The very next day, Er Niu and Da Bao indeed returned from town laden with supplies for making sausages. Back home, everyone plunged into the bustle once more, churning out yet another large batch of sausages. Mother Huang mused that these would be perfect to present when visiting relatives and friends during the New Year celebrations—they were far more prized than common strips of cured meat.

The household hummed with activity; the Lunar New Year was only a few days away. By that time, every soul in Lin Family Village would be busy. Whether poor or rich, the New Year had to be observed. All year long, these few days were the only time they could be this busy, yet their hearts were filled with happiness.

Soon it was the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth lunar month, just three days until the New Year. The twenty-seventh was the day for the major preparation push. Mother Huang had already organized everything: today, they needed to steam all the buns, dumplings, and cone-shaped cornbread (wowo tou) that would sustain them from now until the fifteenth day of the first lunar month. They couldn't make fresh ones in the early days of the New Year, as many relatives would be coming and going, and there wouldn't be time for last-minute steaming.

Buns and similar items were relatively straightforward; it mostly involved kneading dough without much complex shaping. However, the dumplings required varied fillings, which involved more trouble—chopping the filling, kneading the dough, and then carefully wrapping the dumplings took considerable effort.

In truth, staple foods during this era were quite scarce. Lin He often found herself missing the steamed white rice of her past life. But people here simply did not eat rice. Lin He intended to make several different kinds of dumpling fillings, but ingredients were genuinely limited, and eating dumplings every day was an expense the family couldn't sustain. It would be best if they could also pan-fry some flatbreads, anything to break the monotony of these steamed items.

The dumplings common in this era usually featured turnip or cabbage fillings. Lin He wanted to incorporate more variety, perhaps pure meat fillings, pork and scallion, or chive fillings—chopping different kinds of fillings would make the meals more palatable.

Lin Er Niu hadn't gone out for the past few days; the scholar had also returned home for the holiday break. The entire family planned to finish all the flour-based preparations and steaming on the twenty-seventh. They still had plenty of other tasks. The entire morning, everyone was busy kneading dough. Xiao Bao and Lin Chen weren't skilled enough to help with kneading; Lin Chen was assigned to tending the fire, while Xiao Bao happily darted about, fully immersed in the joyful atmosphere of the approaching New Year.

Lin He wasn't particularly adept at kneading either, and the process required significant strength, which she lacked. However, Lin He was intensely interested in these preparations. In her previous life, every time she ate xiaolongbao (soup dumplings), she felt some looked like genuine works of art—thin-skinned, generously filled, almost translucent. She was always fascinated by the technique required to shape them perfectly.

For someone experienced, however, it was a simple affair. Lin He watched Mother Huang pinch a piece of dough, press it twice, scoop in the filling, and with a few swift turns, quickly form a beautiful bun. The movements were so fast she couldn't even discern how it was done.

As Mother Huang worked, Lin He asked her to slow down, to watch carefully. She saw Mother Huang cradle the dough in her left hand, using the gap between her right thumb and index finger to pinch the rim of the bun. The right thumb remained stationary while the index finger gradually pulled the edge of the dough upward, rotating it in a circle. After circling once, pleats formed perfectly. A final pinch at the opening sealed it, and a beautiful bun emerged.

Though it looked easy, Lin He struggled immensely. She couldn't seem to manage those precise pleats. After several attempts and Mother Huang's patient guidance, Lin He finally managed to produce a decidedly lopsided dumpling. Mother Huang assured her that this was a skill born of practice; the more she tried, the better she would become.

Looking at her own clumsy creation, Lin He felt a small surge of accomplishment. Something that once seemed impossibly difficult, she could now produce with her own hands—that feeling was quite rewarding.

The family spent the afternoon making several large basins of dumplings, steamed buns, and wowo tou. Dumplings were somewhat of a luxury in this era; not every household would bother making them. Having plain white flour steamed buns was already considered quite good. Lin He's family only made one basin of dumplings, designated to be served when guests arrived, as their daily fare would consist of corn wowo tou and white flour buns.

On the evening of the twenty-seventh, the family sat on the heated kang bed, discussing what they needed to purchase for the New Year. This included food items for the first month, gifts for relatives, and the dishes for their own New Year's Eve feast—all of which had to be bought the next day, the twenty-eighth, as the market would be closed for several days following.

In this era, tradition dictated that the New Year's Eve meal must include "ten bowls," meaning ten distinct dishes besides the main staples, with some leftovers intentionally set aside to symbolize abundance for the coming year (nian nian you yu). Mother Huang and Er Niu deliberated for a long time, unable to conceive of ten different dishes. In previous years, they would serve the few dishes they could manage and supplement the count with various wild vegetables to reach ten.

This year, they wanted to host properly and avoid substitutions, but they couldn't afford the truly expensive ingredients. The cheaper options inevitably circled back to the same few vegetables.

Lin He pondered this as well. Ten distinctly different dishes seemed challenging. Dishes like radish stewed with meat, cabbage stewed with meat, and glass noodles stewed with meat—they all ended up tasting remarkably similar, which grew tiresome after a while.

Lin He, being from the south in her past life, recalled that southern cuisine favored stir-fries, which generally had sharper, more defined flavors. Compared to the heavy stews, those stir-fries were often easier to enjoy. Lin He tentatively suggested a few options to Mother Huang: perhaps scrambled eggs with chives, braised pork ribs, stir-fried pork with chili, and chicken stewed with mushrooms. These wouldn't cost a fortune, were easy to pair with rice, and would likely impress any visiting guests.

Mother Huang found the suggested dishes rather strange, but the names sounded quite appealing. Since many of the ingredients were readily available at home, she agreed. "He'er," she said, "you take charge of the New Year's Eve dinner. If these dishes turn out well, we'll use them to entertain guests throughout the first month."

Lin He nodded. With the menu settled, Mother Huang and Er Niu discussed the gifts for the relatives. This year was fortuitous: they had a good store of homemade sausages, and they still had the abundant provisions given by Boss Wen, which they had deliberately held back, planning to use them for New Year's gifts to save money.

Speaking of Boss Wen, Lin He figured the shop wouldn't reopen too early after the New Year. She felt she should present a small gift to express her gratitude. She instructed Da Bao to take some sausages from home to the shop the next day to give to Uncle Wen—they didn't have anything else of comparable value to offer.

She then told Er Niu and Da Bao to buy some pastries, candies, and a bit more meat from the market; they had everything else they needed at home.