Translator’s Note: The “Little New Year,” also known as “Xiao Nian,” is a traditional Chinese holiday that marks the start of the countdown to the Chinese New Year. It usually falls about a week before the main Chinese New Year celebrations, specifically on the 23rd or 24th day of the last month of the Chinese lunar calendar.
As soon as Shen Jiaru got home, he headed straight to his studio to tidy things up.
On his trip, he had done some sketches and talked with other painters about recent changes in Western painting styles and some local situations, which gave him quite a few insights. He planned to casually paint some still life to get a feel for it.
Shen Mo had nothing much to do, so he spent some time reading at home, then pulled out the book “Visual 111” again.
After staring at the cover girl for a while, he took a pair of scissors from the drawer and cut out a photograph inside—a candid shot of Hua Jie leaning against the radiator, daydreaming in the sunlight.
The photo had a special atmosphere, and it was the perfect size.
He quaintly stuffed it into his wallet, where he could see it every time he opened it.
Carefully, he tucked the wallet into his back pocket, but when he sat back down, he suddenly laughed.
Putting the small potato under his seat… wasn’t a great idea, so he took it out and put it in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, easily accessible with both hands.
After adjusting his short hair, he decided to go out for a haircut before the New Year.
As he walked out of his villa, he saw the family next door gathering at their front gate to hang up Spring Festival couplets.
That’s when he remembered that today was Little New Year.
In previous years, Zhao Xiaolei would buy Spring Festival couplets and paper-cuttings to hang up together, but this year, his father and Lei were busy attending events in Beijing, which delayed these preparations.
He paused for a while, and when the neighbor turned to look his way, Shen Mo quickly pretended he had just stepped out and turned the other way.
He didn’t want to exchange pleasantries, nor did he want to answer any questions about ‘why your house hasn’t hung up curtains yet.’
He had only walked a few steps when he suddenly noticed a hundred-yuan bill at the corner, rolled up in the snow and dirtied to the color of mud.
After pulling it out, he cleaned it with snow and checked it in the sunlight—it was a real bill.
No telling how long it had been in the snow, and finding its owner now would likely be impossible, so he simply pocketed it.
To think he found money just by stepping outside, what luck.
Seeing the lively preparations for the New Year at the neighbor’s house made his loneliness fade a bit, and he continued walking towards the gate of the community.
Then, as he passed by the community sports field, he found another 132 yuan.
He thought about taking it to the community guard, but just then, there was no one in the guardhouse.
He could only pocket the money and continued on his way to the barbershop.
In just a short while, he had picked up over two hundred yuan. If he found a few hundred more, he’d match the monthly salary of an ordinary worker.
Just as he was thinking this, by the roadside garbage heap, he spotted more money.
Walking over and shaking it out, he found a 200 yuan note, rolled up like a stick and just as filthy, clearly not just lost for a day or two.
After cleaning it with snow again and confirming it was real, his pocket savings grew to 432 yuan.
There he stood, looking around, hands in the pockets of his down jacket, suddenly touching the wallet holding Hua Jie’s photo.
The young man raised his eyebrows and smiled. Was it some kind of magic?
Was the little potato a celestial page in front of the God of Wealth? With her photo in his wallet, money seemed to find him wherever he went.
Should he go gambling now? Could he make a fortune?
Of course, Shen Mo didn’t gamble. When he turned the street corner, he saw a child who often begged in this area.
The child, about seven or eight years old, small, wore a dirty, torn cotton coat, his dirty face streaked with snot.
Without thinking, he handed all the money in his pocket to the child, “Take it back to your mom. It’s Little New Year; let her buy some dumplings for you to eat.”
Despite his young age, the child was experienced in begging and recognized immediately that it was a significant amount of money. He quickly stuffed it inside his jacket and kneeled down to kowtow to Shen Mo, snot hanging from his nose.
Startled, Shen Mo quickly jumped back, awkwardly saying “no need,” and hurried away.
Watching his back, he didn’t look like a hero robbing the rich to aid the poor, but more like a thief who had robbed a child.
While getting his hair cut, the barber smiled and asked him:
“Coming to get a haircut for Little New Year today? You’re lucky it’s mealtime. It was crowded this morning, and it’ll be busy again after lunch, probably a long wait.”
“… Yeah,” Shen Mo replied casually.
When he left home, he actually didn’t know today was Little New Year, and his family really didn’t observe any holiday traditions.
Zhao Xiaolei had been busy running around Beijing for several days, and it seemed likely that he and his father would spend the holiday in quiet solitude.
After returning home, he stood at the door of his father’s studio for a while, then turned and went straight upstairs.
Sitting at his desk, he picked up “Visual 111” again, tore off the smiling Hua Jie from the cover, and taped it to the back of his bedroom door using transparent tape.
He hung it slightly below his line of sight and then covered the photo with a calendar.
Even with his Father entering his room, the secret remained hidden.
The Fortune God Little Potato could now not only attract wealth for him but also ensure his safety in all his comings and goings.
He flipped up the calendar, patting the photograph of Little Potato on the head:
“Good boy, Daddy’s back~”
He suddenly remembered her reluctant call of “Dad,” and couldn’t help but smirk.
Turning, he collapsed onto the bed, kicked off his shoes, propped up his legs, and swung them leisurely.
Today, the aunt had only prepared lunch, as he and his father planned to dine out in the evening.
After sitting on the bed for a while, he suddenly sat up with a kip-up, glanced at his father’s room as he went downstairs, and then headed out without hesitation.
