New ink fragrance in old times

Lin Mo sat by the fire, the warmth and bustle of the surroundings seeming to be separated from him by a thin layer of mist. His eyes were hazy, his thoughts seemed to be still wandering between dreams and reality, not yet fully settled.

In the kitchen, the firelight danced and reflected on the mottled walls, forming swaying light and shadows, adding a bit of liveliness and vitality to this quiet night.

The laughter and conversation of the family members rose and fell, like a stream in spring, gurgling and flowing with joy and harmony.

However, Lin Mo felt as if he was isolated from this joy. Their words were like a string of notes, which, although clearly audible, could not stir up the slightest ripple in his heart.

Lin Mo felt dizzy. He tried to concentrate and follow the pace of his family's conversation, but it always felt like there was a layer of gauze between them and he couldn't hear clearly.

It seemed like someone was talking to him, and he responded, but he didn't know what was said exactly.

Lin Mo occasionally looked up and saw that everyone had smiles on their faces, but an inexplicable emotion surged in his heart - perhaps envy, or perhaps confusion.

“Perhaps human joys and sorrows are not the same.”

Lin Mo thought silently in his heart, his eyes moving among his family members.

He saw his father's eyes filled with hope, his mother's face adorned with a gentle smile, his uncle doting on him, and his younger brothers and sisters innocent and carefree. Their smiles were so genuine, so pure, without any worries or concerns...

Lin Wenhong held the wooden hook, which was blackened by time, tightly in his hand, and skillfully hung the hanging pot steadily on the wooden structure.

He turned around and picked up a slightly old wooden barrel, took out a gourd ladle, scooped out water, tilted it gently, and the clear water flowed like a thin thread, slowly falling into the hanging pot.

Then, the grains were evenly spread into the water. When the grains met the water, they made a slight rustling sound.

The flame under the hanging pot jumped under the burning firewood, licking the bottom of the pot. After a while, the water in the hanging pot began to boil, bubbling, steam rising, and the aroma of grain filled the entire kitchen.

Seeing this, Zhao Yue'e immediately picked up a wooden spoon and gently stirred the food in the pot to prevent it from sticking to the bottom. Her movements were gentle and skillful, as if she were handling a precious work of art.

At this moment, Lin Mo was immersed in his own world. His thoughts were like floating clouds, sometimes far, sometimes near, sometimes bright, sometimes dark.

He sat on an old wooden bench by the fire, his hands on his knees, staring at the fire in front of him with empty eyes, his heart filled with inexplicable confusion and bewilderment.

It was not until Zhao Yue'e handed him a bowl of hot porridge that he came back to his senses.

"Here, Sanlang, you haven't eaten all day, eat quickly."

Zhao Yue'e's voice was gentle and concerned, and her eyes were full of love.

Lin Mo took the bowl and felt the warmth coming from the bowl wall. He looked at Zhao Yue'e and said in a hoarse voice, "Thank you, grandma."

"Be careful of the burn."

Zhao Yue'e instructed, her eyes full of concern.

Lin Mo looked down at the porridge in the bowl. The aroma of rice and beans intertwined together to form an enticing fragrance.

He picked up the spoon, gently scooped up a spoonful, and put it into his mouth. The porridge was just the right temperature and had a delicate texture, warming his stomach and, as if warming his heart, his heart as well.

He felt the porridge melting in his mouth, and streams of warmth flowed into his body through his esophagus, slowly waking him up, as if he had come back to life.

At the same time, the other children in the Lin family's little faces were filled with endless anticipation and longing for the porridge in the pot. Their eyes were fixed on the hanging pot, as if the whole world only had this pot of hot porridge.

The youngest, Lin Siheng, couldn't help swallowing his saliva. His little hands unconsciously rubbed the corners of his clothes, his eyes flashing with excitement and anticipation.

Zhao Yue'e looked at the children's eager eyes, sighed, picked up the wooden spoon, and scooped half a bowl for each child in turn.

Seeing this, the children stretched out their hands, carefully took the bowl, afraid of spilling a drop, and began to enjoy this simple and delicious food.

"Grandma, this porridge is so delicious!"

Lin Sizhe couldn't help but praise, his little face full of happiness and satisfaction.

Tangshan nodded in agreement, and the other children also said that this porridge was the best porridge they had ever eaten.

