Chapter Eleven: Visiting Relatives for New Year’s Greetings

On the evening of the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, Luo’s third uncle’s two daughters, Luo Xiamai and Luo Xiaoxia, came to visit. The sisters had been staying at their aunt’s house in Old Jiang Bridge Village since the tenth, celebrating her fiftieth birthday, and only returned today, brought back by their cousin. Upon hearing that Anyi had been seriously ill, they made a special trip to see her, bringing along a packet of pastries bought in town.

“Xier, you mustn’t be so mischievous in the future—the water in that pond is deep enough to drown even adults,” Luo Xiamai said gently.

“I won’t play by the pond anymore,” Anyi replied obediently.

“Little Xier, you must keep your word. If you don’t, you’ll turn into that mangy dog at the village entrance,” Luo Xiaoxia teased, trying to scare her.

“She’s much more sensible after her illness,” Luo said, coming in with two cups of water and a plate of roasted soybeans. “Just the other day, she was begging to learn embroidery from me. She’s been well-behaved these days and hasn’t run off again.”

Luo Xiaoxia laughed and pinched Anyi’s little nose. “If you want to learn embroidery, little Xier, you must stick with it. Don’t quit after a couple of days.”

“You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?” Luo Xiamai teased back.

“Second sister!” Luo Xiaoxia protested.

Ankang and Anjian suppressed their amusement at the side, earning a mock glare and a raised fist from Luo Xiaoxia. “You two troublemakers, don’t you dare laugh!”

The boys quickly straightened their faces, though the laughter still sparkled in their eyes.

The sisters only stayed for a short while, chatting and laughing, before bidding farewell and heading home.

On New Year’s Eve, Luo and Ankang got up early to sweep the house inside and out. After breakfast, they roasted some peanuts and melon seeds with small pebbles, then began preparing dishes for the New Year’s feast.

Luo first carved out a pitiably small amount of lean meat from the slab of pork with skin, then cut the remaining meat and skin into large chunks to render lard and prepare double-cooked pork.

Ankang chopped the lean meat, cabbage stalks, and scallions into a fine filling, stuffing it into tofu puffs to make a dozen savory tofu balls, just enough for one bowl.

Anjian caught a big yellow hen from the chicken coop. Though the family wasn’t wealthy and usually relied on selling eggs for cooking oil and salt, they always kept back one chicken for the New Year. No matter how tight things were, there would always be chicken, duck, fish, and meat for the New Year’s feast, symbols of prosperity, good fortune, and abundance year after year.

Typically, there was no lunch on New Year’s Eve; instead, they nibbled on a few pieces of flour cakes called “yellow clever meat” to stave off hunger, saving their appetites for the most sumptuous meal of the year.

By early evening, the sky had turned pitch black, the snow that had fallen all day finally letting up. The sound of firecrackers drifted in from outside as the villagers began their celebrations. Luo ladled the whole poached fish from the pot and called out, “All right, Zhuzi, go set off the firecrackers.”

“Big brother, let me light them!” Anjian said excitedly.

The brothers ran out to the gate to set off a string of firecrackers, returning to find Luo pouring wine into the cups. Ankang lifted his cup, called upon their departed elders, and poured a libation on the ground. Only then did the family of four take their seats and begin their meal.

Luo gave the two chicken wings to Ankang and Anjian. “Mother hopes you will spread your wings and soar, destined for a bright future.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

She placed the two drumsticks in Anyi’s bowl. “Xier is the youngest—eat the drumsticks and grow up strong and tall.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Anyi placed a tofu ball in Luo’s bowl. “Mother, you have some too.”

“Mother, have some fish,” Ankang added, serving her a slice.

Anjian hurried to add a piece of boneless chicken. “Mother, this piece has no bones.”

“All right, my dears, eat up before the dishes get cold.” Luo looked at her sensible children, her eyes creasing with a smile.

After the New Year’s feast, the family gathered around the brazier to keep vigil for the new year. In ancient times, with little in the way of entertainment, they would sit and chat and laugh until midnight, when they would set off firecrackers, then wash up and go to bed.

