Volume Two: The Path to Success Chapter 16: Taking Shu Xiaoya Back to Her Hometown (Part Two)

After dinner, my mother told me that soon they would call Wang Liuma to slaughter the New Year’s pig. I asked her, “Isn’t it a bit early to slaughter the New Year’s pig? The festival is still some time away.” She replied, “It’s not too early; it’s less than two months away. The pig has been well fed and fattened. Besides, since you’re home, you can help out.” Although she said this, I knew in my heart that my mother was placing great importance on my marriage. This was the first time I had brought my future daughter-in-law home, and she wanted to welcome her in the grandest tradition of our hometown.

Before long, Wang Liuma arrived, accompanied by my second and third uncles and two of my cousins, Dong Qiang and Dong Liang, who came to help. Wang Liuma was the village’s veteran pig butcher, having slaughtered pigs for nearly twenty years; villagers almost always hired him for the New Year’s pig. In our hometown, slaughtering the New Year’s pig required great precision—one clean cut was highly valued. It was taboo to miss on the first stroke and have to strike again, as it was believed that doing so would bring bad luck to the household for the coming year. Wang Liuma was reputed never to have failed in this—always a precise first cut.

Originally, Wang Liuma wasn’t called “Liuma” and was quite handsome in his youth. How he ended up in this profession was a mystery. Strangely, after years of slaughtering pigs, his face gradually became marked with pockmarks, growing more numerous over time. Some said it was divine punishment for taking so many lives, though I never understood the origin of this belief. Now, Wang Liuma bore a face full of pockmarks and an air of ruggedness forged through years of his grisly trade—no trace of his former charm remained.

Under Wang Liuma’s direction, we made the necessary preparations. On a small earthen mound beside our house, a temporary earth stove had been dug, and a large pot of boiling water was heating on it. Nearby, on two benches placed side by side, we laid a wooden door panel from home. Beside it was a large basin sprinkled with salt in advance to catch the pig’s blood.

Once preparations were complete, we went to the pigpen to bring out the pig. We opened the pen’s door and then unfastened the latch on the fattest pig’s stall. This pig was indeed very fat, probably close to 200 jin (about 200 pounds). Having been starved for a day or two beforehand, it still didn’t know its fate and thought it was being fed. It happily trotted over with soft grunts but paused uneasily upon seeing strangers. In a flash, Wang Liuma hooked the pig’s chin with a rope he had ready. The pig let out a piercing scream, kicking its front legs hard and struggling desperately with its hindquarters. Wang Liuma pulled the rope taut; Dong Qiang grabbed one ear and pulled forward; I seized the tail firmly; and Dong Liang pushed from behind. The pig screamed all the way, step by step, until it was pressed against the wooden panel.

Shu Xiaoya, hearing the pig’s screams, came out to watch but was soon terrified by the pig’s desperate struggles and quickly screamed before retreating back indoors. Wang Liuma, Dong Qiang, and Dong Liang laughed heartily at this.

The four of us together lifted the pig onto the door panel, but it still struggled violently. Wang Liuma kept the rope hooked under the pig’s chin; I held its tail firmly; Dong Qiang and Dong Liang each pressed down on a front and hind leg to prevent it from thrashing. Eventually, the pig seemed exhausted, panting heavily with frothy saliva.

Then Wang Liuma grasped the rope with one hand and drew a sharp knife from a pouch at his waist with the other. Aiming at the pig’s throat where it throbbed with each anguished cry, he plunged the knife deep—almost halfway into the handle. Blood gushed out of the wound, splashing into the basin below. The pig’s cries diminished from loud to faint; its grunts weakened until finally, the pig shuddered and kicked its legs once hard—signaling the fatal cut was done. Our hearts finally relaxed.

Next came the “blowing” of the pig. A cut was made in the pig’s hind leg, and a long iron rod was inserted under the skin from the leg to the back, neck, and belly. After pulling out the rod, Wang Liuma blew vigorously into the opening, inflating the pig’s skin like a balloon. Once the pig’s body was taut and swollen, the opening was tied tightly with hemp rope. Then a wooden stick was used to tap the pig’s body repeatedly, ensuring the air reached all around. This process helped to remove all the pig’s hair.

