Shortly after the black-robed man left, Su Muyu fell asleep in his corner. He dreamed of several years ago, just after the world-shocking Eastern Campaign against the Demon Sect had ended when they had bid farewell to Li Hanyi in Snow Moon City and were preparing to return to Dark River.

As the sun set, two men, tired from their journey, stopped to rest under an eaves.

“This isn’t right,” Su Changhe frowned, looking at the empty street. “It’s only dusk, yet there’s not a single person on this long street.”

“Haha.” Su Muyu laughed.

Su Changhe was puzzled: “What are you laughing at?”

“Today is New Year’s Eve, naturally there’s no one on the streets. Even the most diligent merchants have gone home by now,” Su Muyu said with a smile and a shake of his head. “So there’s nothing strange about it.”

“Oh. Today is New Year’s Eve.” Su Changhe said flatly.

They fell silent. Su Muyu looked up at the evening clouds while Su Changhe took out his water flask and began to drink.

“It smells wonderful,” Su Muyu suddenly sniffed the air.

“Indeed it does,” Su Changhe agreed. “What is it?”

“It’s the smell of fried tofu puffs,” Su Muyu said quietly. “A common New Year’s dish in ordinary households. It’s a kind of fluffy tofu, deep-fried in oil. Wealthy families would stuff it with meat.”

“I want to try it,” Su Changhe licked his lips. “Shall we go steal some?”

“New Year’s Eve is one of the few good days poor families have all year. Let’s not bring trouble to others on such a day.” Su Muyu shook his head, dusting off his clothes. “We should continue our journey.”

“Did you look forward to New Year when you were young?” Su Changhe suddenly asked.

Su Muyu nodded: “Of course. The New Year period was the happiest time of the year. No matter how many troubles the past year held, they seemed to clear away as the new year approached. Everyone would happily share a meal, and when dawn came, everything would begin anew.”

“You speak too much like a scholar. I’ve heard people say they love New Year simply because they can eat things they usually can’t afford,” Su Changhe said.

“That’s true for ordinary families. But my family was well-off when I was young, so I didn’t feel that aspect,” Su Muyu replied.

Su Changhe stretched: “I forgot you used to be a young master from a wealthy family.”

“Have you never celebrated New Year?” Su Muyu asked.

Su Changhe gave a self-mocking laugh: “Since my earliest memories, I’ve been wandering with my brother. Then we were brought into Dark River. Dark River never had any notion of celebrating New Year, so naturally, I’ve never celebrated it.”

“That’s a shame. If only there were taverns open, I’d treat you to a drink,” Su Muyu replied.

As they talked, the wooden door suddenly opened, and a hunched elderly woman stood there, looking surprised: “You are…”

“Don’t be afraid, grandmother. We’re just travelers stopping to rest. We’ll leave now,” Su Muyu said gently.

“Traveling on New Year’s Eve?” The old woman looked carefully at Su Muyu, noting his kind and handsome face.

“Yes, we’re out on business and got delayed,” Su Muyu nodded. “Changhe, let’s go.”

“Ah, only the inns in big cities are open on New Year’s Eve, and the nearest city is still four or five hours away. Come in and have New Year’s Eve dinner first.” The old woman grabbed Su Muyu’s sleeve.

“Hmm?” Su Muyu was slightly startled.

“Oh?” Su Changhe smiled.

Su Muyu looked at the old woman, and somehow, what he saw in her eyes wasn’t so much enthusiasm as… pleading.

“Alright,” Su Muyu nodded.

They followed the old woman into the house. It was rather dark inside, lit only by an oil lamp, with a fire still burning in the kitchen. The old woman poured them each a cup of hot water before returning to the kitchen. Su Changhe looked around the house and asked quietly: “Not worried about a trap?”

“Even the most ruthless assassin wouldn’t kill on New Year’s Eve.” Su Muyu also examined the house, which was owned by someone very poor—”bare walls and empty rooms” would be an apt description. Su Changhe found a place to sit and sniffed the air: “It’s the fried tofu puffs you mentioned.”

“Yes.” Su Muyu noticed two memorial tablets in the corner, each with an egg placed before it.

“On a day like this, of course, you should sit down for a hot meal, why keep traveling? If your parents knew you had nowhere to rest today, they’d be worried,” the old woman came out carrying two dishes—one of simple stir-fried vegetables and one of fried tofu puffs.

Su Muyu hurried forward to take the dishes from her and place them on the table: “Grandmother, do you live here alone?”

The old woman paused, then nodded: “Yes.”

“Where is your child?” Su Changhe suddenly asked.

The old woman turned away: “Died fighting against South Jue.”

“I’m sorry,” Su Muyu glanced at Su Changhe before bowing slightly to the old woman.

“It’s alright. They said the war would be over this year and he’d be home for New Year’s. When I heard movement at the door earlier, I thought perhaps there was a mistake in the news his comrades brought, thought maybe he had returned. Instead, I found you two. I’ll just pretend he sent you to spend New Year’s with me.” The old woman wiped tears from her eyes and walked back to the kitchen. “Start eating, I’ll fry some eggs.”

“Su Muyu, you weren’t lying—these tofu puffs are delicious,” Su Changhe was already seated at the table, having finished one piece. “Though it’s different from what you said. Despite being poor, the grandmother still put meat inside.”

“She had an agreement with her child, who was supposed to return for New Year’s this year. She made those for him,” Su Muyu sighed softly. “Even though others have told her her child is dead, she still holds onto a bit of hope.”

“This is my first New Year’s Eve dinner in my life,” Su Changhe smiled, then called out loudly, “Grandmother, come eat with us!”

Deep in the night, the sound of firecrackers outside finally ceased.

Su Muyu and Su Changhe left the room the old woman had prepared for them. Su Changhe placed a silver ingot on the dining table.

“How generous,” Su Muyu smiled.

“Surprising, isn’t it? The renowned Su Muyu left nothing, while the murderous Funeral Director left a silver ingot,” Su Changhe raised his eyebrows.

“After dinner, I left the grandmother my five copper coins,” Su Muyu replied.

“Why only five copper coins?” Su Changhe pursed his lips.

“Because I only had six in total, and I need one to buy a steamed bun,” Su Muyu answered honestly.

“Ah, you poor thing.” Su Changhe pushed open the door and walked out. After about ten paces, he suddenly stopped and turned around.

Su Muyu also stopped: “What is it?”

“Happy New Year, Su Muyu,” Su Changhe grinned.