In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 110, Page 109: The atmosphere of neighborly celebration, family meeting.
The courtyard of a Shikumen house is like a small ceramic pot steaming hot from the July heat.

As evening falls, the workers, like waterbirds returning to their nests, arrive one after another in this small space, covered in oil, sweat, and exhaustion.

The entire Shikumen suddenly came alive, as if it were immersed in a shared, profound joy.

Today is the 5th, payday!
Apart from Teacher Feng, who taught at the school, almost all the workers in the Shikumen (stone gate) had formal jobs. They worked at the two large factories, Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill and Dongfang Machinery Factory, which supported most of the alley. The fifth of each month was the day when the workers received their wages and various scarce ration coupons.

At this moment, the air in the courtyard was no longer filled with the usual smell of coal smoke and sweat, but with an indescribable sense of satisfaction and relaxation. Even the stifling heat seemed to have subsided somewhat.

"Grandma Chen, has your Guoqiang received his salary yet? How much?" Li Guihua's voice was bright and clear as she deftly washed a few wilted bok choy stalks by the sink, turning to ask Grandma Chen, who was sitting in a wicker chair fanning herself with a palm leaf fan. Grandma Chen's face was beaming with undisguised joy, and the fine lines around her eyes had smoothed out.

"Got it, got it!" Granny Chen grinned from ear to ear, her deep wrinkles smoothing out as if ironed. "He's a level three worker, forty-five yuan and thirty cents! Look, thirty-two jin of grain coupons, half a jin of meat coupons... Oh my, this month's high-temperature allowance even got an extra fifty cents! The factory said it was to show consideration for everyone working hard in the heat!"

She waved the old palm-leaf fan in her hand with a whooshing sound, as if trying to fan the good news into everyone's ears.

"Forty-five yuan and thirty cents! Oh my, Guoqiang is really getting more and more successful!"

Mrs. Feng was carefully placing a small iron pot on the coal stove when she heard this and genuinely praised it, her tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible envy.

“My husband, Lao Feng, taught his whole life and only earned a fixed salary. His grain rations were calculated based on mental labor, and he only received 27 jin (18.5 catties). How could he compare to Guo Qiang?”

“Teacher Feng is a cultured person and has made great contributions! He’s different!” Granny Chen quickly tried to make amends, but she couldn’t hide the pride on her face, which looked like it was covered with a layer of oil.

The door to the living room creaked open, and Chen Guoqiang came out to fetch water, carrying a white enamel basin with a few chips on it. His wife, Zhang Chunfang, followed closely behind, her face beaming with smiles. She clutched a small cloth bag tightly in her hand, its bulging shape clearly indicating that she had just received her paycheck and hadn't even had a chance to enjoy it yet.

Zhang Chunfang chimed in, "Mrs. Feng, please don't say that. Teacher Feng is the pillar of our alley, and he has taught so many good students! My Guoqiang only contributes his physical strength; how can he compare?"

Her tone was sincere, but her straight posture and bright eyes revealed her satisfaction and pride in being the head of the household.

"That's right, that's right." He Caiyun's voice floated down from the rooftop. She was tiptoeing, hanging clothes on a bamboo pole with quick, efficient movements. "Our Tiemin is a loader; he's stronger than an ox, and his salary..."

She paused, not continuing, but just sighed softly, forcefully shaking the wet clothes in her hands with a crisp "snap".

Everyone understands what I mean: Zhao Tiemin has a low rank, so his salary is naturally lower.

"Hey, Caiyun, don't worry," Lin Fengjiao comforted, skillfully changing the subject. "Speaking of which, tomorrow's Sunday, what are everyone's plans? We've all received our ration coupons, aren't we going to buy something?"

These words were like a spark, sizzling as they splashed into the hot oil.

"Go! Of course you want to go!"

Zhang Chunfang immediately perked up, speaking at a rapid pace like a machine gun:
"Our bamboo thermos has a crack in the inner liner, so the boiling water that's poured in cools down very quickly! We haven't been willing to replace it, and we're just waiting for this month's industrial coupons!"

Before dawn tomorrow, I'll go to the No. 1 Department Store to queue up and buy a new gallbladder!
While you're at it, check if the butcher has any leftover pork bones; buy a couple to make some soup, they're cheap!

Her eyes lit up, as if she could already smell the aroma of bone broth.

“Me too!” He Caiyun chimed in from the drying platform, her voice tinged with a secret excitement. “Two soap coupons, just enough to buy two bars of soap! We’re so full of soap scraps we can’t even hold them all together! And…”

She lowered her voice even further, her voice filled with girlish longing, "I've got my eye on a piece of 'Dacron' fabric, light blue, and I want to make a new shirt for Tiemin! We should have enough fabric ration coupons!"

She imagined her husband wearing new clothes, and a smile unconsciously crept onto her lips.

