Early in the morning, Huo Ling stood by the stove, simmering paste.

The door gods and couplets the family had bought needed to be posted today—a tradition known in the old days as “sealing the doors.” Not only did the main gate need to be decorated, but so did the interior room doors, the stove, and the kang.

To ensure they stuck firmly, a generous amount of paste was needed; otherwise, the wind would blow them off before the end of the first lunar month, which would be considered a bad omen.

He mixed white flour with water, stirring it into a paste. Once not a single lump of flour was visible, he poured it into the pot to simmer slowly.

The fire mustn’t be too high while simmering the paste, or it will burn quickly. He removed a few pieces of firewood from the hearth, and after about half an incense stick’s worth of time had passed, he tested it with chopsticks—the paste was now stretchy enough to form threads.

“Second brother, is the paste ready yet?”

“I’ve poured it out. It’ll be ready to use once it cools.”

Huo Feng, who was inside the house, heard this and called out to Huo Ying. Together, the two of them unrolled the couplet and spread it out flat on the kang mat.

No one in the family could read, so they couldn’t tell which was the upper couplet and which was the lower; they had to flip the paper over to check. The vendors who sold these couplets would always make a mark on the back of the upper couplet.

Ye Suping and Yan Qi stood nearby, wiping the lanterns with a dry cloth. These pairs of red silk lanterns hadn’t been cheap when they were bought, but they were much more durable than paper lanterns.

They were hung during the daytime on New Year’s Eve each year and taken down after the first lunar month; the rest of the time, they were kept covered with dust covers. Even now, their colors still look quite vivid.

The paste, once cooled, was stickier than when it was hot. Huo Ling dipped his finger in to test it; when he brought his fingertips together and pulled them apart, the paste formed a string. It took him a while to rub off the residue, so he knew it was ready.

Both brothers were quite tall; they only needed to step onto a stool when pasting the horizontal banner. Yan Qi held Yingzi’s hand and stood a short distance away, helping to make sure it wasn’t pasted crookedly.

“Is it straight now?”

After a flurry of instructions, Huo Ling and Huo Feng held the couplet firmly in place, too afraid to move. Only when they saw Yan Qi nod did they forcefully slap the red paper—heavily coated with paste—onto the wall, pressing it down for a moment before letting go.

Ye Suping had been standing in the courtyard without coming out. Only after the couplets were hung and the lanterns were in place did she slowly walk out, look up, and smile. “Looking at it this way, it really feels like the New Year all of a sudden.”

In addition, the phrase “Lift Your Head to See Joy” was posted above the stove; “Prosperity for the Six Livestock” adorned the wooden pillars of the animal pen; and “Bountiful Harvest of the Five Grains” was displayed on the door of the granary.

These smaller ones were written by Qi Chunshu; Qi Hongmei had brought them over a few days earlier. Ye Suping had offered to pay for the work, but the Qi family declined, explaining that the child was practicing calligraphy and the writing wasn’t perfect—they hoped she wouldn’t mind using them anyway.

To avoid confusion, Qi Chunshu had marked the backs of the scrolls—some with a horizontal line, others with a circle.

Huo Ling and Yan Qi took a “Lift Your Head to See Joy” paper cutout, held it up against the head of the kang, and stuck it right in the center. Then they took a step back to examine it closely.

Yan Qi reached out to smooth down the slightly curled edges. “There are a few more paper cutouts that my sister-in-law and I made; we’ll put those up in a bit, too.”

Huo Ling nodded. “The paper cuttings are delicate, so be careful when pasting them. We’ll use the tip of a chopstick to dip into the paste first.”

The idea to cut paper cutouts had come from Yan Qi. Ye Suping didn’t know how to do it, and the two Huo brothers certainly didn’t either. Buying paper cutouts from outside cost seven or eight wen—or even over ten wen—for a decent one. After all, since they were for the New Year, anything associated with the “New Year” became more expensive, and few village families could afford to spend that extra money.

This year, upon hearing that Yan Qi knew how to cut them, Ye Suping also took an interest. For this reason, when Huo Ling went into town, he bought some red paper. Yan Qi called over Xiao Mingming, and the three of them sat on the kang for most of the day, cutting enough to fill an entire table—enough for each family member to get seven or eight pieces, enough to decorate every window.

The “Fu” character was the most common; more intricate designs included magpies and carp. They also cut out some delicate zodiac animals based on the family members’ birth years.

Huo Ling was born in the Year of the Dragon, and Yan Qi in the Year of the Rooster. Of all the zodiac animals, the dragon was the hardest to cut out; Yan Qi even ruined her first attempt and didn’t get it right until the second try.

I remember the village chief’s wife once saying that the Dragon and the Rooster together form a “Liuhe” pairing—a top-tier match in matters of romance. Looking back now, it really does seem quite accurate.