Before dawn, Anyi was woken by the sound of firecrackers. She had barely slept a few hours, but it was time to get up and pay New Year’s visits—there was no excuse for lazing in bed.

Luo had prepared new clothes for the three siblings: navy for Ankang, deep blue for Anjian, and rose-red for Anyi. Luo herself wore the old linen-yellow outfit she had made the year before last. Though it was old, it was spotlessly clean.

Ankang led his siblings in respectfully kneeling to offer New Year’s greetings to Luo.

Beaming, Luo produced the red envelopes she had prepared. “Here, take your lucky money, and keep it safe—don’t lose it!”

Anyi, unfamiliar with prices, was surprised to see there were six whole pieces in hers, but she thanked her mother and slipped it into her pocket without a word.

Breakfast was a bowl of longevity noodles, topped with a golden, crispy fried egg. After eating, Luo fetched the gifts she had prepared for the season. According to custom, on New Year’s Day one must visit the elders of the family to offer greetings.

Anjian muttered under his breath, clearly uncomfortable.

Anyi couldn’t catch what he said and was about to ask.

Ankang shot Anjian a stern look. “Stop your grumbling. Paying New Year’s respects to our elders is the proper thing to do.”

“It’s not like I said I wouldn’t go.” Anjian rolled his eyes, pursed his lips, and opened the cupboard, taking out the leftover “yellow clever meat” from yesterday.

Ankang frowned. “We’ll be back by noon. No need to bring that.”

“I’d rather be prepared, just in case.” Anjian insisted, wrapping most of the meat in oil paper and tucking it into his coat.

Anyi looked at the two in confusion. What was this about? Would they be going hungry while out visiting? Even the poorest families would have food prepared for the New Year—surely there was no need to bring leftovers just to stave off hunger?

Luo gathered up her bags and led the three of them out, heading straight across the lane to knock on the neighbor’s door, calling inside, “Second Auntie, Happy New Year to you!”

A middle-aged woman came out, smiling. “Oh, Qiumei, Happy New Year! Come in and have a bite to eat!”

“No need, Second Auntie—we won’t be coming in. I’m taking the children to Shangtang Village. Would you mind keeping an eye on the house for me?” Luo replied, smiling.

“Of course, don’t worry.” The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out three red envelopes. “Here, one for each of you.”

Luo tried to stop her. “Second Auntie, you’re too kind—we agreed you wouldn’t.”

“It’s good luck to give out red on New Year’s,” the woman insisted, pushing past Luo to press the envelopes into the children’s hands.

“Qiumei, it’s just once a year, no need to fuss. It’s not much money—just for good luck and some cheer,” an elderly man chimed in, stepping outside.

Luo smiled helplessly and nodded for her children to accept the envelopes.

“Thank you, Grandpa and Grandma. Happy New Year to you both,” Ankang and Anjian said together.

Anyi followed suit, greeting them as well.

Luo exchanged a few more pleasantries, then led the children toward the village entrance. The An family had not always lived in Jingtang Village; they used to reside in Shangtang. Six years ago, when the court issued a military draft, An Qinghe went off to war. With few relatives left—only his uncle’s family besides their own—he worried that Luo and the three children would have no one to rely on, so they moved to Jingtang Village.

Because the paths were covered in snow, they had to take the main road. Along the way, they encountered many villagers out making their own New Year’s visits, exchanging greetings and well-wishes.

This was the first time since arriving in this world that Anyi had left the house; it was essential to get a sense of her surroundings. As she walked, she noticed that most of the houses along the way were made of mud bricks and tiles, with only two built of blue bricks and black tiles, a sign that the villagers were not well off.

[Author’s note: Although I have consulted many sources, the history of currency in China is complex and varied across dynasties, and as someone not from that era, it’s quite a headache. Since this story is set in a fictional world, I’ve adjusted prices for ease of use, referencing materials from the Song and Ming dynasties, so please don’t be too particular about it. For reference: ten small copper coins equal one wen, one thousand wen make a string, which is about one tael of silver. Or, to put it simply, four steamed buns cost ten wen.]