On New Year’s Eve, the darkest night of the year when one could truly not see their own hand in front of their face, the clock on the wall struck ten. The four men who had gone out to chase the intruders had yet to return. Lin Guicheng and the other three workers chatted and laughed, showing no signs of worry, but Lin Yuanmin couldn’t sit still, asking repeatedly if something might have gone wrong.
Lin Guicheng reassured him, “Big brother, don’t worry. Even if it were one against ten, those four could handle it. Just relax, focus on making dumplings, and enjoy the TV. Don’t let a few troublemakers ruin our New Year’s mood.”
His words did little to ease Lin Yuanmin’s concern. He kept glancing out the window, though the pitch-black night revealed nothing. After all, those men were out there braving the cold on New Year’s Eve to defend his son and daughter-in-law. If anything happened to them, he’d never forgive himself.
Seeing his words had no effect, Lin Guicheng changed the subject. “Big brother, sister-in-law is an excellent cook. Since we’ve already bought land in the county town, why don’t we collaborate? I’m planning to build a resort, and you and sister-in-law could open a restaurant or a food processing plant. We’d both benefit. What do you think?”
Lin Yuanmin was quick at wrapping dumplings—three people rolling out the dough could barely keep up with him. Though distracted by worry tonight, his hands still moved swiftly. Considering Lin Guicheng’s proposal, he momentarily pushed aside his anxiety and replied, “Your sister-in-law and I have thought about how to use the land, but we lack experience, and we’re not getting any younger. We don’t have many years left to take risks. We’ll need to hear what the kids think.”
Lin Tuo chimed in, “Dad, I think Uncle Cheng’s idea is great. If the government really develops the hot springs, the resort will definitely make money. Our family could open a restaurant and ride the wave.”
“But where will the money come from?” Lin Yong, rolling out dumpling wrappers at another table, raised the critical question.
“Loans.” The moment Lin Fang spoke, everyone turned to look at her.
Under the gaze of a room full of men, Lin Fang felt uneasy. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t. Loans are a good idea. My little sister is getting smarter by the day.” Lin Tuo reached out with a flour-covered hand, smearing her face and turning her into a “little flower face.”
The room erupted in laughter. Lin Fang, indignant, grabbed a comb from a drawer, held Lin Tuo still, and in a few quick strokes, styled his hair into two little pigtails tied with red ribbons. The towering, dark-skinned man with a scruffy beard now looked utterly ridiculous, sending the room into even louder laughter.
When Dong Huixin entered, the laughter was still going strong. “What’s so funny?” she asked with a smile. She had just been putting little Yuanyuan to sleep in Lin Yong’s room. Staying up late on New Year’s Eve was for good luck, but the child was too young to last until midnight, so there was no need to force it.
“Sister-in-law, look!” Lin Guicheng pointed at Lin Tuo, his face red from laughter.
“Oh, you naughty girl.” Recognizing her daughter’s handiwork on her second son, Dong Huixin chuckled and began preparing spicy soup.
The tradition was to stay up past midnight, and while everyone busied themselves with dumplings, the snacks on the table remained untouched. Local custom dictated that enough dumplings be made for three mornings’ worth of meals. With five adults in their family and eight from Lin Guicheng’s side, they needed enough for thirteen people. By the time they finished, everyone would likely be hungry. The four men who’d left hadn’t even eaten dinner, and after braving the cold outside, a bowl of hot spicy soup would warm them right up.
With so many people, a large pot was needed for the soup, and the stove’s fire wouldn’t suffice. Lin Yong automatically fetched firewood to stoke the flames while Dong Huixin gathered ingredients.
As the name suggested, spicy soup required pepper and chili. For those who liked it, minced ginger could be added, along with salt, soy sauce, and vinegar. Oil wasn’t necessary since the main ingredients were already fried, and the chili oil provided enough richness.
Once the water boiled, fried meatballs went in first. When they softened, fried sweet potatoes, tofu, yam, and vegetarian meatballs followed. These couldn’t cook too long or they’d dissolve—just enough to soften. Finally, white tofu and seasonings were added, thickened slightly with sweet potato starch, and then chopped spinach and scallions were stirred in. The residual heat cooked the greens perfectly.