Zhao Yue'e couldn't help laughing as she watched the children wolfing down the food.

She laughed and cursed, "You're a bunch of debt collectors. Do I need you on a daily basis? Look how hungry you are."

Just as the children were eating with gusto, Zhao Yue'e scooped out another small bowl of porridge and handed it to Han Suniang.

"Suniang, you're pregnant, eat more."

Han Suniang took the bowl and smiled gratefully: "Thank you, mother."

Zhao Yue'e scooped another small bowl of porridge and handed it to Lu Yue: "This is from the third brother's family. You can eat it too."

Zhao Yue'e glanced at everyone, making sure they had all received their share of porridge, and nodded. However, when she looked back at the hanging pot, she found only a thin layer of porridge at the bottom.

"Sanlang, hold out the bowl."

Zhao Yue'e sighed softly, picked up the spatula, and carefully scooped out all the remaining porridge at the bottom of the pot. She poured all the porridge into Lin Mo's bowl.

Lin Mo looked up at Zhao Yue'e, a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes. He took the bowl, felt the warmth coming from the bowl wall, and looked down at the porridge in the bowl. Lin Mo could not describe his mood at this moment.

Zhao Yue'e picked up the ladle and filled the hanging pot with water again, then skillfully hung the pot up.

In the kitchen, the firelight was dim and warm, projecting onto the mottled walls, interweaving with the swaying shadows of the trees outside the window to create a series of cozy pictures.

The air is filled with the aroma of rice and the unique smell of firewood smoke, all of which make this small space full of the breath of life. The sound of dishes and chopsticks gently clinking together is particularly clear in the silence.

Lin Wenhong suddenly spoke, breaking the silence: "Would you like some sweet potatoes?"

Lin Xuebo immediately sat up straight and responded with a smile on his face: "Dad, I'll go get some."

After saying that, he stood up and walked out of the house with brisk steps.

Seeing this, Lin Sizhe also put down the bowl in his hand, his eyes full of anticipation: "Uncle, I'll go with you."

There was a hint of urgency in his words, as if he was afraid of missing the upcoming delicious feast.

After a while, Lin Xuebao came in with a small basket of sweet potatoes. There was still some moist soil on the sweet potatoes, emitting the unique fresh scent of soil.

Lin Wenhong took the basket and skillfully dug one hole after another next to the fire. He picked up the sweet potatoes with tongs and carefully placed them into the fire.

Lin Sizhe gathered around the fire, his eyes fixed on the sweet potatoes in the fire, as if afraid that they would run away.

His little face flushed slightly with excitement, his eyes fixed on the small package beside the fire. Whenever Lin Wenhong moved the tongs in his hand, he couldn't help asking, "Grandpa, is it cooked? Can we eat it now?"

The voice was full of anticipation and eagerness.

Lin Wenhong smiled and shook his head, patiently explaining, "Don't rush, it'll take a while. You have to roast the sweet potatoes slowly so they're crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, sweet and delicious."

Lin Xuebao interrupted and said, "Silang, the sweet potatoes you picked are too big and not easy to cook. Remember to pick smaller ones next time." There was a hint of blame in his tone, but more of pampering and care.

Lin Sizhe chuckled and scratched his head: "Hey, uncle, I'll wait a while, I'm sure I can eat it."

Lin Mo sat aside, eating the porridge in the bowl. Everything in front of him made him feel an indescribable feeling in his heart.

Thinking back to when he first came into this world, the confusion and helplessness he felt seemed to be still vivid in his mind. Back then, he was filled with fear and uncertainty about this unfamiliar world. But now, he felt as if he had gradually adapted to this family and become one of them.

Lin Mo laughed unconsciously and said silently in his heart: "This feeling is not bad. Although I still miss the past sometimes, if I can't go back, it's not bad to live in the Lin family for the rest of my life."

Lin Xuejin looked at Lin Mo from the side and said softly, "Sanlang, eat well."

Lin Mo immediately sped up his eating.

After finishing the porridge, Lin Xuejin stood up and took the bowl from Lin Mo's hand.

Lin Mo was about to refuse when the bowl was taken away.

Lin Xuejin turned and walked to the fire, poured black liquid from a small earthenware jar into a bowl, and a strong smell of Chinese medicine immediately filled the room.