The lanterns of the Lantern Festival still swayed under the eaves of the Hongqi Production Brigade, their crimson glow reflecting the remaining snow, blending the lingering warmth of the New Year into the crisp spring breeze. In Lin Wanqiu's courtyard, however, there was no longer any leisure. The villagers from the sideline production group gathered under a makeshift wooden shed, watching the dough flying in her hands, their eyes full of anticipation—ever since bringing back the supply contract from the county supply and marketing cooperative on the eve of the Lunar New Year, Lin Wanqiu had been busy preparing for mass production of pastries, and now the day to start had finally arrived.

In the center of the wooden shed stood four large earthenware jars, each containing sifted refined white flour, fragrant roasted sesame seeds, peeled mung bean paste, and pitted jujube paste—all prepared three days in advance by Lin Wanqiu and the villagers. She had specially taken out a modern food scale from her spatial storage, covering the base with a red cloth, revealing only the dial, explaining to outsiders that it was a "precise measuring tool specially approved by the county supply and marketing cooperative." At that moment, she stood before the work surface, holding a bamboo scraper, dividing the kneaded dough into even pieces, her movements as swift and efficient as a stage performer: "The dough for peach shortbread must be kneaded until it's 'three-smooth'—smooth in the bowl, smooth in the dough, and smooth on your hands—so that it will bake into a crisp but not crumbly texture."

Aunt Li, wearing a newly made blue cloth apron, held a ceramic basin in her hands and carefully added lard to the dough: "Wanqiu, you have to keep a close eye on the amount of lard. We can't make it like last time when we added half a spoonful too much and almost made the peach crisps bitter." She still remembered the first time she learned to make pastries with Lin Wanqiu, she added too much because she was nervous and felt heartbroken for a long time looking at the burnt peach crisps. Now, when she tried it again, she was extra careful with every step.

Lin Wanqiu smiled and nodded, taking the earthenware basin and carefully examining the lard with a spoon. "Don't worry, Auntie, this time we'll follow the ratio. For every ten catties of flour, we'll use three catties of lard. Not a penny less." As she spoke, she spread the lard evenly on the dough, the flour on her fingertips gleaming delicately in the sunlight. "When we make food, we're all about being honest and practical. We can't cut corners just to make money, or we'll ruin the reputation of our Red Flag Production Brigade."

Not far away, by the stove, Shen Tingzhou was adding firewood to the large iron furnace. The firelight made his face flushed, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He had specially asked the village blacksmith to make four tiered iron baking trays. At this moment, he was placing the first tray of raw peach shortbread dough into the furnace, his movements as gentle as if he were handling a fragile treasure: "The heat should be high at first and then low. Use a high heat for the first baking to set the shape of the pastry, and then turn to a low heat to slowly bake it. This way, the surface of the peach shortbread will develop beautiful cracks, and the inside will not be undercooked."

Nian'an ran over with his little schoolbag on his back and a small notebook in his hand, on which numbers were written in crooked pencil: "Mom, I've counted. Today we need to make a total of 200 catties of peach shortbread, 150 catties of sesame cake, 100 catties of mung bean cake, and 100 catties of jujube paste cake, which is just enough for the supply and marketing cooperative's order!" Ever since he went to the county town with her last time, he had taken the initiative to take on the job of "bookkeeper," calculating the amount of raw materials needed in advance every day, his little face full of seriousness.

Lin Wanqiu squatted down and helped her son tidy his wind-blown bangs, her eyes full of tenderness: "Nian'an is really my little helper, he's even better at accounting than your father." As she spoke, she winked at Shen Tingzhou, which made Shen Tingzhou smile helplessly—ever since her son began to show his mathematical talent, Lin Wanqiu always liked to tease him about it.

The villagers laughed along, and the atmosphere in the wooden shed instantly became lively. Uncle Zhang was in charge of taking the baked peach shortbread out of the oven. As soon as he opened the oven door, a rich aroma wafted out. The golden peach shortbread was sprinkled with a few white sesame seeds, and the cracks looked like blooming flower petals, making one's mouth water. He couldn't resist picking up a piece, blowing on it to cool it down, and then popping it into his mouth. The crisp texture exploded on his tongue, and the sweet but not cloying taste was unforgettable: "Goodness! These peach shortbreads are even better than the ones sold in the pastry shops in the county town. We're sure to sell out this time!"

Lin Wanqiu quickly stopped him: "Uncle, this is for supplying goods, you can't eat it first." Even so, she still picked up a piece of cooled peach shortbread and handed it to Nian'an, "Here, try your mother's cooking and see if it's improved since last time."

Nian'an took the peach shortbread and ate it in small bites, his eyes sparkling: "Mom, this one is even better! It's crispier than last time, and the sweetness is just right, not greasy at all!" As he spoke, he held the peach shortbread to Shen Tingzhou's lips, "Dad, you should try some too, Mom's peach shortbread is the best in the world!"

Shen Tingzhou took a bite; the warm, flaky pastry melted in his mouth, the aroma of sesame mingling with the rich flavor of lard—it was indeed superior to the trial version. Watching Lin Wanqiu's busy figure, he felt a surge of pride—this woman always managed to create surprising miracles in seemingly ordinary days. From initially struggling to survive with her son to now leading her fellow villagers in developing sideline businesses, she had used her own hands to gradually transform their lives into something beautiful.

Busy times always fly by, and before we knew it, evening had arrived. The setting sun shone through the gaps in the wooden shed, turning the flour on the ground golden, and the air was filled with the aroma of pastries, even the wind seemed sweet. The villagers had already sorted the finished pastries into bamboo baskets lined with oil paper, twenty large baskets in total, piled up in the yard like a small mountain.

Lin Wanqiu wiped the sweat from her brow, looking at the results before her, her heart filled with a sense of accomplishment: "Everyone has worked hard today. Tomorrow morning, we'll use a horse-drawn cart to deliver the pastries to the county supply and marketing cooperative, and try our best to satisfy Director Wang." She took out some brown sugar that she had prepared earlier from the house and distributed a packet to each villager. "This is the first benefit for our sideline business group. The better we do in the future, the more benefits we will receive."

The villagers accepted the brown sugar, their faces beaming with smiles. Aunt Li, holding the brown sugar, her eyes slightly red, said, "Wanqiu, if it weren't for you leading us to this side business, we would never have imagined we could earn money making pastries. Don't worry, we'll definitely work hard for you from now on and never hold you back!"

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