Clara was woken up by the mouthwatering smell of breakfast.
She sat up and blinked. Huh? On the dining table in the main hall sat three dishes and a soup—and from the sounds coming from the kitchen, someone was still cooking.
What, was it New Year's already?
"Morning, dear!" Lester Liew called out cheerfully. He gestured toward the warm water set out for washing. "Breakfast is ready! If you're hungry, we can start anytime. I'm just finishing up the meatballs—you all can eat first!"
Clara yawned and asked without thinking, "Why are you frying meatballs?"
"It's almost New Year's, isn't it? Gotta prepare in advance. Don't you love hotpot? I've sent Adam to Madam Zhou's place to buy tofu. I'll make a bone broth base for it—perfect for stewing tofu. It'll be delicious!"
Clara reached over and poked Ben, who was practicing calligraphy at the empty seat next to the table. "Did your dad get cursed?"
He'd suddenly become so diligent and well-behaved?
Sure, Lester used to do housework and cook—but only when forced, and only with as much enthusiasm as a toad poked with a stick.
Now he was taking initiative?
Ben forced a wry smile. "I don't get it either. He was like this the moment he got up. Maybe he really is possessed."
He pointed at the washbasin stand and the toothbrush already prepped with tooth powder. "As soon as he heard movement from your room, he rushed over to get it ready. Super attentive."
Clara touched the water—it was the perfect temperature. Hot enough to be warm, but not scalding. In the dead of winter, washing your face with warm water like this felt luxurious.
After Clara finished freshening up, Lester rushed in to snatch the washbasin from her hands and pour it out into the drainage ditch. He placed the empty basin back and grinned. "I'll go serve the rice. Ben, go wake up Chad and Deb. If they sleep any longer, they'll turn into hibernating bears."
Kids always overslept in winter—if no one woke them, they wouldn't get up at all.
Ben replied with an "Okay," packed up his brush and ink, carried them back to his room, and on the way, woke the twins.
Adam soon returned with tofu. The tableware was already set, and the six of them gathered around to eat.
The delicious spread had the kids and Clara starry-eyed with delight. All five gave Lester a big thumbs-up in unison.
Lester responded with a modest, gentle smile. "Eat as much as you like. I'll be in the kitchen checking the heat."
Bowl in hand, he headed back to the stove.
To make the perfect meatball, you had to control the oil temperature just right. Too long and they'd turn tough; too short and the inside wouldn't cook, which could upset your stomach.
The crust had to be crispy, the inside juicy and tender—only then was it a proper meatball.
Chad and Deb, who had woken up late, watched their father enter the kitchen like he was a ghost.
Chad rubbed his eyes. "Mama, I had a dream... that Dad turned good."
Deb reached up and tapped her brother's forehead. "Dummy, this isn't a dream!"
But... Dad really did seem different today.
"Mama, since Dad is good now, can you stop hitting him?" Deb blinked her big, innocent eyes and asked sincerely.
Clara gnawed on a saucy rib, then shoveled a big bite of white rice into her mouth. The chewy rice and savory meat brought her to the verge of tears.
Good food, happy children—why not indulge them a little? She nodded and said,
"Don't worry, Deb. You dad earned every beating he got."
In other words—it wasn't that she liked hitting people. Someone just kept asking for it.
Deb gave an uncertain "Oh..." then turned her head to peek into the kitchen through the gap in the door. Her chubby cheeks lifted with a smile.
"I like this good Daddy~"
Inside the kitchen, Lester's hands suddenly froze mid-motion. His chest trembled slightly.
Oil from the pan sputtered and splashed onto the back of his hand. That brought him back to reality, and he quickly returned to fishing out the meatballs.
By the time breakfast was over, Lester had finished frying the meatballs. He served a bowl for the kids to eat and covered the rest with a cloth before storing them in the cupboard—ready to be taken out and eaten anytime.
With this cold weather, they'd keep for quite a while—definitely until New Year's.
There weren't many vegetables left in the house. The few plots Clara had tended barely kept up with the family's needs. Right now, there were only two baskets of large white radishes recently harvested from the fields.
And those were thanks to Martha, who helped her plant them. Clara had only paid a few dozen copper coins for seeds.
What they had plenty of, though, was meat—fresh pork belly, bones, ribs—laid out across a table-length counter.
Lester figured it wouldn't be right to only eat meat during New Year's, so—awkwardly—he came to Ben for money to buy vegetables.
Ben didn't make it difficult. He unlocked the cupboard, opened the clay jar, and gave him fifty copper coins.
But with a condition: Lester had to report exactly what he bought and at what price per kilogram.
Lester raised a hand to give him a flick to the forehead, and only then did Ben's little mouth stop rattling off.
"You're getting bold—talking to your father like that," Lester grumbled under his breath, annoyed.
Ben immediately moved to stand next to Clara, puffed up with righteous confidence, hiding behind his mother like a little general.
"Wait."
Just as Lester stepped out the door, Clara called out.
His heart skipped a beat—he'd been mentally calculating how to skim a few coins for his own secret stash. Did she see through it?
Trying to stay calm, he turned around—only to find that Clara was heading out too.
"Where are you going?" he asked, eyeing the rope and bow in her hands with suspicion.
Clara looked toward the distant mountains. "Heading into the hills to gather a few New Year's supplies."
She would have to pass through the entire village, so she might as well see which households Lester bought vegetables from and how much he paid.
Lester suddenly remembered her mentioning last night that the soap recipe still had its uses. Now today, with no holiday or festival, she was heading up the mountain? He probed cautiously:
"Who are these supplies for?"
Clara shot him a look of impatience. Lester was about to back off when she answered, mildly,
"Old Lady Ding's knees start aching every winter. She needs a good pair of knee warmers."
Deerskin and rabbit fur sewn together made the warmest, most wind-resistant knee wraps.
Only then did Lester recall—the Ding family's clan school was almost completed.
"Is this for Adam and Ben's school enrollment? Can that old lady make the call?"
Clara nodded. "Of course she can."
Otherwise, why bother currying favor?
Lester rubbed his hands together and breathed into them. A cloud of white mist rose. "It's freezing out. You think there's still fur to be found in the mountains?"
Clara didn't answer.
She had her ways.
"I'll probably be back late. Make sure the kids don't stay up too long. Studying at night strains the eyes." With that, she turned her attention to Lester purchasing two bunches of greens from Granny Wang and her granddaughter, then waved and set off for the mountains.
Lester assumed "late" meant midnight at most.
He didn't expect her to return the next morning.
Before the sun was even up—technically still night.
With a loud "thud," Clara dumped her haul onto the empty patch in the courtyard.
A fully dead mountain deer, two half-dead gray rabbits, and one skinny but still-alive wild mountain goat, bound up tight.
That goat had been pure luck. On her way down the mountain, Clara had passed a thicket where the dumb thing had gotten its head tangled in the brush and couldn't free itself no matter how hard it kicked.
How could Clara let such a gift slip by?
She pounced right away, tied it up, and brought it home.
There. New Year's main course—secured.
(End of Chapter)
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