The Great Reunion Race

The clock on the wall of the “Super-Speed” noodle shop was ticking like a heartbeat. Tick. Tock. Tick. To twelve-year-old Eddy, it sounded more like a countdown to a disaster.

“Aiya, Eddy! Why are you still staring at your bowl? Eat faster or you’ll be the only person in the whole city not at a dinner table tonight!” his boss, Uncle Chen, barked. He was busy wiping down tables, preparing to shut the shop for the Spring Festival.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Eddy stuffed a giant baozi into his mouth.

Today was the big day. The Spring Festival. The Lunar New Year. The day of the Chunyun—the largest human migration on Earth. Millions of people were moving across the country at the exact same time, and Eddy was one of them. He had a simple mission: get from the big, noisy city of Beiling to his grandmother’s house in the snowy village of Plum Creek by 6:00 PM.

If he made it, he got Grandma’s legendary lion’s head meatballs. If he failed, he’d be spending New Year’s Eve eating a cold sandwich in a train station.

“Don’t forget your ‘Luck-Luck’ bag!” Uncle Chen tossed a bright red backpack at him. “Now go! Run like a rabbit!”

Phase 1: The Sea of People

Eddy sprinted toward the North Railway Station. As he turned the corner, he hit a wall. Not a brick wall—a wall of people. Thousands of travelers were packed together, carrying massive striped plastic bags, birdcages, and enough boxes of tea to fill a swimming pool.

“Excuse me! Sorry! Coming through!” Eddy squeaked, trying to navigate the crowd.

“Wah! Watch the toes, kid!” a tall man shouted, balancing three suitcases on a trolley.

“Sorry, Uncle!” Eddy ducked under a giant teddy bear being carried by a young girl.

The station was a symphony of chaos. Announcements blared over the speakers: “Train D-888 to Plum Creek is now boarding at Gate 12. Please do not push!”

But “do not push” was more of a suggestion than a rule. Eddy felt like a single grain of rice in a giant pot of congee. He used his secret weapon: the “Eel Wiggle.” He twisted his shoulders, ducked low, and slid through the gaps between aunts and uncles.

He reached the ticket gate just as the light turned red.

“Ticket, please,” the guard said, looking bored.

Eddy fumbled through his pockets. Left pocket? Tissues. Right pocket? A lucky coin. Backpack? “Wait, wait! I have it!” He pulled out a crumpled green ticket.

The guard scanned it. Beep. “Hurry up, kid. The train leaves in two minutes.”

Eddy didn’t run; he flew. He leaped over a stray rolling cabbage and slid onto the train car just as the heavy doors hissed shut. Chshhh. “Made it,” Eddy panted, leaning against the door. “One hour down. Five to go.”

Phase 2: The Middle Seat Mystery

The high-speed train was supposed to be fast, but inside, it felt like a crowded elevator that traveled at 300 kilometers per hour. Eddy found his seat, but someone was already in it. Well, half of it.

A very round, very cheerful woman—Auntie Ling—was sitting in Seat 14B, but her shopping bags were comfortably occupying Seat 14A (Eddy’s seat).

“Oh! Young man! You look so skinny!” Auntie Ling exclaimed before he could even say hello. “Are you eating enough? Here, have a tangerine.”

“Thank you, Auntie, but I think that’s my seat…”

“Of course, of course! Let me move my dried mushrooms.” She shifted a giant bag that smelled strongly of the sea. “You going home for dinner? My grandson is your age. He’s a genius. He plays the violin with his toes! Can you do that?”

“Uh, no,” Eddy said, squeezing into the tiny space left for him.

For the next three hours, Eddy learned everything about Auntie Ling’s family. He learned about her cat’s indigestion, her son’s promotion, and her secret recipe for dumplings (the secret was extra ginger). Every time Eddy tried to nap, Auntie Ling would tap his shoulder.

“Don’t sleep! You’ll miss the scenery! Look, a cow! Look, a bridge!”

By the time the train pulled into the transfer station, Eddy’s head was spinning. He checked his watch. 3:30 PM. He was on schedule, but the hardest part was yet to come.

Phase 3: The Bus of Destiny

To get to Plum Creek, Eddy had to catch the “Number 8 Rural Express.” In reality, the Number 8 was an old, dusty bus that looked like it was held together by hope and duct tape.

When Eddy arrived at the bus depot, his heart sank. A sign was taped to the window: “LAST BUS TO PLUM CREEK: FULL.”

“No!” Eddy cried out. “I have to get home! The meatballs! The family!”

A bus driver with a toothpick in his mouth looked at him. “Sorry, kid. Unless you can turn into a suitcase and fit in the luggage rack, you’re out of luck.”

Eddy looked around desperately. He saw a group of hikers, a man carrying two live chickens in a basket, and… Auntie Ling!

“Auntie! You’re going to Plum Creek too?”

“Eddy! My favorite grandson-who-isn’t-my-grandson! This driver is my cousin’s neighbor’s brother,” she whispered loudly. “Hey, Da-Long! Let the boy sit on a plastic stool in the aisle. It’s New Year’s! Don’t be a grinch!”

The driver sighed, spit out his toothpick, and gestured Eddy inside. Eddy sat on a tiny blue plastic stool right in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by the man with the chickens.

The bus ride was a wild adventure. The road was bumpy, and every time they hit a pothole, the chickens would go “Cluck! Cluck!” and Eddy would bounce three inches into the air.

“Almost there!” the driver yelled over the roar of the engine.

Suddenly, the bus groaned. Then it coughed. Then it stopped.

“Aiya,” the driver said, stepping out into the snow. “The engine is frozen. We aren’t going anywhere for an hour.”

Eddy looked at his watch. 5:15 PM. The village was still three kilometers away. If he waited, he’d miss the New Year’s countdown.

“I’m walking!” Eddy declared, grabbing his red backpack.

“In the snow?” Auntie Ling asked. “Wait! Take this!” She handed him a heavy thermos. “Hot ginger tea. Stay warm, Little Eel!”

Phase 4: The Final Sprint

The air was freezing, and the snow was thick. Eddy’s sneakers weren’t meant for hiking, but he didn’t care. He could smell it—the faint scent of woodsmoke and frying garlic drifting from the direction of the village.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. His legs ached. His nose was redder than a New Year’s envelope. He reached the stone bridge that led into Plum Creek. He saw the red lanterns hanging from the eaves of the houses, glowing like warm embers in the twilight.

He checked his watch. 5:55 PM.

He ran past the village square, past the neighbors shouting “Gong Xi Fa Cai!” to one another, and finally reached the bright red door of his Grandma’s house.

He pounded on the wood. Bang! Bang! Bang!

The door swung open. A cloud of steam rushed out, smelling of soy sauce, star anise, and home.

“Eddy?” Grandma stood there, her apron dusted with flour. “You’re just in time! I was about to put the meatballs on the table.”

Eddy collapsed onto the entryway bench, out of breath but grinning from ear to ear. “I… I made it. The Chunyun couldn’t stop me.”

“Of course it couldn’t,” Grandma laughed, pulling him into a hug. “Now wash your hands. Your cousins are already fighting over the shrimp crackers.”

As Eddy sat down at the round table, surrounded by his noisy, laughing family, he realized the race wasn’t just about the food. It was about this—the warmth of the room, the red decorations flickering in the light, and the feeling that no matter how crowded the trains or how broken the buses, there was always a place where he belonged.

“Happy New Year, Eddy,” his dad said, handing him a bowl of steaming rice.

“Happy New Year,” Eddy said, taking a giant bite of a lion’s head meatball. “It was worth every bounce.”