North Family Letters

The first Spring Festival after my mother passed away was overcast, with the wind carrying snowflakes that rattled the wooden windows of the old house.

In previous years, even if my mother was ill at this time, she would lean against the headboard, watching her daughters busy themselves, muttering about who needed a new piece of clothing and who needed to save money. But this year, the kang (heated brick bed) is empty, covered only with the old quilt my mother used to use when she was alive. Even the sunlight falling on it makes it seem cold and desolate.

The eldest sister, Song Chunlan, was the first to arrive. She carried a heavy load of New Year's goods—rice, flour, oil, sugar, and everything else—and upon entering, she glanced at the spot where her mother usually sat, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. She forced herself to remain calm, put down the goods, and immediately began wiping the table and sweeping the house, her movements clumsy yet forceful, as if trying to sweep away all the desolation in the room.

Not long after, my third sister returned, carrying New Year's gifts from her workplace. She called out "Mom" as she entered the door, but then suddenly realized that no one in the house would answer her. Tears immediately streamed down her face.

The fourth brother followed right in.

Despite her young age, she already knew how to shoulder responsibilities. She didn't say much as she entered the house, but rolled up her sleeves and went to the kitchen to start a fire, wash vegetables, and chop dumpling filling. The thumping sound of the knife on the cutting board became the only sign of life in the room. She had seen her second sister suffer since she was a child, and she had the softest heart. She secretly wiped away tears while chopping vegetables.

The fifth and sixth brothers were the last to arrive.

The two younger children hadn't fully grown up yet, their faces still bearing the traces of childhood innocence, but they knew this year's New Year was different. They dared not speak loudly, dared not laugh, silently squatting on the ground wiping the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and tidying up the clutter, even their breathing was soft, for fear that if they exerted any force, they would shatter the oppressive silence in the room.

Everyone's here; all six sisters are present.

The house gradually filled with the aroma of cooking; the iron pot sizzled, dumplings bobbed in the hot pot, and steam blurred the windowpane. No one spoke; only the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks and the occasional sound of firecrackers from other houses outside made the house even quieter.

A round table was set up, and dishes were served one by one.

The fish is whole, symbolizing abundance year after year; the dumplings are round, symbolizing reunion. But those sitting together feel a piece missing from their hearts.

The eldest sister sat in the main seat, looking at her younger sisters at the table. Her throat tightened, and her hand trembled as she picked up her teacup.

"Now that Mother is gone, from this day forward, the six of us sisters will rely on each other. This family must not fall apart."

No one responded after he finished speaking.

Xia He sat quietly in the far corner, her eyes lowered.

Her hands were still rough, her knuckles swollen and cracked, the result of the wind and snow of the Great Northern Wilderness and three years of caring for her at her bedside. She no longer argued, no longer complained, and no longer cried; all her grievances and bitterness were buried deep in her heart.

The older sister looked at her, her guilt overwhelming her, and her voice suddenly went hoarse:

"Xiahe, I was wrong in the past... I was irresponsible, I ran away, I'm sorry to you, I'm sorry to this family..."

This was the first time she had ever set aside all her pride and bowed her head to admit her mistake.

Xia He slowly raised her eyes, looked at her for a moment, and then gently lowered her head.

After a long, long time, she finally spoke softly:

"It's all in the past."

Three words, as light as a snowflake, yet so heavy that everyone bowed their heads.

The third sister secretly wiped her eyes, the fourth sister covered her mouth, not daring to cry out, and the fifth and sixth sisters held hands tightly, tears falling drop by drop onto their clothes.

They all owe their second sister an apology.

It's just that I understood too late, and spoke too late.

Outside the window, firecrackers went off one after another, filling the alley with the festive atmosphere of the New Year.

But everyone inside knew that some things could never be the same again.

When my mother was alive, home was my roots; now that she's gone, home has become just a memory.

This year, there was no laughter, no excitement, only a room full of silent sisters and a table of food that was cooled and then reheated, then cooled again.

Just be quiet and bear with it, and it will pass.

Like all of them, they endured the first half of their lives, one hardship after another. The year passed quietly, the snow fell and melted, and the festive atmosphere in the old house was as faint as a bowl of cold water.

My third sister, Song Qiuju, was never one to sit still from a young age. She loved skipping school, either hiding on the edge of a field daydreaming or watching the hustle and bustle of the small businesses in town. She'd get a headache after flipping through a couple of pages of her textbook, but she could move the abacus beads faster than anyone else. When her mother was alive, she always scolded her for being wild and unreliable. She'd agree verbally, but in her heart, she'd longed for the outside world a thousand times over.

Now that her mother is gone, the meager salary she receives from her workplace is as thin as a piece of paper. Seeing others around her going south to trade clothes and sell electronic watches, and becoming well-dressed in just a few months, she can no longer suppress the fire in her heart.

On the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, the six sisters were still gathered in the old house packing up their things. Qiuju called everyone to the round table, her face tense, as if she were about to go to war.

The room fell silent for a moment, and even the crackling of the stove fire seemed exceptionally clear.

She first glanced at her eldest sister, Song Chunlan, then quickly swept her gaze over her second sister, Xia He, and fourth sister, Dong Xue, before finally settling on her fifth sister, Xiao Man, and sixth sister, Xiao Ya. She took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly, yet unusually firm:

"Sisters, I have something I want to discuss with you."

