Grandpa Jiang didn't say a word, content to watch the fun from the sidelines.
Jiang Xia was genuinely sharp, but also genuinely dense.
But he knew to follow his heart.
He followed his heart in being good to An Ning—a kindness that was so subconscious he wasn't even aware of it himself.
By the time the three families finished eating, it was already around three in the afternoon.
At Anning's house, everyone took a nap for a while. Although there would be no electricity that night, they all prepared to uphold the ancestral tradition of keeping a New Year's vigil.
The sky gradually darkened. Around six or seven o'clock, the An family sat gathered in the kitchen. The flickering flames in the stove pit were their only source of light.
An Guoqing took a few bricks and built a small, temporary stove in the center of the kitchen. There was an iron plate on the bottom, with the bricks arranged in a circle on top of it.
