"Mom, do people in the city all paste these for New Year?" Deb asked curiously.
Today, all the kids were dressed in bright red new jackets, full of festive cheer.
Deb, too, was a bundle of rosy red, her plump little cheeks glowing against her coat like two juicy apples—so cute it made you want to take a bite.
Clara explained, "This is a Fu character. You hang it upside down—it means 'good fortune has arrived.'"
"I don't know if people in the city celebrate like this, but from now on, this is how we're celebrating in our house."
The village chief's son had studied for three years at the county academy in Willowridge. This morning, he set up a long table in his courtyard to write Spring Festival couplets for the villagers.
Everyone brought small offerings—a couple of eggs, a bowl of rice—and brought their own red paper, asking him to write auspicious phrases for the new year.
Clara had sent Adam and Ben with half a bowl of polished rice early in the morning and got a couplet in exchange. Now, it was pasted neatly alongside the Fu character on their gate. She also hung up the pair of red lanterns she'd bought earlier under the eaves. The festive atmosphere was just right.
Lester stood at the door, reading the couplet again and again, then scoffed, "Hmph, not much better than my handwriting."
As expected, Doreen had made tofu. Clara had asked Adam and Ben to take half a kg of white flour over to the old house as a New Year offering to Old Walter and Martha.
By midday, Ryder and Rosie brought over a bowl of freshly made tofu.
Clara tried to offer them soybeans in exchange, but they refused. In the end, she gave them each two copper coins as lucky money and watched the siblings skip happily back home.
There was still snow on the roads. The pair slipped and fell several times along the way, but they didn't seem hurt—just laughing joyfully the whole way. Their laughter echoed far and wide.
"Time to eat!" Lester called from the main room.
Clara shut the courtyard gate, then pushed open the main room door. The charcoal brazier inside was glowing hot, with a big iron pot placed on top. Inside, meat simmered with tofu, homegrown bean sprouts, and the very last head of cabbage from the house.
The stew was boiling away, sending steam curling through the air. Just the sight of it made the room feel warm and cozy.
The kids had already been waiting impatiently. As soon as Clara sat down, Lester looked at her hopefully, "Can we start?"
Clara nodded. "Eat."
The children eagerly picked up their chopsticks. The ones who could reach helped themselves. Chad and Deb, who couldn't, took turns begging either Mom or Dad to help.
As the saying goes, "You can't rush hot tofu." Adam and Ben were so impatient they ended up burning their mouths and huffing cool air.
Clara told them to spit it out, but both boys shook their heads with tears in their eyes. They couldn't bear to waste food.
Especially since the tofu had been simmering for a while—the rich meat flavor had soaked right in. It was delicious.
Clara sighed and went to the kitchen to fetch a jug of cool boiled water so they could sip it to cool their mouths when needed.
And as she was scolding the boys for rushing, she took a bite herself—only to burn her own tongue. The room instantly filled with stifled giggles.
The mood was perfect—until a shout pierced the air:
"Bandits! Mounted bandits!"
Clara's eyes turned sharp. She set down her chopsticks.
So much for a peaceful New Year's Eve dinner.
"What's going on?"
Lester stood up abruptly, not even putting down his bowl and chopsticks. "I hear sound of hooves!"
He rushed outside to check, then dashed back in less than half a minute, panic written all over his face. He dropped his bowl and started pulling over a stool to take down the two red lanterns.
While yanking them down, he tried to keep his voice low, "Bandits are raiding the village! Hide, quick!"
The four kids froze in fright.
Lester tossed the lanterns onto the table and started looking for hiding spots—only to realize Clara wasn't even in the room. He ran to the bedroom, and sure enough, there she was.
"Bandits are here!" he shouted urgently, worried she hadn't heard.
Clara stuffed her coin pouch into her inner coat, quickly changed into her practical leather boots, tucked her dagger and slingshot into her belt, slung the quiver across her back, grabbed the long knife from the table, and took the bow and arrows off the wall.
Seeing Lester, she shot him a look—Why are you yelling? She'd heard it all already.
But this wasn't the time for bickering. She said calmly, "We don't have a cellar to hide in. Our only defense is that newly built courtyard wall. We have to hold them off from getting in."
"You take the kids back into the house. I'll find something to barricade the gates. We live on the outskirts—they might skip us."
She slung the bow over her shoulder, laid the long blade near the wash basin, and went out to the firewood stack to fetch some thick logs. She barricaded both front and back doors tightly.
Lester froze for just a second, then snapped out of it. Seeing how composed Clara was made him feel more grounded. He rushed the terrified kids back inside, telling them to shut all doors and windows tight and not to come out no matter what.
No one had expected bandits to come now. They'd all thought the heavy snow would keep them at bay.
But thinking back to the frozen bodies carried out for burial that morning, it wasn't hard to guess: the bandits were probably on their last legs, desperate and starving.
That was why, the moment the sun came out and the snow stopped, they had charged down the mountain to plunder.
People that desperate wouldn't just rob—it's hard to ensure they wouldn't kill..
Clara let out a bitter chuckle. "Wouldn't kill? No—they definitely will."
In the apocalypse, starving people didn't see humans—just food.
Clara saw Lester approaching again after locking the kids in. She had him bring over a ladder so she could climb up and see the village below.
Her side of the compound was on higher ground and unobstructed. She could see everything clearly—a large group of mounted bandits had already stormed into the village. At the central well, they split into four groups and charged in different directions.
Screams and shouts filled the air. Where the walls were low, the bandits jumped their horses right over, rampaging through courtyards looking for valuables.
When they found nothing, they'd break down doors and barge inside. Some grabbed food right off the table, shoving it into their mouths with one hand while threatening the families with blades in the other, demanding money and valuables.
Some villagers tried to fight back—and were cut down on the spot.
Women screamed. Children cried in terror.
Clara's brows furrowed. She watched two mounted bandits veer off and start galloping toward their house, excitement written all over their faces.
She unslung her bow, pulled an arrow from her back, and notched it onto the string.
"They're coming for us?" Lester called from below, voice trembling.
The doors were barricaded tight. He couldn't see anything, only hear the chaos from the village. In his mind, the worst images bloomed, terrifying him senseless.
Clara gave a short "mm." "Two of them on horseback, armed with bows and blades."
Lester's scalp tingled. "C-Can you handle it?"
Clara nodded.
At that moment, Lester thought Clara standing there on the wall, calm and poised with her bow, was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
"Then—what can I do?" he asked, swallowing hard.
Run?
The thought never crossed his mind.
With Clara—this fierce woman—at home, nowhere in the village felt safer than by her side.
Clara answered softly, "If I need you, I'll call. If you're scared, take the knife by the washbasin."
Lester quickly responded and ran to grab her custom-forged heavy blade.
The weight of it nearly pulled his arms down, and he had to use both hands to lift it.
But that weight—oddly—made him feel safer.
He took a deep breath and stood guard by the door.
The sound of hooves drew closer, thump thump thump, louder and louder, until—because of the slippery snow—they skidded to a halt.
Lester was so nervous he forgot to breathe, his face turning red.
Then he heard Clara murmur, "They're in range."
His heart jumped into his throat.
(End of Chapter)
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