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

Su Xiaoqing also tried a piece, chewed it, and her eyes lit up. She thought it tasted better than the herbal chicken from yesterday; the spices were more harmonious, without the bitter aftertaste of herbs, and the whole house smelled wonderful, making her mouth water just by the aroma. The two sisters agreed and immediately decided to cut the roast chicken and duck into pieces, pack them up, and have Chen Dashan and Chen Xiaohe take them to the general store to sell. They should be able to sell them all by noon while they were still hot.

Chen Dashan and Chen Xiaohe were chopping firewood in the yard when they heard the shout. They washed their hands and came in to try it. Chen Dashan chewed on a piece of duck meat, savored it slowly, and nodded, saying that this was good, more fragrant than yesterday's. The spices had penetrated the meat, but they weren't overpowering; it was pleasant to eat. Chen Xiaohe ate two pieces, and without saying a word, gave a thumbs up and reached for a third piece.

Su Xiaoqing laughed and slapped his hand away, saying not to eat it all, but to save it to sell. She cut up the roast chicken and duck, arranged them in two large wooden basins, covered them with oil paper, wrapped them in cotton cloth to keep them warm, and then stuffed them into the basket on Chen Dashan's back. Chen Dashan carried the basket on his back, tested its weight; it was so heavy that the basket sagged. Chen Xiaohe followed behind, carrying a basket of dried fruit and pastries he had made the day before. The two of them left the courtyard one after the other.

After seeing the two off, Su Xiaoyin and Su Xiaoqing separated the non-laying chickens and ducks in the backyard—ten non-laying hens and five or six ducks huddled in a makeshift corner, flapping their wings and clucking in unison. The two sisters squatted by the pen, marking each one: those with red strings tied to their ears were to be fed seasonings and herbs, while those with red strings tied to their legs were to be fed only seasonings. Su Xiaoqing took a rough earthenware bowl and poured the mixed feed into the trough, her tone carrying a hint of experimental excitement.

Su Xiaoyin also thought the idea was feasible. Holding a twig, she drew calculations on the ground: "These ones fed only with spices have low costs, can be sold in large quantities, and the taste is already guaranteed. Those fed with spices and herbs have higher costs, but they can be sold as limited editions at the general store, only two or three roasted a day, and sold out quickly, keeping customers in suspense. Moreover, many of these spices—star anise, cinnamon, and Sichuan peppercorns—can be found wild in our mountains. When spring comes, we can search more in the mountains, pick them ourselves, and dry them, which will further reduce costs."

Su Xiaoqing finished pouring out the food in her hand, patted the bran off her hands, and then said something in a clear and crisp voice.

After feeding the chickens and ducks, the two sisters washed their hands and sat down by the window in the east wing. The embroidery hoop was set up, the silk threads were prepared, and sunlight streamed in through the window, shining brightly on the embroidery cloth.

The embroidery project has been progressing slowly lately, and the two sisters are getting anxious. With the end of the year approaching, they need to replenish their stock of small items at the general store and stalls, prepare for the New Year, and also find time to research new patterns. Their embroidery time is squeezed down to just the mornings each day. Su Xiaoyin picked up her needle, threaded the needle, looked at the pomegranate on the fabric that was only half-finished, sighed, and said that if they couldn't finish it by the end of the year, they would continue after the New Year. "Don't push yourselves too hard," she said, "it's not like we're starving."

Su Xiaoqing embroidered for a while, finishing the red gradient of a few pomegranate seeds. She straightened up and stretched her neck. She counted the remaining progress on her fingers, her tone confident and with a hint of defiance: "If we hurry up, I think we can finish embroidering soon. We've also made almost everything we need to sell: hair ties, silk flowers, sachets, tiger-head shoes. We have enough stock, so there shouldn't be any delays. Besides, if we hadn't embroidered that 'May Wealth Flow In' piece for the general store, we wouldn't have only embroidered this much by now. Although that piece isn't big, it's all gold thread, which is labor-intensive and hard on the eyes, and it took us more than half a month to finish."

Hearing this, Su Xiaoyin stopped needlework, looked up, and smiled slightly. She put down her embroidery hoop, pointed towards the general store outside the window, and said, "Ever since we hung up the 'May Wealth and Prosperity' embroidery at the general store, haven't the small embroidered items and hair ties sold even better? The auntie who came to buy hair ties originally only planned to buy two, but after seeing the embroidery, she kept talking about it for a while, saying that the characters were embroidered so beautifully, and ended up buying two more handkerchiefs. And the old man who bought a cloth tiger for his grandson, he hesitated for a long time, but after one glance at the embroidery, he took out his money. I don't know if it was just psychological."

Su Xiaoqing thought for a moment, then nodded, her tone filled with surprise and admiration, saying that it was indeed true. The two sisters exchanged a glance and smiled.

The sun rose higher outside the window, its rays streaming in and falling on the embroidered cloth, making the pomegranate seeds appear translucent and translucent, each one seemingly real enough to be peeled and eaten. At noon, Su Xiaoyin looked up, stretched her stiff neck, and rubbed her aching wrists, saying it was time to cook. Su Xiaoqing also straightened up, stretched her arms, and said that after sitting all morning, her body was stiff and she couldn't bend over, like a stick; she needed a good rest after lunch.

Su Xiaoyin carried a basin to the storeroom to scoop out soybeans, telling Su Xiaoqing to soak more so they could make tofu tomorrow and freeze some to sell. With the weather getting colder, frozen tofu stewed with cabbage or meat sells well; city people love that in winter. They also needed to sprout bean sprouts; the ones they sprouted before were all sold out. Several regular customers asked, saying that there were fewer green vegetables in winter, and bean sprouts were cheap and delicious, so they asked them to make more. Oh, and they also needed to soak some mung beans and red beans for making pastries tomorrow—red bean buns, red bean cakes, and mung bean cakes. Everyone buys them for the New Year, so having some in advance is better than being caught off guard. They also needed to steam some bean buns to take to their parents. Their mother loves red bean buns, but always complains that the ones sold outside are too sweet. They can control the sweetness of homemade buns, so their father feels more at ease eating them.

Su Xiaoyin covered the soaked soybeans, mung beans, and red beans with a damp cloth and placed them in the corner of the stove. She wiped her hands, looked at the row of pots and pans of various sizes, and said with the shrewd calculations of a matriarch: "Let's make more. If we can't finish them, we can freeze them outside. It's cold, and they'll freeze solid overnight. When we want to eat them, we can bring them inside to thaw, steam them, and they'll be just like freshly made ones. This will save us a lot of trouble."

The fire in the kitchen was lit again, and a pot of radish and pork bone soup was simmering, bubbling and releasing an aroma that mingled with the lingering scent of roasted chicken and duck, lingering in the kitchen. Outside the window, the sky was a clear, bright blue, and the warm sunlight streamed in, falling on the dough on the cutting board. The dough had risen to a plump, airy consistency, full of fine honeycomb-like cells.

The sun rose higher, and the shadows shrank inch by inch. In the Chen family's kitchen, the aroma of cooking never ceased. Su Xiaoyin and Su Xiaoqing pushed their embroidery hoop to the corner of the table, making room to knead dough, chop filling, and soak beans. Life was like this: a few stitches of embroidery, a lump of dough, feeding the chickens and ducks, discussing how to make the next batch of roast chicken even better. There were no earth-shattering events, but as long as every little thing was done diligently, life wouldn't be bad.