Chapter Seven: Steaming Hot Dumplings

“Qianqian is almost asleep. Let’s carry her to the bed,” Lin Yanbei whispered.

Lin Wenyan gently picked up Lin Sangqian and laid her on the bed. In fact, the other two rooms only had earthen kangs, while this room had a small bed. Before they arrived, apart from Lin Hongda, the whole family doted on Lin Sangqian, so this room was given to her.

After settling her on the bed, Lin Wenyan pulled over the worn quilt and tucked her in. Lin Sangqian wanted to say something, but her body wouldn’t obey her, and she slipped immediately into sleep.

The others tiptoed out of the room.

After washing the dishes, Lin Hongda walked out of the kitchen and saw Lin Wenyan standing in the courtyard, as if waiting for him.

“Son,” Lin Hongda put on an ingratiating smile at once, “Is there something you want from me?”

Lin Wenyan stared at him coldly for a moment before asking, “What exactly are you after?”

“Huh?” Lin Hongda was taken aback. “After? What do you mean?”

“You suddenly being so warm to Mother and little sister, and even helping out with chores on your own accord—such a thing is simply impossible!” Lin Wenyan declared, his tone resolute.

Lin Hongda was speechless.

How deep a shadow had his former self cast on his son’s heart?

After a moment’s thought, he spoke sincerely, “Wenyan, I know I was worthless before. But when I passed out drunk in the wild today, it was as if I suddenly woke up. I realized I can’t just muddle through life any longer, nor can I neglect my wife and children.”

He sighed. “Maybe you won’t believe me now, but I promise you, I’ll live properly from now on. I won’t touch alcohol again. I’ll protect your mother and your sister, and I’ll look after you and your brothers too.”

Lin Hongda’s words left Lin Wenyan stunned.

Was this really his good-for-nothing, drunken father? He seemed like a different man.

And yet, it was clearly the same person—his appearance and voice unchanged...

“Wenyan, come inside,” Lin Hongda said kindly. “The wind’s picking up tonight—don’t catch a chill.”

Lin Wenyan finally came to himself and said in a low voice, “All right, I’ll believe you one more time. But if you ever hurt Mother or little sister again, I’ll never acknowledge you as my father!”

With that, he turned and went inside.

A gust of wind blew past, making Lin Hongda shiver.

That brat—he was only fifteen, but when he got serious, his presence was truly intimidating...

…

Because everyone went to bed early, Lin Sangqian woke up early the next morning.

She stretched lazily, looked at the patched quilt covering her, and sighed. The quilt was clean, but riddled with large holes—a sure sign it had been used for many years.

This family was truly poor.

Though she now had the system space, the things inside were not free for the taking.

Remembering that her brothers would be heading back to the restaurant in town that morning, Lin Sangqian jumped off the bed, washed up simply, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Yesterday, she had deliberately set aside a piece of chicken breast and half a bundle of baby bok choy, intending to make dumplings for breakfast.

She deftly chopped the vegetables and cooked the meat, mincing the filling and adding various seasonings. She took a taste with her chopsticks.

Hmm, her skills never failed her.

She began kneading the dough. Halfway through, Liao Shuxia came in and helped her. The two of them made fifty dumplings together.

When the water boiled, they dropped the dumplings in. The plump, white dumplings tumbled enticingly in the pot.

Just as the dumplings were almost done, Lin Hongda and the three brothers got up.

They came to help carry the dumplings back into the house. Lin Hongda volunteered to wash the pot and brought over six bowls of dumpling broth.

Each of the four men got ten dumplings, while Lin Sangqian and Liao Shuxia, with smaller appetites, had five each.

Though there wasn’t much meat or vegetable, making the dumplings small, the rich flavor made up for all shortcomings.

The chicken and bok choy filling, wrapped in translucent skins, burst with delicious broth at the first bite—flavor blooming in the mouth.

After eating the dumplings, a bowl of hot dumpling broth warmed them to the core.

It was early spring. To have such a meal before leaving home—nothing could be more satisfying.

After finishing their broth, the three brothers sat with their empty bowls, reluctant to leave.

They truly didn’t want to go, but working at the restaurant meant three fewer mouths to feed at home, and if they could earn wages, it would help the family.

The three sighed in unison, set down their bowls, and prepared to leave.

Lin Beitao patted Lin Sangqian’s head and said gently, “Little sister, listen to Mother at home, all right? Next time I come back, I’ll bring you something delicious.”

“Mm!” Lin Sangqian nodded obediently, then added earnestly, “Brothers, just endure a bit longer. Soon you won’t have to work at that heartless place anymore.”

Her childlike words were not taken seriously by the three brothers.

Lin Hongda and his wife, together with Lin Sangqian, escorted the brothers to the gate. After their farewells, Lin Wenyan glanced at Lin Hongda.

“Remember what you said last night.”

Lin Hongda nodded quickly. Lin Wenyan ruffled Lin Sangqian’s hair, then left.

Watching their figures disappear at the end of the road, the three remaining family members turned back inside.

“Mom, I had an idea last night,” Lin Sangqian said. “Since you’re so skilled at embroidery, maybe you could earn money with it here!”

At these words, Liao Shuxia slapped her thigh. “That’s right! Why didn’t I think of that?”

In the modern world, Liao Shuxia’s favorite pastime was embroidering while watching dramas.

Though it was just a hobby, Lin Sangqian had once seen her mother’s work by chance—truly exquisite.

Perhaps now it could fetch a good price.

“And Dad, you could teach people taekwondo. Just call it martial arts, and charge tuition fees.”

Lin Hongda’s eyes lit up, but then he drooped. “But in this little mountain village, who would want to learn martial arts?”

Their village, Shuangji, was small, with only fifty or so households. Most were farmers or carpenters, and none needed martial arts.

“It won’t work here; you’d have to open a martial arts school in town or the city, where there are more people,” Lin Sangqian said, frowning. “But we don’t have the capital right now.”

“That’s right, we don’t even have supplies for embroidery at home,” Liao Shuxia added.

Lin Sangqian’s eyes darted. “I have an idea!”

The three of them put their heads together and began whispering.