chinese/lunar new year 2026, a short story

There is so much to do for Chinese/Lunar New Year, especially as the year of the snake (the year I was born) was particularly hard for me for numerous reasons.

I have finished decluttering and cleaning my room from top to bottom. Long gone are the cobwebs that have decorated the ceiling and all four corners of the room. The floors and edges are thoroughly vacuumed and mopped, and the space is arranged by clearing out old clothes, expired skincare products, and miscellaneous items no longer useful.

You can tell, I wanted a clear slate for the new year.

I can hear my mum chopping and clattering in the kitchen, her Hong Kong radioplaying on her phone for background noise and concentration. The lingering aromas of braised beef with radish and her homemade soup were present. Even the oceanic yet fresh scent lingered, meaning we were in for a good meal.

Luckily, my room was done, and I was getting rather peckish.

The living room was also done and decorated with symbols of good luck: red-and-gold lanterns, koi fish, and a table set with traditional snacks, vases of fresh flowers, and bowls of fruit. I went straight for the tangerines and peeled one to snack on. Juicy, citrusy and sweet, they were delicious.

My mum called us to set the table because dinner was almost ready. I can hear her chopping the ginger and spring onions for the fish; it will take her only 15 minutes to steam and garnish.

Chopsticks, teacups, soup bowls, and spoons were laid out on the table. My mum called yet again to take the dishes to the table dinner can be served.

A whole Hainanese chicken for good luck, a small mountain of stir-fried ketchup prawns for success and pan-fried radish cakes for good fortune, the braised beef and radish because my mum took time to make it, a plate of vibrant green choy sum for good health, a whole steamed fish for abundance, freshly cooked rice to bring it altogether and last but not least, a bowl of tangyuan aka mochi ball with black sesame for family reunion and unity.

Prosperity was definitely among us.

Dinner was ready, and boy, we couldn't wait any longer.

I reached first for the fish. The flesh flaked apart effortlessly under my chopsticks, delicately tender, gently soaked in soy and ginger. It tasted clean and comforting, like something honest.

I picked a piece of Hainanese chicken thigh. Soft, silky yet complex and simple. One of my favourite ways to eat chicken.

Stir-fried ketchup prawn is a favourite of ours. Sticky, slightly tangy and sweet. They were moreish and finger-licking good. A small mountain of prawn heads and shells was made in no time.

I took a sip of the soup, nourishing, with umami and a naturally sweet note from the dried seafood my mum generously added. I felt my body replenish and sang in health.

For a year of challenges and shredding, tonight felt different.

Nothing dramatic, but calmer with a unique perspective.

Perhaps prosperity is not about becoming someone entirely new. Perhaps it is about returning. Softer, wiser, less afraid — and slowly stepping out of my shell at my own pace.

I am learning that not everything needs chasing. Some things arrive when there is space for them.

I will trust that what is meant for me will come in its own time. And when it does, I will be ready.

Last year, I shed what no longer fit.
This year, I will not rush to bloom. I will root first.

I will water and nurture what is already growing.
I will honour little progress and celebrate small milestones.

Growth does not have to be loud to be real.

And maybe that is my quiet kind of prosperity — not a transformation for the sake of spectacle, but becoming more at home within myself.