“‘Dacron’! Oh my, what a trendy item!” Lin Fengjiao laughed, looking up at the drying platform. “My little girl, Lefeng, is also clamoring for a piece of ‘Dacron’ to make pants. She said all her classmates have them. I’ll go to the fabric store tomorrow to take a look.” She imagined her daughter wearing the new pants, her eyes tender.

Granny Chen, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan, said slowly, "I don't need to buy anything big, but my salt and soy sauce are almost gone, and I also need to go and get some more coal briquette coupons. Oh, right."

As if suddenly remembering something, she paused her fanning herself. "If the grocery store has any old hens on sale, and they're cheap, I'd like to cut off half of one for Guoqiang to help him recover." She looked at her eldest grandson with affection.

Everyone chattered excitedly, filling the small courtyard with eager anticipation for tomorrow.

The sense of security that comes with receiving a salary, mixed with the anticipation of an improved life, makes this sweltering summer night seem less unbearable.

The pots on the coal stoves began to sizzle, and different aromas of food wafted from each household. Although the food was still bland, it seemed to taste especially good today—it was the last bit of good food that had been saved up and that they couldn't bear to eat that was being used to celebrate this monthly "grand celebration."

Just then, a tall figure appeared in the light and shadow of the black lacquered gate of the Shikumen.

With his sun shining brightly, carrying a faded military satchel with worn edges but still sturdy, he stepped steadily into the noisy courtyard.

The afterglow of the setting sun cast a long shadow behind him, gilding his young face with a warm gold.

"Mingming's back!" The sharp-eyed Li Guihua was the first to spot him, her voice suddenly rising several octaves, brimming with undisguised pride. As Mingming's sister-in-law, her pride at that moment was even stronger than when she herself had received a raise.

In an instant, all eyes in the courtyard turned to him.

The cacophony of voices seemed to have been cut off, instantly fading away, leaving only curious and inquisitive gazes woven into an invisible net.

"Mingming, did you get your salary?" Granny Chen asked with a smile, forgetting to fan herself with her palm-leaf fan, her eyes fixed on Yang Mingming's bulging satchel.

"Yes, Grandma Chen, here you go." Yang Guangming nodded politely, his face bearing the gentle smile of a young man, neither ostentatious nor deliberately evasive.

"Wow, our head secretary's first month's salary must be quite high, right?"

Zhang Chunfang spoke quickly and directly, her question half-joking and half-sincere, with a hint of barely perceptible sourness in her tone, "I heard that you started at the level of a ninth-grade clerk?"

Her question was direct, like a needle piercing through the thin veil of politeness in the courtyard.

This question reflects the sentiments of everyone.

Even Zhao Tiemin, who was bent over poking the stove, stopped what he was doing, turned his face, which was covered in coal dust, and silently looked at Yang Guangming with a complicated expression.

On the drying platform, He Caiyun's figure, hanging clothes, seemed to freeze for a moment as she listened intently.

Before Yang Guangming could speak, his mother, Zhang Xiuying, had already walked briskly out of the front building of their house.

She had clearly heard the commotion outside; her face was beaming with smiles, her back ramrod straight, as if she had become ten years younger, even the graying strands of hair at her temples radiated vitality.

"You're back, Mingming!" Her voice was loud and clear, with a triumphant and triumphant air. She grabbed her son's arm as if showing off a rare treasure. "Come on, tell everyone how much you made in the first month! Let everyone be happy for our family!"

She gazed intently at her son, her expectation and pride almost burning brightly, making the surrounding air feel warmer. Li Guihua immediately moved closer to her mother-in-law, her face equally fervent.

Yang Guangming felt his mother's hand gripping his arm tighten slightly, carrying an undeniable urging.

He smiled, readily agreeing, his voice clear and steady, neither boastful nor deliberately modest, as if stating an ordinary matter:

"Administrative level 27, basic salary 30 yuan. Since I only started on June 7th and actually worked for 24 days, the basic salary is exactly 24 yuan. In addition, there is a supplementary salary of 1.8 yuan, a position allowance of 1.5 yuan, a transportation allowance of 0.8 yuan, and a high temperature allowance of 0.5 yuan this month, for a total of 28.6 yuan."

"Twenty-eight yuan and sixty cents!" Zhang Chunfang gasped, her eyes widening, her voice trembling. "Oh my! That's all for the first month! It's almost two months' worth of what Guoqiang earned as an apprentice!" She looked at Chen Guoqiang, her eyes filled with an indescribable meaning.

"Level 27! Oh my! Amazing! Truly amazing!" Granny Chen exclaimed repeatedly, her eyes full of admiration as she looked at Yang Guangming, as if she were looking at a rising star. "Such a high starting point! He must be following a big leader!" She began to fan herself with her palm-leaf fan again, this time at a much faster pace.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Zhang Xiuying straightened her back even more, her face radiant, her voice filled with undeniable pride. “Our Mingming is lucky and capable! Who is Director Zhao? He’s an old revolutionary from the army, with the sharpest eyes! He chose our Mingming because he’s reliable and capable!”

