After fleeing the famine, my older sister and I married the brother next door.

After moving into the new home, life started to turn like a wound-up spinning wheel, regular and fulfilling.

In the winter, when farming is less busy, the morning light comes late. Usually, the family of four stays in their yard in the morning, each busy with their own tasks. Chen Xiaohe sits cross-legged in the light by the door of the main room, surrounded by a pile of split bamboo strips. His fingers fly, sometimes weaving the edge of a winnowing basket, sometimes trying to weave more delicate little baskets and sewing baskets. His technique gradually becomes smoother from the initial clumsiness. The bamboo strips seem to have a life of their own in his hands, interlacing and gradually taking shape.

Chen Dashan, meanwhile, was hammering away under the open shed on the other side (now his woodworking workshop). The essential pieces of furniture for the new home—a square table, four long benches, two low cabinets, and a cupboard—were mostly finished. The wood was sturdy, the joints tight, and although devoid of any carvings, they exuded practicality and stability. At that moment, he was sanding the edges of the last bed board, sawdust dancing in the sunlight, releasing a pleasant pine scent.

Su Xiaoyin and Su Xiaoqing focused on the most important task first. Working together, they used the cotton and cloth given to them by Chen's mother to quickly make four sets of thick, warm winter clothes and trousers. Although the style was simple, the fluffy, soft warmth effectively warded off the chill of the northern winter. After finishing the clothes, they immediately moved the loom from the corner and placed it in the warmer east wing room. The creaking of the loom began to fill their new home, the shuttle weaving back and forth between the warp and weft threads, and inch by inch, rough but sturdy hemp cloth grew slowly and steadily under their hands. Since they didn't even have a spare piece of cloth to wrap themselves in, the weaving work was especially urgent.

In the afternoon, if the weather was fine and windless, Chen Dashan and Chen Xiaohe would put down their chores, grab their baskets, machetes, and small hoes, and call the two sisters to go into the mountains together. Their goal was clear: to gather the last batch of dried mushrooms and wood ear fungus of late autumn (and if they were lucky, some cold-resistant varieties), to cut firewood for the winter, and to take a stroll through the bamboo forest to see if they could find any late-blooming bamboo shoots that had escaped the harvest.

Under the eaves of the house and on the bamboo mats in the backyard, a considerable amount of golden dried bamboo shoots and various wild mushrooms were already drying. The small jar of pickled bamboo shoots they had tried pickling earlier had a refreshing and appetizing sour aroma that the entire Chen family of four praised when it was opened. So, while bamboo shoots were still in season, Su Xiaoyin and her sister carefully pickled several more large jars, layering bamboo shoots and salt, pressing them tightly together, and sealing them in a cool corner of the cellar, preparing them to add some variety to the bland meals during the long winter.

That afternoon, Chen Dashan finally finished assembling the last piece of furniture—a kang table with drawers—and carefully sanded it smooth. Looking at the empty open floor and the piles of oddly sized pieces of wood in the corner, he breathed a sigh of relief. The major work was finally over.

Su Xiaoyin came over with a rag to wipe the newly made kang table. Her gaze swept over the scraps, most of them good pieces of wood, about the width of a palm and a foot long, too precious to discard. An idea struck her. She put down the rag, picked up a piece of finely grained jujube wood scrap, walked over to Chen Dashan, and softly asked, "Dashan, could you... use these scraps of wood to make something small? Like a wooden hairpin? A wooden comb? Or perhaps carve some small animals or ornaments?"

Chen Dashan was packing up his tools when he heard this. He stopped, looked at the wood in her hand, then at her expectant eyes, and pondered for a moment before saying, "I can make them. I used to be an apprentice in town, helping my master and learning a little bit. I can make small things like hairpins and combs, but my skills... are very average, not as refined as those of a craftsman who specializes in them. Carving is even rougher." He was always honest and straightforward.

"But my sister and I both think your craftsmanship is exceptional!" Su Xiaoqing, who had somehow joined in, said with sparkling eyes and a hint of encouragement, "This wood is so good, it's such a waste to throw it away! How about we try making some? Nothing too complicated, just simple hairpins, smooth combs, or maybe some cute little rabbits or fish. Next time we go to the market, we can try selling them and see if we can make anything."

The more she talked about it, the more feasible it seemed, her tone filled with eagerness: "If we can't sell them, we can just treat it as a hobby and won't lose money on the timber. But if we can sell them, even if it's cheaper, it'll still be income! Winter is so long, and we're just sitting around doing nothing anyway. We can make a batch and then take them to the market to display!"

Chen Xiaohe was also drawn over. After hearing the gist of the story, he immediately joined in excitedly: "That's a great idea! Big brother's skills are definitely top-notch! Look, I've almost mastered bamboo weaving! I can now weave tiny, delicate winnowing baskets, about the size of a plate, perfect for storing snacks and needles and thread—they're so pretty! I can also weave small bamboo boxes with lids! We can sell them alongside the small wooden items Big brother makes! Oh, and remembering something, he ran inside and brought out several bamboo cups he had previously made as practice, polished to a perfect smoothness. "These! You can drink water or wine from them, they're lightweight and won't burn your hands! We can take a few to try out!"

Listening to Xiaohe and her sister's back-and-forth conversation, Su Xiaoyin glanced at Chen Dashan. Although he hadn't immediately agreed, his eyes were fixed on the scraps, clearly deep in thought, his hand unconsciously stroking the grain of a piece of wood. She knew he was interested.

"Dashan," Su Xiaoyin said gently, yet with encouragement, "let's give it a try. Like Xiaoqing said, if we can't sell them, we can keep them for ourselves or give them away. If we can get a few copper coins to supplement our household income and buy some oil, salt, and other necessities, that would be good. Next time there's a market, Mother was going to take us to the cloth shop in the county town to familiarize ourselves with the area, so we can go and see it together."

Chen Dashan's gaze swept over his wife's clear eyes, his brother's excited face, and his sister-in-law's expectant expression. Finally, his usually tightly pursed lips twitched almost imperceptibly. He nodded, saying succinctly, "Okay. Let's give it a try."

He bent down and picked out several pieces of hard, beautifully grained jujube wood, pear wood, and a small piece of rare boxwood from the pile of scraps. He weighed them in his hand and said, "These materials are suitable for making hairpins, combs, or carving small trinkets."

Chen Xiaohe immediately replied, "Then I'll focus on weaving a batch of small and beautiful bamboo ware these next two days!"

Su Xiaoqing clapped her hands excitedly: "Great! Let's hurry up and prepare! There aren't many days left until the next market day!"

Su Xiaoyin smiled, her mind racing. Besides going to the fabric shop with her sister, perhaps they could also check the market for embroidery thread and small pieces of fine cloth. Their hands had become quite rough from all the work they'd done recently; they probably couldn't handle the intricate embroidery they used to do, but embroidering common flowers, birds, fish, and insects on handkerchiefs and pillowcases shouldn't be a problem. Now that the family had a stable division of labor, if this small woodworking and bamboo weaving business could really open, coupled with the embroidery work they might get, this winter, this new home, might truly build up some solid foundation.

Winter sunlight streamed through the clean window paper, falling on the brand-new furniture and on the four people engaged in a lively discussion. The air was filled with the fresh scent of sawdust, the aroma of bamboo strips, and a vibrant, lively energy about their future livelihoods. For this small family, who had just begun to establish themselves, the next market day would be more than just purchasing goods; it would be an active exploration and experiment. Hope shone in everyone's eyes, like the early, steadfast star that shone brightly in the clear sky outside the window.