Chapter 342

When Yan Li returned, the atmosphere was tense, but not overly oppressive.

The three of them automatically divided tasks, each busy with their own, or chatting with Zhang Hong and Granny Yan.

Friction had its limits; turning into the target of everyone’s ire during the New Year would benefit no one.

Everything needed had been mostly prepared beforehand; the hustle was just for show—only Old Yan, the cook, was truly doing the work.

He had been monitoring the kitchen alone for a long time; all dishes were ready, and when it came time to cook, he barely needed help.

Yan Li occasionally ran errands for him, then returned to the main house to listen to the women chat.

Fan Xiaopang was boasting about his experience on the Spring Festival Gala.

Honestly, if it came to discussing ratings, box office, or income rankings, Zhang Hong and Granny Yan didn’t understand much, nor did they grasp the ins and outs.

But the Spring Festival Gala, as a household name, especially in the north, carried immense prestige—and today being New Year’s Eve made it even more topical.

Dong Xuan couldn’t stand it: “It’s just the Spring Festival Gala—like she’s never been on it.”

Fan Xiaopang sensed Dong Xuan’s mood and began emphasizing her second appearance on the Gala.

She had appeared twice: once as one of the Seven Fairies, like Dong Xuan, and once solo singing “Invisible Wings”—in both frequency and program significance, she was far ahead.

Qin Lan focused intently on shelling nuts; since she’d never been on the Gala, she declined to join the topic and spare herself humiliation.

“Actually, this year’s Gala team approached me too—my song ‘Painted Heart’ was pretty popular, but I thought it didn’t fit, and appearing on the Gala is exhausting, so I turned it down.”

Seeing Qin and Dong’s moods sour, Fan Xiaopang delivered another blow.

She wasn’t lying—this year’s Gala team really did approach her, but in the end, it wasn’t her refusal; the negotiations fell through over some issues.

At Fan Xiaopang’s current status, she had reached the pinnacle of female entertainers in the domestic industry.

Those who knew her didn’t need the Gala to recognize her; those who didn’t know her wouldn’t gain much from appearing on it.

If she hadn’t appeared before, she might still yearn for this grand stage—but she’d already been on it twice, achieved the relevant credentials, and reaped all the benefits; the Gala’s appeal to her had greatly diminished.

If conditions were ideal or necessary, she might consider appearing once—but otherwise, in ordinary years, forget it.

After all, she wasn’t a singer but an actress, and now she was even preparing to step behind the scenes; she didn’t care about the title “Spring Festival Gala Regular.”

Granny Yan and Zhang Hong felt a bit regretful—watching their daughter-in-law or granddaughter-in-law appear on the Gala, then returning home to eat the New Year’s Eve dinner together, would have been utterly delightful.

But then again, among the three daughters-in-law, one on the Gala and two busy at home wasn’t ideal; upon reflection, things were safer this way.

Qin Lan truly didn’t want to listen to Fan Xiaopang brag, so she shifted the topic to others.

“This year’s Gala has Zhou Jielun, Cheng Long, and Chen Yixun—there must be plenty of good acts.”

Dong Xuan picked up the cue: “Too bad Fan Wei and Song Dandan aren’t appearing this year; Zhao Ben Shan is carrying it alone—will he manage?”

“Even if he carries it alone, he’s still Zhao Ben Shan.”

Yan Li chimed in: “Besides, this time he’s bringing his own Zhao Family troupe disciples—all these Errenzhuan performers are skilled; if they perform well, it could be spectacular.”

Other acts were uncertain, but Zhao Ben Shan’s skit triggered one of Yan Li’s monthly intelligence reports.

Because of this, Yan Li had known in advance that this year’s Gala would produce a red-hot sensation—so popular even Lao Mouzi was forced to cast him as the male lead.

Unfortunately, this guy’s style didn’t align with Yi’an’s usual projects, and Zhao Ben Shan probably wouldn’t hand his cash cow over to Yi’an to manage; Yan Li figured he’d just have to watch.

Fan Xiaopang popped a pistachio: “You’re so busy—how do you have time to care about Gala news?”

“I can ignore everything else, but not the Gala.”

In the past two years, Yan Li hadn’t paid much attention to the Gala’s behind-the-scenes unless one of their own artists was appearing—just watching the show was enough.

This year, he was paying close attention because Weibo planned to harvest the Spring Festival traffic from this stage watched by hundreds of millions.

Previously, when people watched the Gala, the dominant voices came from traditional media; although internet voices were growing more important, they remained scattered and disorganized.

Now, Weibo has risen as the hottest, most explosive real-time social platform, leading the frontlines of information.

It can not only consolidate the previously scattered internet voices, but also directly enable countless netizens to engage in face-to-face discussions via Weibo and trending topics.

As soon as the Spring Festival program ends—or even while it’s still airing—netizens’ evaluations and discussions have already begun.

Weibo even gave this Spring Festival strategy a bold codename: “The Whole Nation Watches the Gala,” continuing the legacy of last summer’s “The Whole Nation Watches the Olympics.”