Chunlan, the eldest sister, felt a pang of unease; her intuition told her it was no small matter. "Tell me," she said.

"I don't want to work in the factory anymore," Qiuju said, raising her head with a burning light in her eyes. "I want to go into business in the south."

In short, the room became eerily quiet.

The older sister's face immediately darkened: "Qiuju, are you crazy? That's a secure job, so many people would kill for it, and you just want to throw it away? Is running a business something a young woman like you can do? What if you lose money? What if you get scammed?"

"I've checked, it's not just reckless wandering around!" Qiuju leaned forward anxiously. "The south has opened up now, it's legal to operate, not speculation! I know people who can get cheap goods, I can resell them, it'll definitely be better than working a regular job!"

"That's just luck!" the older sister said, her tone even harsher. "You've always avoided studying since you were little, and you only have a three-minute attention span. If things really go wrong, who will support our family?"

Qiu Ju's sore spot was touched, and her eyes instantly reddened: "I just don't want to be trapped in this small factory for the rest of my life! I just want to give it my all! When my mother was alive, she always said I was useless, but I want to accomplish something and show you!"

Fourth Sister Song Dongxue gently tugged at her sleeve and whispered, "Third Sister, let's wait a little longer, let's wait until things are safe..."

The fifth sister, Song Xiaoman, and the sixth sister, Song Xiaoya, were the youngest. They just watched timidly, not daring to interrupt. They clung tightly to each other, their little hands gripping each other's arms, their eyes fixed on their third sister.

Only the second sister, Song Xiahe, remained silent. She sat in the corner, clutching her cracked hand, listening quietly like a stone submerged at the bottom of the water.

When everyone had tired of arguing and quieted down, she slowly spoke, her voice not loud, but firmly dominating the entire room:

"Are you really sure?"

Qiuju turned to look at her abruptly, as if grasping at the last straw: "Second sister, I've made up my mind, I won't turn back even if I die."

Xia He nodded, offering no further advice, and only asked, "How much are you short?"

Everyone was stunned.

The eldest sister stamped her feet in exasperation: "Xia He! Why are you joining in her nonsense too!"

Xia He didn't look at her eldest sister, her gaze still fixed on Qiu Ju: "Doing business requires capital. Just tell me how much you need."

Qiuju bit her lip, held back for a long time, and finally said:

"I...I want to pool some money with my girlfriends. Five hundred, five hundred yuan is enough. I'll write an IOU, and I'll pay it back as soon as I make a profit, double the amount."

Five hundred yuan.

In those days, this was an astronomical sum. My eldest sister's monthly salary was only a little over thirty yuan, so five hundred yuan was almost the entire family's food expenses for a year.

The eldest sister's face turned completely pale, and her hands trembled: "Song Qiuju, are you trying to bankrupt this family?!"

"I don't want to bankrupt the family, I want to support them!" Qiuju's tears fell. "Mother is gone, and we six sisters can't keep struggling like this! I want to earn money, I want you all to have a better life!"

Seeing her third sister crying like that, the fourth sister, Dongxue, softened. She silently lowered her head and went to rummage through the cloth bag she had hidden at the bottom of her trunk—it was her private savings, not much, but full of heartfelt sentiment.

Xiaoman and Xiaoya panicked and quickly took out their New Year's money and pocket money that they had hidden under their pillows. They folded the crumpled bills neatly, looked up at each other, and whispered, "Third sister, we have some too, you can have them all."

The eldest sister watched as her younger sisters all became interested, and her chest ached with anger, yet she couldn't bring herself to truly block their path. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, her eyes were filled with exhaustion.

"What I fear most in my life is that some of you will go astray... but since you've made up your mind, I can't stop you."

She pulled a handkerchief wrapped in layers from her inner pocket; inside was her savings accumulated over several years. She drew out a wad of it, her fingertips trembling.

"I only have this much, two hundred. Take it and don't look back. If you fall, get up on your own and don't cry and go home to your sisters."

Qiuju held the two hundred yuan, her whole body trembling.

Dongxue then placed her money on the table, a neat hundred coins: "Third Sister, I believe you."

Xiaoman and Xiaoya piled all their spare change together, totaling fifty yuan, and looked at her timidly yet earnestly.

All eyes finally fell on the second sister, Song Xiahe.

Xia He didn't say anything, but slowly got up, walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), lifted the kang mat, and took out a red cloth bag from the bottom.

When she opened it, inside was a neat stack of loose change and a well-worn commemorative medal from the Great Northern Wilderness. It was all the possessions she had accumulated, risking her life to survive years of hardship in the freezing cold.

She counted the money, took out one hundred and fifty yuan, and gently placed it on the table.

Two hundred plus one hundred plus fifty plus one hundred and fifty equals five hundred.

She didn't spout any grand principles, but simply looked at Qiuju and spoke, word by word:

"The money was pooled together by the six of us sisters. The path you chose was your own."

"Don't go astray when you go out, don't lie, and don't act impulsively. If you make money, it's your skill; if you lose money, the six of us will shoulder the burden together."

"But remember this—our family can be poor, but it cannot fall apart; you can lose, but you cannot lose your conscience."

Qiuju could no longer hold on. She squatted down, covered her face, and burst into tears.

The snow was still falling outside the window, and the wind was howling against the wooden windowpane.

But in this old house where the mother had passed away, for the first time, there was something warmer than the festive atmosphere of the New Year—

They are six sisters, bound together by fate, never to be separated again.