North Family Letters

The first Spring Festival after the six sisters' estrangement

On New Year's Eve, in the old house, the eldest sister hastily pasted Spring Festival couplets on the windowsill. The bright red paper couldn't dispel the chill in the room. The stove fire went out and was lit again as the eldest sister busied herself preparing more than ten home-style dishes: braised fish, steamed pork with rice flour, fried meatballs, braised pig's trotters, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, mushrooms and greens, sweet and sour pork ribs, and radish stew with pork ribs... The entire square table was piled high with food, and the aroma of the dishes filled the room. In previous years, the house would have been filled with laughter and joy.

This year, however, the six sisters sat down one by one, and the room was so quiet that you could hear the cold wind whistling through the treetops outside the window. Even the lively background music of the Spring Festival Gala became a pale backdrop.

The eldest sister sat at the head of the table, her hand gripping the chopsticks slightly tighter. Looking at the carefully prepared dishes on the table, her heart was filled with bitterness. As the eldest sister, she tried her best to maintain the dignity of the New Year celebration, but the weariness in her eyes was undeniable. Looking at her younger sisters around her, each with their own worries, she couldn't say a word. She would only occasionally raise her eyes, hoping that someone would say something casual to break the suffocating silence.

The second sister sat beside her, remaining silent throughout, barely touching her chopsticks. Her gaze swept across the dishes on the table, then fell indifferently on the third sister, her eyes devoid of resentment, only filled with a cold indifference that seemed to have seen through everything. With money squabbles raging and sisters growing apart, this table full of delicacies was nothing but a formality to her, utterly devoid of flavor, and she couldn't be bothered to maintain that false harmony.

The third sister sat opposite, picking at her food and piling meat dishes into her bowl, eating with a calm and carefree attitude. She always felt that it was only right for her to take her father's money and did not think she was wrong in this dispute. Occasionally, she would glance up and see that everyone else was silent, secretly laughing at their stinginess, but she was completely unaware that she had already become the isolated one.

Fourth Sister gripped her chopsticks, not touching the food in front of her, her heart brimming with grievances and anger. Looking at Third Sister's nonchalant demeanor, she recalled the argument at the farewell dinner, the money that had been misappropriated, and the old house that had been swindled from her. A surge of suffocation rose in her chest, and even looking up at the person next to her felt exhausting. The table full of delicious food tasted like cardboard.

Fifth Sister was introverted, keeping her head down the whole time, occasionally picking up a piece of the vegetable closest to her with her chopsticks, her eyes darting away. She didn't want to get involved in the conflict, but she couldn't let go of the past. She felt sorry for her eldest sister's good intentions, but also resented her third sister's selfishness. She could only use silence to hide her sadness, afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would shatter this thin layer of dignity.

The youngest, Xiaoman, sat in the far corner, her eyes red. Looking at the dozen or so dishes on the table, she recalled past New Year celebrations, when the six sisters would crowd around the table, scrambling for food, each giving the other a piece of meat or a bowl of soup—it was always so lively. But now, her sisters were so close, yet so far away. Clutching her clothes, she couldn't utter a word, nor could she swallow her food.

There were no toasts, no pleasantries, and not a single New Year's greeting. The six of them sat around a table laden with steaming dishes, each lost in their own thoughts, silent and quiet. The clinking of bowls and chopsticks only served to accentuate the coldness of the room.

In previous years, after a lively meal, everyone would gather around the kang table to make dumplings together. Some would knead the dough, some would roll out the wrappers, and some would fill them, chattering about funny stories and reminiscing about their childhood. The aroma of the dumpling filling mingled with laughter, making it the warmest moment of the year. My eldest sister would teach Xiaoman how to make dumplings, while my second and fifth sisters would chat as they made them, and my third and fourth sisters would tease each other. Even when our father was alive, he would sit by and watch with a smile, filling the room with the warmth of family reunion.

This year, however, no one mentioned making dumplings anymore, and even the New Year's Eve dinner couldn't be enjoyed peacefully until the end.

The third sister was the first to put down her chopsticks, wipe her mouth, and without saying goodbye to anyone, picked up the bag of New Year's goods she had brought, got up, and walked out. Her steps were hurried, without the slightest hesitation, as if the table full of food and the room full of sisters were not as important as her freedom to leave early.

The silence in the room was completely broken the moment she left.

Seeing this, the fourth sister also abruptly put down her chopsticks, grabbed the fifth sister beside her, and got up to walk towards the door. She didn't look at anyone the whole time, her face was cold, and her disappointment and alienation were written all over her face.

As Xiaoman watched her sisters get up and leave one by one, tears finally streamed down her face. She softly called out "Big Sister," then looked at her second sister, and finally wiped away her tears as she followed her fourth and fifth sisters out.

The eldest sister looked at the empty seats and the dozen or so dishes that were barely touched. The heat slowly dissipated, and the dishes grew colder and colder, just like the temperature in her heart, which was slowly dropping to rock bottom. She opened her mouth, wanting to call out to her sisters, wanting to say Happy New Year, wanting to suggest that they make dumplings together, but in the end, it only turned into a heavy sigh.

