On the 24th day of the twelfth lunar month, every villager was busy with a thorough cleaning, leaving no cobweb untouched—even those on the ceiling.

After finishing her chores, Siqi mentioned how the sweet cakes fried by Granny Zhang next door the day before had smelled delicious. Nan Sheng pretended not to hear—this was something she genuinely couldn’t make herself.

In the afternoon, Fan Shuting brought over a small basin filled with more than twenty sweet cakes. “I know you’re busy with work and don’t have time to make these, so I made extra for you,” she said.

Nan Sheng asked Sizhe to wash the basin clean while she chatted with her mother-in-law. “Second daughter-in-law, will Lin Han be able to come home for New Year’s?”

“Yes, he will. The military academy has given him a week’s leave.”

Fan Shuting could sense Nan Sheng’s reserved demeanor and felt slightly awkward. “Old Lin said this year’s New Year’s Eve dinner should be held at the family home with all the relatives. Once Lin Han returns, you two can discuss it.”

Nan Sheng knew she had to give her mother-in-law face, so she agreed without hesitation, saying they’d follow her father-in-law’s wishes.

After Fan Shuting left, Nan Sheng took out a large quantity of beans from the cupboard and brought them to Granny Zhang’s house. The whole family was there, and they immediately understood what she needed.

Granny Zhang looked surprised. “Lin Han’s wife, are you making so much tofu?”

Nan Sheng smiled sheepishly. “I want to make frozen tofu. I’ll have to trouble your eldest son for help again.”

Granny Zhang and her daughter-in-law readily agreed—they were making tofu for their own household anyway, so it was just a little extra effort.

Nan Sheng decided she would take less tofu the next day so Granny Zhang’s family wouldn’t have worked for nothing.

The following morning, Granny Zhang’s daughter-in-law delivered a small basin of soy milk, arriving and leaving in a hurry. “Lin Han’s wife, add sugar to your liking. I need to go back and help my husband.”

Nan Sheng didn’t even have time to return the clean basin, so she resolved to bring it back when picking up the tofu. Sizhe added plenty of sugar to the soy milk, making it sweet and rich with the fragrance of beans.

When she estimated the tofu was nearly ready, Nan Sheng went next door. The beans she had provided could yield at least thirteen pounds of tofu, but she only took ten, insisting that any more would go to waste at home.

The 26th: stewing pork.

The 27th: slaughtering chickens.

The 28th: preparing the dough.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye. Lin Han would definitely return before the 29th—either that evening or the next day.

On the morning of the 29th, Nan Sheng steamed plain buns—nothing fancy like fish or ingot shapes, just the simplest kind.

She made two batches, and both came out split at the top—what the elders called “smiling buns,” symbolizing prosperity and good fortune in the coming year.

The night before, Nan Sheng had soaked a small basin of bones in cold water, and by now they had thawed.

Without delay, she began caramelizing sugar for braised pork bones, wanting Lin Han to have a hot meal when he arrived.

Lin Han reached home just before noon, greeted by the rich aroma of braised bones filling the house. Carrying his luggage, he suddenly felt he truly had a complete family.

Inside, the children shrieked with excitement before springing into action—Sizhe fetched hot water for his father, while Siqi made Lin Han bend down so she could warm his hands and ears.

Not wanting to compete for attention, Nan Sheng quietly unpacked and organized her husband’s belongings.

The bag held two sets of clothes, a few pounds of meat, and the rest were apples and pears. Nan Sheng had once written to complain that fruits were rare in Huaishan Town.

She smiled. It was good that he cared. When both partners cherished each other, life was easier.

Their frequent letters had eased much of the initial awkwardness between them. As Nan Sheng handed Lin Han steamed buns and braised bones, his gaze lingered on her without disguise.

At the table, Lin Han and Sizhe devoured the buns and bones, while Nan Sheng and her daughter could only manage a few pieces before feeling full. Lin Han thought to himself—no wonder his wife was so thin; her appetite was tiny.

After the meal, Nan Sheng cut two pounds of meat and packed two pounds of pears, telling Lin Han to deliver them to the family home. He returned quickly, saying little, then immediately went to chop a hole in the ice to catch fish since they had none at home.

Watching father and son leave, Nan Sheng was speechless. After such a long train ride, how was he not exhausted?

Less than two hours later, they returned triumphantly with three fish—the largest weighing two pounds.

But their arms and legs were soaked, earning Sizhe an ear-pulling scolding from his furious mother.

Sizhe glanced at his father, only to find Lin Han frozen in a corner of the living room, clearly startled by Nan Sheng’s outburst.

So much for backup!

Despite her sharp words, Nan Sheng soon prepared ginger soup to ward off the cold and laid their clothes on the heated bed to dry. Lin Han thought to himself—his wife really knew how to take care of people.

After a meat-heavy lunch, dinner was served later than usual—hand-pulled noodles with chili oil. Lin Han seized the chance to praise Nan Sheng’s cooking, perhaps still anxious about the fishing incident.

But his compliments were so forced that even their daughter teased him.

“Dad, just eat. You’re being kinda loud.”

Who complimented every single bite? Even the little chatterbox found it excessive.

Lin Han was left speechless. Nan Sheng and Sizhe exchanged glances, stifling laughter, while Siqi grinned along, though unsure what was funny.

Lin Han was both moved by the scene and half-convinced he was dreaming.

That night, Sizhe once again “stole” his sister to sleep in his room. Nan Sheng almost facepalmed—this son was a little too perceptive.

Lin Han, however, took it in stride, even remembering to wash up in the kitchen beforehand.

Afterward, their breaths mingled in the warmth of the bed, a stark contrast to the freezing world outside. Holding his wife close, Lin Han felt a hollow space in his heart filling up.

He was secretly relieved he’d visited the hospital before returning to the academy and obtained certain necessities—otherwise, things could’ve gotten messy, and he didn’t want to risk his wife’s displeasure.

The next day was New Year’s Eve. As the saying goes, rich or poor, everyone comes home for the New Year—but the holiday was exhausting, with nonstop work from dawn.

After breakfast, Lin Han took the children to paste Spring Festival couplets and “Fu” characters on every door—main gate, rooms, even inside the house.

Some illiterate families even pasted them upside down, leading to much laughter.

Lunch was stir-fried dishes, while Nan Sheng prepared braised chicken, steamed pork belly, oil-braised shrimp, red-cooked fish, and cabbage with frozen tofu.

Counting five dishes, she opened a canned one to make it six—for auspiciousness.

With Lin Han helping, the children could play with friends until firecrackers began popping, finally luring them home for dinner.

Every dish Nan Sheng made suited the family’s tastes, especially the new addition of steamed pork belly. Apart from the chicken and fish, every plate was emptied.

Since the New Year’s feast was still hours away, Nan Sheng reheated pre-boiled pig trotters and shredded pork by steaming them—easy snacks if the kids got hungry.

Lin Han, feeling sorry for his wife’s morning labor, pulled her onto the heated bed to rest. As his hands kneaded her waist and legs with just the right pressure, Nan Sheng soon drifted asleep.

She had barely slept for two hours when the sound of chopping filling from outside woke her. Lin Han had already prepared the minced pickled cabbage and meat in a bowl, waiting for Nan Sheng to wake up and season it.

In Huaishan Town, the New Year tradition was to eat dumplings on New Year’s Eve, again on the morning of the first day of the year, once more on the third day to send off the festivities, and yet again on the fifth day to “break the fifth.”

If you didn’t make enough dumplings, there simply wouldn’t be enough to go around!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep