Chapter 25 New Year's Eve
After the birthday, the Lunar New Year approached. Although Cloud Recesses wasn't as decorated as other homes, it felt a bit more inviting. Plain-colored palace lanterns, unique to the Lan family, hung in the corridors, the sweet aroma of steamed cakes wafted through the kitchen all day, and even the most demanding morning classes ended half an hour early.
Si Zhui followed Wei Wuxian in learning how to cut paper-cuts for paper-cuts. His clumsy scissors poked several holes in the red paper. Wei Wuxian laughed so hard that he collapsed, but he still patiently held his hand and taught him how to turn. "Look, when cutting plum blossoms, you have to keep the sharp corners of the branches. That way, they look more lively."
Lan Wangji sat aside sharpening his sword, occasionally looking up. Seeing that there was some red paper foam on Sizhui's forehead, he handed him a handkerchief with a smile in his eyes.
"Father, why don't you try it too?" Si Zhui held up the broken paper-cuts, his eyes sparkling.
Lan Wangji was about to shake his head when Wei Wuxian grabbed his shoulder and said, "Come on, Lan Zhan, the New Year has to have some festive atmosphere. You can't let Si Zhui think you're a rock that won't warm up." He shoved a pair of scissors into Lan Wangji's hands and said, "Just cut out a rabbit. It's easy."
Lan Wangji had no choice but to pick up the red paper. His fingers were long and slender, and while he held the sword steady as a rock, he was a bit clumsy with the scissors. The rabbit he cut out was crooked and missing an ear.
Si Zhui, however, watched intently and carefully pasted the rabbit paper-cut on the window: "It looks very nice, just like the snowball my father raised."
Wei WuXian laughed so hard he fell backwards. "That's right, just as clueless as ever."
On New Year's Eve, a perpetual candle burned in the quiet room. Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren also stayed, and the five of them gathered around the fire to celebrate the coming of the new year. On the table lay Lan Qiren's handwritten Spring Festival couplets, the ink still wet, the brushstrokes vigorous and powerful. The oranges Lan Xichen had brought piled up like a small mountain, their vibrant yellow color particularly pleasing.
Wei Wuxian peeled oranges for everyone, muttering, "Eat oranges, and you'll have good luck next year." He handed the largest slice to Lan Qiren, "Try it, sir, too. It's very sweet."
Lan Qiren twirled his beard and chewed the orange slowly. He said nothing, but the corners of his mouth relaxed slightly.
At midnight, Lan Wangji took out three red envelopes and gave them to Sizhui, Jin Ling, and Lan Jingyi, who had come to stay up all night. Sizhui opened the red envelopes and found a note inside that read, "You are allowed to skip morning classes in the first month of the year." The handwriting was elegant and elegant, and it was his father's.
"Thank you, father!" Si Zhui's eyes lit up. This was much more economical than money.
Wei WuXian also pulled out three brocade bags containing the amulets he had drawn. "I worked up all night to draw these. They can ward off minor disasters. Keep them close to you."
Lan Jingyi immediately stuffed the brocade bag into his arms: "Thank you, Senior Wei!" Jin Ling also silently accepted it and thanked him in a low voice.
Suddenly, there was a crackling sound outside the window. It was Lan Jingyi secretly setting off small firecrackers. Although not as lively as the ordinary world, it still dispelled the silence of the winter night.
Sizhui leaned against the window, watching the tiny sparks explode in the night sky. Suddenly, an indescribable sense of peace welled up in his heart. He turned to look at the elders by the stove—his father was talking to his uncle, his eyes curved with smiles; his father listened quietly, occasionally refilling his father's cup of hot tea; his great-uncle was holding a scroll, but he wasn't really reading, his gaze fixed on the firelight, a distant look.
It turns out that the so-called reunion is just such a simple picture. There are lights, there is warmth, there are people around, even if there are not many words, it feels solid.
On the first day of the Lunar New Year, Si Zhui accompanied Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to pay New Year's greetings to Lan Qiren. Lan Qiren, wearing a newly made brocade robe, sat in the hall to receive the greetings. In return, he gave Si Zhui a copy of the Nanhua Sutra, with the words "New Year's Progress" inscribed on the title page.
"After the spring, I'll test you on the 'Origin of the Sword Path' I taught you before the New Year." Lan Qiren's tone remained stern, but after Si Zhui agreed, he added, "Don't play around too much."
Coming out of his great uncle's yard, Wei Wuxian smiled and patted Sizhui on the back: "Did you hear that? Your great uncle is worried that you'll have too much fun during the New Year, so he's giving you a reminder." Lan Qiren glanced at Wei Wuxian coldly and didn't care.
Sizhui nodded, the Nanhua Jing in his hand feeling heavy. He knew it wasn't just a book; it held his great-uncle's hidden hope behind his stern words—that in the new year, he would continue to move forward steadily and make the most of his time.
As the spring breeze picked up, the snow in the Cloud Recesses began to melt, and the icicles under the eaves dripped with water, making a tinkling sound. Si Zhui stood in the porch, watching the new green leaves emerge after the red plum blossoms had fallen, and suddenly realized that the so-called long years were nothing more than this, year after year, with the tranquility of winter, the budding of spring, the companionship of family, and the traces of growth, slowly unfolding in the morning light and evening of the Cloud Recesses, gentle and firm.
And his story continues.
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