This is a work of dark historical fiction written by Aigorepic.com. It contains extreme graphic violence, cannibalism, and disturbing themes. All characters, places, and events are entirely fictional and not meant to represent real history or encourage any real-world actions.
Tender Meat for the Wedding Night
In the shadowed province of Blackriver, where the civil wars of the late Scarlet Empire had reduced once-fertile lands to ash and bone, survival wore many ugly faces. The year was 1647 by the old reckoning. Famine had clawed its way across the countryside for three brutal seasons. What little law remained existed only inside the high walls of wealthy estates.
Mei Lin was twenty-two when the soldiers dragged her from the smoldering ruins of her village. She had been hiding in the dried well with her younger sister when the raiders came. They took the sister first. Mei Lin fought like a wildcat, earning herself nothing but a broken wrist and a deep cut across her cheek. They bound her hands behind her back with coarse rope and marched her for six days with other captives—mostly young women and girls—toward the market town of Stonebridge.
The journey was hell. They were given almost no food. When one girl collapsed, the soldiers simply cut strips from her thigh while she still breathed and roasted them over the fire. The others watched in silence, too hungry to look away.
On the seventh morning they reached the outer pens of Stonebridge’s flesh market. A wooden sign, weathered and stained dark, read: “Fresh Meat – Two Copper per Catty.”
A fat merchant with a greasy apron walked along the line of bound women, poking and prodding like a butcher inspecting livestock.
“This one’s too thin,” he muttered, slapping a girl’s hip. “That one has good breasts but narrow hips—less meat.” He stopped in front of Mei Lin. His thick fingers gripped her jaw, turning her face left and right. “Pretty face. Good teeth. Skin smooth. How old?”
“Twenty-two,” a soldier answered.
The merchant squeezed her upper arm, then her thigh through the torn fabric of her clothes. “She’ll do. Prime quality. I’ll give you twelve taels for her.”
The deal was struck quickly. Mei Lin was dragged to a holding pen where other “cai ren” waited—women and girls marked for slaughter. Some cried quietly. Others had already gone blank-eyed, staring at nothing.
That same afternoon, a servant from Golden Hill Manor arrived. He was a thin, middle-aged man named Steward Zhao, dressed in fine dark silk despite the surrounding misery.
“I need the best,” he told the merchant. “Master Wang’s eldest son is marrying in three days. The wedding banquet must be unforgettable. Money is no object.”
The merchant smiled. “I have exactly what you want. Freshly arrived this morning. Young, tender, not yet starved down. Look at these legs—firm as spring lamb.”
Steward Zhao examined Mei Lin carefully. He lifted her arms, checked her teeth, ran his hands over her hips and buttocks without shame. “Strip her,” he ordered.
They cut away her remaining rags. Mei Lin stood naked in the cold air, trembling. The steward turned her slowly, studying every inch.
“Good fat distribution on the rump and thighs,” he murmured. “Breasts are full but not too heavy—will render nice broth. Back is straight. She’ll carve beautifully.” He nodded. “I’ll take her whole. Twenty-five taels.”
The merchant’s eyes widened at the generous price. The deal was done.
Mei Lin was loaded into a closed ox cart. Her hands remained bound. A heavy iron collar was locked around her neck, chained to the floor of the cart. As the wheels began to turn, she finally found her voice.
“Please… I’m not an animal. I can work. I can cook, clean, anything. Don’t do this.”
The steward, riding beside the cart, glanced at her through the wooden slats. “In these times, little sister, everyone has their use. Your use will bring honor to the Wang family. Be grateful. Most girls die slowly in the famine. You will feed the most important banquet of the year.”
Golden Hill Manor sat on a hill overlooking the dried river valley. Its high gray walls and red gates spoke of old wealth that had survived the chaos. Inside, servants hurried everywhere preparing for the wedding.
Mei Lin was taken directly to the preparation courtyard behind the main kitchen. The area was enclosed by high walls. In the center stood a large, heavy wooden table stained dark with years of use. Nearby were several sharpened knives of different sizes, a heavy cleaver, two long hooks, a saw with fine teeth, and several large bronze basins.
A broad-shouldered man in a blood-stained leather apron waited. His name was Butcher Gao, the manor’s private slaughterer.
Steward Zhao pushed Mei Lin forward. “This is the main dish for the groom’s special table. Master wants her prepared alive as much as possible for freshness. The heart, liver, and thighs are most important. Do it cleanly. No waste.”
Butcher Gao looked Mei Lin up and down with professional interest. “Pretty one. Good. The young master likes them pretty.” He turned to two assistants. “Tie her on the table. Arms and legs spread.”
Mei Lin began to struggle as they lifted her onto the heavy table. “No! Please! I beg you! Let me speak to your master! I can serve in other ways!”
One assistant slapped her face hard. “Quiet. You’re meat now.”
