The next day.
On the second morning of the Spring Festival.
Having slept enough, Zhang Ye woke up naturally. He looked at his watch then pulled aside the blanket, yawned widely, and shouted into the living room, "Mom, what's for breakfast?"
His mother's voice came through the door.
"You're up?"
"Uh-huh."
"Breakfast is dumplings."
"What's the filling?"
"Chives, do you like that?"
"Hai, I'll just make do with whatever."
"What do you mean by make do with whatever? If you don't want to eat them, then don't eat!"
