-law if they want some,” Tian Xiaoman said, then headed outside to find Le-ge’er and Liu Xilin, who were playing nearby. 

He invited them over to eat.

After serving bowls for the two children, Tian Xiaoman dished up some for himself. 

The white tofu pudding, black sauce, and chopped green onions looked beautiful, and the taste was even better.

It was a rare treat, and he wished they could eat it more often. Maybe next time, they could get a small stone mill for the house.

Meanwhile, Li Yiran was reading in his study. Feeling like he could use a break, he stepped outside to enjoy a bowl. He asked Lian Meng if he wanted to join, but Lian Meng declined, saying the outside was too dirty with chickens and ducks roaming around.

Li Yiran, a bit upset, told him, “Come out if you want to. You weren’t like this before. Why can’t you bear a little inconvenience now?”

Seeing him walk outside, Li Amu understood what was happening but didn’t add fuel to the fire. Instead, he offered some gentle advice.

There had once been a pregnant man who had experienced drastic mood swings, but after giving birth, everything settled down. He thought about Lian Meng’s situation and wondered if it was something similar. He hadn’t left the house much before, so it made sense he might be more sensitive now.

Later, Li Amu went to check on Lian Meng several times and even stewed two chickens for him. But seeing how pale he looked, he thought maybe it was time to bring in the old doctor from the village that afternoon to check on both Lian Meng and Xiaoman’s health.