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

At the end of the Yin hour, when the sky was still dark, the first faint crowing of a rooster could be heard in the distance.

Su Xiaoyin opened her eyes almost the instant the rooster crowed. Her heightened alertness from years of fleeing famine, combined with a slight unease in the unfamiliar environment, made her a very light sleeper. She gently sat up and, using the dim light streaming in from the window, glanced at Chen Dashan, who was still fast asleep beside her.

She couldn't lie down. Su Xiaoyin took a silent breath, tiptoed off the kang (heated brick bed), and put on her patched-up cloth shoes. Although the Chen family had said "no rush," a new bride couldn't afford to sleep in on her first day. Diligence was their most direct and fundamental means of establishing themselves in this new home.

She had just finished dressing and stepped out of her room when Xiaoqing, rubbing her eyes, came out from the next room, her voice still muffled from just waking up: "Sister?"

"Shh, be quiet. We should go check on the kitchen," Su Xiaoyin whispered.

The two sisters quietly left the side room. The early autumn morning was chilly, their breath condensing into white mist. The courtyard was quiet, and the main house was still dark. The kitchen, a low, mud-brick hut, was located to the side of the main house.

Pushing open the slightly ajar kitchen door, she found it even darker inside, filled with the smell of firewood and dust. Su Xiaoyin groped her way to the flint and steel, and then found a small tuft of dry straw to start a fire. She remembered seeing a ceramic jar next to the stove yesterday, which seemed to contain lamp oil. Sure enough, she dipped the half-eaten rush wick into the oil, carefully struck the flint and steel with the flint and steel, and after a few soft "clicks," a spark jumped onto the dry straw, was carefully blown on, and lit the dim glow of the oil lamp.

The dim light illuminated the kitchen. It was tidier than I had imagined; the stove, though old, was spotless. A large iron pot and several earthenware pots and jars were neatly arranged on a low shelf to one side. The water vat was in the corner, next to which were neatly stacked firewood and pine needles for kindling.

Su Xiaoyin tested the water vat; it was full and ice-cold. Xiao Qing had already taken the initiative to pick up the gourd ladle by the stove and scoop water into the pot. Su Xiaoyin squatted down, skillfully cleaning the old ashes from the stove, then gathered the pine needles and added kindling. The flint and steel struck again, this time successfully igniting the pine needles. Orange flames licked the kindling, quickly crackling and burning, filling the stove with warmth.

"Yin girl, Qing girl? You're up so early?" A slightly surprised voice rang out at the door.

The two sisters turned around and saw Chen's mother, Zhao, wearing an old padded jacket, her hair not yet fully tied up, standing loosely at the door, her face showing lingering sleepiness and obvious surprise.

"Mother," Su Xiaoyin quickly stood up, lowering her eyes somewhat awkwardly, "we were thinking of getting up early to do some things."

"Yes, Mother, let's start the fire and cook." Su Xiaoqing put down the water ladle and echoed softly.

Chen's mother's gaze swept over the two sisters' thin clothes and their slightly reddened fingers, then looked at the perfectly lit flames in the stove and the water that had been added to the pot. Her surprise was gradually replaced by a complex emotion—a mixture of surprise, scrutiny, but above all, a genuine, relieved sense of relief.

He came as a refugee, and although he looked frail, he turned out to be diligent, hardworking, and quick to notice what was going on. That's good; that's better than a thousand nice words. For a poor family looking for a wife, the most important thing is that she's reliable and hardworking.

"Good, good, you're up." The wrinkles on Chen's mother's face smoothed out a bit. She walked into the kitchen, her tone much gentler. "Let me see... This morning we'll cook some porridge and make a few pancakes. There's still some fine cornmeal in the jar, we'll mix in some bean flour. Yesterday your father took a few old pumpkins out of the cellar, we'll cut a piece and cook them together, it'll be sweet and filling." As she spoke, she pulled a coarse cloth bag from under the low shelf and bent down to take a golden old pumpkin from the basket in the corner.

"Mom, let me cut the pumpkin," Su Xiaoyin said hurriedly.

"I'll knead the dough," Su Xiaoqing said, joining in.

As Chen's mother watched her two daughters-in-law take on chores, though their movements were still a bit clumsy (their knife skills in cutting pumpkin weren't sharp enough, and they added too much water to the dough), her willingness to work hard and not shirk responsibility was evident. The resentment she felt due to poverty and her son's disability seemed to lessen somewhat.

"Chop slowly, keep your hands steady. Add water gradually when the dough is firm..." she instructed from the side, her tone not particularly warm, but patient. The smoke from the kitchen gradually rose, dispelling the chill of the morning and also dispelling some of the invisible barriers between them.

When Chen Danian, Chen's father, came in from the backyard carrying a hoe, the warm aroma of food mixed with firewood wafted from the kitchen. Chen Dashan had also finished washing up and was sitting silently on a small stool by the door of the main room, tidying up a few farm tools. Chen Xiaohe, on the other hand, was full of energy and swept the already clean ground in the yard again with a broom.

Breakfast was laid out on the table. A large bowl of thick, golden pumpkin, corn, and bean flour porridge, filled with pumpkin chunks of varying sizes, was steaming hot. Next to it was a dish of dark brown pickled vegetable shreds, drizzled with a few drops of sesame oil (a rare luxury). There were also several golden-brown multigrain flatbreads, their edges slightly curled up, emitting a fragrant aroma.

The family sat around the table. Father Chen picked up his chopsticks first, slurping down a large mouthful of the porridge. It was so hot that he gasped for breath, but he sighed with satisfaction, "Mmm, this porridge is thick today, and the pumpkin is sweet too."