The winter morning sunlight filtered in through the wooden window lattice, pale and golden, falling across the embroidered quilt on Jia Lan's bed. The faint patterns of the lattice cast delicate shadows over the fabric, weaving light and darkness together like a quiet painting. The quilt itself was heavy, stitched with plum blossoms in red thread, its warmth cocooning Jia Lan in a snug embrace that made it difficult to wake fully.
Outside, the city was already alive. The crisp chill of winter air carried sounds clearly into her room. Faint voices floated from the street—neighbors calling out greetings, the sing-song cry of a vendor hawking hot roasted chestnuts, and the faint jingle of coins being exchanged. Somewhere down the lane, the wooden wheels of a cart groaned and squeaked as it rolled slowly over the uneven stone path, its driver urging on the mule with short clucks of his tongue. The air carried the distant bark of a dog, followed by the clatter of a door being shut hastily against the cold.
Even through the thick quilt, Jia Lan could sense the coolness lingering in the corners of her room. The old wooden furniture held the night's chill, the polished dressing table faintly frosted near its edges. A porcelain basin on the stand reflected the thin shaft of sunlight, its surface still and cold, waiting to be filled with water for washing. The scent of sandalwood lingered faintly, leftover from the incense stick her grandmother had lit early in the morning at the family altar.
Life outside pressed forward with its busy rhythm, yet inside her room, everything remained still and hushed, wrapped in a lazy warmth. The contrast between the bustling world beyond the walls and her little haven of comfort made the quilt feel even heavier, tempting her to sink back and doze a while longer. But slowly, like the sun rising inch by inch, Jia Lan began to stir, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks as her breathing shifted from the rhythm of dreams to that of waking.
Jia Lan stirred under the thick quilt, her slender body shifting slightly against the warmth trapped inside. The quilt, heavy with soft cotton, smelled faintly of sun and soap from the last time it was hung out to dry, wrapping her in a cocoon that made it difficult to leave. Her delicate fingers poked out first, stretching languidly as she let out a soft sigh. Then, slowly, her arms extended above her head, her back arching in a lazy stretch that made the small joints in her shoulders pop lightly.
Her long lashes fluttered before her eyes finally blinked open, adjusting to the gentle morning light filtering through the carved wooden lattice window. The sunlight painted pale golden stripes across the room, illuminating the faint frost patterns clinging to the glass panes. The contrast between the brightness outside and the lingering coziness of her bed made her snuggle deeper for a moment, almost tempted to drift back into sleep.
A small yawn escaped her lips, muffled by the quilt as she pulled it up for a second. Her rosy lips curved into a faint smile as drowsiness gave way to clarity. She felt light, her body refreshed and her mind clear, as though the deep sleep had washed away the weight of yesterday's busyness. There was no heaviness in her head, no stiffness in her limbs only the sweet lingering comfort of a good night's rest.
She turned her head slightly on the pillow, dark hair spilling across the fabric like silk threads, catching the light in glossy strands. Her eyes, still hazy from sleep, lingered on the dancing dust motes in the sunbeam, and she couldn't help but smile wider. Today felt different soothing, unhurried, and gentle, like the world had decided to slow down just enough for her to savor it.
For a few moments, Jia Lan lay there quietly, listening. The muffled noises outside reminded her that life was already in motion the distant clatter of a peddler's cart wheels on stone, the call of a vendor advertising hot buns, and faint laughter of children running through the street bundled in scarves. Yet within her room, time seemed to pause, the still air filled with warmth and the faint scent of wood and winter.
Finally, with a playful little hum to herself, Jia Lan lifted the quilt and sat up, her movements unhurried, her cheeks faintly flushed from the warmth she was leaving behind. Her bare feet touched the polished wooden floor, sending a small shiver up her spine. Still, she felt wonderfully alive, the morning filling her with energy as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, ready to begin the day.
She slipped out of bed, shivered when her bare feet touched the floor, and quickly padded to the bathroom. Steam soon rose as hot water poured down. The heat wrapped around her body, chasing away the morning chill. By the time she stepped out, her skin was flushed, and she felt light and comfortable.
She changed into her softest cotton-padded trousers and a warm wool sweater, then draped a thick scarf loosely around her neck before heading toward the dining hall.
Inside, the room smelled faintly of soy milk and fried dough. Only Mother Jia and Grandmother Jia were there, both sitting together by the stove's warmth.
"Good morning, Mother, Grandma," Jia Lan greeted sweetly, her voice carrying that fresh, just-woken cheerfulness.
Grandmother Jia smiled, her face glowing in the sunlight. "Finally awake, Lan Lan? You must've slept well."
Mother Jia chuckled. "Everyone else has already gone out. Your father went to work early, and your eldest brother too. Jia Wei and Yao Jing went to eat outside, Xu Li had to rush to work, and Baby Nuan is asleep again after her milk. So it's just the three of us this morning."
"Perfect," Jia Lan said as she sat down, rubbing her hands together in delight. "That means more food for me."
On the table sat a spread: steaming bowls of soy milk with a layer of fragrant foam on top, golden fried dough sticks cut into halves for easy dipping, a basket of warm sesame flatbreads, a plate of boiled eggs with shells cracked open, and a small dish of pickled vegetables for tang.
