Chapter 261

On the morning of December 26th, before dawn had fully broken, Luna Whitaker was already bustling in the kitchen. Her sister, Luna White, rolled up her sleeves and worked alongside her, the two moving in perfect harmony.

"Sis, I've already seasoned the meat filling," Luna White said, expertly mixing the ingredients in the bowl. The filling was no simple mixture—finely minced pork blended with shredded white radish, diced tofu, and sweet potato starch, bound together with two eggs and a generous sprinkle of five-spice powder. The aroma was irresistible.

Luna Whitaker smiled approvingly. "You've outdone me with your skills."

Just two days ago, she had officially married Ryan Wallace. The thought still brought a faint blush to her cheeks. Though they hadn’t held a wedding banquet yet, she considered herself blessed to have found a man who truly cherished her.

She could still picture Mayor George Clark’s stunned expression when he signed their marriage certificate. Who would have thought old Walter Wallace, known for his stubbornness, would allow his son to marry a divorced woman? And Ryan—he had willingly given up everything to be with her.

"The oil’s hot!" Ethan Jackson’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He crouched by the stove, feeding firewood into the flames, his cheeks flushed from the heat.

Luna White deftly scooped up a handful of filling, squeezed it gently between her fingers, and let a perfectly round meatball slide into the sizzling oil. The golden bubbles danced excitedly around it.

"Smells amazing!" Ethan inhaled deeply, his eyes fixed on the browning meatballs.

Luna White fished one out, blew on it, and handed it to him. "Try it."

Ethan popped it into his mouth, hissing at the heat but refusing to spit it out. "So good! Way better than Grandma’s!"

"Of course—ours has more meat!" Luna White grinned, her hands never pausing as she fried batch after batch, soon filling a large basin with golden-brown meatballs.

In another pot, beef that had been braising overnight released a mouthwatering aroma. Luna Whitaker busied herself brushing honey over boiled pork belly, using a bamboo skewer to prick tiny holes into the skin.

"Not bad yourself, sis," Luna White remarked, peering over.

Luna Whitaker smiled faintly. "Learned from the best. Back then, we were lucky to have plain vegetable meatballs for New Year’s."

The sisters exchanged a glance, both seeing the same hope for the future reflected in each other’s eyes. This year’s celebration would be different.

The rich scents drifting from their yard drew curious neighbors peeking over fences. "The Whitakers are really doing well this year," someone murmured enviously.

By sunset, all the New Year’s dishes were ready—fried meatballs, braised beef, roasted pork, crispy pork bites—spread across every corner of the kitchen.

Luna White wiped her brow, satisfied. The suffering she endured in her past life would be repaid tenfold in this one. She would make sure her family had the joyful, abundant New Year she remembered.

"Tomorrow, we’ll slaughter the chickens. The day after, we’ll steam the buns," Luna Whitaker planned aloud. "This New Year… it’s shaping up to be special."

As night fell, the rhythmic chopping of meat fillings echoed through the village. The New Year was truly drawing near.