Her words were like a flag, fluttering in the small courtyard.

Li Guihua nodded vigorously in agreement: "Yes! Yes! Mingming in our family is efficient, quick-witted, and has a sharp mind! He will definitely be promoted in the future!" Her words were full of confidence in the future.

From the drying platform, a barely audible hum with a heavy nasal tone came, followed by the sharp, intense "slap slap" of a bamboo pole striking the ground, like some kind of pent-up resentment.

Zhao Tiemin silently turned his head, his back hunched, and continued poking at his coal stove, which seemed perpetually unlit. His oil-stained shirt clung to his thin back, appearing particularly somber in the dim light.

"Where are the coupons? How many coupons were issued?" Lin Fengjiao was quite pragmatic and asked the key question. Her voice was not loud but carried weight. "Grain coupons and meat coupons are relatively easy to talk about, but industrial coupons are the most important!" She held a spatula in her hand and her eyes were sharp.

“Grain coupons are issued monthly, 27 jin.” Yang Guangming replied, feeling the thickness and weight of the stack of papers in his satchel, a heavy guarantee of his livelihood. “Half a jin of meat coupons, half a jin of sugar coupons, half a jin of oil coupons, one jin of egg coupons, one jin of tofu coupons, and two soap coupons.”

He paused, then uttered the most striking figure: "Industrial vouchers, four were issued."

"Four!" Even the usually composed Lin Fengjiao showed surprise, forgetting to move the spatula in her hand. "You get four in your first month? Oh my, you've really caught the right moment... What good luck and good fortune! This stuff is absolutely essential!"

Her words were filled with envy, and also a touch of heartfelt emotion.

"Four industrial vouchers! Mingming from our family is really something!" Zhang Xiuying's voice rose another notch, her rosy cheeks particularly striking in the twilight. She looked around at the neighbors' envious, surprised, and complex gazes, and the sense of satisfaction was like drinking honey wine, intoxicatingly rushing straight to her head.

Yang Guangming calmly added, "Old Wu from the factory's finance department explained it very clearly: it's calculated based on wages! Thirty yuan a month, three months is ninety yuan, and every twenty yuan you get a coupon, four and a half coupons! Half coupons aren't given, so it's four whole coupons! That's the rule."

His explanation dispelled any speculation about "special treatment" and made the treatment seem all the more natural.

The courtyard erupted in gasps of amazement and hushed whispers.

"Four industrial vouchers...enough to buy a new thermos and two enamel basins!"

"Save it a little, a good piece of material will suffice!"

"It's definitely the treatment of cadres, it's different! It's so different!"

Envious gazes, almost tangible, clung to Zhang Xiuying, Li Guihua, and Yang Guangming.

Zhang Xiuying felt comfortable from every pore of her body, as if her son's 28.6 yuan and four industrial coupons had smoothed out and soothed all the hardships and grievances of her first half of life.

Li Guihua smiled so broadly that her eyes disappeared, as if those ration coupons had transformed into thermos flasks and new fabrics, gleamingly displayed in her small front room.

As the setting sun sank completely below the roof of the alleyway to the west, the light in the courtyard suddenly dimmed.

The dim yellow light emanating from the kitchens and the flickering flames from the coal stoves cast long, short, distorted, and swaying shadows. The aroma of food grew stronger, urging those returning home.

"Alright, alright, it's getting dark, everyone hurry up and cook dinner!" Mrs. Feng said with a smile, her voice relaxed with satisfaction. "We've already cooked. We used the little oil we saved up to fry two eggs, and they smelled so good!" She sniffed, as if she could smell the aroma of her own eggs.

“Our family is the same,” Zhang Chunfang chimed in, her voice light and cheerful. “We bought some salted fish last time, and steamed a small piece of it. It’s a treat!” She pulled her husband, Chen Guoqiang, into the house.

“Our family…” Zhang Xiuying’s voice carried a victor’s pride and satisfaction, and was particularly clear in the twilight, “There’s also that braised duck that Mingming’s colleague gave us a couple of days ago. We chopped half of it and saved it for today, just in time to celebrate Mingming getting his first month’s salary! And a few eggs that we’ve saved up, let’s fry them up!”

She deliberately emphasized the words "braised duck," as if displaying a medal.

"Oh my, braised duck!" Li Guihua immediately chimed in, raising her voice, "The taste is so authentic! Mingming's colleague is so kind!" She joined her mother-in-law in exaggerating the "glory."

Amidst envious exclamations of "Oh my!", Zhang Xiuying contentedly pulled her son's arm and beckoned to Li Guihua, "Come on, let's go inside and eat! The food's getting cold!"

The three of them walked through the dimly lit courtyard and headed toward their own front door, which was peeling and creaking.

They left behind the complex gazes of their neighbors and the increasingly enticing aroma of a rare and "sumptuous" dinner, prepared by each family with all their "stored food."

The aroma was a blend of the scents of oil, soy sauce, and salted fish, along with a small but genuine sense of satisfaction with life.

The door to the front building of the Yang family's house closed gently behind them, shutting out the noise from the courtyard, but it couldn't contain the joy that was equally, or even more, overflowing inside.

The 15-watt incandescent light bulb hung in the center of the room, its dim yet warm light like a small, fuzzy halo enveloping the paint-chipped square table.

Bowls and chopsticks were already set on the table, and several side dishes were steaming hot.
A plate of dark brown, glossy, and evenly chopped braised duck pieces, its rich aroma dominating the air; a small dish of golden, oily scrambled eggs, garnished with vibrant green scallions, looks exceptionally tempting; a bowl of bright green, glossy stir-fried bok choy; and several piled-up steamed buns, a mixture of wheat and corn flour, exuding a hearty grain flavor.

Father Yang Yongkang was already seated in the main seat. He had just washed his face, and his graying hair at the temples was still damp, clinging to his forehead.

The faded undershirt he was wearing, with frayed edges at the collar and cuffs, seemed to look crisper than usual.

He held a self-rolled "trumpet-shaped" cigarette in his hand, but didn't light it. He just silently looked at the dishes on the table, his gaze lingering for a moment, especially on the braised duck that symbolized "respectability" and "connections." The lines at the corners of his mouth were much softer than usual, revealing a hint of relaxation that was barely perceptible.

The eldest brother, Yang Guanghui, sat beside him, holding his son, Zhuangzhuang. Zhuangzhuang stared wide-eyed at the plate of glistening duck meat on the table, pointing with his little finger and making babbling noises, his mouth glistening with saliva.

Yang Guanghui gently wiped away his son's drool with his rough fingers. His honest face was filled with pure, unadulterated joy, and his eyes were full of admiration as he looked at his younger brother.

"Sit down, everyone!" Zhang Xiuying urged, her smile undiminished. She deftly untied her apron, her movements radiating joy. "Let's have a little celebration at home today! Mingming, hurry up and get the things out!"

Her voice was loud and clear, and her eyes were fixed intently on her son's bulging shoulder bag.

Yang Guangming responded and opened the heavy military satchel, the zipper making a slight hissing sound.

He first took out a thick stack of banknotes carefully wrapped in old newspapers, and then placed various colorful tickets with different patterns and words on the table.

Under the dim light, a small stack of banknotes tied with rubber bands—two ten-yuan notes, one five-yuan note, three one-yuan notes, one fifty-cent note, one one-cent note, and a stack of tickets exuding the faint smell of ink and paper—lay quietly on the mottled table.

They were like heavy magnets, instantly drawing away all eyes and breaths in the room.

Zhang Xiuying, Yang Yongkang, Yang Guanghui, Li Guihua, and even the bewildered Zhuangzhuang seemed to sense this unusual silence, filled with the scent of ink, and temporarily quieted down, their eyes fixed on the pile of things.

The air seemed to freeze, with only the faint hum of the bulb's filament and Zhuangzhuang's soft breathing remaining.

Yang Guangming picked up the stack of banknotes tied with rubber bands, untied them, and the distinctive, slightly resilient "rustling" sound of the brand-new banknotes was particularly clear in the silence.

His fingers deftly produced five one-yuan bills. The brand-new bills gleamed faintly under the dim light, exuding a reassuring sense of freshness.

He walked up to his mother, Zhang Xiuying, and handed it over with both hands.

“Mom.” His voice was clear and steady, with the solemnity of fulfilling a promise, “It’s agreed, five yuan a month for living expenses. Please keep it.”

Zhang Xiuying stared blankly at the five brand-new "Worker-Peasant-Soldier" certificates handed to her. The smile on her face froze instantly, as if a pause button had been pressed.

Immediately, her lips began to tremble slightly uncontrollably, and her nostrils flared.

She subconsciously rubbed her hands vigorously on the apron, which was washed white and had a few oil stains, as if afraid that her unclean hands would taint the brand-new bills.

Then, she reached out her slightly trembling hand and carefully took it. When her fingertips touched the smooth and crisp paper, she even flinched slightly.

The five thin pieces of paper felt incredibly heavy in her hands.

That brand-new feel, that clear pattern of workers, peasants, and soldiers, and the word "One Yuan"—it was the culmination of her blood and sweat, earned through most of her life working at the loom, her back hunched, her eyes bloodshot, listening to the deafening sound of the shuttle.

Now, her son has only been working for a month, and he has been handed over to her in this very way!
She clutched the five yuan tightly, a surge of warmth mixed with indescribable sorrow welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision instantly.

She quickly lowered her head, sniffed to hide her discomfort, her throat felt like it was stuffed with hot cotton, and she choked back sobs. After a long while, she finally managed to make a sound, her voice heavy with nasal congestion and trembling uncontrollably:
"Good...good! Our Mingming...is so sensible! So sensible!"

She looked up, her eyes already red, but the redness revealed an unprecedented sense of relief and satisfaction, like parched land finally receiving sweet rain.

She carefully folded the five yuan, her movements as gentle as if she were handling a fragile treasure.

Then, she lifted the hem of her coat, her fingers groping, and stuffed it into the small cloth bag, which was also washed white and had worn edges, sewn into the inner pocket of her underwear.

It was as if only in this way could they ensure that this heavy sentiment and trust from their son would be completely preserved.

Li Guihua watched from the side, her eyes filled with complex emotions. There was envy for the money, but more than that, she understood her mother-in-law's current emotional turmoil.

She knew all too well what those five dollars meant to her mother-in-law, who had worked hard and been frugal her whole life—it wasn't just money, it was proof that her son had grown up, and it was the hope that the burden of life would be shared.

Next, Yang Guangming began to sort through the colorful tickets and certificates.

He set aside the two soap coupons with soap designs and the coupon for a pound of tofu.

Then, he picked up the stack of grain coupons—"Magic City Grain Coupons" printed with images of plump rice ears, totaling twenty-seven jin. He counted out eighteen one-jin denomination coupons and handed them to Zhang Xiuying with both hands.

“Mom, these are the food coupons. These eighteen jin are for the family,” he explained naturally. “I’ll keep the remaining nine jin for myself. I use most of them for lunch at the company canteen, and occasionally… I might have a snack with colleagues outside, so I’ll save some for myself.”

He spoke frankly, explaining that this was something he had discussed with his family beforehand, and everyone understood.

Zhang Xiuying took the thick stack of grain coupons, this time with much more natural movements, and her face still wore a satisfied smile:
"Okay, okay! You should eat well even when you're out! Don't skimp on food!"

She held the food coupons as if she were holding the family's food supply in her hands.

Then, Yang Guangming pushed all the remaining coupons—the half-jin meat coupon, the half-jin sugar coupon, the half-jin oil coupon, the one-jin egg coupon, and the four most precious "Magic City Daily Industrial Products Purchase Coupons" with a light yellow background and a gear and wheat ear pattern—to the center of the table.

“These,” he said, looking at his parents, brother, and sister-in-law with a calm and composed gaze, “are meat coupons, oil coupons, sugar coupons, egg coupons, and industrial coupons. I don’t need them myself, so I gave them all to my family and my mother will arrange them.”

His tone was calm yet firm, as if what he was handing over was not scarce resources for survival or the right to purchase "big items," but merely a few small pieces of paper.

However, this seemingly casual remark stirred up an even bigger commotion in the small front building, even more so than when the money was handed over earlier.

"Leave everything...to me?"

Zhang Xiuying looked at the pile of colorful tickets and certificates on the table, especially the four pale yellow industrial coupons, and could hardly believe her ears.

She originally thought that her son would at most hand over some of the ration coupons for daily necessities. Industrial coupons, which were "hard currency" that could buy thermos flasks, washbasins, and even sewing machines, would always be something young people would think of, such as saving them to buy a watch or bicycle parts.

She even considered in her mind how to ask her son to spare one or two bills.

Even Yang Yongkang, who had been silent as a rock, became serious, slowly shifting his gaze from the tickets to his youngest son's face.

His weathered eyes held a deep scrutiny and a barely perceptible tremor. The fingers holding the "megaphone" twitched slightly.

Li Guihua's eyes lit up, and her breathing quickened as she stared intently at the four industrial coupons, as if she could already see the brand-new white enamel basin with blue flowers and the Guben soap beckoning to her.

Yang Guanghui, holding Zhuangzhuang, also craned his neck to look, his honest face filled with surprise.

"Yes." Yang Guangming nodded, his expression calm and without the slightest hesitation. "I have a canteen at the factory, so I don't need these. There are many people in my family, and the expenses are high, so Mom is the best person to arrange things."

He paused, then added in a warm and considerate tone, "If your family buys anything nice in the future, I can just share in the good stuff."

These words were both sincere and comforting, like a warm current instantly flowing into Zhang Xiuying's heart.

She felt a warm current rush from her heart to her limbs, her eyes welled up with tears, and her nose tingled.

She slapped her thigh hard, her voice choked with emotion yet still cheerful: "Good! Good son! Don't worry! Mom knows what she's doing! We'll use what we need and save what we need, and we definitely won't waste your good intentions!"

Her words were resolute, carrying the solemn promise of the matriarch of the household.

She reached out and carefully gathered all the tickets and certificates on the table together, her movements as gentle as if she were handling a newborn baby.

Then, mimicking how he had collected the money earlier, he carefully folded it and stuffed it into his small, close-fitting cloth bag.

The small cloth bag instantly became bulging and hard, pressed tightly against her chest, conveying a warm and real, unprecedented sense of abundance and security.

That feeling gave her more peace of mind than any gold or silver.

"Alright, alright! The food's getting cold!" Zhang Xiuying put away the tickets, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt relaxed, and her voice became loud and strong again. "Sit down and eat! We have braised duck today! Mingming, eat more! This is the best thing we have in our house!"

Without saying a word, she pressed her son's shoulder and made him sit down.

The family finally sat down together.

Under the dim yellow light, the plate of braised duck became the undisputed star, its glossy dark brown color gleaming enticingly under the light.

With her first chopstick, Zhang Xiuying precisely picked up the largest piece of duck breast, skin and meat still attached, glistening with oil, and placed it steadily into Yang Guangming's bowl.

"Try it! Mom specially saved it, it's so flavorful and juicy! It's so tender!" She looked at her son with such affection that her eyes almost overflowed with love.

Yang Guangming picked up the heavy piece of duck meat and put it in his mouth. The rich aroma of the sauce, the unique freshness of the duck meat, and the slight sweet and salty flavor instantly filled his mouth, dominating all his taste buds.

The duck skin is springy and chewy, the duck meat is firm but not dry, and the flavor is rich and lingering.

This taste, carrying the simplicity of everyday life and his mother's undisguised affection, made him feel more at ease and warm than the exquisite dishes of his previous life.

"Mmm, delicious!" he exclaimed sincerely, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"Eat more if you like it!" Zhang Xiuying smiled broadly, as if she had received the highest praise.

She placed another piece of duck leg on her husband's plate: "Old man, you should eat too!"

She picked up a piece with cartilage for her eldest son: "Guanghui, you've worked hard!"

Finally, he picked out a piece of duck meat with few bones, carefully blew on it, and fed it to his grandson Zhuangzhuang: "Zhuangzhuang, be good, eat some meat!"

Li Guihua quickly got up and diligently served everyone bowls of golden corn porridge that smelled of fresh corn.

The simple dinner tasted especially delicious because of the rare braised duck and everything that had just happened, creating a harmonious and warm atmosphere.

The sounds of chewing, the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks, Zhang Xiuying's satisfied sighs, and Li Guihua's occasional hushed laughter mingled together.

The savory aroma of braised duck, the oily sheen of scrambled eggs, the refreshing taste of bok choy, and the sweetness of corn porridge, all mixed with an atmosphere called "hope," filled the small front building.

The meal was almost finished, and the dishes in the bowls were almost empty, with only a little sauce and crumbs left.

Zhang Xiuying put down her chopsticks, cleared her throat, and her face showed the solemnity of a matriarch and a hint of barely perceptible excitement.

For her, the real "family meeting" is just beginning. With tickets in hand, how to plan ahead is the main event of the evening.

"Alright, all the tickets and receipts are safe, and the money is here."

She looked around at her family, her gaze finally settling on her husband Yang Yongkang's face, and said with a hint of seeking permission, "Old man, look, tomorrow is Sunday, what should we buy? Coupons are only useful when they're put to use."

Her fingers unconsciously pressed against the bulging little cloth bag on her chest.

Yang Yongkang slowly put down the coarse porcelain bowl containing the porridge, the bottom of the bowl making a slight tapping sound on the table.

He wiped the paste off the corner of his mouth with his rough fingers.

Then he picked up the self-rolled "trumpet tube" on the table, lit it, and took a deep drag.

The pungent smell of cheap cigarettes immediately filled the small room, which was filled with the lingering aroma of food, carrying a rough sense of reality.

Amidst the swirling smoke, he spoke slowly, his voice carrying the authority of a head of household and the composure born of deep thought: "Let's get to the important stuff first."

He looked at Zhang Xiuying, smoke slowly escaping from his mouth and nose. "How many coal briquette coupons do you have? If not, you need to buy more. How much salt, soy sauce, and vinegar do you have left at home? What about the oil bottle? Is it empty?" He was asking about the lifelines that kept the household running smoothly.

"We still have three coal briquette tickets, each weighing forty jin," Zhang Xiuying reported immediately, knowing the family's resources by heart. "We still have about half a jar of salt, the bottom of the soy sauce bottle is almost showing, and we still have half a bottle of vinegar. Oil..."

She sighed, her tone tinged with helplessness. "We've used so much oil this month, the oil bottle's been empty for ages. I've had this half-pound oil coupon in my hand for days, just waiting to fill it up tomorrow! I checked, the oil and sauce shop next to the market has just received a new batch of rapeseed oil, it smells really good, I wonder if I can make it in time to get in line." She looked at Li Guihua, her eyes carrying a sense of mission.

"Hmm." Yang Yongkang nodded, the red glow of his cigarette butt flashing in the dim light. "Oil is the most important thing. Have Guihua go queue up before dawn tomorrow. We also need to replenish the coal briquettes, salt, and soy sauce."

He turned to his eldest daughter-in-law, his tone authoritative, "You'll have to work hard. Once you've bought the oil, head to the coal shop immediately, don't delay. Have Xiuying bring back the salt and soy sauce when she goes to buy the meat." He knew that the grocery store and the oil and soy sauce shop were often next to each other.

"Understood, Dad!" Li Guihua immediately replied, her voice crisp. She was full of enthusiasm, her face showing eager anticipation, as she was tasked with purchasing these supplies that she held considerable power over.

"Let's talk about ration coupons again." Yang Yongkang's gaze shifted to his wife's chest, as if he could see through her clothes to the colorful pieces of paper in the small cloth bag. "Meat coupons, sugar coupons, egg coupons, tofu coupons... how do you plan to allocate these?" He handed over the specific allocation authority to his wife.

Zhang Xiuying was already confident and spoke quickly and clearly:
"We definitely have to buy the hostage tomorrow! It's so hot, we can't afford to keep her there!"

I've decided on the ribs, a little fatty, so I can render some lard. The cracklings will make a delicious stir-fry with vegetables!

We sold the sugar coupons too; we're completely out of sugar, making cooking inconvenient. Egg coupons…”

She hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice, "I want to save it until the end of the month, in case something comes up, or if Zhuangzhuang gets a craving, I can steam an egg custard. As for the tofu coupons, I can buy a block of tofu when I go to buy meat tomorrow and make a soup, something refreshing."

Her arrangements take into account both immediate improvements and long-term reserves.

"Okay, sure." Yang Yongkang nodded in approval, the smoke dissipating with his movement. "Two soap coupons, just enough to buy two bars of Guben soap. We really need to replace the old soap at home; they don't lather at all when washing clothes."

He glanced at the piece of soap, thin as a sheet of paper and barely clumped together, on the washbasin stand in the corner.

“Yes!” Li Guihua immediately replied, with a hint of urgency, “I’ll buy them all tomorrow! I promise to buy the freshest ones!” She could almost smell the pleasant alkaline scent of the new soap.

After discussing these everyday consumables, the atmosphere became slightly more somber.

The dim yellow light seemed to dim a bit more.

All eyes, intentionally or unintentionally, were focused on Zhang Xiuying's chest—where the four most precious industrial vouchers that appeared every quarter were located.

This is the main event of the night, the key to improving our lives.

Zhang Xiuying subconsciously pressed the bulging little cloth bag on her chest again, as if she could feel the hard weight of the four pale yellow pieces of paper.

She looked at her husband, her eyes filled with inquiry and a hint of expectation: "Old man, what do you think we should do with these industrial vouchers? We get four extra vouchers every quarter! What's the best way to use them?" She once again handed the decision-making power to the head of the family.

Yang Yongkang silently smoked his cigarette, the cheap tobacco making a faint "sizzling" sound as it burned.

Smoke swirled and curled around his weathered face, blurring his deep wrinkles, but it couldn't hide the solemnity in his eyes.

His gaze slowly swept over the small, crowded front building:

On top of the peeling, mottled dresser, the dark brown, glossy Jinhua ham that once symbolized great glory has long since disappeared, leaving only empty dust marks.
The bamboo-shelled thermos in the corner, with its barely noticeable fine line on the inner lining, seemed particularly glaring under the light.
The enamel basin on the washstand had long been patched up at the bottom, and several small pieces of white porcelain were chipped off the edge, revealing the black base. After a long time of use, it had begun to show signs of rust.
The towels hanging on the wall had frayed edges and faded to a grayish-white color, as if covered with an old stain that could never be wiped away...

There are too many things that need to be added.

Each industrial voucher was incredibly precious, like a heavy weight pressing on my heart. It never seemed enough, no matter where I used it; every use felt like a sacrifice.

"The thermos." Yang Yongkang finally spoke, his voice deep and certain, breaking the silence. "The inner liner is cracked. It has to be replaced. It can't hold hot water at all in the summer. Boiling water poured in turns into lukewarm water. To buy a new liner, the industrial coupon should cost... half a coupon? I'll go check tomorrow for details."

This is the most urgent necessity, the one that most affects the quality of life. He recalled the frustration of waking up every morning wanting to make a cup of hot tea, only to find the water lukewarm.

Zhang Xiuying nodded repeatedly, her tone urgent: "Yes, yes! That's what I think too! This is extremely important! Half an industrial coupon, plus some cash, will definitely be enough."

She could almost see the new thermos liner being inserted into the old shell, steaming hot water rising from it once again.

“And another thing.” Yang Yongkang’s gaze fell on the enamel basin in the corner, its edge chipped, the exposed black rust spots resembling ugly scars. “That basin, the chipped part on the bottom looks like it’s going to rust through. If it’s not replaced soon, it’ll leak and cause problems. Buying a new one will probably cost an industrial voucher.”

Enameled washbasins are a reflection of a family's image; chipped enamel and blackened surfaces always make a household look shabby and impoverished. He recalled the discomfort he felt every time he washed his face and saw those black spots.

"Oh, right! I almost forgot!" Zhang Xiuying slapped her forehead, looking annoyed. "I can't put it off any longer! A new washbasin, white with blue flowers, looks so refreshing! It's worth it with just one coupon!" She imagined the bright white washbasin and smiled.

So, the thermos flask liner and the enamel basin cost one and a half industrial coupons. The faint sense of ease at the table seemed to dissipate somewhat.

Li Guihua looked at her mother-in-law and father-in-law, her lips moved, and her face showed a mixture of hesitation and expectation.

She finally couldn't help but interject, her voice tinged with a cautious probing:

"Dad, Mom, then...then the remaining two industrial coupons, plus the ones Guanghui received this month, and the ones we've saved up before...we...we want to buy a piece of 'Dacron' fabric..."

Her voice trailed off, her face flushing slightly, as if afraid of rejection. "It's not that I want it, it's...it's Guanghui's khaki undershirt he wears to work. The elbows are worn shiny from all the wear, and the patches don't look good...He's a level two worker, after all..."

Her gaze fell on her husband's old clothes, faded from washing and noticeably thinner and shinier at the elbows, and she felt a pang of heartache.

Yang Guanghui didn't expect his wife to bring this up. His dark face instantly turned bright red, like a red-hot iron.

He quickly waved his hands, his voice somewhat embarrassed: "No, no! My clothes are fine! I can still wear them! I'll save my industrial coupons to buy important things!"

He tugged at his sleeve, trying to cover the worn-out area, his movements clumsy and awkward.

Zhang Xiuying and Yang Yongkang exchanged a glance. They understood their daughter-in-law's thoughts.

Yang Guanghui is a level-two fitter who deals with cold steel and oil stains every day, so a decent and sturdy work uniform is indeed important.

Moreover, this new type of fabric, "Dacron," is crisp, durable, wrinkle-resistant, and doesn't fade much. In an era where blue-gray workwear reigns supreme, it's definitely a fashionable and practical item. Wearing it makes one look more energetic, but industrial coupons are just too precious.

“It’s time to get Guanghui a new outfit.” Zhang Xiuying spoke first, her tone tinged with understanding and a hint of subtle consideration. “It’s not appropriate to go to work dressed in rags. ‘Dacron’…it’s a bit expensive, and the fabric ration coupons are costly, but it’s durable, so it’s worth it.” She looked at her eldest son, her eyes gentle.

Yang Yongkang continued to smoke in silence, the smoke rising and obscuring his expression.

He glanced at his eldest son's shabby old clothes, then at his youngest son's neatly pressed "Dacron" shirt, a symbol of his cadre status.

That stark contrast was like a thorn stuck in his heart.

He recalled his eldest son working from dawn till dusk every day, sweating profusely in the workshop.

After a long pause, he nodded heavily, and ash fell in a flurry, spreading a small patch of ashes on the table.

"Hmm. Go ahead and rip it off." He only said two words, but they carried the force of a final decision. "Glory deserves a decent set of clothes. With the remaining industrial coupons, plus the ones you guys gave yourselves, you can rip off as much as you can. You can choose the materials yourselves."

This is a gesture of consideration for the eldest son and daughter-in-law, and also an investment in the family's future—a respectable worker means better prospects for development.

"Thank you, Dad! Thank you, Mom!" Li Guihua was overjoyed, her voice trembling with excitement, her face instantly breaking into a smile, her eyes sparkling.

Yang Guanghui rubbed his rough hands together, smiling憨厚ly, his eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of excitement at being recognized, his dark face glowing.

Yang Yongkang stubbed out his cigarette, the faint red glow being forcefully extinguished on the edge of the table, leaving a charred mark.

He stood up, his tall figure casting a deep shadow in the dim light, exuding a sense of relief after making a decision.

"The ticket issue is settled then." He made the final decision, his voice regaining its usual composure. "Guanghui will be working overtime tomorrow."

He looked at his eldest son, Yang Guanghui, and nodded. "Guihua, go line up early to buy oil, coal briquettes, salt, and soy sauce. Xiuying, you go buy meat, sugar, and tofu. I'll stay home with Zhuangzhuang and fix the tables and chairs while I'm at it." He pointed to a slightly wobbly stool in the corner, "Mingming..."

He paused, looked at his youngest son, and said in a gentler tone, "You can make your own arrangements. You've been busy for a week, take a break."

"Understood!" the family responded in unison, their voices filled with anticipation for tomorrow and obedience to the decision made by the head of the household.

In the small front building, under the dim light, a "family meeting" about livelihood and hope came to an end.

The air was filled not only with the lingering aroma of food and the pungent smell of cheap tobacco, but also with a sense of anticipation for a small, tangible improvement that was about to happen.

Those four industrial coupons, like four seeds, have been quietly planted in everyone's hearts, waiting to take root and sprout.

(End of this chapter)