In the blink of an eye, it was Lunar New Year's Eve.
In the living room, Zhao Lanxiang and Shen Qinghong had risen early and were making dumplings.
Outside, firecrackers crackled one after another. Children ran past laughing, having stolen the aluminum food bowl belonging to Aunt Liu's big yellow dog and blasted it into the air again and again, provoking furious barking from the vicious dog.
Qin Hongxiu held her younger brother and switched on the television. No matter how she changed channels, there was only one, but she still watched with relish.
The plump girl had grown even rounder than before. She held a freshly steamed bun, puffing out hot breaths as she ate with relish, her fleshy cheeks bulging.
Once the smell of meat spread, Yan Lingyun could no longer stay in bed. She briskly dressed and washed, and the two sisters immediately gathered together. In the bedroom, however, Lian Youming had risen earlier than anyone. His feet circled and stepped, following the Seven Footprints Boss Chen had taught him, his toes pointing straight toward a single spot. His steps were light and silent, his momentum flowing in circles.
He still held Journey to the West, casually turning a couple of pages and studying the changes in the brushstrokes. Beyond the movements of fist techniques, there seemed to be saber and sword techniques too. But the farther he went, the more disorderly the handwriting became, and the more it drained his mind. It seemed to encompass everything: he could read it forward or backward, and even upside down he could discern its workings. It grew ever more complex and profound.
But so far, Lian Youming believed he could control his thoughts and would not be tempted by the various training methods in the book. There were still