Chapter Forty-Eight: May Each Year Bring Good Fortune

Most of the students who remained at the thatched hall for the New Year, instead of returning home, stayed because they were strapped for cash and worried about travel expenses. Usually, when they attended lectures nearby, they didn’t share the cost of meals; instead, a few wealthy students hired people to purchase ingredients and cook the food. Apart from the meager annual tuition, their expenses were minimal. Now, however, with the wealthy students and their servants having departed for home, those left behind couldn’t help but worry about their meals. To their surprise, in the days that followed, Lu Hong instructed the small kitchen to prepare meals for them as well, filling them with gratitude.

That day was New Year’s Eve. Two days prior, Lu Wangzhi had personally informed them that everyone would gather at Lu Hong’s thatched cottage for dinner and merriment. A few students, who rarely had the opportunity to ask Lu Hong about their scholarly difficulties, were overjoyed and hurried over as soon as he awoke from his midday nap. Although classes were suspended for the season, with Pei Ning absent and Lu Wangzhi never one to enforce rigid discipline, the students surrounded Lu Hong and eagerly inquired about the questions they had accumulated. In the end, each left with both satisfaction and barely contained excitement.

It was only when voices came from outside that the room finally quieted. For the sake of lively company on New Year’s Eve, there was no individual dining tray for each person. Instead, a large blackwood table was set in the center, with everyone seated around it. At the sound, all heads turned to see Lu Wangzhi entering, holding a long tray in both hands. Lifting the thick cotton curtain for him was a charming young girl. There were few women in these mountains, but now there were two—mistress and maid—living here. The students had seen them from afar and knew them to be Du Shiyi’s own sister and her attendant in green. This was the first time they observed her closely. Though still a child with hair hanging down in a simple style, Du Thirteenth Lady had delicate, well-defined features and a fresh, endearing appearance, which drew all eyes to her.

A heavy cough brought the group back to their senses. Lu Wangzhi grinned and announced, “This is the first course of our New Year’s Eve feast: Longevity Soup! The youngest disciple sends his wishes to Master Lu, that you may live a hundred years!”

“That Nineteenth Young Master certainly knows how to curry favor!” Lu Hong laughed. As Du Thirteenth Lady personally ladled out the soup, he asked, “Did he really make this himself in the kitchen?”

“With Zhuying and the usual cook Ah Huang helping,” Du Thirteenth Lady replied, recalling her brother’s serious expression as he consulted a cookbook and directed the meal’s preparation. Seeing everyone looking at her, she grew a little shy and added, “I can’t say how it tastes, since my brother simply followed the recipe, discussing each dish with the helpers.”

At this, everyone eyed the bowl of vivid green soup with some hesitation. Lu Wangzhi, unconcerned, sat cross-legged at his place, picked up his bowl, and took a hearty sip. He smiled and declared, “If our little brother really just followed directions, then he’s a genius. This Longevity Soup is fragrant and warming—excellent!”

Lu Hong was the first to follow suit, tasting a spoonful and nodding in approval. The others, reassured, did the same. Soon after, Zhuying brought in another dish: raw fish slices. She announced, “Some of the young gentlemen wanted to present a special offering to Master Lu for New Year’s, so they braved the cold to cut open the frozen mountain stream and caught two live fish. My young master had Ah Huang kill and slice them thinly, then dressed them with plum sauce and other condiments. He says it may not be as elaborate as the finest dishes, but it is made with sincere hearts.”

Seeing the students’ excited faces, Lu Hong knew that Du Shiyi’s words, delivered by his maid, were sincere. He laughed, “So this feast wasn’t just the work of Nineteenth Young Master—you all worked hard as well!”

“Master Lu, with your praise, we’re embarrassed. We’ve listened to your lectures in the thatched hall for so long and regret having little else to repay you with. These two fish are just a token of our respect.”

“Your sincerity means more than gold and jade! A new year lies ahead—let us raise a cup of wine and encourage each other!”

“Thank you, Master Lu!”

With the wine warming their stomachs, the atmosphere grew lively. Du Thirteenth Lady, worried about her brother, quietly slipped away with Zhuying to help in the kitchen. Lu Wangzhi also withdrew, leaving the large room to the poor but earnest students. As dish after dish appeared—Golden Chicken, Lamb Sashimi, Vinegared Celery, and cups of rice wine—the air became even more convivial. Just then, Du Shiyi’s voice was heard from outside.