The soup was a harmonious blend of sour and spicy, visually appealing with red chili, white tofu, dark green spinach, and golden fried ingredients. A steaming bowl opened the pores, induced a light sweat, and soothed the stomach. Paired with hot steamed buns, it was pure comfort.
For someone with an early cold, a bowl of this soup followed by a warm sleep could cure it without medicine.
Sun Siyuan and the three workers returned just as the soup was ready, and the steamed buns on the stove were perfectly warm. As they ate, they recounted their chase.
Aside from the one Sun Siyuan had thrown into the bushes earlier, they’d caught two more in the fields. Sun Siyuan left two men to guard the captives while he and the others followed Heipi to track the last one. They reached a village entrance but chose not to enter, not wanting to cause a scene on New Year’s Eve.
Before handing the three captives over to the county police, they’d interrogated them. Though they didn’t elaborate on their methods, their expressions made it clear the captives had suffered.
The men confessed they’d been tipped off that Lin Yong and his wife would be working at her parents’ home and returning late, when the roads would be empty. They’d ambushed them on the slope, intending to rob them.
Their informant had claimed the Lin family had earned a fortune from processing chili sauce in recent months and that Lin Yong’s mushroom farming brought daily deliveries to nearby towns and county restaurants. Envious, they’d plotted the robbery, never expecting Lin Yong’s martial skills would foil four of them.
As for who tipped them off, the captives claimed ignorance—all information had come from the one who escaped. Their role was solely to rob and split the loot five ways.
Lin Fang sighed inwardly. Just as she’d suspected, their family had become a target. The saying “Tall trees catch much wind” held eternal truth.
In reality, despite the bustling activity at home, they had little money. The advance for technical fees had gone into buying land, and the meager processing fees went straight to repaying debts.
Though Lin Yong earned daily from mushroom sales, the money went entirely to settling his parents’ debts.
Debt collection had a herd mentality—once one creditor was paid, others swarmed, fearing they’d miss out. No one cared that Lin Yong had technically separated from his parents. Whenever he delivered goods, they’d corner him for money, some even timing their ambushes at storefronts.
Lin Tuo faced similar harassment. Seeing his diesel sales prosper, some demanded fuel as repayment. But his shop was a partnership—he had no capital, only a small share of profits. Using diesel to settle debts would strain relations with his partner and damage his credibility with suppliers, so he refused.
Blocked from taking diesel, some loitered by the fuel tank, demanding cash from Lin Tuo whenever customers came to refuel. After months of sales, his entire share had gone to debts, leaving him penniless.
Yet, what they’d repaid was only a fraction. Lin Fang’s countless brushes with death over the years had each required costly medical treatments, funded by borrowed money—pennies and dollars painstakingly gathered. Lin Yuanmin and Dong Huixin’s debt records filled several notebooks.
Repaying debts was righteous, and the family tolerated creditors’ aggressive tactics. But outright robbery was too much. After hearing the account, Lin Yuanmin and Dong Huixin were furious, while Lin Yong and Lin Tuo remained calm but thoughtful. Lin Guicheng’s face darkened, and the others either drank soup or continued wrapping dumplings. Without the boss’s cue, they stayed silent.
Connecting the dots, Lin Fang declared angrily, “Dad, Mom, let’s take out loans after the New Year—big ones. If we’re going to do this, let’s go all in. Those men targeted Brother because we’re weak. If we build real wealth, no petty thief would dare.”
Lin Yuanmin sighed. “Your mother and I have lived decades—we know this. But loans require collateral. What do we have? A shop that isn’t even ours, and a house worth little. Even if we got a loan and started a business, could you guarantee it’d succeed?”
Drawing from his otherworldly experience, Lin Guicheng had faith in Lin Fang and the family’s abilities. He supported her proposal and asked Lin Yuanmin, “Big brother, if you’ll accept it, I’ll be your guarantor.”
Lin Yuanmin sighed again, and Dong Huixin said, “Your guarantee would help, but you’ve already done so much for us. Why take on this trouble? You can’t imagine how many debts we owe for Fang’s treatments. It’s… overwhelming.”
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