After finishing the window decorations outside, Huo Ling came in and asked Yan Qi where to put the two small zodiac figures. Yan Qi looked around the room and said, “Why not put them at the head of the kang? That way, we’ll see them the moment we open our eyes each morning.”

Huo Ling said happily, “Great! Then let’s put them next to the ‘Lift Your Head to See Joy’ couplet—one on each side.”

The coiling dragon and the little chick faced each other across the Spring Festival couplets. Though there was some distance between them, upon closer inspection, their two pairs of cut-out beady eyes seemed to be gazing at one another. Huo Ling smoothed them out with the back of his hand, secured them in place, and was thoroughly satisfied.

It’s great to have a husband who’s so crafty—this little life of theirs is truly vibrant and lively.

In the regions beyond the Great Wall, the New Year’s feast is eaten in the afternoon, followed by a meal of dumplings during the evening’s New Year’s Eve vigil.

So they had a simple lunch consisting of just a few bites before beginning to prepare the festive feast.

The number of dishes served must be even; depending on the size of the household, there must be at least six. The Huo family usually prepared eight, while households with three or even four generations living under one roof might serve as many as a dozen dishes.

Yesterday they slaughtered a pig; this morning they butchered a chicken; and early this morning they prepared the fish. Together, these make up three main meat dishes, plus a rabbit dish, bringing the total to four meat dishes.

There were no strictly vegetarian dishes on the table; even in a stir-fry with mushrooms, the dish was sure to include shredded or sliced meat.

With Yan Qi joining the family this year—a double cause for celebration—Huo Ling suggested adding two more dishes to make ten, symbolizing perfection.

But cooking too much would mean wasting food if they couldn’t finish it, so the two additional dishes were both cold dishes: one pork skin jelly and one dried tofu.

“It’s a shame that neither Qi nor I can drink alcohol this year.”

Ye Suping occasionally enjoyed a little drink herself. In the past, once winter set in, she would often heat up a pot of rice wine and sit on the kang with Huo Feng, each with their own cup, accompanied by some snacks—they could drink like that for a long time.

Huo Ling recalled that earlier this year, he’d promised his ger he’d buy him some rice wine once winter set in, but before he could even have a sip, he’d been diagnosed with a pregnancy pulse.

“Come next New Year, we’ll buy some good wine, and we can drink as much as we want.”

Before this year, Ye Suping had been the one in charge of the New Year’s feast, with Huo Ling assisting her. Huo Feng’s cooking was so terrible—he could only manage one presentable dish, green beans—that he was only fit to sit below stoking the fire and watching the children.

This year, however, Yan Qi and Huo Ling took over. All the ingredients had been chopped and prepared well in advance; they just needed to add them to the pot one by one when the time came.

To prepare two dishes at the same time, they set up the pie vendor’s stove and cast-iron pot as well; otherwise, by the time the later dishes were ready, the earlier ones would have gone cold.

“Thank goodness we have this extra stove—it makes things so much smoother. Otherwise, we’d definitely be running around like headless chickens.”

Huo Feng was still hauling a stool to help stoke the fire and keeping an eye on the pot while the stew simmered, to make sure the broth didn’t boil dry.

The four dogs in the household—big and small—seemed to know it was New Year’s Day. Unlike usual, they’d been unusually excited since morning, scrambling to go outside.

The village dogs roamed in packs, running wild, then all returned home right at mealtime, as if they, like humans, could sense the rising cooking smoke—though, of course, it was more likely that even from a great distance, their keen noses could detect the aroma of the food.

By the middle of the Wu hour, the meal was served.

People ate at the table, and the dog ate under it.

Ye Suping, Yan Qi, and Huo Ying couldn’t hold their liquor or drink much tea, so they brewed some sweet red date tea and poured it into bowls. Though they called it tea, it was really just hot, sweet water.

Before picking up their chopsticks, Huo Ling looked at Huo Feng and said, “Big Brother, same old rule—you go first.”

Huo Feng cleared his throat, raised his wine cup, and laughed, “I’m a rough-and-tumble guy—I don’t know how to spout fancy speeches. I’ll just speak my mind, and you can take it however you like.”

He continued, “Our family’s had a stroke of good luck this year. First, our second brother got married, then we added livestock and more farmland, and Suping and Qi’er both announced they’re expecting. You could say everything’s gone smoothly from start to finish. I hope next year will be the same—I don’t ask for great wealth or high status, just peace and safety at home, enough to eat and wear, and freedom from illness and disaster!”

“Bravo!”

Ye Suping, eager to support her husband, was the first to cheer. The others—Huo Ling, Yan Qi, and Huo Ying—all smiled and clapped their hands.

Huo Feng raised his wine cup and offered it toward Yan Qi. Yan Qi quickly sat up straight and picked up his own cup of red date tea.

“Brother Qi, as the eldest son of the Huo family, I must offer you a toast first this year. If it weren’t for you, your older brother and I would still be worrying about our second son’s marriage. He’d probably still be a bachelor right now, forced to sleep alone on a cold brick bed.”