Jia Lan broke a fried dough stick in half, dipped it into the soy milk, and took a big bite. Crunchy outside, soft inside, the savory fried dough soaked up the creamy sweetness of the soy milk. "Mmm… this is happiness."
Mother Jia laughed. "Look at her, like she's never eaten before."
Jia Lan cracked open a boiled egg next, peeling the shell carefully. "I just appreciate good food, that's all."
Grandmother Jia picked up a flatbread. "Eat slowly, no one's snatching from you."
Between bites, they chatted about little things how the neighbor's chicken escaped yesterday, how the weather felt colder than last year, how Jia Wei had been sneaking in late-night snacks. The room was filled with small, comforting laughter.
Once the meal ended, the three of them stepped outside with cups of hot tea. The winter sun wasn't harsh; instead, it spread gently, warming their faces as they sat together on wooden stools in the courtyard.
The faint fragrance of dried persimmons hanging by the eaves mixed with the earthy smell of winter air. Jia Lan wrapped her hands around her teacup, savoring the heat.
Grandmother Jia, after a thoughtful sip, turned her gaze toward her granddaughter, her cloudy but sharp eyes full of affection. "Lan Lan, you're growing older now," she began, her voice calm but carrying the steady weight of experience. "Grandma has something to remind you. If you ever meet a boy you like in the future, the very first thing you must look at is his family. A family is the root of a person. Even if they don't have much money, as long as they are kind, upright, and not the sort to cause endless quarrels or drag you into trouble—that is what matters most."
She set her cup back onto the saucer gently, the porcelain clinking softly. "A man who comes from a messy household will often bring that mess with him. You should avoid that kind of burden."
Mother Jia, who was folding a small handkerchief on the side, gave a firm nod. "Mother is right," she added, her tone practical yet warm. "And as for the man himself—don't be blinded by sweet words or appearances. He must have a clear sense of boundaries, know how to respect others, and be motivated in life. Most importantly, he must truly cherish his wife. Without these qualities, even if he is wealthy, life will turn bitter sooner or later."
She glanced at her daughter, her eyes filled with both love and seriousness. "Remember, my child, a marriage is not just about two people smiling at each other. It's about walking through the ups and downs of life together."
Jia Lan, sitting cross-legged on the low kang bed, held her teacup delicately with both hands. She tilted her head, her expression thoughtful for a moment—then she blinked, her rosy lips curving into a mischievous smile.
"Hmm…" she drew out the sound slowly, as if considering deeply. "But I don't want any trouble at all. My ideal life is simple. I just want to sit at home, soak in the sunlight like a lazy cat, and count my money one by one. Isn't that the most peaceful life?"
Her words made Grandmother Jia chuckle, her wrinkled face blooming with laughter. "This child! You only know how to talk nonsense." She shook her head, though her eyes sparkled with indulgence. "Count your money? Do you think money grows legs and walks into your house on its own?"
Mother Jia sighed but smiled helplessly. "Look at her, always dreaming of a life with no worries. If we let you do as you please, you'll turn into a little empress in no time."
Jia Lan covered her mouth with her sleeve, pretending to act offended. "What's wrong with being a little empress? Didn't you both say the man should love his wife dearly? Then naturally, he should treat me like one."
Grandmother Jia tapped her finger lightly on the table. "Ai, such a spoiled tongue. Don't think you can fool us. Even a little empress must know how to manage her household properly, otherwise the servants will run wild!"
The room filled with laughter, warm and lively. The fragrance of tea mingled with the faint chill of winter drifting in from the windows, while three generations of women sat together, their conversation weaving a picture of love, care, and playful teasing.
Both older women burst out laughing.
"You silly girl," Grandmother Jia said, her shoulders shaking with mirth.
Mother Jia added teasingly, "If such a man exists, we'll help you catch him right away."
Jia Lan grinned cheekily. "Good. Then I'll leave the screening to you two experts."
Their laughter spilled out softly, mingling with the quiet hum of the neighborhood. From the half-open window came the faint clatter of a vendor setting down baskets of vegetables, a distant hawker calling out the day's wares, and the rhythmic clop of a donkey cart making its way down the street. All those sounds seemed to weave together with the gentle mirth inside the Jia household, carrying warmth even into the brisk winter air.
Sunlight streamed in through the latticed window, painting golden patches across the floor and the polished wooden table where the teacups sat. The steam rising from the porcelain curled lazily in the glow, adding to the air of comfort. Grandmother Jia's eyes crinkled as she chuckled at her granddaughter's mischievous words, while Mother Jia shook her head with an affectionate smile, her hand resting lightly against her teacup.
Jia Lan leaned back against the chair, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of the room and the lingering chill of morning. She felt utterly cocooned safe within the familiar chatter, the scent of hot tea, and the golden sunlight brushing against her face. There was no rush, no pressing concern. The world outside might bustle with winter errands and busy footsteps, but here, within these four walls, everything slowed down into a rhythm of love and ease.
It was a moment so simple shared laughter, the clink of teacups, the soft sigh of the wind outside yet it wrapped itself around the heart, soothing and tender. To Jia Lan, this was happiness in its purest form, a warmth that money could never buy, a treasure she knew she would carry in her memory for years to come.