Fan Changyu had just knocked down a 300-pound fat pig, and then he picked up a half-dead, handsome man from the roadside.
Looking at that face, she had a "little" thought.
"I can save you. The medical fees, medicine fees, and nutrition fees are five taels of silver in total. No money?"
Fan Changyu weighed the butcher's knife in his hand and smiled like a villain: "It's okay if you don't have money, just draw a pledge and sell yourself to pay off the debt!"
From then on, her family had a sick son-in-law, A Zheng, who couldn't even tell the difference between pigweed and leeks.
But who will tell her why she, a frail son-in-law who sharpens a butcher's knife brighter than a mirror and can calculate accounts better than anyone else, occasionally glances at her with such a sharp look that it sends chills down her spine?
Until one day, a group of black-armored elite soldiers surrounded her little pork shop. The generals leading them all knelt down on one knee and shouted in the sky: "Welcome Marquis Wu'an to return to the throne!"
Fan Changyu was dumbfounded and silently raised the butcher's knife in his hand: "Um... Let's tie the five taels of silver first?"
Xiao Jinghong, the Marquis of Wu'an who was rumored to be decisive in killing, blushed for the first time in front of everyone. He held her hand and said with fond eyes: "Madam, the whole world will be your interest, okay?"
