The aroma of freshly cooked dishes wafted through the Jia household, drawing family members out of their rooms one by one. Jia Lan stood in the middle of the kitchen, the morning sun casting a golden glow over the countertops. Her long hair was pulled into a loose braid, a soft lavender apron tied around her waist, already dusted with a bit of flour. Steam rose from the dishes laid carefully on porcelain plates, the final touch of garnish being placed on a bowl of clear, fragrant soup.
The dining table was set with delicate ceramic bowls, porcelain chopsticks, and cloth napkins neatly folded. At the center stood an array of vibrant dishes: steamed buns filled with red bean paste, a delicate scallion chicken sliced thinly and arranged like petals, stir-fried seasonal greens with garlic, lotus root stuffed with glutinous rice in sweet osmanthus syrup, and a golden egg and tomato stir-fry that shimmered like sunlight.
Lin Shunhua stepped into the dining room first, her silk house robe fluttering slightly as she paused to take in the sight. "Lanlan, are you sure you didn't call for a chef from the state banquet kitchen? This is... exquisite."
Jia Lan smiled modestly. "Just a little something I put together. Please sit down, Mama. It's best when it's hot."
Her father, Jia Chenghai, followed shortly after, the scent of soy and scallions pulling him from the morning paper. "It smells like New Year's morning in here! What's the occasion?"
"Every day is a celebration if you have good food," Jia Lan smiled and replied with a wink.
"Well said!" he laughed, patting her head lightly before taking his seat.
The soft patter of feet signaled the arrival of Jia Wei and his wife Yao Jing, followed by Jia Zhe and Xu Li. All four paused at the doorway, mouths half-open.
"Whoa, Lanlan! Did a fairy descend and cook this meal?" Yao Jing cried, rushing forward dramatically. "Don't tell me it's all for show and not edible!"
"You dare insult my skills?" Jia Lan narrowed her eyes playfully. "Then I'll make sure you only get congee and pickles."
"No no, I was just admiring! Please feed me, heavenly one!" Yao Jing clasped her hands like a temple-goer begging the gods.
"Honestly, Lanlan could open a restaurant and bankrupt half the city's chefs," Xu Li said as she gently lifted a piece of chicken onto her plate. "I've never seen such finesse from someone her age."
Everyone seated, chopsticks in hand, eager yet polite.
As they began tasting the dishes, a quiet settled over the table — the kind born from sheer culinary bliss.
"This chicken... it melts in the mouth," Jia Zhe said, wide-eyed. "How did you get the skin so tender?"
"Marinated overnight with a touch of rice wine and ginger," Jia Lan explained. "Then steamed slowly before a quick dip in scallion oil."
Jia Wei, still chewing a lotus root slice, nearly teared up. "I might cry. This is better than anything I've eaten at the provincial meetings."
Their mother beamed with pride, eyes crinkling. "Our Lanlan is blessed. Not just in talent but in heart."
Jia Chenghai nodded. "She has hands that can build peace and cook joy."
As they continued, little conversations sparked around the table — soft, teasing remarks, compliments, and debates over which dish reigned supreme.
"I vote for the egg tomato stir-fry," Jia Wei declared. "Simple, yes, but the flavor is layered!"
"You only say that because it reminds you of Mama's cooking," Yao Jing teased.
"Exactly! That's why it wins."
Jia Lan grinned. "Next time I'll try recreating grandmother's braised pork. But I'll need her secret recipe first."
The sunlight shifted slightly through the gauze curtains, throwing a honeyed hue on the table. The clinking of porcelain, the occasional laughter, the gentle chewing — everything formed a perfect domestic symphony.
Jia Wei leaned back with a satisfied groan. "We should have Lanlan cook once a week. No — twice a week."
"Are you planning to pay her a chef's salary?" Xu Li raised an eyebrow.
"I'll throw in my entire snack stash."
"Tempting," Jia Lan said with mock consideration.
Lin Shunhua chuckled softly, then glanced at her husband. "Oh, I forgot to tell you — Madam Huang stopped me in the market yesterday. She was hinting again about that son of hers."
"What? The one with a face like steamed bread?" Jia Chenghai snorted. "She'd better not be eyeing Lanlan."
"She is. Said he's just returned from the countryside and ready to settle down."
"Lanlan's only sixteen! Tell her to settle her son with a roast duck instead."
The entire table burst into laughter.
"I'm not marrying anytime soon," Jia Lan said with amusement. "I'm too busy feeding all of you."
"That's right! Besides, with your skills, suitors will line up anyway. No need to consider the likes of Steamed Bread Face," Yao Jing declared.
As the meal wound down, the table was filled with laughter, empty bowls, and satisfied sighs. Jia Lan sat back slightly, watching her family—her father praising the tenderness of the meat, her mother quietly tucking more vegetables into her bowl, her brothers mock-arguing over the last fried dumpling.
Xu Li dabbed her lips and said with mock seriousness, "A daughter who can cook like this… Our Jia family is truly blessed."
Yao Jing clapped her hands dramatically. "We need to build a temple and worship Lanlan's hands!"
Jia Lan chuckled, shaking her head. "Then please light incense before you ask me to cook again."
The nickname stuck instantly.
As dishes were finally cleared and the family lounged with cups of warm barley tea, the house seemed to settle into a contented hush. Outside, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and the faint chirping of cicadas echoed from the courtyard.
It was a perfect morning — full of food, laughter, and love.
And Jia Lan, surrounded by warmth and joy, could only smile.
Outside, the late morning sun warmed the balcony, and the breeze fluttered the lace curtains. Somewhere in the distance, a bicycle bell chimed, and the scent of jasmine tea lingered faintly in the air.
It was a simple moment, but for Jia Lan—reborn into this life, armed with quiet skill and family love—it was a treasure more satisfying than any reward the system could ever give.
Jia Lan glanced out the window. A pair of sparrows hopped along the sill, chirping cheerfully. She smiled to herself. In this second life, filled with warm meals and laughter, she was no longer surviving—she was finally living. Peacefully, beautifully.