Seeing her eldest sister's dejected look, the second sister gently patted her shoulder, slowly got up, and left the old house without saying a word.

In just over ten minutes, the room that had been filled with six sisters was suddenly empty. The lavish dishes on the table had gone cold, and the leftovers reflected the lonely lamplight. The sounds of the Spring Festival Gala were still playing, and the firecrackers outside the window were going off one after another, making the old house seem even more desolate and lonely.

That warm scene of gathering together to make dumplings every year was ultimately destroyed by the estrangement brought about by this conflict of interests. This first Lunar New Year's Eve dinner after the division of property ended abruptly before the meal was finished and before dumplings were made, leaving behind only a table full of cold dishes and a lifelong rift between siblings.

The silence on the first day of the Lunar New Year

The festive atmosphere of New Year's Eve still lingered in the corners of the village, with firecracker debris scattered all over the ground and bright red couplets shining in the morning light. But none of this festive spirit had reached the hearts of the six sisters.

The first day of the Lunar New Year should have been a day for sisters to visit each other, exchange New Year's greetings, and chat. In previous years, they would gather early on this day, either at the eldest sister's house or back at the old house, holding candies and melon seeds, talking about their New Year's wishes, with children running around and making a ruckus, even the air felt warm. But on this day, everyone fell into a deathly silence, too lazy to even utter a perfunctory New Year's greeting.

The eldest sister got up early and cleaned up the dozen or so leftover dishes that had gone cold in the old house last night. The table was full of food, most of it untouched, which just looked jarring. She sorted the dishes and packed them neatly, but didn't think about sending them to any of her younger sisters. In the past, she would always share the best food with everyone immediately. Sitting in the empty main room, listening to the neighbors' New Year's greetings, she just sat silently, without saying a word. As the eldest sister, she had longed for harmony among her siblings all her life, but in last night's hasty departure, all that hope was gone. Her heart was filled with only exhaustion and melancholy, and she didn't even have the strength to speak.

My second sister's house was quiet. Unlike previous years, she didn't prepare New Year's cakes for visiting relatives, nor did she go out to visit any. She simply sat by the window mending clothes, the needle and thread weaving between her fingers, but she didn't move for a long time. The festive atmosphere outside was irrelevant to her. Her phone was silent, there were no messages in the sisters' group chat, and she never initiated anything. Last night's awkward New Year's Eve dinner was like a thorn stuck in her heart. She didn't argue or complain, but she didn't want to touch it again. Silence became her most dignified posture. Having seen through the fragility of family ties in the face of self-interest, she no longer wanted to deliberately maintain them.

The third sister returned to her own home, shutting herself in and putting the unpleasantness of New Year's Eve behind her, but her usual arrogance was gone. Unlike before, she didn't send messages to her sisters on New Year's Day to boast about the New Year's goods, nor did she go out to visit relatives and chat. She simply guarded her inherited wealth and belongings, occasionally flipping through her father's old things, a fleeting, almost imperceptible emptiness flashing in her eyes, only to be quickly replaced by stubbornness. She couldn't bring herself to apologize, nor did she feel she had done anything wrong, so she simply remained silent, using indifference to mask the inexplicable sense of loss in her heart, as if by not speaking, she could pretend that nothing had happened.

The fourth and fifth sisters huddled together in the quiet house, devoid of the usual festive laughter. They sat on the sofa, watching the New Year's program on TV, but didn't utter a single word. Occasionally, they would exchange glances, and both could see the disappointment in each other's eyes. They thought about their third sister's resolute decision the night before, and about the time they could never return to making dumplings. The resentment and anger in their hearts hadn't subsided, and they didn't know how to express themselves except through silence. Even mentioning the word "sister" made their hearts ache, so they simply kept quiet, letting silence envelop them.

The youngest, Xiaoman, hid indoors on the first day of the Lunar New Year, refusing to go out or speak. While the other children happily played and frolicked with their red envelopes, she felt no joy. Looking at photos on her phone of the six sisters from previous Lunar New Year's Days, their faces beaming with smiles as they huddled together, and then at the now lifeless chat window, tears streamed down her face. She missed the lively days of the past, but as the youngest, she was powerless to change this estrangement. She could only hide her sadness in silence, afraid to contact any of her older sisters for fear of being met with even more hurtful indifference.

There were no phone calls, no WeChat greetings, no in-person New Year's visits. The sisters' group chat was quiet, with no more red envelopes or blessings as in previous years. It was as if the six of them had become complete strangers.

The silence on the first day of the Lunar New Year is not as awkward and tense as on New Year's Eve, but rather a complete alienation, a speechless silence after despair, and an avoidance after wounds have not healed.

Everyone used silence to avoid the past that had turned sour, to avoid the resentment in their hearts, and to avoid the deep sibling bond that could never be regained. This silence, without arguments or accusations, was more hurtful than any dispute, bringing the rift between the six sisters to the forefront and becoming the most heartbreaking reality of the new year.