Riding his bicycle, he made a beeline for the big market.
He bought a rack of lamb and a large bag of stove sugar, securing them to the back seat, then pedaled off towards Fuyun Building.
After confirming with the salesperson at Dahua Furniture that Father Hua and Hua’s mother wouldn’t be coming over today after picking up Hua Jie, and that the store would close early for a half-day holiday, he biked over to Hua Jie’s house.
He wasn’t there to mooch food or soak up the holiday spirit; he was there to deliver a gift. After all, he had mooched several meals while Hua’s mother was away; it was only proper to return the favor.
It was only fair.
…
Shen Mo had just knocked on Father Hua’s door and handed over the items when Mr. Hua pulled him into the storeroom.
A pair of twine gloves were handed to him, and the two men, one big and one small, began to stack coal and clean the storeroom—
It was just in time after the new coal delivery that morning, and they had just managed to make room for cleanup.
Shen Mo seemed destined for hard labor, having arrived just in time.
After an hour of busy work, the father and son duo returned indoors, covered in dust, and lined up to wash their faces.
Although Hua Jie was a bit tired, having slept well on the train, she wasn’t particularly sleepy and was sitting on the kang, cutting out paper window flowers with her mother.
After washing up, Shen Mo had barely warmed his seat when Hua Jie picked him up to help stick the window flowers.
“A bit higher on the left.”
“A bit lower on the right.”
“Move it a bit to the left, there, perfect!”
Once positioned, he pressed down on the window flower, and Hua Jie applied the flour paste her mother had cooked to the back of it.
From childhood, their family had always used their own homemade paste for pasting window decorations and couplets. It stuck firmly without tearing and was impervious to wind and minor impacts, yet it peeled off easily when wet without leaving any marks on the glass or doors—a traditional Chinese ‘glue’.
After finishing the last window, Hua Jie turned and smiled:
“Let’s go, it’s time to paste the couplets~”
“…” Shen Mo followed with a dark expression.
Was he here to work?
No, he was here to freeload dumplings!
He had started working the moment he walked in. Was this what ‘freeloading’ meant? No, this was hard labor!
Seeing his expression, Hua Jie laughed out loud, scooped up a bit of paste from the bowl with her finger, and smeared it on his face when he least expected it.
“Damn you!” Shen Mo’s eyes widened, and he quickly grabbed her by the back of her neck.
Did she think she could treat him without respect just because she had been to Beijing for a few days?
Just as he was about to retaliate with a handful of paste, she gasped. Their mother, who was kneading dough in the kitchen, peered over.
“…” Shen Mo instantly withdrew his hand, standing awkwardly, making eye contact with his mother, at a loss for words.
“Hahaha!” Hua Jie laughed triumphantly and ran away.
“…” Shen Mo.
Wanted to beat her.
“Come on, we still have couplets to paste.” Hua Jie turned back and urged him.
“…” Shen Mo had no choice but to silently follow her outside.
Turning back, he saw his father chopping meat and his mother kneading dough. He pursed his lips and walked out of the courtyard with Hua Jie.
As soon as they were out of their parents’ sight, he didn’t hesitate to grab the ‘little potato’ by the back of her neck, and tapped her forehead three times, causing her to cry out in pain.
Then, suddenly, the neighbor’s gate opened, and Aunt Bian and Bian Hong stepped out one after the other, staring in shock at Hua Jie being pressed against the door, crying out, and the bully boy Shen Mo.
“…” Shen Mo.
“…” Hua Jie.
The awkward atmosphere was enough to make one’s scalp tingle.
“Aunt Bian, Brother Bian Hong, happy Little New Year~” Hua Jie managed a forced smile and greeted them, pretending as if nothing had just happened.
“…” Shen Mo stiffly nodded his head, considering that his acknowledgment.
“Ah, little Hua Jie is back from Beijing, huh.” Aunt Bian also forced a smile, pretending she hadn’t seen anything.
“Happy New Year.” Bian Hong said, then his gaze shifted to Shen Mo, his eyes twinkling.
Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, firecrackers began to burst into noisy life.
It’s the celebration of New Year!
Offering sacrifices to the Kitchen God, using candy to ‘stick’ to the deity to ensure he stays longer and blesses the family with health and safety. Eating more sweets so he might speak well of us to the Jade Emperor, hoping for better days ahead.
Cleaning the dust, wiping tables, washing bedding, sweeping to remove dust.
Cutting out paper decorations for the windows, pasting couplets, all brimming with festive joy.
Getting a haircut to remove past worries, welcoming the New Year with a fresh face.
…
An hour later, after the dough had risen, the whole family along with Shen Mo started rolling dough skins to wrap dumplings.
“You don’t even know how to wrap dumplings?” Father Hua was surprised.
“…” Shen Mo was slightly embarrassed.
Hua Jie glanced at Shen Mo, remembering his motherless childhood and how his father, Teacher Shen, lacked any flair for domestic life, and quickly laughed:
“You’re too clumsy! It’s so simple yet you don’t know how! Let me teach you.”
She picked up a dough skin rolled out by her father, spread it open on Shen Mo’s palm.
“Watch how I do it.” She scooped a proper amount of filling, then very slowly taught Shen Mo.
The youth was truly a prodigy; he was extremely capable. After making a few unremarkable dumplings, he quickly got the hang of it.
A little later, his nature of striving for perfection gradually showed, and the dumplings he made were all identical in appearance.
Hua Jie, astonished, counted the pleats on the dumplings: “Are you crazy? Why do all your dumplings have the same number of pleats?”