Yan Qi looked a little embarrassed and smiled with pursed lips, but his tone was full of sincerity.

“I can’t accept such high praise from my elder brother. In truth, marrying into the Huo family and becoming Huo Ling’s wife is my good fortune. I never imagined I’d be able to live such a good life as I do now.”

As he spoke, his voice caught slightly in his throat, but since it was the New Year, he absolutely couldn’t let tears fall, so he quickly sniffed and put on a smile.

Ye Suping noticed Yan Qi’s expression and secretly reached around Huo Feng’s back to pinch him. Huo Feng stiffened and quickly cut to the chase, “Being part of the same family is fate. I’ll drink up first!”

His bold, hearty way of drinking interrupted Yan Qi’s melancholy thoughts. Immediately afterward, the sweet date tea slid down his throat, and the slight sourness in his throat was enveloped by the sweetness, vanishing at once.

The five of them clinked their cups and officially began their meal.

Huo Ling served Yan Qi some food and leaned in, saying, “If you can’t stomach the meat, just give it to me.”

Yan Qi didn’t touch the meat in the “slaughtered pig dish,” eating only a bit of the pickled cabbage, but he sampled every other dish in turn. Finding nothing that made him feel uncomfortable, he began to eat with peace of mind.

The table was laden with dishes, each heaped high in large bowls—far too much to finish in one sitting. After about half the food had been eaten, everyone began to put down their chopsticks one after another.

Huo Feng and Huo Ling continued drinking. After a while, Huo Ying grew bored and dragged her mother and Yan Qi over to play “Galah” together.

Huo Ling watched them for a while, then turned back with a smile and refilled both his and Huo Feng’s wine cups. Huo Feng raised his cup and gently clinked it against Huo Ling’s.

“Here’s to you—to celebrate you becoming a father for the first time next year.”

Huo Ling returned the toast: “And here’s to you becoming a father for the second time next year.”

After saying this, the two fell silent for a moment, then burst into laughter together.

At the other end of the heated bed, the three who were in the midst of a lively game looked up at the sound. Huo Ying said bluntly, “Dad and Uncle are acting silly.”

Yan Qi ruffled her hair and smiled gently, “They’re just so happy.”

They ate their fill at this New Year’s feast—not just their stomachs, but their hearts, too, were warmed by joy.

From the afternoon until nightfall, the plates on the kang table were temporarily cleared away, and a bamboo mat was laid over the empty space as the family worked together to roll out dough and wrap dumplings.

According to custom, the dumplings were to be filled with something special—red dates, peanuts, chestnuts… Huo Ling gathered a few ingredients, washing the red dates and shelling the peanuts and chestnuts.

Yan Qi watched and asked, “Aren’t we going to wash coins?”

Huo Ling shook his head. “We won’t do that. Last year, a child in the village was eating dumplings too quickly and nearly choked on a copper coin. Luckily, he managed to cough it up in the end.”

Yan Qi felt a chill run down his spine just hearing that. “Then let’s skip it. Let’s just make some that are safe to eat—it’s a good symbol, too.”

Huo Ling nodded and casually used his chopsticks to remove the date pits as well; with their sharp points at both ends, they could easily cause trouble if accidentally swallowed.

The dumplings were filled with cabbage, which sounds like “hundred fortunes” in Chinese; during festivals, people always like to seek good omens.

One batch was meat-filled with cabbage and pork, mixed with some pork lard bits; the other was vegetarian, with cabbage and tofu, plus wood ear mushrooms for extra flavor.

Since dumplings are also eaten for the first meal on the first day of the Lunar New Year, they made enough for two meals right away. After freezing them that night, they could be boiled first thing in the morning without any delay.

The dumplings were made early but wouldn’t be cooked until later. By the time it was time to eat, Huo Ying was already dozing off on the kang, and it was Ye Suping who had to wake her up.

At this time of day, Yan Qi would usually be fighting off sleep, but today he was wide awake.

Since they’d made quite a few dumplings for good luck, they divided them into two plates so everyone could have at least one.

Huo Ling and Yan Qi each bit into a dumpling—one containing a peanut, the other a red date. It must be said that the red date mixed into the dumpling filling tasted the strangest, but Huo Ling still chewed it and swallowed it quickly.

Since Yan Qi had served him the dumpling with chopsticks, he suspected the ger must have secretly marked the dumpling wrappers—otherwise, how could he have picked the right one every time?

Although they were supposed to keep watch, the farmers were accustomed to rising with the sun and resting when it set. Staying up all night would waste lamp oil, so most of them prepared to rest around the stroke of midnight.

When the time came, Yan Qi watched as Huo Ling lit the fuse in the courtyard and then ran back quickly.

The man pulled him into his arms and covered his ears just as the firecrackers exploded, causing the dogs to tilt their heads back and howl in unison.

The old year came to an end.

The New Year had arrived.