Chapter 56: First Day of the New Year

Jia Lan woke up to a world bathed in gold—the soft kind of morning light that only the first day of the New Year could summon. Her blanket was warm, the pillow perfectly molded to her head, and outside, she could already hear footsteps, laughter, and the clinking of porcelain.

She sat up slowly, hair cascading in half-sleep waves. Her eyes narrowed. If chaos had a soundtrack, it would be a mix of firecracker echoes, Aunt Lin's high-pitched laugh, and my father trying to wrangle a tea tray without dropping anything.

But on the outside, she rose with the grace of a swan. Not a feather ruffled.

She slipped into her pre-planned New Year's outfit: a wine-red, high-collared qipao-inspired wool dress, tailored just enough to whisper sophistication without shouting it. Paired with a cream shawl and fur-trimmed slippers, she looked every bit the image of an elite young lady.

On her way out, she passed her mirror, muttering, "Be elegant. Be calm. Be unbothered. And may no distant cousin bring up marriage or bad poetry today."

Downstairs, the living room had transformed into a social battlefield disguised as a hospitality lounge. The tea set gleamed. Candy dishes were full. The elders were seated like emperors. And Jia Lan's mother was orchestrating it all like a conductor at a Spring Festival concert.

"Lan'er, come greet your Aunt Bai and Uncle Song," her mother called sweetly.

Jia Lan floated in, smile serene. Inside? Screaming. Uncle Song once gave me a puzzle of a goose that was missing a piece. I'm still suspicious.

"Happy New Year," she said warmly, bowing slightly.

"Oh, Lan'er, so grown up and elegant," Aunt Bai gushed, clasping her hands. "We haven't seen you since you were a chubby-cheeked thing nibbling on hawthorn sticks."

Yes, thank you for the forensic reminder of my baby fat, Jia Lan thought, still smiling.

The living room filled with small talk. Elders exchanged stories about medicine prices and which relative's child got promoted in some department. Cousins she didn't recognize much gathered in corners with their own little groups, gossiping about their schools or dance rehearsals.

Jia Lan's younger cousin—a girl of about thirteen—watched her like one might watch a particularly elegant swan. Finally, she sidled over.

"Sister Jia Lan, is it true that you work at the Youth Arts Bureau? That sounds like such a powerful place. Do you have to paint all the time?"

"I do very little painting," Jia Lan said, sipping her tea. "Mostly dodging ink spills and bureaucratic nonsense with a smile."

The cousin blinked. "Huh?"

Jia Lan just smiled sweetly. "It's very elegant nonsense."

Later, the aunt who helped care for the grandparents came in, announcing tea had been refilled and the sesame cakes warmed. Jia Lan took the chance to retreat to the garden for a breath of calm.

Outside, red lanterns swayed gently in the wind, the crisp air tingling against her cheeks. She walked to the plum tree by the back gate, her steps deliberate.

She whispered, "System, your ladyship is ready."

Daily Check-In Complete!

2,000 yuan

Assorted imported chocolates

College Entrance Exam Mock Papers (Advanced Level)

Jia Lan's eyes gleamed. Mock papers?! What's next, a whole prep course in a box? But her outer face remained as blank and delicate as snow.

She snuck the items into her room quickly. Chocolates were hidden in a drawer, mock papers stacked neatly in her study folder. When she rejoined the living room, the scene had evolved.

Her second brother Jia Wei was now deep in discussion with Uncle Song about tea varieties, while Aunt Bai leaned toward Jia Mother.

"You're so lucky, Sister. Your daughter is so competent. And that aura... so refined."

"Oh, she's just obedient," her mother said with a small smile.

Obedient? Mother, I made three exit strategies this morning in case someone brought out an ancient matchmaking scroll.

Xu Li walked in with fresh orange slices for everyone. "Lan'er, help me give these around?"

"Of course," Jia Lan said, standing up and immediately being roped into pouring more tea.

"I'm starting to think I'm the unpaid waitress of this family gathering," she muttered under her breath, balancing a tray.

"You're graceful," Xu Li said, winking. "That's what you get for being the face of the family."

"Remind me to charge per smile."

Suddenly, the door opened and the house stirred again. "Ruiyu-jie is here!" someone called from the hallway.

Jia Lan turned, and sure enough, her eldest sister Jia Ruiyu walked in, carrying a delicate lacquered box, followed closely by her husband Zhou Heng, who held a beautifully wrapped paper bag. Jia Ruiyu, ever elegant, wore a tailored indigo cheongsam under her cream coat, her demeanor calm and artistic as ever.

"Happy New Year, everyone," she greeted softly, kissing her mother on the cheek and greeting each elder one by one. Zhou Heng followed suit, bowing politely. "Uncle, Aunt, Grandfather, Grandmother."

"Ruiyu, you've brought so many gifts!" Mother exclaimed, motioning for the helper to take them.

"They're not much," Ruiyu replied. "Just some teas, books, and health supplements."

Zhou Heng added with a polite smile, "And a new calligraphy set for Father Jia."

Father Jia looked pleased. "You've always been thoughtful."

Jia Lan greeted them with a bright smile. "Ruiyu-jie, you look like a painting. Brother-in-law, are you still surviving my sister's tea critique sessions?"

Ruiyu raised an eyebrow elegantly. "He enjoys them. Don't you, Heng?"

Zhou Heng laughed. "I now dream in oolong."

The room filled with laughter.

As evening approached, the elders settled into storytelling. Grandfather recounted an exaggerated tale of a village chicken that outran a train.

"It wasn't a chicken, Father," Jia Mother said, laughing. "It was a goat."

"A minor detail," he huffed. "The point was the animal had heart!"

Laughter echoed in the room, broken only by the occasional firecracker crackling outside.

When most guests had left, and only the inner family remained, Jia Lan retired to her room. She pulled out the system mock papers, flipping through the first set.

Her eyes narrowed. "So this is how you want me to suffer, System? Fine. I'll rise. But I'll complain about it."

She pulled her desk lamp closer, arranged her pen, and got to work.

About thirty minutes later, there was a knock. Her mother entered with a cup of warm chrysanthemum tea.

"Lan'er, don't push yourself. There's time."

"I'm just… preparing early," Jia Lan said.

Her mother sat on the bed, watching her. "You've always been like this. Focused. Sharp. But remember—you don't need to be everything all at once."

Jia Lan looked at her, a soft smile on her lips. "I know. But I want to be ready."

Her mother gently patted her head. "Then study well. But sleep better."

As her mother left, Jia Lan took a long sip of the tea. The warmth bloomed in her chest.

This world isn't perfect. But with family like this, it's worth every single effort.

Outside, fireworks glittered again. Jia Lan returned to her desk, more determined than ever.

Tomorrow would bring another celebration, more food, more joy—and perhaps more subtle battles of words. But tonight? Tonight was hers.

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