When it comes to New Year's food...

it's gotta be jiaozi!

And it absolutely has to be pork and cabbage filling!

Nothing else—pork and cabbage jiaozi are all about that authentic taste!

Unfortunately, on the Pan Continent, whether it was scallions, ginger, garlic, or the main ingredients—pork and cabbage—they differed vastly from her hometown due to various factors. Back home, the pork and cabbage were premium breeds cultivated over centuries. But here, with lower agricultural development, finding suitable ingredients was tough.

Hoping for authentic pork and cabbage jiaozi wasn't realistic. So Lyselle settled for substitutes. Kankel, the City of Adventurers, never lacked weird and wonderful things. After much searching, she bought a prime cut of unknown beast meat, well-marbled and perfect. She also found a cabbage-like vegetable few people liked. Lyselle figured the Pan Continent had richer vegetable varieties, and most disliked the tough stems—just like her. But it didn't matter; chopped up and stuffed into jiaozi, she'd eat them happily.

Enough talk—time to cook!

Lyselle poured flour into a bowl, sprinkled in salt, added starch and egg white. Slowly mixing in cold water, she kneaded the dough. Beside her, Shall grabbed a kitchen knife and started chopping. Though Lyselle often teased his mediocre swordsmanship—relying on brute force—even his clumsy skills were perfect for mincing. The ordinary knife became a whirlwind in his hands. In seconds, the beast meat was minced.

"Shall, don't mince it too fine—it won't taste good," Lyselle reminded casually, continuing to knead.

They had great chemistry. Lyselle kneaded while Shall minced; when he finished chopping, she washed vegetables and squeezed out moisture. Soon, prep was done—only mixing filling and rolling wrappers left.

Watching the rested dough, Lyselle got a mischievous idea. She exaggeratedly exclaimed, "Shall, look! This dough is so white, so big, so soft!"

Shall, pouring meat and "cabbage" into a bowl, turned and instinctively agreed, "Yeah, so white and big—"

He froze mid-sentence, realizing her meaning. He fell silent, hoping to escape.

Hmph, trying to run? Lyselle raised her voice, poking the dough. "Heh heh, sure it's big, but not as white or soft as mine!" She was tempting him to look.

No reaction. How boring, Lyselle thought. Strangely, her heart had raced while teasing him, conjuring thoughts like, "What if he actually looks?" Still, she sneered inwardly: *How dull. Such a pure, inexperienced boy.*

...

But this pure boy was efficient and reliable. Without teaching, he quickly mastered rolling wrappers and folding jiaozi. Lyselle had mixed the filling already. This time, she didn't tease—just honestly guided him. Perfectly, the filling and wrappers were used up completely.

She lit the stove. Water boiled fast. Lyselle dropped in the jiaozi, then gently pushed them along the pot's bottom with an upside-down spoon. Heat rose. Thick white steam curled up, blurring her vision. A familiar aroma filled the kitchen—meat, vegetables, oil. The warm steam dispersed the scents, ripening them, stirring Lyselle's taste buds. Buried memories revived...

A cherished scene formed: her younger self back home; her parents—her sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, often-sickly mother; her quiet father who always brought joy; her noisy little sister. The four sat in a tiny kitchen, happily eating New Year's Eve dinner to gongs, drums, and firecrackers outside. Fresh jiaozi, scalding hot, dipped in vinegar, sesame oil, and chili oil—so delicious people forgot the heat. She remembered her mother hiding a coin in one dumpling, always found by her or her sister. Only now did she realize: her mother must have marked it with a tiny notch. No one noticed.

*Should I hide a coin too?* Lyselle thought. But all jiaozi were already boiling. Too late.

The Sorceress let out a soft sigh. It was drowned by the bubbling pot—no one heard it. Like steam, her sigh vanished into the ceiling.

...

Soon, plump jiaozi floated to the surface, looking lovely. Lyselle served Shall a large bowl, herself a small one. They sat at the table. Shall hesitated—he'd never seen jiaozi.

Lyselle picked up chopsticks, blew on a jiaozi, bit in, and smiled. "This is from my hometown—'jiaozi.' Every New Year, we gather with family, make them together, cook them, eat them. It celebrates the new year."

"...I see." Shall imitated her, stuffed a jiaozi in his mouth, savored it, and nodded. "Really good. I like it."

"Eat more if you like it," Lyselle said, lowering her eyes. "Plenty left in the pot."

"Uh..." Shall didn't eat. He hesitated, then blurted, "Before... I've never heard you talk about your hometown."

Lyselle snorted. "Neither have you—I've never heard about your family."

Shall's expression turned awkward. "That's because... nothing worth saying." His voice dropped low. "My home is gone. When I was young, my parents died in a disaster—not just them. My friends, elders, whole village... all gone. Now I'm alone. No home, no family. So..." He stuffed in a jiaozi, suppressing emotions, and grinned—a smile more pitiful than a cry. "So there's never been much to say."

He waited. He expected her to skip the topic or pity him—he was used to it.

But Lyselle put down her chopsticks, propped her chin, and gave a strange smile. "Now," she said, "we're comrades. My family isn't dead yet... oh, hard to say after so long. But whether alive or not, I'll probably never see them again."

"Why?" Shall asked.

"Why?" Lyselle smiled, amused. "Because my hometown... is too far."

"...How far?"

"How far? I don't know. But even if I spent my whole life trying, I couldn't return."

Shall fell silent. He seemed to understand: Lyselle, like him, was homeless. This made him both happy and sad. Yet he felt he understood nothing. After a while, he said dryly, "When welcoming New Year, shouldn't we avoid... this kind of talk?"

"Hah?" Lyselle raised an eyebrow. "You idiot—you asked why I never mentioned my hometown!"

Shall argued, "But you started with jiaozi's origin, then brought up your hometown—"

Lyselle flared up. "I don't care! Setting that aside, don't you bear responsibility for asking?"

They bickered pointlessly. Moments ago, Lyselle called them comrades; moments ago, Shall saw her as his kind. Yet the sad, heavy atmosphere vanished in their squabbling.

Then—a loud explosion outside. A firework burst in the night sky. Countless others bloomed after it.

Beneath the fireworks, two homeless fools bickered and ate jiaozi, welcoming their first New Year together.

[To be continued]

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