Chapter 57: Morning Lights

The sun peeked through gauzy white curtains, scattering golden rays across Jia Lan's polished floors. It was the second day of the New Year, and the Jia residence had come alive with the warm hum of contentment and mild chaos.

Jia Lan stirred under her quilt. In her mind, she was already giving a dramatic inner monologue:

Oh look, another glorious morning. Makes me want to nap forever.

But her body, ever disciplined, slipped out from the covers. She tied her robe with delicate precision and padded to the mirror to check her hair. As expected—gloriously messy. She sighed and began her morning routine with the resigned elegance of someone preparing for battle.

Dressed in a soft lilac woolen blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt, with a pair of ivory knit socks and indoor slippers, she looked like the very image of winter grace. On her vanity, she dabbed a hint of peach oil behind her ears. Elegance must be maintained—even if I want to scream into the dumpling steamer.

By the time she made it downstairs, the living room was filled with sounds of clinking bowls, firecrackers outside, and her grandfather's booming voice recounting some questionable war tale.

"It was the size of a dog, I tell you! A mountain chicken! And it chased that soldier all the way to the latrines!"

Jia Ruiyu rolled her eyes, sipping tea beside Zhou Heng. "You said last year it was a goose."

"Details change, the heart of the story remains!" Grandfather huffed.

The breakfast table was groaning under the weight of delicacies. Steamed dumplings, sugar-glazed fried balls, sweet rice cakes, and a thermos of piping hot eight-treasure porridge.

"Lan'er, come eat. Your brothers are eating like they've been starved," Jia Mother called.

"They're always like this," Jia Lan muttered as she took her seat, gracefully plucking up a dumpling.

Xu Li smiled as she arranged pickled vegetables beside her bowl. "They say pregnancy gives you cravings. Watching them eat makes me hungry too."

Jia Zhe immediately handed her another bowl. "Eat more. I'll make you another batch later."

Zhou Heng chuckled. "I should take notes."

"Too late," Jia Ruiyu teased. "You're still behind on dumpling folding."

Zhou Heng raised a hand. "Guilty as charged."

The room buzzed with laughter and family chatter. Jia Lan leaned back slightly, letting the warmth soak into her.

But before long, the system's familiar chime echoed softly in her mind:

Daily Check-In Complete!

Traditional embroidered hand warmer

Poetry scrolls by Tang Dynasty poets

Really, System? Are you trying to make me a cultural relic? Jia Lan thought, amused.

She excused herself briefly and retreated to her room, slipping the scrolls and hand warmer into her desk drawer. She traced the delicate embroidery on the hand warmer—a phoenix chasing a red sun. Intricate. Rare. Warm.

Back in the living room, Jia Ruiyu was pouring tea while Xu Li laughed over Jia Wei's retelling of how he once lost his shoe in a frozen pond during a New Year dare.

"The way he screamed!" Jia Wei mimicked himself. "Like a goose giving birth!"

"Don't insult geese," Jia Lan said dryly, rejoining them. "They have dignity."

The others burst out laughing.

Later that afternoon, the idea of taking a New Year family photo surfaced. This sent everyone into a flurry of self-adjustments—combing hair, changing scarves, arguing over coat colors.

"Lan'er, fix your brother's collar," Jia Mother instructed.

"Which one? The one who combed his hair with a fork or the one who used my mirror for beard inspection?"

Both Jia Wei and Jia Zhe groaned while everyone laughed.

As they gathered in front of the red-papered wall with calligraphy couplets, Grandmother Jia said warmly, "What a beautiful family. Look at all of you. Just being here, healthy, together—that's the real blessing."

Even Jia Lan, who had a thousand sarcastic thoughts for every moment, paused. Her heart softened.

She stood between her brothers, smiled for the photo, and thought, In a life full of chaos, this is the kind of peace I want to protect.

That evening, after the photo and another round of tea and sweet rice dumplings, she sat by her desk again. Her lamp cast a warm glow as she pulled out her new system-generated mock test papers.

Tang poetry and mock exams in the same day. System, you're really sending me through dynasties today.

As she scribbled down a few answers, her mother came in with a soft knock, carrying a small porcelain cup.

"Tea. To keep you warm."

Jia Lan took it, touched by the warmth. "Thank you, Mother."

Her mother lingered by the door. "Lan'er, I know you've been working hard. But don't forget—you're still young. It's alright to rest sometimes."

"I will," Jia Lan promised, offering a serene smile.

As the night deepened, outside firecrackers sounded again in celebration.

Inside, Jia Lan smiled to herself, warm hands cradling tea, poetry scrolls to her left, exam papers to her right.

The New Year had begun—with poetry, food, laughter, and the quiet strength of family.

Just as she was preparing to tidy up for bed, her parents joined her in the study. Jia Father sat on the arm of the nearby couch while Jia Mother gently brushed Jia Lan's hair.

"Did I ever tell you how I met your mother?" Father Jia asked, his eyes glinting with a rare softness.

Jia Lan turned, curiosity piqued. "No, but I have a feeling it's going to be dramatic."

"It was," Jia Mother said with a laugh. "He was a stubborn fool even back then."

Father Jia smiled, fondness shining in his expression. "She was clever, bold, and had a heart too big for her own good. I knew the first time I saw her argue with the market inspector over a widow's rice ration that I was done for."

"She told me off in front of the entire food line," he added.

"And he still followed me home like a lost puppy," Jia Mother teased.

"I would've fought the world to have her," Father Jia said quietly. "And I still would. She's my person."

Jia Lan blinked, warmth rising in her chest.

"We hope," her mother said softly, smoothing a hand over her daughter's shoulder, "that you find someone who cherishes you just as fiercely. Who loves you, truly, not for your clever words or pretty face—but for all of you."

Jia Lan smiled, her usual sarcasm gentled by emotion. "If he shows up with snacks and no opinions, we'll talk."

They all laughed.

Outside, the firecrackers popped. Inside, love quietly bloomed like plum blossoms in winter.

Later that night, after her parents had gone to bed, Jia Lan turned off her desk lamp and changed into soft flannel pajamas. She slipped beneath the covers with a sigh, her hand warmer tucked beside her and the faint scent of peach oil lingering in the air.

She stared at the ceiling for a moment, her thoughts drifting between poetry scrolls, sweet rice dumplings, and love stories over tea. A smile tugged at her lips as she whispered to herself, "Tomorrow will be another lovely day."

And with that, Jia Lan fell asleep, warm and content under the winter moonlight.