New Year's Eve had finally arrived.
This year, there were no bandits. The conscripted villagers had returned home, the autumn harvest had been abundant, and the village now even had a water-powered mill factory. Many had earned wages working there.
During the twelfth lunar month, the villagers pooled their money to buy pigs and slaughtered them in preparation for New Year's. Now, on New Year's Eve, there was no more need for restraint. Every family brought out their best meats and dishes—mouth-watering aromas filled the air, making the children salivate endlessly.
Early that morning, Ryder and Rosie came by with fresh tofu for Clara's household. It was made by Martha and Doreen, using soybeans harvested from their own fields—rich with a naturally fragrant bean aroma.
It far surpassed the store-bought tofu Lester had sent Adam to purchase previously.
The tofu had been prepared at dawn. Ryder brought it over, wrapped in a layer of gauze and covered with a bowl. When Lester lifted the cover, steam still billowed out.
"Adam, Ben, Chad, Deb—come on! Let's go eat tofu pudding!" Ryder shouted loudly in the courtyard.
Rosie shot him a look of disdain. Her grandmother was right—he was loud and annoying!
The little girl scurried into the main hall. Clara had just gotten up and was still washing up. On the table sat a bowl of meat wontons that Lester had brought her. Rosie leaned in to sniff it and her eyes lit up instantly.
"Aunt Clara, you're having wontons for breakfast?" she asked, walking up behind her. She tried to sound casual, but her eyes couldn't help glancing at the bowl again and again.
Clara knew this little girl all too well.
She set down her face cloth, turned around, and tapped Rosie's forehead. "If you want to eat, then eat."
Rosie beamed. "Thank you, Aunt Clara! But I already had breakfast—just one taste, just one!" she emphasized, holding up a finger to show her sincerity.
Clara nodded, and the girl happily sat down. She scooped up a wonton, blew on it, and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes scrunched up in bliss. "So good!"
She kept her promise and only had one. Then she stood and gave up her seat. "I'm gonna call Deb to come over for tofu pudding. Do you want any, Aunt Clara?"
Clara waved her off. "No need. You kids enjoy it. I'm not a fan."
"I love tofu pudding!" Lester chimed in from the kitchen. He was still rolling out dumpling wrappers and filling them with meat. Today's meat was mixed with bits of braised beef—once boiled, the fragrance was unbeatable.
Everyone else in the family had eaten already, and now it was finally his turn.
But there was one upside to being last—he could stuff all the remaining filling into his own bowl and even add extra vegetables.
Clara's bowl had gotten the deluxe treatment too. After trying one, she immediately went in for a second, too delighted to even speak.
"Rosie, your uncle me loves the sweet version of the tofu pudding. Adam, bring back a big bowl for me!" Lester shouted, motioning toward the cupboard for Adam to grab a bowl.
Ryder's happy expression froze on his face. His grandmother had only left a small bowl of tofu pudding for the kids—if Lester got such a big bowl, there'd be none left for them!
So, on the way back to the old house, Ryder kept reminding Ben, "There's not enough to go around, so don't bring any for Uncle Lester. Just say there wasn't any left."
Ben snickered, "Got it."
"We'll eat more ourselves," Chad added, licking his lips at the thought of that silky tofu pudding.
Rosie glared at him. "Why didn't you invite me over for wontons this morning?"
Chad blinked his big clear eyes and said innocently, "Sorry, Rosie, I forgot."
Rosie nearly smacked him on the head, but Adam quickly blocked her hand.
"You're always protecting your brothers!" she huffed at Adam, who only gave a helpless smile. She couldn't win a fight against him, so she turned to Ben instead.
Adam reminded them all to watch their steps and not dirty their new clothes.
They all responded in unison, and Deb and Rosie walked extra carefully, giggling as they admired the matching embroidery on their shoes.
Back at home, Lester finished breakfast and waited eagerly for his tofu pudding dessert—but the four children returned with only half a bowl of plain soybeans.
"Where's my tofu pudding?!" Lester stared in disbelief.
Adam shoved the soybeans into his hands. Ben, wiping some tofu residue from his mouth, said solemnly, "There wasn't enough. Grandma only gave us this half bowl. She said if you want some, make it yourself."
"Oh, right!" he added quickly. "You could use bone broth as the base—it'll be great for hot pot tonight!"
Lester looked at the soybeans, then at the four little traitors. He nearly smacked Adam and Ben on the butt right then and there.
But Clara was resting behind him, so he held back. Instead, he dragged the two eldest into the kitchen and put them to work helping with the New Year's Eve feast prep.
The meatballs had already been fried in advance, and the tofu was ready—but needed to be pan-fried into golden blocks first to keep it from crumbling in the pot.
Lester brought over the wild mountain goat tied near the stable and stood holding a knife... completely at a loss on what to do next.
The goat gave him a pitiful look of desperation.
Clara, feeling merciful today, got up and walked over. "Go fetch a basin and boil some water—we'll scald it to remove the fur."
She also turned to the twins peeking out from the main hall. "Back inside. Shut the door. Kids shouldn't watch bloody scenes like this—you'll get nightmares."
Chad and Deb obediently replied, "Okay," and hurried inside.
Last time there was a pig slaughter in the village, all four of the children had watched in curiosity. Clara had turned away for a moment, and three of them ended up having nightmares.
Martha, upon hearing this, dragged Clara to the neighboring village without a word and bought three eggs from a blind fortune-teller to ward off bad dreams.
Clara had been skeptical—until the next day, when Ben and the twins slept soundly without a single nightmare.
Mdm Zhang was triumphant. "Told you that old blind woman is the real deal. You never listen."
Clara: "...Welp. Sometimes superstition works, huh?"
Adam and Lester stayed to help in the courtyard. They watched, speechless, as Clara skillfully slaughtered the goat.
With the water ready, father and son worked together to de-fur and clean it. Clara handled the butchering.
Suddenly, an idea struck her—she wanted thin-sliced mutton for hot pot. But alas, it hadn't snowed, and there was no natural freezer to harden the meat for slicing. Getting paper-thin slices from fresh meat was tough.
But driven by the pursuit of flavor, Clara unsheathed her steel dagger and began slicing on the chopping board.
They weren't quite paper-thin like in modern times, but she got them to the thickness of traditional yellow paper—good enough.
In the glow of the candlelit kitchen, the flashes of her blade sparkled silver. Lester and Adam squinted from the glare, practically blinded.
The bloodiest parts were done. Ben, Chad, and Deb were allowed back into the kitchen.
They peeked at their father's simmering pot of goat bone soup, then ran over to watch their mother's perfect sheets of sliced mutton. They'd swallowed so much saliva they could fill a bowl.
Finally, Clara lit a string of firecrackers and tossed it into the yard. Amid the ensuing chaos of clucking chickens and startled hooves…
Dinner was served.
Six people sat around the table and enjoyed the most lavish New Year's Eve feast they had ever had.
(End of Chapter)
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