“There are still a few more dishes to come, but without dumplings, it doesn’t feel like New Year’s Eve. Please try this steaming hot ‘prisoner’s dumpling soup.’”

At his entrance, the students hurriedly stood to greet him. Though Du Shiyi had faced hostility from some when he first arrived at the Lu Hall, the court had since launched a campaign against locusts, and Du Shiyi’s diligence in study and copying books had earned their respect. His distinctive style of stitched bookbinding was well suited to students of modest means, and over time, admiration grew. Now, the eldest among them stepped forward to receive the heavy bowl of soup and placed it at the center of the table.

“Du Young Master, you’ve worked hard for tonight’s meal.”

“Nonsense! You all did your utmost to catch those two fish—no less than the ancients who lay on ice to catch carp. My contributions are nothing. Besides, as fellow disciples, and since I came to Lu Hall after all of you, there’s no need for formality—just call me Little Brother, like the others.”

As he spoke, Du Shiyi glanced at the so-called “prisoner’s dumplings,” amused at their odd name for what he knew as jiaozi. He ladled out a bowl for Lu Hong, and, seeing Lu Wangzhi absent, served the others in turn, ending with a smile. “Please try the dumplings and tell me what you think.”

Everyone had eaten dumplings before, but the soup was different from the usual bland broth: it had a bright reddish hue and a slightly sour taste. The dumplings themselves were shaped differently, bursting with juice at first bite—enough to make someone yelp from the heat, but leaving smiles of delight all around.

“Nineteenth Young Master, this soup is tart—did you use sour plums, or perhaps vinegar? And the dumpling filling seems unusual?”

“Yes, I added meat broth. As for the greens, they’re cabbage grown at the foot of Junji Peak by my Kunlun servant, Tian Mo. He’s industrious, dug a cellar early, and stored quite a bit. So this is cabbage and pork filling. I wanted to prepare more varieties, but time was short today.”

“All right, Little Brother, no more running about—sit down and eat with us!”

As Du Shiyi was pressed into a seat and handed chopsticks, he couldn’t help but sample each dish. Though he had already tasted everything while cooking, this moment—especially biting into a cabbage and pork dumpling so reminiscent of home—filled him with an indescribable warmth.

At New Year’s, nothing brings the feeling of the holiday quite like dumplings.

After a little while, the door curtain was lifted again. This time, Du Thirteenth Lady cheerfully held it open for Lu Wangzhi, who carried in a steaming basket. As everyone hastily cleared space on the table, Lu Wangzhi set down the basket and unveiled it, revealing seven or eight square cakes inside. He placed one before Lu Hong and, seeing him lost in thought, spoke softly, “Master Lu, you once saved my life with a single cake. I have never forgotten it.”

“You still remember, after all these years?” Lu Hong sighed gently, then shook his head and said no more, savoring the cake in silence. He seemed to be lost in memories of saving a small child with bright, shining eyes. After a long time, he finally murmured, “The world has changed, and yet you managed to recreate this cake… Nineteenth Young Master, you all should try it too. Though it’s just a humble pastry, its subtle sweetness is unique.”

Curious about the hidden story, Du Shiyi tasted a piece. He detected a hint of date paste, but there seemed to be other ingredients he couldn’t quite identify. The cake was only faintly sweet, with a coarse and slightly bitter texture, far from the delicious treats one might expect.

Not only he, but the other students wore the same puzzled expressions. At last, Lu Wangzhi casually explained, “This is a famine cake, meant for surviving hard times. I was afraid Master Lu wouldn’t be able to chew it, so I ground all the grains. It’s made from every leftover grain we had—from beans to millet, all mixed together. One cake a day was enough to survive the harshest hunger. Compared to gruel, this was considered a delicacy. For a piece of this cake, a father might sell his son, a mother her daughter—separation of kin was nothing compared to the misery of famine.”

Even those who had known hunger shuddered at Lu Wangzhi’s calm words, including Du Thirteenth Lady. Fortunately, he quickly changed the subject. When the final dessert—apricot custard—was served, and each held a cup in hand, someone softly murmured,

“May every year be as good as this, and every day like tonight.”