Chapter 12: Braised Pork Rice

Ning Zhixia divided the agreed share of profits with Qu Banqing, saving the remainder for himself. In just over a month, counting his previous savings and the bonus from Odelo, his account had nearly four hundred thousand yuan. After much deliberation, he decided to buy an electric SUV.

With car prices dropping at just the right moment, Ning Zhixia negotiated at the dealership and spent almost two hundred thousand yuan, including insurance.

When he brought the car home, Qu Banqing was in the passenger seat, furiously berating helmetless motorcyclists darting about one moment, and the next, sarcastically cursing at buses cutting in line. He was in his element, busy and unstoppable.

After parking, Ning Zhixia couldn't wait to ask, "Well? Did you feel the pushback?"

Qu Banqing unscrewed his thermos for a sip to soothe his throat. "You mean the pushback you get from pushing an old man’s wheelchair?"

"...Waaah."

Ning Zhixia unbuckled his seatbelt and, heartbroken, got down from his “baby bus.”

Qingxi Road had an underground garage, three hundred a month, not bad. When it was time to get license plates, Ning Zhixia had the DMV mail them home. He squatted down with a screwdriver, humming as he fixed the seal.

Task done, he left the garage and walked toward his small detached house—just as a gentle rain began to fall again.

At the gate, a cluster of kittens huddled beneath the broad leaves of a monstera, the rain drumming on the foliage, making their little heads twist curiously about.

Ning Zhixia grinned, bounded beneath the eaves in three quick steps, and shook the raindrops from his hair at the kittens. They dodged and swatted at his pant legs with their soft paws, bristling in mock anger.

“Hey, all done? Perfect timing—come wash up and eat!”

Qu Banqing was hugging a jar of pickles, ready to stash it in the cool corner of the kitchen.

“Alright!” Ning Zhixia replied, trailing a flock of kittens indoors and shutting the door.

The kitchen was now unmistakably Qu Banqing’s domain. The tableware had all been replaced: pumpkin-shaped cast iron pots, lily-of-the-valley porcelain plates, little cat and bear ceramic bowls... All manner of exquisite utensils, changing with the day.

Like Ning Zhixia, he had loved cute, delicate things since childhood—a fondness for which the boys in class had often mocked him.

Ning Zhixia knew they were having pork knuckle rice for dinner, but when he lifted the lid and saw two large, reddish-brown pork hocks soaking in the marinade, he was taken aback. “That’s a lot! There’s no way we’ll finish this.”

Qu Banqing untied his bunny apron with a sigh. “Did you forget the little freeloaders?”

No sooner had he spoken than there was a knock at the door, and a chorus of fox cubs called out from outside.

“Brother Ning, Brother Qu, open up! We can smell something delicious!”

Ning Zhixia couldn’t help but feel grateful that the fox cubs were polite and adorable—if it had been some other fierce, supernatural creature, opening the door would have been like opening a can of who-knows-what.

“Rumble, rumble...” The little foxes bounded in, each pausing to nuzzle a curious kitten, before heading straight for the coffee table.

Since they hadn’t bought a dining table, they always ate at the coffee table, seated on little stools or cushions, which made for a more relaxed, informal meal.

As soon as everyone was settled, Qu Banqing brought over several plates heaped with fragrant pork knuckle rice.

He nudged Ning Zhixia into the fox pile, standing with hands on hips as he surveyed the crowd of little gluttons slurping away, nodding in satisfaction—his sense of accomplishment overflowing.

The pork hocks had simmered in the marinade for three hours. The central bone slipped out at a tug, the skin gleamed, tender and sticky, splitting at the touch of a knife. The lean meat looked firm, yet melted into shreds with a single prod from a spoon.

Each plate was half fatty, half lean, chopped up and spread over rice, with an extra drizzle of marinade for mixing. There were no stewed eggs, but if you dug into the rice, there was a whole slice of pork trotter hidden inside.

Ning Zhixia set a cold cola in front of him, then glanced at his own plate and laughed. “Hey, you even got the ‘Four Gold Points’ cut!”

“Of course! I’m well in with the market vendors now,” Qu Banqing boasted after a big gulp of cola.

Whether it was the country women selling local chickens and ducks or the various meat and vegetable stallholders, he’d won them all over with ease.

“Come on,” Ning Zhixia protested, “My connections are impressive too!”

Qu Banqing replied, “I said ‘people’ connections—what about yours?”

Ning Zhixia fell silent for a moment, then bent over to devour his prized ‘Four Gold Points’ cut.

This cut, between the pig’s trotter and thigh, was prized for its tender skin and gelatinous tendons. Even at specialty restaurants, it was only available in limited quantities each day.

To balance the richness, pork knuckle rice was usually served with stir-fried cabbage and pickled greens. Instead, Qu Banqing had prepared “diving radish”—perfectly cubed, each bite refreshing, sweet, and spicy, cutting the grease beautifully.

The fox cubs ate with their ears perked, tails swishing like automatic cat teasers. After licking their oily fingers, they nuzzled up to Qu Banqing and Ning Zhixia, before burying their heads again for an immersive dining experience.

“Mmm...” Ning Zhixia, mouth greasy, shoveled in rice with his spoon, mumbling, “I wish I could eat this every day...”

“Son, can we not talk with our mouths full?” Qu Banqing turned his head aside. “Your mouth’s like a rapid-fire cannon right now.”

Ning Zhixia chewed, “It’s just so good. Luckily, I get to eat your cooking from now on.”

He’d always been a picky eater. He still remembered how, back in middle school, the cafeteria food was so bad the two of them had sneaked out through the back fence to buy food—only to get stuck in the bars and cry their eyes out.

