相传,古时候有个文人叫韩文玉,他年轻的时候,家里很穷。有一年夏历腊月三十,左邻右舍都欢欢喜喜地过起了年,他却穷得没肉下锅。邻居的娃儿出来耍,手上拿着油腻腻的香鸡腊肉啃。他的娃儿见了,哭着回家向他要肉吃。他的妻子没办法,只好到邻居家借了两坨肉来煮。谁知肉刚下锅,邻居的当家人回了,怕韩家日后还不起,硬叫韩夫人去把肉提回来。韩文玉哄着娃儿,一家人勉勉强强地过了个素年。天快黑了,邻居早已点亮了年灯,全家老小围着火堆,说说笑笑地开始守岁了。 According to legend, in ancient times there was a writer named Han Wenyu, when he was young, the family was poor. One year, the twelfth lunar month thirtieth, neighbors happily over the years, but he was poor without meat pot. Neighbor’s baby out of playing, holding greasy fragrant chicken meat nibbling. He saw her baby, crying home to him for meat. His wife had no choice but to borrow the lump of meat from the neighbor’s house to cook it. Who knows the meat just pan, the neighbor’s family back, afraid of the future can not afford Han, hard to call Mrs. Han to mention the meat back. Korean jokes coax the baby, the family barely passed a prime year. The sky is getting dark, the neighbors have already lit up the New Year’s lamp, the whole family around the fire, talking about a smile startled.