They stretched her arms above her head and tied her wrists to iron rings at the top of the table. Her legs were pulled wide apart and secured to the bottom corners. A thick leather strap went across her waist, pinning her down firmly. She could barely move.
Butcher Gao picked up a small, very sharp knife and a bowl of water. He began washing her body carefully, almost tenderly, removing dirt from the journey.
While he worked, he spoke to her in a calm, conversational tone, as if explaining to a new apprentice.
“First we clean you properly. Guests don’t want dirt in their food. Then I’ll bleed you. A clean cut across the throat. You’ll lose consciousness quickly if you don’t fight it. Struggling makes the meat tougher.”
Mei Lin’s chest heaved with terror. Tears ran down her temples. “Why are you doing this? I’m a person…”
“You were a person,” Gao corrected gently. “Now you are the finest ingredient for a wedding feast. There is honor in that. Your body will become part of the most memorable meal these nobles ever eat. Your breasts will be steamed with ginger and rice wine. Your thighs roasted with honey glaze. Your liver sautéed with green onions. Very elegant dishes.”
A young female servant entered carrying a tray of spices. She looked at Mei Lin with pity but said nothing.
“Help me turn her slightly,” Gao told the assistants. “I want to check the fat on her back.”
They rolled Mei Lin onto her side as much as the ropes allowed. Gao ran his hand along her spine and buttocks.
“Excellent marbling,” he said approvingly. “This will be very tender. The young master will be pleased.”
Mei Lin whispered, voice breaking, “Please… at least kill me first. Don’t cut me while I’m still awake.”
Gao shook his head. “Master’s order is to keep the heart beating as long as possible. Fresh blood makes better broth. But I’m not cruel. I’ll make the first cut quick.”
He positioned a large bronze basin under her neck. Then he took a long, thin-bladed knife, tested its edge with his thumb, and leaned over her.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
Mei Lin’s eyes were wide with animal terror. Her lips moved in silent prayer.
The blade flashed across her throat in one smooth motion. Blood poured out in a hot rush into the basin. She gasped, body jerking against the ropes. A wet, gurgling sound came from her throat.
Gao spoke calmly while she bled. “That’s it. Breathe through your nose if you can. It won’t be long now. Your body is already starting to cool.”
Mei Lin’s vision blurred. She could feel her strength draining away with the blood. Strange warmth spread through her limbs. The pain in her throat was sharp but distant.
One of the assistants asked, “Should we start jointing the legs while she’s still warm?”
“Not yet,” Gao answered. “Wait until the heart slows. We want the blood to drain properly first.”
For several minutes the only sounds were the dripping of blood and Mei Lin’s weak, wet breathing. Her eyes remained open, staring at the gray sky above.
Finally, Butcher Gao checked her pulse at the wrist. “She’s gone. Begin.”
The assistants worked efficiently. They first removed her breasts with careful, curving cuts, placing them in a separate basin. “These will be steamed whole,” one explained. “Very popular at noble banquets.”
Then they moved to her thighs. Gao used the heavy cleaver to separate the legs at the hip joints with powerful, practiced chops. The sound of bone cracking echoed in the courtyard. Each thigh was massive and heavy, placed on a clean board.
“Beautiful color,” Gao noted with satisfaction. “Pink and well-marbled. This will roast perfectly.”
They continued systematically. The arms were removed at the shoulders. The torso was opened. Organs were carefully extracted—liver, kidneys, heart—each placed in iced water to keep fresh.
While they worked, servants came and went, discussing the menu.
“The young mistress wants the heart made into a special soup for the groom,” one maid said. “With lotus seeds and goji berries.”
“Tell the master the thighs are excellent quality,” another replied. “We can serve one roasted, one braised with soy and star anise.”
Mei Lin’s remains were gradually reduced to clean bones and useful parts. Nothing was wasted. Even her bones would be boiled for rich stock.
Later that evening, in the great hall of Golden Hill Manor, hundreds of guests celebrated the wedding. Lanterns glowed red and gold. Music played. Wine flowed.
At the head table, the groom and his new bride were served the most special dishes. A beautifully presented roasted thigh, glazed golden with honey and spices, was placed before the groom.
He took a piece with his chopsticks, chewed thoughtfully, and smiled.
“Extraordinary,” he declared. “So tender. What is this meat?”
Steward Zhao, standing nearby, bowed. “A special ingredient, young master. Selected with great care for your happiness.”
The groom took another bite, savoring the rich flavor. “Whoever prepared this… tell them they have done well. This will be remembered for years.”
Far behind the kitchen, in the quiet preparation courtyard, Butcher Gao was already sharpening his knives again. Another cart had arrived with new “cai ren.” The famine showed no sign of ending, and rich families still needed to host memorable banquets.
In Blackriver Province, life—and death—continued as it had for many terrible years.