The teacher and security guard had to call for help and fetch tools from the storeroom. Their homeroom teacher, worried they’d be mortified, kept reassuring them, but they kept sobbing and asking, “Teacher, can you buy us some pork knuckle rice from across the street?”

Maybe it was the ordeal, but the meal tasted heavenly, sparking Qu Banqing’s passion for cooking—from kitchen disaster to five-star chef, with Ning Zhixia as his ever-faithful taste tester.

Qu Banqing, caught up in the memory, was taken aback. “You still remember that?”

“How could I forget!” Ning Zhixia frowned.

Qu Banqing was moved. “Son...”

Ning Zhixia pouted, glanced up at him, and muttered, “And you stole half my marinated egg back then...”

Qu Banqing, half-annoyed, plopped a chunk of ‘Four Gold Points’ on his plate. “Here, take it, eat up and stop whining...”

After dinner, Ning Zhixia washed the dishes while the fox cubs each cuddled a kitten, crowding around Qu Banqing to watch him play video games.

Qu Banqing never got along with the mahjong crew, but he got on just fine with this bunch of little ones.

Ning Zhixia was hopeless at games, so he settled nearby with his tablet, doodling absentmindedly. Thanks to No. 19, he had three extra hours each day to fill as he pleased.

After a while, he glanced at the hourglass timer at the edge of the table and said casually, “Looks like the passage is about to close.”

Four little heads turned slowly, their round eyes shining with tears. “Brother Ning, are you kicking us out? We’re sorry for worrying you last time—it’s all our fault, please don’t dislike us...”

Ning Zhixia waved his hands frantically. “No, I, um, I didn’t mean...”

Baizhu blinked his dewy eyes. “Then…can we stay the night?”

“…Alright,” Ning Zhixia mumbled.

Lowering his gaze to the colors on his tablet, he silently filled the fox’s white fur with #C60D180.

Granted an overnight stay, the fox cubs tumbled around gleefully. When bedtime came, they curled up around Ning Zhixia—who carried them upstairs to wash up.

The four foxes lined up obediently to have their paw pads wiped with a half-dry towel.

It was their first time in a human bedroom, and they buzzed with excitement, darting about and finally hurling themselves onto the big bed in the center of the room.

Ning Zhixia let them have their fun and went to shower in the ensuite. While blow-drying his hair, the door cracked open and a dainty porcelain jar was nudged in by a furry paw.

Curious, Ning Zhixia asked, “What’s this? Scent balm?”

“Mhm! Improved formula!” Baizhu replied from outside, tail wagging as he used a new phrase he’d just learned. “It’s got flower essence and herbs from the neighboring hill. Put it on and you’ll smell nice and feel silky! Try it, Brother Ning!”

Ning Zhixia laughed. “So I have to give you user feedback, too?”

Baizhu nodded. “That’s right!”

“You really do have what it takes to be CEO of Demon Mountain...” Ning Zhixia muttered, but still unscrewed the little jar and sniffed. The scent was even better than before.

Already dressed, too lazy to undress again, he lifted his pajama hem with his teeth and rubbed the balm all over, even spreading the leftover bit on his backside.

As the steam faded, the mirror revealed a youth with a slender waist and long legs, toned abs just right, and wherever the balm had touched, the skin quivered at the lightest slap.

Ning Zhixia, satisfied with his figure, hummed smugly at his reflection, then burst through the door, took a running leap, and landed smack in the middle of the bed.

The fox cubs, unprepared, got a surprise round of trampoline.

Not sleepy yet, Ning Zhixia turned on the TV for the foxes and grabbed a comic, sprawling on the bed to read.

In no time, he became a human playground. Paw pads tiptoed across his body, and the naughtier cubs pounced like hunters, nudging his neck and then scampering away.

They were light enough not to bother him, so Ning Zhixia let them have their way, even snatching two cubs to his side for a massage. “Come on, work my shoulders.”

“Okay!” The foxes were eager, pressing their soft pads up and down—naturally drawn to the youth, their tails wagging happily as they gave their best massages.

The remote got a few accidental taps, and suddenly the TV flickered with shifting lights, a deep male voice ringing out:

“Spring has arrived, all things are waking—it's mating season once again. The male red fox emits a sharp cry to attract his beloved…”

All the fox cubs whipped their heads toward the screen, mouths dropping open.

The paws on Ning Zhixia’s back slowed, hesitated, then he deftly snatched the remote from under Baizhu’s belly and pressed a button—

Click!

Channel changed.

The next morning, a barrage of electronic firecrackers exploded outside. Ning Zhixia, bundled in a blanket, jolted awake, rolled right off the bed, and landed face-first on the floor.

Grimacing, he climbed up to find the fox cubs had claimed most of the bed, sleeping sprawled out with their tails in the air. No matter the racket outside, they were unfazed, just flicking their ears, stretching, and rolling over to sleep on.

Yawning, Ning Zhixia opened the door and bumped into Qu Banqing, his hair a tousled mess.

“What’s with all the noise, setting off firecrackers at dawn?”

The two of them, bleary-eyed, wandered downstairs to the entrance, where kittens were already perched on the window ledge, watching the commotion.

Across the street, the newly opened scalp spa—a husband-and-wife business—was bustling with banners and flower baskets. They’d just added quick manicure services, and a crowd had gathered to watch and buy memberships.

Ning Zhixia was dumbfounded, squatting on the steps with the kittens.

“Damn, several of those ladies are our regulars—they were just asking to book manicures the other day...” Qu Banqing plopped beside him, sighing in dismay.

Ning Zhixia paused, then patted his shoulder in consolation. “In our line of work, the number one rule is—never get emotionally attached to clients...”

Qu Banqing: “…”

Somehow, that just made it all feel even more tragic.