I invited Shu Xiaoya to watch this traditional custom she had never seen before. She took one glance, covered her eyes with her hands, and exclaimed, “It’s too cruel, too cruel,” before turning and retreating indoors again. Wang Liuma, Dong Qiang, and Dong Liang laughed loudly at her reaction.

By noon, relatives gradually arrived—not exactly guests, but my second and third uncles’ families, my aunt and uncle, two other aunts and their husbands, and my uncle and aunt. All the elders of the family were present, making the house lively and festive. In our village, inviting close family to share the “pig soup” after slaughtering the New Year’s pig was a custom—a day for family reunion, like a festival in itself. Moreover, when a future daughter-in-law came for the first time, it was customary to invite all senior relatives to meet and share a meal. Though I lived and worked in the city, since this was Shu Xiaoya’s first visit to my hometown, we followed this tradition. My mother had already planned all this.

I introduced Shu Xiaoya to each elder. She was beautiful and poised, earning their unanimous praise. They all said, “The mountain boy is blessed to have found such a lovely and sophisticated city girl.”

Eating “pig soup” was a grand feast in our village. The main dish was the soup made from coagulated blood, pork intestines, and lungs cooked together. Of course, other dishes like boiled pork, pork with savory fillings, and twice-cooked pork were also served. I went around with Shu Xiaoya, toasting each elder. At this moment, the elders showered the future daughter-in-law with praise and blessings. This was customary—a formality to show approval rather than a serious examination or criticism.

In the evening, after the guests had left, my mother called Shu Xiaoya and me to her room. She rummaged through an old wooden box and took out a small red silk pouch. Inside was a jade bracelet—emerald green and crystal clear. My mother took Shu Xiaoya’s hand and placed the bracelet into it. She said:

“My dear, our family is poor, as you’ve seen. If you marry into our family, you may endure hardships. I have no fine gifts to give you, only this bracelet. It was given to me by my mother when I married. Now I give it to you, hoping you and Dongshan will be happy together.”

I had never seen this bracelet before, so it was clear my mother had treasured it deeply. Now that she was offering it to Shu Xiaoya, I was moved almost to tears.

Shu Xiaoya probably sensed the bracelet’s significance and my mother’s feelings. She tried to decline, saying, “Auntie, please keep it. Such a precious gift is too much for me.”

They went back and forth like this until I said to Shu Xiaoya, “You should accept it. This is your mother’s heartfelt wish. It’s our custom here, showing that she approves of you as her daughter-in-law.”

Hearing this, Shu Xiaoya had no choice but to accept it and thanked my mother.

My mother beamed with joy, her smile broadening until tears welled up again. She hurriedly wiped them away but kept smiling at us. Perhaps in her heart, knowing her son was about to start his own family, a great burden was lifted, and she felt both light and happy.

Because we had work the next day, we set off back to the provincial city early in the morning. On the way back, Shu Xiaoya seemed to have adjusted somewhat and was less exhausted than on the way here. On the train, she sighed, “This time, coming to your hometown, I’ve ridden on every mode of transportation except an airplane.” I laughed heartily at this.

She added, “I really didn’t expect the countryside to be like this.”

I replied, “You didn’t expect how backward our rural areas are, right?”

“No, it’s not that backward, just different from what I imagined. Mostly, it’s the transportation problem. Why doesn’t the government invest more in road construction?”

“The government has many priorities and limited funds. It can’t pour much money into rural roads. Besides, the returns on investing in rural infrastructure aren’t as immediate or obvious as in cities, so cities get priority. Eventually, the government will address rural development, but it requires the right stage of progress. The time isn’t ripe yet.”

“That makes sense.” Shu Xiaoya seemed thoughtful. Then she said, “But the people here are so warm and simple—I really like that.” Her words reassured me, knowing she didn’t look down on my poor relatives.

After a while, she looked at me and asked, “At first, I worried this visit would be like an exam and that I might fail. But now, it seems I’ve passed, right?”

“Not just passed—you aced it,” I said. Shu Xiaoya laughed like a little girl. But in truth, I knew my mother still held some reservations about her. That was the only imperfection in this visit to my hometown. Of course, I wouldn’t tell Shu Xiaoya this.