There's a saying, "After Laba it's almost New Year," and indeed, after the Laba Festival, the whole village was steeped in the festive spirit.
The big market in the town started again, and Bai Zhi, Wu Wa, Bai Xiang, and Bai Fei went once more to sell food.
Once they had sold enough, they would stroll around a bit and then head home.
By the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, everyone had returned home, and Bai Zhi and the others began watching Bai Dan write couplets.
Then, they started to pound sticky rice cakes, eating lunch promptly at twelve o'clock.
Bai Meng was now leading what can only be described as the standard life of retirement: usually out of sight but sure to be the first to appear at mealtimes.
They had all grown used to it.
Today's dishes were lavish: preserved pork and sausages, spicy Sichuan chicken, fish, and of course, the sticky rice cakes.
