I couldn't take it anymore; when I went home for Chinese New Year, the family genealogy book ha

The lively atmosphere of the pig-slaughtering feast continued until late into the night.

Around hundreds of tables, bottles lay overturned, and leftover bones piled up like small mountains.

The crowd then dispersed in twos and threes, still smelling of alcohol and meat.

Jiang Chen drank just the right amount; he wasn't drunk, but his whole body felt warm.

He strolled leisurely back to the large single-level apartment he had reserved for himself in the back hill.

As I pushed open the door, a warm feeling, different from the hustle and bustle outside, rushed towards me.

The living room lights were on, casting a soft yellow glow.

A soft, rhythmic "click, click" sound came from the direction of the window.

Jiang Chen took off his shoes and walked over, where he saw an old-fashioned Butterfly brand sewing machine that he had somehow found sitting by the window.

Su Qing sat in front of the sewing machine.

She was still wearing her daytime clothes, her feet on the pedal, her hands skillfully pushing a red woolen scarf, which moved quickly under the needles of the sewing machine.

She seemed so focused that she didn't even notice Jiang Chen entering the room.

Jiang Chen walked very lightly.

He went around behind Su Qing and saw a thick stack of knitted scarves in the bamboo basket next to her.

Red, gray, black, all sorts of colors, neatly stacked, there were at least twenty of them.

Jiang Chen looked at Su Qing's profile.

She was probably too tired; her eyelids seemed to be weighed down and kept drooping.

The feet that were pressing the sewing machine slowed down.

It nods its head repeatedly, like a chick pecking at rice.

Finally, the sewing machine stopped with a "click".

Su Qing tilted her head to the side and fell asleep on the cold sewing machine table.

Even breathing filled the quiet living room.

A certain part of Jiang Chen's heart softened instantly.

He tiptoed into the bedroom, took a thick coat, came back, and carefully draped it over Su Qing's shoulders.

The temperature of the coat startled Su Qing.

She groggily raised her head, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and when she saw it was Jiang Chen, a relieved smile appeared on her face.

"You're back?"

Her voice was hoarse from just waking up.

"Was the pork stew delicious? Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, right?"

Jiang Chen didn't answer her question, but instead took her hand that was resting on the sewing machine.

It feels cool to the touch.

By the light, he could see several tiny red dots on Su Qing's fair fingers, which had been pricked by needles.

Some even had a shallow scab already formed.

Jiang Chen frowned.

What are you doing?

"There are so many elderly people in the village. If you want to give them scarves, why not just buy a few hundred ready-made ones from the mall? Why go through all this trouble?"

Su Qing withdrew her hand, carefully gathered up the last loose thread of the scarf on the sewing machine, and tied a knot.

She picked up the bright red scarf, placed it in her palm, and gently stroked it.

"That's different."

Su Qing's voice was very soft.

"I saw it during the day. Many of the elderly people in the village had chilblains on their hands and feet. They were all red and swollen."

"Scarves bought from stores are nice, but none of them are as warm as those knitted by hand."

She carefully folded the last scarf and put it into the bamboo basket.

"Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice, and I'm thinking of finishing these before dawn so that all the elderly people in the village over seventy years old can wear new scarves for the festival."

Jiang Chen looked at Su Qing in front of him and didn't know what to say for a moment.

This was once a pampered young lady who couldn't even open a bottle cap and never lifted a finger.

This was once a pampered girl who drove her pink G-Wagon recklessly through the village.

Now, however, she stays up all night, using an old-fashioned sewing machine, to sew these scarves, which are not exactly exquisite, for a group of elderly people in the village whom she doesn't know.

Jiang Chen didn't say anything.

He bent down and, to Su Qing's surprised gasp, scooped her up in his arms.

Su Qing instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"What are you doing...?"

"The scarf is finished, now it's time to go to sleep."

Jiang Chen carried her and walked step by step toward the bedroom.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable gentleness.

"Tomorrow, I'll personally accompany you to distribute the scarves to them."

Su Qing buried her face in his chest and softly hummed in agreement.

In the living room, next to the old sewing machine, there was a basket full of scarves, which shone with a warm luster under the light.