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

The next morning, before dawn, a pale light filtered through the window paper. Zhao Qinghuan woke up aching all over, as if she had been crushed by something; every bone in her body reminded her of what had happened the day before. She opened her eyes, paused for a moment, staring blankly at the unfamiliar tent ceiling, listening to the sparrows chirping in the old locust tree in the courtyard outside the window, and then remembered that she was already married. She glanced at Afu; he was still fast asleep, a slight smile on his lips, probably having a sweet dream. Zhao Qinghuan gently nudged his arm and called out in a low voice.

"Ah Fu, I have to get up and make breakfast. I can't sleep in on the first day. That's the rule, and we can't let anyone complain."

Afu groaned sleepily, rolled over, put his arm around her waist, and mumbled, "Sleep a little longer, it's still early," before snuggling closer to her shoulder. Zhao Qinghuan was both annoyed and amused, and pushed him away, her voice a little louder than before. She said it was getting late, and he should let her get up.

Afu rubbed his eyes, struggled to sit up, leaned on her shoulder, and yawned. He said, "I'll come with you to make breakfast. You're up so early, how can I lie here alone? Grandpa, Grandma, Mom, Dad, Uncle, and Aunt are all very easygoing, it's okay if I get up late. Last winter, Brother Shitou was on leave at home and slept until noon every day, and Grandpa and Grandma didn't say a word." Zhao Qinghuan pinched him, not too hard, and Afu hissed, fully awake.

"You can sleep in later, but you must get up early to cook on the first day. That's the rule, and it can't be broken. Your mother and your aunt must have gotten up early to cook breakfast on their first day of marriage. If they could do it, so can I. Put yourself in their shoes; I can't let people say that the new daughter-in-law of the Chen family is ignorant."

Afu was so engrossed in her nagging that he was completely wide awake. He obediently got dressed and sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) to wait for her. While combing her hair, Zhao Qinghuan asked, "What do you usually eat for breakfast? I need to know so I don't end up clueless in the kitchen."

Afu thought for a moment, then started counting on his fingers. "When there's no work in the morning, we usually have porridge—white rice porridge, millet porridge, mixed grain porridge, all in rotation, with some pickled vegetables, pickled radishes, pickled cucumbers, and fermented soybeans, plus a few boiled eggs or steamed egg custard. Sometimes my mother and aunt make flatbread, sometimes steamed buns, and sometimes scallion pancakes. During busy farming seasons, we eat simpler meals—mixed grain rice or noodles, with more vegetables. If we're in a rush, it can last all morning." Zhao Qinghuan understood, neatly tied her hair into a bun, inserted a silver hairpin, looked at herself in the bronze mirror, stood up, and followed Afu out the door.

The morning air was cool. Afu walked ahead, and Zhao Qinghuan followed behind. The two tiptoed across the courtyard and headed towards the kitchen of the old house.

The kitchen door was ajar. Zhao Qinghuan pushed it open, about to go in, when she heard rustling sounds coming from the inner room—Su Xiaoyin and Su Xiaoqing were already up. The two sisters were busy at the stove, one adding firewood to the firebox, the other chopping something on the cutting board. Seeing Zhao Qinghuan and Afu come in, Su Xiaoyin looked up, put down the cleaver, wiped her hands, and greeted them with a smile.

"Qinghuan, why are you up so early? You were up all night last night, get some more sleep."

Su Xiaoqing also straightened up from the stove, still holding a bundle of firewood in her hand, and said, "You don't need to be up so early on the first day of your marriage. We can do it. You can go back and rest."

Zhao Qinghuan quickly went over and took the firewood from Su Xiaoqing's hand, her tone as natural as if she had lived in this house for many years. "Aunt, Mother, good morning. I'll cook this morning. You can teach me how to control the fire on the stove, and I'll try it out and see if I can make something that suits everyone's tastes." Su Xiaoqing was taken aback for a moment, then turned to look at Su Xiaoyin. Su Xiaoyin nodded, handed the firewood to Zhao Qinghuan, and said, "Okay, then we'll try your cooking this morning." Afu chimed in from the side, laughing, "I'll supervise." Su Xiaoyin smiled and shoved a broom at him, saying, "Supervise what? Go help Qinghuan with the fire. Don't just stand there watching. There are many people in our family, and we're cooking a lot, so you should help out."

Afu responded and obediently squatted down in front of the stove, stuffing firewood in and blowing on it a few times with the bellows. The fire in the stove suddenly roared to life, the flames licking the bottom of the pot, illuminating the kitchen brightly, and Afu's face was flushed red by the firelight.

Zhao Qinghuan felt reassured. She scooped rice from the rice bin, rinsed it clean, poured it into the pot, added enough water, and covered it. She then took out several kinds of pickled vegetables—pickled radish, pickled cucumber, and pickled green beans—from the jar, shredded them, arranged them in small dishes, drizzled a few drops of sesame oil, and sprinkled a pinch of roasted sesame seeds. She also picked out a few eggs from the basket, washed them, put them in another pot, added water, and added firewood to the stove. Afu squatted beside her, tending the fire while secretly watching her. Every time she turned to get something, his gaze was fixed on her. Su Xiaoqing came over with a bowl of kneaded dough and asked, "Would you like some pancakes?" Zhao Qinghuan took it, washed her hands, and pinched off a piece of dough to knead on the cutting board.

Watching Zhao Qinghuan knead the dough, Su Xiaoyin's eyes lit up slightly. Zhao Qinghuan's kneading movements were quick and even; the dough folded and turned in her hands, becoming smooth and soft in no time. Su Xiaoyin couldn't help but praise, "Qinghuan, you knead this dough so well, better than both of us sisters." Zhao Qinghuan smiled and said, "I learned from a master kneader before, for quite a while, practicing kneading dough for half a month." Su Xiaoyin nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

The porridge was cooked, the eggs were boiled, and the pancakes were baked—golden and crispy, stacked one by one on a plate, steaming hot. The kitchen was filled with the fragrant aroma of rice porridge and the tantalizing scent of baked pancakes. Zhao Qinghuan ladled the porridge into a large basin and carried it to the main table in the living room. Su Xiaoqing followed behind with a dish of pickled vegetables, while Su Xiaoyin carried pancakes. Afu carried a large basin of boiled eggs, shaking his hands from the heat.

Breakfast was laid out on the table, and the family arrived one after another. Father Chen, leaning on his cane, entered the main room and sat down in a grand chair. Mother Chen followed behind, holding a comb, her hair not yet fully styled. Chen Dashan and Chen Xiaohe came in from the backyard, their trousers covered in hay clippings, clearly having fed the livestock first. Shitou emerged from the east wing, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking up, still yawning as he walked. Aji followed behind, already dressed neatly, even his hair meticulously combed.

The family sat around the table. Mrs. Chen first scooped a spoonful of porridge, blew on it, and took a sip. The white rice porridge was thick and fragrant, cooked to perfection. She picked up a shredded pickled radish with her chopsticks, chewed it—crispy and perfectly seasoned. She then broke off a piece of flatbread; it was crisp and crumbly, even more fragrant than the ones Su Xiaoqing usually made. Mrs. Chen nodded and said, "Your cooking is excellent. This flatbread is delicious, better than what we usually make."