Time passed quickly, and Han Feng's injuries gradually healed. It was December 31st. Outside Villa No. 01 in Kyoto Huafu, the snow in the courtyard was swept to both sides, revealing a clean stone path.
Liu Xiaoran said to his younger sister, "Mengran, are you really not coming back with me?"
Liu Mengran brushed a strand of hair from her temple: "Brother, I already promised them I'd spend New Year's Eve with them today. Besides, didn't Han Feng invite you too?"
Liu Xiaoran smiled and said, "Isn't today a family reunion? If I don't go back, the old man will probably fly into a rage again."
Liu Mengran stuck out her tongue: "Then I'm sorry to trouble you."
"Alright, you can go in now. I'll talk to the family. I'll be going now." With that, Liu Xiaoran got into the car. The taillights flashed by at the corner, and Liu Mengran stood in front of the door, her breath dissipating quickly in the cold air.
She looked down at her fingertips and gently pressed them onto the fingerprint scanner. A soft "beep" rang out, and the door unlocked. This was the fingerprint Han Feng had forced her to register last time; the warmth of his hand seemed to still linger on her wrist. "You come here often anyway, so it saves me from having to open the door every time," he said matter-of-factly, and she couldn't find a reason to refuse.
The warmth of the indoor heating wafted in, mingled with the aroma of food and the faint sounds of laughter. Liu Mengran took off her down jacket and hung it in the entryway, only to find several familiar coats already hanging on the coat rack: Eiffel Tower's oversized military green coat, Su Wanwan's bright red short down jacket, and Wang Hao's perpetually wrinkled denim jacket.
"Sister Mengran is here!"
Su Wanwan's voice came from the living room, accompanied by the clicking of game console buttons. Liu Mengran walked around the entryway screen and saw Su Wanwan and Wang Hao sitting cross-legged on the carpet, engaged in a fierce battle in front of the large screen TV. Su Wanwan turned her head and grinned at her, her hands moving non-stop, her character on the screen executing a beautiful combo that sent Wang Hao's character flying.
"Lost again!" Wang Hao wailed, throwing down the controller. "This is the seventh game already!"
Liu Mengran smiled as she walked towards the kitchen. The closer she got, the stronger the aroma of the food became. Pushing open the semi-transparent glass door, the heat instantly blurred her vision. As she took off her glasses to wipe them, she heard Han Feng's voice:
"Salt! Quick! The pot's going to dry out!"
"Here you go!" Qin Chuan hurriedly handed over the spice jar, "You turned the heat up too high, didn't you?"
"Stir-frying only makes it fragrant when cooked over high heat." Han Feng didn't even turn his head, his wok-tossing movements as skillful as a professional chef. The flames on the stove leaped half a meter high, illuminating his sharply defined profile.
Liu Mengran put on her glasses and then noticed a tall, imposing figure in the kitchen. Iron Tower and Night Owl were clumsily making dumplings at the table. Iron Tower was holding a strangely shaped dough ball in his large, fan-like hands, while Night Owl was solemnly shaping the edges of the dumplings, as if he were dismantling some kind of sophisticated bomb.
"Pfft..." Liu Mengran couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Han Feng then noticed her presence, his eyes lighting up: "You're here?" He turned down the stove, wiped his hands with his apron, and asked, "Where's your brother?"
"I went home to visit my elders." Liu Mengran approached the kitchen counter and saw several finished dishes already laid out. "Do you need any help?"
Before Han Feng could speak, Qin Chuan interrupted, "Great! Quick, save these dumplings!" He pointed to the oddly shaped pile of dough in front of the Eiffel Tower, "If this keeps up, we'll only have noodle soup tonight."
The tower, looking aggrieved, held up a creation that could barely be identified as a dumpling: "I really tried my best..."
Liu Mengran rolled up her sleeves, revealing her slender wrists. She picked up a dumpling wrapper, scooped out the filling, moistened it with water, and pinched it closed—her movements were fluid and graceful. Ten seconds later, a perfect crescent-shaped dumpling appeared in her palm.
"Wow!" Eiffel Tower's eyes widened. "This craftsmanship!"
"I used to learn these things a lot when I was little," Liu Mengran smiled, picking up another piece of leather. "I'll teach you, starting with the simplest fold..."
Han Feng watched this scene, a smile unconsciously creeping onto his lips. He turned back to continue stirring the vegetables in the pan, when he heard Liu Mengran ask softly:
"Your injuries...are they all healed?"
The spatula paused on the wok for half a second. "Hmm." Han Feng didn't turn around, but his voice softened. "Thanks..."
"I know." Liu Mengran interrupted him, seemingly unwilling to mention those secrets in front of everyone. "That's good."
The kitchen was filled only with the sizzling sound of ingredients being added to the pot and the laughter of the group. Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened, and the city lights in the distance lit up one by one, adding to the atmosphere of the upcoming New Year's Eve.
"Dinner's ready!" An hour later, Han Feng brought out the last dish, golden squirrel-shaped mandarin fish. The long table was already filled with various dishes: Qin Chuan's specialty, red wine braised beef; the fruit salad that Su Wanwan insisted on making; two large plates of dumplings that Tita and Night Owl completed under Liu Mengran's guidance; and seven or eight hot dishes that Han Feng had carefully prepared.
"This is too lavish!" Wang Hao's eyes widened. "Can I stay here until the Spring Festival?"
"Dream on." Su Wanwan slapped away his chopsticks as they reached for the fish. "We have to toast before we can eat!"
Han Feng took several bottles of liquor from the cabinet: "Red, white, and beer—take your pick."
"I want champagne!" Su Wanwan raised her hand. "How can we celebrate New Year's Eve without champagne!"
"You're such a busybody." Han Feng shook his head with a smile, but still took out a bottle of champagne that he had prepared beforehand from the refrigerator and opened it with a "bang".
Golden liquor was poured into slender stemmed glasses, the bubbles sparkling like crushed diamonds under the light. A group of people gathered around the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the countdown begin on the distant television tower.
"Ten, nine, eight..." Su Wanwan started counting.
Liu Mengran stood beside Han Feng, her champagne glass swaying slightly in her hand. Through the glass, she saw the city lights and the sharply defined profile of the person beside her.
"Three, two, one—Happy New Year!"
Amid cheers, glasses clinked together, producing a crisp sound. Han Feng turned to Liu Mengran: "Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year." She responded softly. Amidst the laughter filling the room, their eyes met briefly before quickly looking away.
Outside the window, the first firework burst into bloom in the night sky, illuminating everyone's smiling faces. At this moment, the gene warriors, the system missions, and the life-or-death crisis all temporarily faded away, leaving only the most ordinary warmth and joy.
Han Feng took a sip of champagne. The slight tingling sensation of the bubbles bursting on his tongue made him feel like it was all unreal. But at this moment, Liu Mengran was standing within reach, safe and sound, smiling radiantly. That was enough.
"What are you daydreaming about?" Liu Mengran clinked her glass against his. "Time to eat dumplings. We can't leave any of the ones I made."
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