These days, I have lived through for a full sixteen years.

It was a very ordinary day, I had just come back from the fields after spreading manure.

In the kitchen, miraculously, cooking smoke rose, and waves of meat fragrance wafted over.

I trembled step by step as I walked past the kitchen door, afraid the stench of manure would seep into the kitchen.

I had long forgotten, the manure had all been used as fertilizer, the carrying pole was empty.

I set down the pole, hastily wiped myself with well water, and quickly went to help my mom in the kitchen.

The aroma of meat dumplings lingered around me, I took a deep whiff, skillfully ran over to add firewood to the stove.

My mom turned the dumplings in the pot with a ladle, then turned to me with a smile, "Just wait a little longer, they'll be ready soon."

I lifted my head from the stove, surprised, looking at my mom.

She seemed unaware, and said, "Today, mom will make dumplings for you."

For the first time in my life, my mom spoke to me so kindly, smilingly saying she would make dumplings for me to eat.

I thought I was dreaming.

I remembered, from as far back as I could recall, the first time we made dumplings at home, I was lying next to the stove watching the fire for my mom.

When my mom went out to get a tray, I grabbed a half-cooked dumpling from the pot, regardless of whether it was too hot, and stuffed it into my mouth.

But my sharp-eyed mom still caught me.

She grabbed a piece of firewood and smacked it on my back, scolding, "You naughty girl, these are for your brother, he hasn't eaten yet, and you, with your greedy mouth, ate first!"

My mom gave me a harsh beating, so painful I couldn't even get up from the ground.

"Mom, I won't dare again, I won't dare again, I'll spit it out and give it to my brother."

I cried out in pain, quickly spitting out the dumpling I hadn't swallowed yet.

But this action only resulted in my mom beating me even harder.

"Who allowed you to waste food? You useless girl, I'll beat you to death, you useless girl."

As my mom hit me, she pointed at the dumpling I had spat out on the ground.

"Useless girl, eat it!"

Hearing my mom's command, I didn't hesitate at all.

I lay on the ground, picked up the dumpling I had just spat out, and put it back in my mouth.

My mom waved the firewood at me, "Today, I'll make sure you remember, don't be such a careless and wasteful person."

I nodded vigorously, promising my mom that I had learned my lesson.

The dumpling in my mouth mixed with the ash from the ground, had long lost its original flavor.

It wasn't until my mom pushed the small plate of meat dumplings in front of me.

"Daughter, come, you eat first,"

I looked at the enamel bowl in front of me and swallowed hard.

Along with me, my brother sat on the edge of the heated brick bed, also swallowing saliva.

For so many years, this was the first time I had eaten freshly cooked dumplings.