Under these circumstances, Yan Li naturally had to pay attention to the Gala.

By afternoon, it was finally time for the three of them to contribute—the family began making dumplings, but the real work was still done by Granny Yan and Zhang Hong.

These three women weren’t skilled cooks; they could make dumplings, but they were nowhere near as good as Zhang Hong and the others.

Watching them ruin the dough and filling, Zhang Hong started shooing them out.

“Go out and take a walk—stroll around the alleyway, then come back for dinner.”

“It’s freezing outside—what’s there to see?”

Yan Li didn’t want to go, but Fan Xiaopang and the others were eager—they’d been sitting with the elders long enough, and some fresh air sounded good.

One reason was the cold; another was fear of being photographed—they were bundled up tightly, barely showing a single eye.

Their relationships were public knowledge, so they weren’t worried about being caught together—but two people were fine; four together during the New Year was still sensitive.

Yan Li didn’t want to compete with the Gala for trending topics during the New Year—he preferred to keep a low profile and enjoy a quiet holiday.

It was the Spring Festival, and the neighborhood was still lively.

A group of kids ran around playing; as they walked, every household was busy preparing the New Year’s Eve feast—the smells of meat, fried food, and sweets lingered thickly in the air.

Yan Li watched this scene and felt unusually cheerful—perhaps because this year, more family had come, and everyone was together; the Spring Festival felt more festive than ever before.

Fan Xiaopang, usually swamped with work, hadn’t had such a leisurely rest or stroll in a long time; she was also in high spirits.

Too bad the two light bulbs weren’t gone—if only it were just her and Yan Li.

Coincidentally, Qin Lan and Dong Xuan thought the same thing; the tension, slightly diluted by the festive atmosphere, flared up again.

At the entrance, an old man still had his stall selling candied chestnuts and candied haws.

Qin Lan bought a portion of candied chestnuts and three skewers of candied haws—one for Yan Li, one for Dong Xuan, one for herself—and none for Fan Xiaopang.

“Who cares.”

Fan Xiaopang pulled out her wallet, took out several bills: “Old man, let me help you pack up early.”

She bought everything—including the straw rack holding the candied haws—and made Yan Li carry it while she held two large handfuls, smugly glaring at Qin Lan.

“Can you even eat that much?”

“If I can’t eat it, I’ll give it away—I’ve got money, and I like spending it.”

So Fan Xiaopang handed out candied haws to passersby; at first, some refused or hesitated, but soon a group of children spotted her and claimed them all.

Fan Xiaopang didn’t give them away for free—after handing out the haws, she made a request.

“Say the sister is beautiful.”

The children, holding their haws, happily complied; Fan Xiaopang laughed loudly, then pointed at Qin and Dong:

“Which is prettier—the sister, or these two aunts?”

The children couldn’t see their faces, so they praised whoever gave them the haw; Dong Xuan quickly adapted: “Anyone want candied chestnuts? The sister will treat you.”

“Yes!”

The ones who couldn’t get the haws switched sides immediately; many children defected, and Dong Xuan bought up all the remaining candied chestnuts, returning Fan Xiaopang’s earlier move.

Yan Li stayed out of it, hands in his pockets, watching the three women engage in childish squabbles while handing out treats to the kids.

Fight on!

The kids are benefiting now—soon it’ll be his turn.

After wandering outside for half an hour, Yan Li “paid up” again, buying them all sorts of strange toys and snacks.

During this time, Fan Xiaopang subtly gained some advantages; she was delighted, while Qin and Dong were the opposite.

Back home, after a short rest, dusk fell, and the New Year’s Eve dinner was nearly ready.

Let’s eat!

At this time, Old Yan always became the most noticeable—he got carried away, drank a few extra cups with his son, and before the Gala even started, he was half-asleep, stumbling off to lie down in his bedroom.

Fan Xiaopang and the others had also drunk quite a bit, but they knew their limits—lightly tipsy, not drunk; after dinner, they set up a mahjong table while watching the Gala.

Granny Yan didn’t understand mahjong, so Zhang Hong and the three daughters-in-law played; after one round, Fan Xiaopang quit.

Qin and Dong had no shame—they teamed up against her, willing to block their own wins just to ruin her game, making it utterly unpleasant.

Under her protest, Yan Li took Qin Lan’s place and played with them.

Qin Lan sat beside him, but instead of advising him, she peeked at his cards and quietly told Zhang Hong.

Yan Li didn’t care much, so he essentially became a cash machine, losing every round.

Zhang Hong had the best luck—thanks to Qin Lan’s cheating and Fan Xiaopang and Dong Xuan feeding her good cards, Madame Zhang was wiping the floor clean.

Then came Fan Xiaopang—her luck today was genuinely good; she kept drawing strong hands.

Though she won fewer rounds than Zhang Hong, because her hands were better, she actually earned more.

Yan Li didn’t care about the money—he treated it as entertaining his mother and the wives; he lost all his cash and even borrowed “usury” from Fan Xiaopang.