Chapter 42:Winter Wind, Fried Lotus, and the Fire of Kindness

The wind had teeth that morning.

It bit gently, politely, like a cold reminder that winter had quietly arrived. Jia Lan adjusted her wool scarf and stepped out into the courtyard with her usual grace, boots clicking against polished stone. The ginkgo trees had nearly shed their leaves, and the sky was as pale as porcelain.

From the veranda, Grandmother Jia was already awake, sipping wolfberry tea.

"Wrap your scarf again, Lanlan," she said without lifting her eyes from her book. "The wind has no conscience today."

"I've got more layers than a diplomat at peace talks," Jia Lan replied, smiling.

Jia Zhe leaned out the door, chewing on a sweet bun. "More attitude than layers, I think."

She swished past him, elegant and amused. "Thank you for your input, civilian."

---

📺 At the Bureau

The Youth Arts Bureau was calm, even sleepy, like the hush between snowfall and shoveling. Jia Lan sat gracefully at her desk with a stack of sketches and brushwork in front of her. The winter-themed slogans she was designing included messages like: "Warm Hearts, Warm Homes" and "Every Hand Makes Spring Closer."

"Your handwriting has improved again," said Wang Fei, glancing over.

Jia Lan tilted her head. "Of course. I'm powered by flattery and wolfberry tea."

Sister Li swept in, her cheeks red from the cold. "Lanlan, save me. I need your scarf and three dumplings."

"I can spare the scarf. The dumplings are classified."

"Heartless," Sister Li gasped, throwing her coat on a chair.

"Efficient," Jia Lan replied with a wink.

There was idle talk of the spring exhibition, which might happen early if weather allowed. Wang Fei mentioned the director's niece who was applying for a poster design job. Jia Lan simply nodded, her brush dancing.

She liked this rhythm: quiet, tidy, productive.

Later that morning, they were visited by a retired calligraphy master who reviewed everyone's drafts for the Bureau's seasonal campaign. Jia Lan respectfully offered tea, her demeanor polished and warm.

"You have the strokes of a scholar," the old master said. "Refined but decisive."

Jia Lan gave a modest smile. "Only because I've had good examples."

When lunch break arrived, Wang Fei invited her to join the team for dumplings, but she politely declined.

"I promised Mother I'd pick up sesame paste," she said. "And she takes her paste very seriously."

Wang Fei chuckled. "You're the most dutiful daughter in the Bureau."

---

🍜 A Gift on the Way Home

By afternoon, the cold deepened. Jia Lan bought a parcel of black sesame pastries from a vendor near the stone bridge. The seller handed her an extra roll.

"Is it my good looks or pity for my frozen fingers?" she asked.

"Both," the vendor laughed. "You city girls are all frostbitten roses this time of year."

On her way home, she passed a pair of young students giggling in the snow, writing characters with twigs on the pavement. The sight filled her with quiet joy.

"This world," she murmured, "is still full of warmth."

---

🫖 A Royal Homecoming

The Jia household was lively and warm. In the kang room, Xu Li lay curled in a shawl with a heat pack tucked under her feet. Three months pregnant, she was being treated like royalty. The family had swung into doting chaos: Grandmother Jia checked her pulse daily, Mother Lin forbade all spicy or cold foods, and even Jia Wei hovered like an anxious butler.

"Your pulse is steady," Grandmother said, rechecking. "No candied haw for you. And no standing for more than ten minutes."

Xu Li groaned. "I'm pregnant, not bedridden."

"You're the vessel of our legacy," Jia Wei said solemnly, balancing a bowl of soup. "You will sit like an empress and accept it."

"You're being dramatic," Jia Zhe muttered.

"I'm always dramatic," he replied.

Jia Lan walked in, scarf unwrapped. "Evening, comrades. What royal decree today?"

"No pickles, no climbing stairs, and mandatory foot massages," Xu Li deadpanned.

"The revolution has softened," Jia Lan said, handing over the pastries.

---

🍲 Kitchen Chatter

Before dinner, Jia Lan helped Mother Lin in the kitchen. They cleaned lotus roots, ground sesame, and discussed neighborhood gossip.

"Did you hear? Auntie Zhao's son got promoted."

"Again? He must be collecting ranks like stamps."

Mother Lin smiled. "He's always been clever. But he doesn't have your handwriting."

"If calligraphy could get me out of washing dishes, I'd be a general by now."

They both laughed.

---

🍵 Letters and Legacy

Dinner was comforting: fried lotus root, pumpkin congee, scallion pancakes, and wonton soup. Jia Lan helped Mother Lin set the table while her brothers argued over whose handwriting was worse.

Midway through, Grandfather Jia entered with an envelope.

"Letter from the south," he said, sitting with a sigh.

Everyone grew quiet.

"Comrade Sun's daughter wrote. He passed last month. They're struggling."

Father Jia straightened. "We can send something."

"Already have. But I'm planning more. Food parcels. Coal. Quiet charity."

Mother Lin nodded. "Keep it dignified."

Grandfather Jia took a slow sip of his soup and added, "Sun was with me during the mountain campaign. He carried me when I was shot, never once hesitated, even when the snow was waist-deep. He never asked for favors. Just a fair chance for his family."

Jia Zhe looked up. "We should visit them one day."

"We will," Grandfather said, voice gruff. "But let them grieve first."

Jia Lan glanced at her grandfather's hands—weathered, scarred, steady.

True nobility isn't loud, she thought. It gives without needing applause.

She offered, "I can help track the parcels."

Grandfather smiled faintly. "That would help. You've always been thoughtful, Lanlan."

"I'm just trying to keep up with the family's example."

"You're not just keeping up," he said. "You're building on it."

---

🙉 Beneath the Smile

As the family laughed and shared dessert, Jia Lan sat with serene grace.

Liu Fenfang and Shen Yimin thought this family was just a ladder, she thought. How foolish.

To treat kindness as a weakness is their biggest mistake.

She sipped her tea and smiled, hiding the steel beneath her poise.

Let them try again. This time, we won't be polite.

---

🍃 Fireside Banter

After dinner, they gathered around the brazier. Jia Wei tried to braid Jia Lan's hair and ended up tangled.

"You're a disgrace," Jia Zhe said.

"I'm a visionary," he replied. "This is modern art."

Xu Li chuckled. "Your child will be born into chaos."

"At least it'll be warm chaos," Jia Lan said.

Grandmother sighed, setting down her knitting. "I never imagined this house would be so full of noise and love."

Grandfather added, "We built it for moments like this."

Xu Li leaned into her pillow, cheeks rosy. "You make it easy to feel at home."

Jia Lan smiled softly. "This is the kind of warmth people spend lifetimes searching for."

---

❄️ Winter's Edge

Later that night, Jia Lan stood by the frosty window. Moonlight dusted the courtyard.

Inside: warmth, laughter, family.

Outside: a cold world shifting slowly.

> This family isn't a stepping stone. It's a fortress.

And she would protect it with everything she had.