Xue Chuchu walked to Tongtong's doorstep and saw a couplet pasted on the gate wall, its strokes flying like dragons and dancing like phoenixes: "Music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, wine, and flowers; firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and tea."
The horizontal scroll read: "Getting Richer Day by Day."
This was a couplet written for the Xue Family by the highly cultured Teacher Qian next door.
Originally—actually, it had not been this one at first. The first version had been full of refined literary charm, but Tongtong thought it sounded bad and ordered Teacher Qian to rewrite it.
Teacher Qian had pinched his nose and written this down-to-earth couplet, and only then had Tongtong been satisfied.
Zhang Ruyun came out of his house holding a string of firecrackers. When he saw Xue Chuchu, he greeted her warmly. "Xue Chuchu, have you eaten yet?"
Xue Chuchu replied, "Not yet."
After answering, she stepped into Tongtong's house.
Zhang Ruyun felt strangely disappointed. He walked forward a few steps and laid the firecrackers on the ground.
Today was New Year's Eve. In Yuzhou, there was a custom of setting off firecrackers before breakfast.
Zhang Ruyun stepped back one or two meters, half-crouched, stretched his arm straight out, and pressed the lighter with a snap.
The flame had barely flared up before he jerked his hand back in fright.
Normally, firecracker fuses burned quickly, which was why Zhang Ruyun had recoiled so fast. But he had moved too quickly, and the fuse had not even caught fire.
Early in the morning, Teacher Qian came out of his house. He turned to look at his own Spring Festival couplet: "Peach and plum trees fill the garden, spring like brocade; orchids and irises circle the steps, filling the hall with fragrance."
The horizontal scroll read: