Chapter 239 Happy Ending
When the last wisp of autumn smoke rose from the kitchen chimney, Fu Yucheng came back from the back mountain carrying half a basket of freshly picked hawthorns.
The red fruits in the basket swayed like a ball of fire, and a few red leaves hung on the branches.
"This hawthorn is enough to make three jars of jam." He placed the basket on the stone table. The sour aroma of hawthorn mixed with the sweetness of pumpkin spread out. "When it snows, spread it on steamed buns. The sour taste will relieve the greasiness."
Nian An came over holding a pumpkin doll in a bamboo basket, rubbed his nose against the hawthorn, and got some red juice on it.
"Red, sweet?" he asked with blinking eyes, the silver longevity lock shining in the pile of hawthorns.
Jiang Jianhua smiled and picked up a hawthorn and stuffed it into his mouth: "Sour at first, then sweet, just like life."
Nian An frowned after chewing two mouthfuls, and stamped his feet because of the sour taste, which made everyone laugh.
Xiaolan came with a rabbit basket on her back to deliver freshly steamed date cakes. The cakes in the basket were steaming, and the sweet fragrance of the red dates wrapped in the steaming white vapor filled her face.
"My mother said today is Frost's Descent, so I need to eat something sweet to warm myself up," she said, placing the basket on the stone table, the bamboo bag of melon seeds dangling beside it. "This is for Nian'an. It's jujube paste mixed with pumpkin seeds."
Yun Tangyin picked up a piece of date cake and praised it: "Your mother's cooking skills are getting better and better. The date paste is as fine as silk."
Zhou Desheng came in carrying a bag of freshly ground cornmeal, the bag still stained with bran from the mill.
"Freshly ground fine flour," he put the bag at the kitchen door, "for the children to make cornmeal. It's smoother than coarse flour."
Jiang Jianhua stuffed a pumpkin bun into his hand and said, "Try this quickly. It goes perfectly with your pickled cucumbers."
Zhou Desheng took a bite and smacked his lips. "It's even more delicious than the ones sold in the shops in town. No wonder my kid keeps talking about it."
Aunt Zhang brought her little grandson to learn how to make pumpkin pancakes. The little guy was holding an uneaten tiger-head steamed bun in his arms, and the yellow residue on the corners of his mouth made him look like a little cat.
"Sister Jianhua, you have to teach me well," Aunt Zhang said, tying on her apron, "otherwise this kid will pester me to come to your house every day."
Jiang Jianhua poured pumpkin puree into the basin: "It's not difficult, just like life, the more you knead it, the more flavor it will have."
Fu Yuanshan placed the woven bamboo plaque in the middle of the threshing ground, and covered it with freshly fried pumpkin seeds, dried sweet potatoes, and hawthorn slices, which looked like a colorful flower carpet.
"This is a snack for the children," he said, covering the plaque with a cloth. "I'll have Desheng take it to town later so that all the relatives can have a taste."
Fu Yucheng squatted beside to help, his fingertips running across the dried pumpkin in the plaque: "This plaque is more regular than the ones you can buy in town."
In the kitchen, Jiang Jianhua was putting the last basket of pumpkin buns into the steamer.
She used red yeast rice to dot the three cracks on the top of the steamed bun, making them look like the blush of a smiling pumpkin.
Song Yushuang added the last handful of firewood to the stove, and the flames shot up, reflecting the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes with a warm light: "Just in time for the heat."
Nian'an squatted on the doorstep holding a pumpkin doll, watching Xiaolan make a bracelet with hawthorn seeds.
The bright red fruit cores were strung together in her hands, like an agate chain.
"Here," Xiaolan put the chain on Nian'an's wrist. "Red and white will look great together when we make snowmen in the winter."
Nian An raised his arms and spun around, the cores on his bracelet dinging against the silver longevity lock, as if he was singing a delicate song.
As the evening glow dyed the locust tree courtyard into honey color, Fu Yuan, the eldest son of the Fu family, walked in with a bag on his back.
There was dust on his blue cloth clothes, and he was holding a paper bag in his hand, which contained candy figures he bought for the children.
"I'm back!" He put down his bag, his eyes full of smiles, like stars. "I can smell the pumpkin fragrance from far away, it's even more tempting than what's written in the letter."
Jiang Jianhua quickly stuffed a hot steamed bun into his hand and said, "Warm yourself up quickly. I've left some soft-boiled eggs for you on the stove."
Fu Yuanzheng took a bite of the steamed bun and smacked his lips. The sweetness of pumpkin mixed with the aroma of wheat spread on his tongue. "Homemade ones are still the best. The delicacies from restaurants outside can't compare to them."
Nian An came close to him holding a pumpkin doll, and the hawthorn seeds on the bracelet jingled: "Uncle, doll, ring."
When the full moon climbed to the top of the locust tree, the table for the reunion dinner was already set up in the center of the courtyard.
The stir-fried pumpkin shreds are shiny with oil, the pumpkin rolls are soft and elastic, the sour aroma of pickled cucumbers is mixed with the crisp sweetness of spinach roots, and in the middle is an old steamed pumpkin with amber-colored dried pumpkin in the flesh.
Fu Yuanshan ladled a spoonful of pumpkin porridge into everyone's bowl: "This porridge has been simmered for two hours. The pumpkin has melted into the soup. Drink it warm and you won't feel cold all winter."
Fu Yuming was peeling hawthorns for Nian An, and the red flesh shone in the moonlight.
"We also grow pumpkins where I study," he stuffed the flesh into Nian'an's mouth, "but they're not as fragrant as the ones my sister-in-law makes."
Jiang Jianhua smiled and put a piece of pumpkin pie into his bowl: "Next spring, I'll pack you a bag of pumpkin seeds and plant them in the backyard of the school. You can pick them whenever you want."
Xiaolan and Aunt Zhang's little grandson were squatting in the corner dividing the date cake. There was still half a piece left in the bamboo rabbit basket, and the two of them were pushing and shoving it into each other's hands.
"You eat it, you are younger than me," Xiaolan stuffed the cake into the little guy's hand, "I have a lot more at home."
The little guy stood on tiptoe and stuffed a piece of food into her mouth: "Grandma said to give in to my sister."
The moonlight fell on their faces, which were covered with sugar residue, like a layer of gold powder.
Fu Yucheng and Zhou Desheng sat on a stone bench drinking, the rice wine in the glasses glowing amber.
"Next spring, I'll plant some pumpkins," Zhou Desheng said, taking a sip of his wine. "I'll ask your family to come over and give us some guidance."
Fu Yucheng smiled and clinked his glasses: "Neighbors, why are you being so polite? I'll teach the children when the time comes. We'll take turns."
Nian'an lay in Jiang Jianhua's arms holding a pumpkin doll, a piece of dried pumpkin in his mouth, and his eyelids gradually drooped.
Jiang Jianhua patted his back gently and watched the moonlight weave a fine web on his face.
"Go to sleep," she whispered. "In your dreams, you'll have endless pumpkin cakes to eat."
Nian An mumbled "sweet" vaguely, and the hawthorn seed bracelet in his little hand slipped to the side of the bamboo basket, making a rustling sound along with the melon seeds in the doll.
The clay pots in the storage room breathe gently in the night. The richness of pumpkin jam, the sweet and sour taste of hawthorn jam, and the salty and fragrant taste of sesame salt mix together to create a reunion flavor unique to Huaiyuan.
Fu Yuanshan covered the pumpkin pile with another layer of straw and watched the moonlight flowing like a river on the orange pumpkin skin. He suddenly remembered that in the spring, these pumpkin seeds would sprout in the soil and grow green vines that would climb all over the fence, just like these days, winding down generation after generation, and the pumpkins they produced would always be sweet.
When the last ray of moonlight passed through the leaves of the locust tree, the steamer in the kitchen was still warm, and the sweet fragrance of pumpkin buns wrapped in the laughter in the yard, spread over the fence, spread over the bluestone road, and spread into every deep dream.
In the dream, there is Nian An chasing butterflies, Xiaolan weaving bamboo baskets, Fu Yuanshan smoking a pipe, Jiang Jianhua steaming buns, and the locust courtyard where dried pumpkins are always drying and the smell of fireworks is wafting in the air.
This is the most perfect form of life, like a steamed old pumpkin with an indelible sweetness hidden in its heart.
What else could Yun Tangyin be dissatisfied with? She was very content.
-End of Text-
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