Housewarming Banquet

This was a gift from the Qi family, as they were Madam Xie's family. Other relatives would not be as generous, but generally, they would also give between two and four baskets of goods, symbolizing auspiciousness and fortune from all directions. However, the custom here strictly forbade giving gifts in odd numbers; according to local tradition, odd-numbered gifts were reserved for funerals. If someone gave an odd-numbered gift, it was considered a curse upon the household—a deeply inauspicious act.

Madam Xie would return a portion of the gifts brought in even numbers. For example, if Grandpa Qi brought some meat, she would send back four pounds, give back half of the cooked chicken, and include steamed buns, noodles, apples, tangerines, and a parcel of their own return gifts. This way, after the meal, the guests could take their share with them directly.

Friends who gave cash gifts would receive their return parcels during the meal.

There were ten tables set up today. Madam Xie had instructed them to prepare at least fifty return parcels in advance; better to have too many than too few, as extras could be shared with neighbors the next day to spread the joy, but too few would be a loss of face for the family.

Xie Yihuang and Xie Yuanfeng spent the entire day helping out. Most of their tasks were small, but there was always work for those who kept their eyes open.

The celebration banquet began at five-thirty in the evening. Guests started to arrive just before five, and at half past, Father Xie set off firecrackers to mark the official start.

Father Xie greeted everyone at the front, urging them to eat and drink well while also serving dishes. Madam Xie, along with some aunts, handled the dishwashing and tidying up at the back. In these times, at such banquets, the hosts barely had a moment to eat, but the three Xie siblings were excused from chores and told to enjoy the feast.

The three siblings sat at a table with Grandpa Qi. The tables used were the traditional Eight Immortals tables—sturdy and square, each with four long benches, seating eight guests per table.

Father and Madam Xie had prepared eight cold dishes, sixteen hot dishes, plus canned fruit and a soup, totaling twenty-six dishes—a rare and generous spread in these parts.

Banquets of this era were straightforward, with little ostentation. The cold dishes included pig's ear salad, poached chicken, sheep tripe, poached beef, poached pork intestines, jellyfish salad, marinated crab, and stir-fried peanuts.

The first hot dish served was pork skin soup, a local tradition. This was followed by lion’s head meatballs, fish balls, braised spare ribs, braised ribbonfish, braised pork knuckle, stir-fried squid, tofu wraps, whole chicken, old duck casserole, steamed eel, steamed soft-shelled turtle, stir-fried greens, pickled bamboo shoots, stir-fried rice cakes, and stir-fried beef.

The meal concluded with a shredded pork and pickled vegetable soup and a jar of candied bayberry.

It was a complete banquet, and the guests were thoroughly satisfied.

Though people here were no longer worried about having enough to eat, such an impressive banquet was still a rare treat—perhaps only seen once a year. Most of the dishes were local specialties, hearty and substantial, with no filler soups or broths.

“This is quite a spread from Weimin—must have taken a whole pig just for the meat,” someone praised as they ate.

“Look, there’s a pork knuckle on every table. I heard he prepared enough for ten tables, and even though they’re not all full, the ingredients are. I heard his two brothers-in-law helped him buy everything.”

“That’s right. Looks like Weimin has really made it. I’ll remember this feast for years.”

“It’s only because things have improved lately and food is easier to buy. A few years ago, even with money, you couldn’t get this much—just one main dish per table was considered good.”

“Let’s eat, let’s eat. With Weimin’s hospitality, we should look after his family in the future.”

People these days were genuine—when they received real benefits, they responded sincerely in turn.

The Xie family’s honest, hearty banquet left everyone deeply satisfied.

After the meal and drinks, guests took their return parcels and said their farewells, while Xie Yihuang and the others stayed behind to help tidy up.

As she worked, Xie Yihuang thought about the future; truly, hiring a chef to handle everything would be ideal—then the hosts could simply enjoy the meal while the staff managed everything else.

“Ah Yi, remember to visit the Qi family tomorrow,” Grandpa Qi reminded her before leaving.

Yihuang nodded. “I’ll go for a morning run over there—good exercise. Grandma, make breakfast for me too. I want porridge tomorrow.”

Breakfast at the Qi house was never fixed. Grandpa Qi spent about ten days each month eating noodles at Old Liu’s stall, but most days, he ate at home.

Grandma Qi smiled kindly. “Alright, I’ll cook porridge for you and serve it with sugared dried vegetables.”

This dish was made with freshly dried vegetables, a spoonful of sugar, and two spoons of rapeseed oil, then steamed together—a beloved companion to porridge in their generation.

Yihuang grinned, nodding with delight. “Thank you, Grandma.”

Grandpa and Grandma Qi headed home first, while the Xie family stayed to tidy up, storing away any leftovers. With the cool weather now, there was little worry about food spoiling—though little was left anyway, as people cherished every bite of such a rare banquet.

Once everything was in order and the courtyard gate locked, the family finally retired for the night.

Early the next morning, Yihuang was up at five as usual. Her mother was already preparing breakfast. Slinging on her schoolbag, Yihuang called out, “Mom, I’m heading to Grandpa’s.”

Her mother, expecting this, nodded. “Be careful. And take these salted duck eggs with you.”

Yihuang agreed, picking up the eggs. Her mother handed her a set of two keys. “These are for you—the house keys. One for the back door, one for the front.”

She tucked them away and, after greeting her father who was rearranging tables and chairs, set out for the Qi family at a jog.

When she arrived, Grandpa Qi was practicing his martial arts. Yihuang dropped her bag in her room and joined him.

At breakfast, Grandpa Qi said, “Put on long sleeves and long pants later. I’m taking you up the mountain today.”

Yihuang looked up in surprise. “Are we going to pick winter tea?” But she paused—this was autumn turning to winter, and if they were harvesting tea, it should be oolong or black tea. Yet, as far as she knew, Grandpa Qi’s mountain didn’t have those kinds of tea bushes.