North Family Letters

Fireworks bring sisters together, hearts united to warm the passing years.

The new shop's location was carefully chosen, not far from the bustling old street, situated at a quiet street corner. It lacked a grand facade, but its bright, clean windows exuded a genuine sense of stability. Qiuju and her younger sisters personally painted the walls and laid tiles, their fingertips glistening with mortar and their foreheads damp with sweat. They meticulously polished the old, worn signboard of the former shop until it shone brightly, then solemnly re-hung it above the door. That familiar lettering seemed to firmly anchor the past peace and longing under the new eaves.

Song Chunyan still diligently tends to her small world between the kitchen and the dining area, keeping meticulous accounts, selecting only the freshest and best ingredients, and maintaining impeccable hygiene—her inherent rigor remains unwavering. If anyone tries to cut corners or cheat customers, she is ruthless and unforgiving, showing no mercy whatsoever. But when facing familiar regulars and close neighbors, she immediately dons a warm smile, and a bowl of piping hot soup or a heartfelt greeting always manages to warm hearts.

Song Xiahe had just returned from abroad, and her accent still carried a slight foreign tinge, but she didn't feel alienated at all, quickly blending into the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant. Having witnessed the refined etiquette and meticulous hospitality outside, she subtly incorporated modern service concepts and standardized operating procedures into the daily operations of her small shop. The tableware was arranged neatly and orderly, the greetings to guests were courteous and thoughtful, and the freshness of the ingredients was carefully maintained. She optimized the details little by little, but always adhered to the essence of Northeastern cuisine—generous portions and hearty flavors—without losing an inch of its inherent honesty and integrity.

Qiuju poured all her energy into perfecting the flavors, diligently working on her recipes around the stove. The iron pot stew had to be cooked until the meat was tender and the broth thick and flavorful; the sweet and sour pork had to be perfectly balanced, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside; and the broth for the pickled cabbage and pork hot pot had to be simmered for hours to achieve its rich and flavorful taste. She would patiently adjust each recipe over and over again, never tiring of it. Whenever a customer smiled and said, "It tastes just like home," her eyes would light up with joy, and she could be happy for most of the day.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth sisters are still young, but they are all quick, efficient, and considerate. After school or get off work, they rush to the shop to serve dishes, wipe tables, handle cashier duties, and run errands. They volunteer for all the dirty and tiring work without ever uttering a complaint. When the sisters get together, they don't even have time to talk. Often, a single glance is enough for them to understand each other's thoughts. They don't need to say much; their tacit understanding is perfect.

As soon as dinner time arrives, wisps of steam rise from the restaurant, the iron pots bubbling and boiling, and the rich aroma of the dishes wafts across half the street, attracting passersby to turn their heads. This is probably what the beauty of everyday life looks like.

After a long day's work, night had already fallen over the street corner. The last group of customers had left, and the sisters had tidied up the table, chairs, and dishes. They were resting around the table, drinking hot water, when a sudden earthquake warning on the television shattered the tranquility inside. The urgent announcement repeatedly reminded them of the impending earthquake risk and the need to take precautions for home safety. Just as the announcement ended, the lights in the house flickered twice before plunging into complete darkness; presumably, the surrounding power lines had been temporarily cut off due to the warning.

There were no panicked screams or helpless shoving. The eldest sister, Chunyan, was the first to calm down. She took out the emergency light from the drawer and turned it on. The warm white light immediately illuminated half of the room. Xiahe also took out the stockpiled coarse candles, lit them one by one, and placed them on the corner of the table and the windowsill. The dim candlelight flickered gently, casting their shadows on the wall and spreading a soft light. The tension from before was largely washed away by this little bit of light.

"Sitting around like this makes me anxious. Let's find something to do. Once we calm down, we won't be afraid." The youngest sister, the sixth sister, broke the silence first, pulling out mahjong tiles and playing cards hidden in the cabinet. These were little toys she used to play with in her spare time, but they came in handy now. The sisters smiled at each other, then pushed the table together and sat in a circle around the candles and emergency lights. The older ones played mahjong, while those who couldn't gather enough people played cards. The lively atmosphere made them forget their worries about the earthquake.

Chunyan had a lucky streak, drawing good cards without making a sound. After winning, she smiled and pushed the chips aside, reminding everyone not to be too noisy and to be mindful of their surroundings. Xiahe was new to mahjong and quite inexperienced, so Qiuju patiently taught her, telling her which cards to play and which to keep, in a gentle tone. The fourth and fifth brothers played cards noisily, chasing each other and arguing over who would win. Every now and then, bursts of laughter could be heard, making even the dark night outside seem lively.

The upside-down glass on the table remained firmly in place, a precaution taken in case of an earthquake. Now, quietly bathed in candlelight, it became the most reassuring companion. The candlelight illuminated everyone's smiling faces, the emergency lights mingled with the warmth of cooking, the crisp clinking of mahjong tiles, the soft thud of playing cards on the table, and the laughter of the sisters—all intertwined to create the most beautiful sounds in the darkness. Gone were the daytime fumes of the kitchen, the hustle and bustle of the front of the house, and the worries of the business; they simply stayed together, guarding this small, warm haven.

No one mentioned the earthquake again, as if it were just a minor incident. It turns out that true peace of mind is not the absence of storms, but rather, when storms come, the whole family can sit together, even if only by candlelight, even if they are just playing the most ordinary board games, and they can turn fear into tranquility and darkness into warmth.

As night deepened, the candlelight remained lit, laughter continued, and the overturned cup remained perfectly still. The six sisters, nestled in the small shop, enveloped in light and warmth, truly understood that being together as a family meant peace and tranquility year after year, and the best scene in the world.