It was Little New Year, and Wei Zijin's flight arrived that afternoon.
When she saw Wang Xiaoliang waiting to pick her up, Wei Zijin slipped into his arms, grabbed his collar with one hand and tugged him down, pressing her lips straight to his.
"Did you miss me?"
"Yes. Enough to want to eat you up."
"Then should we go to a hotel first?" She planted another kiss on his cheek, a hint of mischief in her crescent-shaped eyes.
"No. Mom's been busy all day. You're the only one she's waiting for."
"How did you get even prettier? When I saw you come out of the arrivals gate, I could hardly believe you were my wife."
"Such a sweet talker." Despite saying that, she kissed Wang Xiaoliang on the cheek again.
On Chinese New Year's Eve, Wang Xiaoliang took charge of the cooking again.
This time, even he felt his dishes had improved. He was getting increasingly confident with the heat and seasoning. As usual, Fu Zhaojun handed out red envelopes, one each, just as thick as last year's.
Unlike last year, Luo Bisheng wasn't there. He had flown back to Beijing the day after Little New Year. His mother had called countless times to hurry him home. If he still hadn't gone back, she might well have come to fetch him herself.
Halfway through the meal, Liu Xinyu's mother suddenly put down her chopsticks and spoke.
"This is the last year we'll spend New Year's Eve here."
The table fell silent for a moment.
Wang Xiaoliang and Wei Zijin looked at her.
"Next year, we'll celebrate at the Fu family's."
Her tone was level. It sounded neither like a discussion nor a reflection, just a statement of an established fact.
Fu Zhaojun lifted his glass, smiled, and drained it.