HNYWEF -Chapter 82 New Year’s Eve Dinner

Guanzheng Year 2, the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month.

Minor New Year.

Zhou Yi squatted at the doorway, watching a group of half-grown kids chase each other around. Each of them was clutching a firecracker that hadn’t gone off, running until their heads were soaked in sweat.

He watched for a while, then stood up and went back inside.

Zhou Xiong was tidying up. He gathered the freshly forged sickles together, then cleared out the ash from the furnace and dumped it into a basket.

Zhou Yi leaned over.

“Dad, aren’t we resting for Minor New Year?”

Zhou Xiong didn’t look up.

“We are.”

Zhou Yi blinked.

“Then why are you still cleaning up?”

Zhou Xiong straightened his back and glanced at him.

“If I don’t clean, how do we spend tomorrow’s New Year?”

Zhou Yi paused, then blinked again.

Right. Tomorrow was the 24th of the twelfth month—time for the year-end cleaning.

He squatted back down and watched his father carry the ash out and dump it.

Just as he came back, footsteps rang out at the gate.

Thud thud thud—thud thud thud. Anyone who heard it knew it was Cheng Yaojin.

Zhou Yi poked his head out. Sure enough, it was him.

Cheng Yaojin strode in, followed by Qin Qiong, Yuchi Gong, Niu Jinda, and several old comrades from the Wagang days.

A whole group of them poured into the courtyard, blocking the entrance completely.

Cheng Yaojin shouted as soon as he entered.

“Bear-eyed man! I’ve got something to tell you!”

Zhou Xiong stood there, watching them.

His face showed no expression at all.

It was obvious at a glance—they were here to cause trouble.

Cheng Yaojin walked up to him and slapped his shoulder.

“We’re spending the New Year at your place!”

Zhou Xiong froze for a moment.

“What?”

Cheng Yaojin said, “New Year! New Year’s Eve! We’re all coming here to celebrate!”

Zhou Xiong tilted his head slightly and looked at him without speaking.

Cheng Yaojin continued, “Think about it. Every year we celebrate separately—boring as hell. This year, let’s gather together and make it lively!”

Zhou Xiong still said nothing.

After a moment, Cheng Yaojin added:

“If you don’t speak, that means you agreed!”

Only then did Zhou Xiong finally speak.

“My place is small.”

Cheng Yaojin replied, “We’ll squeeze in!”

Zhou Xiong: “I don’t have that many bowls and chopsticks.”

Cheng Yaojin: “We’ll bring our own!”

Zhou Xiong: “I can’t cook that much food.”

Cheng Yaojin laughed.

“Whatever you cook, we’ll eat. No complaints!”

Zhou Xiong looked at him for three breaths of time.

So unreasonable.

Then he waved his hand.

“Get lost.”

Cheng Yaojin blinked.

Zhou Xiong said, “It’s New Year’s. Don’t stand around annoying me.”

Cheng Yaojin blinked again, then suddenly laughed.

“Alright, alright, we’ll get lost. Anyway, we’re coming on New Year’s Eve!”

He turned around and waved at the others.

“Let’s go, let’s go. He’s chasing us out!”

The group laughed as they left.

At the gate, Qin Qiong turned back and looked at Zhou Xiong.

He didn’t say anything.

Just looked once.

Then he walked out as well.

Their footsteps faded into the distance.

The courtyard fell quiet again.

Zhou Yi stood there, looking at his father.

Zhou Xiong stood at the same spot, still looking toward the gate.

He stared for a long time.

“…So troublesome.”

Then he turned back and continued cleaning the ash.

Zhou Yi couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Dad, are they really coming?”

Zhou Xiong didn’t answer.

Zhou Yi asked again, “Then what do we prepare?”

Still no response.

But Zhou Yi noticed something—his father’s mouth twitched slightly.

Just once.

New Year’s Eve.

Zhou Yi was woken early by his father.

“Split firewood.”

Rubbing his eyes, Zhou Yi looked at the pile of wood in the yard—it was more than twice the usual amount.

His father stood beside it and pointed.

“Finish it.”

Zhou Yi yawned and picked up the axe.

Halfway through chopping, he realized his father was busy inside the house.

Not forging iron—he was in the kitchen, busy with something unknown.

Zhou Yi tried to sneak a look. Just as he reached the doorway, his father spoke without turning around.

“Finished the firewood?”

Zhou Yi immediately shrank back and continued chopping.

Only after finishing all the firewood, stacking it neatly, did he straighten up—his back aching badly.

He looked toward the house again.

His father was still at the stove.

Wearing an apron, sleeves rolled up, holding a kitchen knife, cutting ingredients on the chopping board.

Zhou Yi couldn’t help but walk closer and stand at the doorway.

On the board were several prepared ingredients.

A plate of sliced meat—fat and lean layers arranged neatly.

A bowl of sauce, dark with hints of red; he couldn’t tell what it was made of.

Several vegetables, already cleaned and prepared.

By the time it was nearly dark, the dishes were already set on the table.

A plate of stir-fried meat, a plate of braised fish, a plate of stewed chicken, and several dishes he couldn’t even name.

A rich aroma drifted out.

Zhou Yi froze in place.

That was—

A smell he had never once encountered before.

Zhou Yi stood there, looking at his father.

Zhou Xiong untied his apron and sat down by the table.

“What are you standing there for? Eat.”

Zhou Yi sat down and picked up his chopsticks.

He夹了一块肉 (picked up a piece of meat).

Put it into his mouth.

He froze.

That taste—

He couldn’t describe it.

It was just… good.

Better than the restaurants on the street.

Better than the banquet at Uncle Cheng’s house.

Better than anything he had ever eaten in his life.

He picked up another piece.

And another.

Zhou Xiong, beside him, lifted his wine bowl and took a sip.

Said nothing.

Zhou Yi kept eating with his head down when he suddenly heard movement outside.

Footsteps, voices, laughter all burst together.

“Big Bear! Open the door!”

It was Cheng Yaojin’s voice.

Zhou Yi looked up at his father.

Zhou Xiong didn’t move.

Just took another sip of wine.

The shouting outside grew louder.

“Big Bear! Open the door! Open it!”

Zhou Xiong finally set down his wine bowl.

He stood up, walked over, and opened the door.

A group of people surged in.

Cheng Yaojin led the way, carrying two wine jars. Qin Qiong followed behind, holding a box. Yuchi Gong, Niu Jinda, and several others Zhou Yi couldn’t even name—each of them had something in their hands.

As soon as Cheng Yaojin entered, he started shouting.

“Big Bear, we’ve come to wish you a Happy New Year! Look, we brought—”

He stopped halfway through his sentence.

His eyes locked straight onto the dishes on the table.

Qin Qiong saw them too.

Yuchi Gong saw them too.

The room suddenly went quiet for a moment.

Cheng Yaojin blinked.

“This… you made this?”

He walked closer, looked at the stir-fried meat, then the braised fish, then the stewed chicken.

He raised his head and looked at Zhou Xiong.

“If not me, then who?”

Zhou Xiong shot him a glance.

“If you’re not eating, get out.”

Cheng Yaojin laughed.

He slammed a wine jar onto the table and sat down heavily.

“Eat! Of course I’m eating!”

Qin Qiong also placed his box down and sat by the table.

The others followed, crowding around the table.

Zhou Yi sat there, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable.

This house was usually just him and his father.

Now it was full of people—voices, laughter, chopsticks tapping bowls, all mixing together into a buzzing noise.

He lowered his head and kept eating.

Cheng Yaojin took a bite of meat.

Chewed.

Then froze.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

“Big Bear, your cooking is better than the chefs in our mansion.”

Zhou Xiong ignored him.

Cheng Yaojin took another bite.

“Seriously, I’m not lying. How do you make the meat so tender?”

Still no response.

Qin Qiong smiled faintly beside him and picked up a piece of fish.

“Mmm.”

Just one word.

But that “mm” carried more weight than anything Cheng Yaojin had said.

Zhou Yi could only eat quietly.

These dishes weren’t ordered from a restaurant.

His father had made them.

He had gotten up early, told Zhou Yi to chop firewood, and worked at the stove for half the day.

Zhou Yi glanced at him.

Zhou Xiong sat there holding his wine bowl, listening to Cheng Yaojin brag.

But those eyes—

Zhou Yi couldn’t quite put it into words.

He lowered his head again and kept eating.

He still remembered when they used to live outside the city. New Year’s was just the two of them—dumplings, then sleep early.

He had never imagined New Year could be like this.

So many people. So lively. Such good food.

Suddenly, his eyes felt a little sore.

He didn’t know why.

Just… sore.

He kept his head down and ate, afraid to look up.

Afraid someone would notice.

Cheng Yaojin got drunk quickly, his voice growing louder.

“Big Bear, we’re coming again next year! You better cook more dishes!”

Zhou Xiong glanced at him again.

“Do you really think I’m your cook?”

Cheng Yaojin burst out laughing.

Qin Qiong sat beside him, holding his wine bowl, looking at Zhou Xiong.

He looked for a while.

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

But he lifted his bowl and clinked it gently with Qin Qiong’s.

They both drank.

Zhou Yi watched that motion from the side.

Suddenly felt that the room wasn’t so noisy anymore.

Outside, firecrackers began to go off.

Crackle after crackle, one wave after another.

Inside, everyone kept eating, drinking, talking, laughing.

Zhou Yi picked up the last piece of meat and put it into his mouth.

He chewed.

His mouth curled upward.

And he couldn’t suppress it anymore.

This year… was going to be different.