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

Just as Chen Xiaohe had said, the main room in the middle, reserved for Chen's parents, was tidied up perfectly. The fireplace burned brightly, and the floor was warm and cozy. Chen's mother moved a large table to the kang (heated brick bed), making it easier for her two daughters-in-law to eat. Su Xiaoyin and Su Xiaoqing also brought their respective cradles from their rooms and placed them side by side in the middle of the kang.

During the day, this place becomes the most lively and warm place in the Chen family home.

Su Xiaoqing was arranged to "recover during her second month of maternity leave," but she wasn't confined to bed all day. Her mother explained, "Movement helps with blood circulation; lying down all the time hinders it." So, every morning after breakfast, Su Xiaoqing would put on a thick coat and, supported by Chen Xiaohe or Su Xiaoyin, slowly walk through the main room door into the warm, cozy house. The brothers Chen Dashan and Chen Xiaohe would then carry one child in each arm, or use baby carriers to "relocate" the four little ones to the room.

Chen's mother was already waiting inside, always busy with something—either sewing thick shoe soles, mending clothes, or selecting seeds for next year. Seeing them enter, a smile spread across her face: "You've arrived? Quickly, get on the kang (heated brick bed) and warm up. Xiaoqing, take your time, no rush."

The children were placed in the warm "baby nest." The eldest and second eldest (born to Su Xiaoyin) were twins, almost identical in appearance, both inheriting their father's thick eyebrows and their mother's delicate features. They lay side by side, kicking and tugging at each other, babbling away. The third eldest (born to Su Xiaoqing) was quiet, his dark, grape-like eyes darting around, staring at the rafters on the roof or the needlework in his mother's hands, without making a sound. The youngest (born to Su Xiaoqing) was the weakest, but after drinking goat's milk these past few days, supplemented by Su Xiaoyin's breast milk, he had shown great improvement. He was wrapped in a red swaddle, his little face rosy and fair, occasionally letting out kitten-like whimpers, prompting Chen's mother to always put down her work to look at him and touch his warm little forehead.

"This child changes every day," Chen's mother sighed, her hands still busy with her needlework. "He's getting stronger and stronger so quickly. Goat milk is truly a wonderful thing."

Su Xiaoyin was sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), embroidering a tiger-head hat in the bright light. Hearing this, she smiled and said, "Yes, it's all thanks to my parents for thinking so much. We can't finish the goat milk, so we heat it up and Xiaoqing and I can drink it too. It makes us feel warm and energetic."

Su Xiaoqing sat back on the kang (a heated brick bed), a thin quilt covering her legs. She held a soft cloth in her hand and slowly sewed a pair of small socks for her fourth son. Her movements were still slow, and her stitches weren't as fine as her older sister's, but her expression was focused. Hearing her sister's words, she looked up and said earnestly, "Mother, my sister and I can't finish all the goat milk. Can we add some to our porridge or dough in the mornings? I heard it's nutritious."

"Yes! Why not!" Mother Chen readily agreed. "Goat milk is precious, we shouldn't waste a drop. When spring comes and the grass grows, the ewes will eat well and produce more milk. Then, we might even be able to make some goat milk cakes or something."

The room was filled with a faint scent of milk, the aroma of warm cotton fabric, and the cozy smoke of charcoal. The women chatted softly, their hands busy with their never-ending chores. The children's murmurs, whimpers, and the occasional loud cry (which was immediately met with comfort) wove together into a vibrant symphony of life. Outside, the winter was harsh, but inside, springtime was in full bloom.

Looking at the peaceful and bustling scene before her, at her sister's gentle profile as she embroidered, at her mother-in-law's lovingly wrinkled yet spirited face, and then at the four tiny lives waving their little hands and feet in their "dollhouse," representing an infinite future, the lingering fear and disorientation she felt after surviving the ordeal were finally dispelled by this genuinely warm daily life. She was no longer the smeared, fearful orphan she had been on the road to escape famine, but a cherished member of this strong family, a mother of two. This sense of belonging was more healing to her body and mind than any medicine.

In the afternoon, when the sun was shining, Chen's mother would open a crack in the sunny window to let in some fresh air. A cool breeze would drift in, quickly melting away in the warmth of the room. Sometimes, Su Xiaoqing would hold the fourth child close to the window, pointing to the bare branches of the trees and the distant mountains covered in remnants of snow, speaking in a soft voice in ways no one could understand. The fourth child would stare blankly with his bright black eyes, occasionally grinning from his toothless little mouth, a glistening drop of drool escaping from his lips.