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

Chapter 114, Section 113: New Circles, Integration and Adjustment
On Sunday noon, just after 11:15, Yang Guangming was already standing at the entrance of "Xinfeng Restaurant".

The summer sun shone brightly, its rays illuminating the dusty road.

The restaurant's white signboard with blue lettering had faded somewhat from the sun, and the half-finished old cloth curtain hanging above the door drooped listlessly, exuding a kind of unrefined weariness unique to state-owned restaurants.

Yang Guangming deliberately arrived 15 minutes early.

The blue khaki youth suit he was wearing, though faded from washing, was still perfectly pressed without a single wrinkle, and the cuffs were rolled up slightly as usual, revealing his strong, healthy-looking forearms.

He stood quietly under a small patch of sparse sycamore shade by the door, his gaze calmly sweeping across the street.

Occasionally, pedestrians or bicycles would hurry by, kicking up fine dust.

The area around the factory's back gate was relatively quiet, with the faint hum of distant machines making the pre-noon tranquility feel somewhat sluggish and oppressive.

Time passed by, and as it approached 11:30, several familiar figures finally emerged from the intersection.

Zhang Weiqiang led the way.

He was wearing his signature light gray "Diqt" short-sleeved shirt, with the top button fastened tightly and meticulously.

He wore old-fashioned black-rimmed glasses on his nose, his gaze behind the lenses was gentle, and a comfortable smile habitually graced his lips—a tactful smile cultivated over many years as a secretary.

His gait was composed, exuding an unspoken weight.

Beside him was Liu Jinsheng from the finance department. He was in his forties, slightly overweight, wearing a dark blue, slightly worn shirt, with a friendly, business-like smile on his face. He was tilting his head and whispering something to Zhang Weiqiang, his words and actions showing caution.

He was in charge of the factory's finances, and this caution was almost ingrained in his bones.

The next two were Lang Tianrui, head of the Labor and Wages Section, and Wei Hongyu, head of the Housing Management Section.

Lang Tianrui was lean and wiry, with bright, alert eyes, like a bird always ready to hunt for food.

He was wearing a slightly worn white shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up, and he walked with a light step.

Wei Hongyu maintained his cadre demeanor, his dark blue "Dika" short-sleeved shirt buttoned up meticulously, his belly slightly protruding, his hair slicked back and glossy. A worldly smile graced his round face as he wiped the fine beads of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief as he walked.

The four of them had clearly come together from the same cadre family housing building, chatting and laughing, in a relaxed and familiar atmosphere.

Zhang Weiqiang, with his sharp eyes, spotted Yang Guangming under the shade of the trees from afar. He raised his hand, and his voice, though not loud, carried clearly: "Xiao Yang! You're here early!"

Yang Guangming immediately put on a humble and polite smile, quickly took a few steps forward, and greeted them in turn: "Director Zhang, Section Chief Liu, Section Chief Wei, Section Chief Lang."

The tone was neither overly warm nor distant, striking the perfect balance.

"Good, good, good!" Zhang Weiqiang nodded with a smile, his gaze sweeping over Yang Guangming's well-fitting clothes and calm demeanor, with undisguised approval. "Come on, let's go upstairs to the sunny hall. Let's keep it quiet. The others should be here soon."

He naturally reached out and gently patted Yang Guangming's back, a gesture that was both intimate and tactful, leading him into the restaurant.

Passing through the slightly noisy and greasy lobby, the air was filled with the distinctive fumes of cooking from large pots.

Climb the creaking, peeling wooden stairs to the second floor.

The small hall, named "Facing the Sun," was indeed by the window, with plenty of light. There was a round wooden table that could seat about ten people, with a white plastic sheet with worn edges and a dark pattern on the tabletop, giving it a sense of years of use.

No sooner had they sat down than a loud, booming voice came from the stairwell, a robust tone with a hint of northern accent that seemed to make the floorboards vibrate: "Ha! Old Zhang, Fatty Liu, you guys are quick on your feet! Rushing to get the first bite?"

Chen Guoqiang, the workshop director, burst in.

He was in his thirties, tall and strong, like a moving iron tower. He wore a faded white vest with a loose collar, and an open dark blue work jacket over it, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular, tanned arms.

His square face was dark red with thick eyebrows and big eyes. He was grinning, exuding a carefree and uninhibited air, but deep in his eyes was a hint of barely perceptible irritation.

Wang Weidong, the head of the security department, followed closely behind him.

He was a former military officer, a bit taller than Chen Guoqiang, with his back ramrod straight like a javelin. He wore a slightly worn grass-green military uniform, buttoned up to the top. His face was expressionless, but his sharp eyes scanned his surroundings with a professional vigilance.

Next up is Zhou Jiefang from the purchasing department. He is also a retired military officer. He is not tall but has a strong frame. He moves with a sharp and capable air, and his eyes are as sharp as an eagle's.

He was wearing the same faded military uniform and was talking quietly with Wang Weidong. There was a tacit understanding between the two based on their shared experiences.

"Old Chen, with your loud voice, even the chef downstairs can hear you! Be careful not to tip the pot over!" Zhang Weiqiang joked with a smile, trying to dilute the tense atmosphere brought by Chen Guoqiang.

"What's there to be afraid of! We workers have strength! What's wrong with raising our voices?" Chen Guoqiang laughed heartily, not caring at all, and his gaze swept across the room, landing precisely on Yang Guangming.

The smile suddenly took on a complex and enigmatic meaning. "Oh! This must be Comrade Yang Guangming, the new chief secretary to Director Zhao, right? It's an honor to meet you!"

He had a loud voice and strode to the table, extending his large, rough, calloused hands covered in oil stains.

Yang Guangming immediately stood up, his posture upright, and reached out to shake hands with her without being humble or arrogant.

His hand was equally strong and steady: "Hello, Director Chen, I am Yang Guangming. I have long admired your name, Director Chen. The cleaning workshop is the leading process in our factory, and it carries great responsibility."

His tone was calm, showing the respect due to the technical backbone.

"Dragon head?" Chen Guoqiang released his grip, his smile fading slightly, replaced by a hint of self-deprecation and resentment. He casually pulled out a chair and sat down, the heavy wooden legs scraping against the cement floor with a harsh noise.

"Even a leading enterprise needs good machinery, right? What good is it if you just rely on people to hold it up? Even the toughest bone can't withstand an old, outdated machine that breaks down every day!"

These words, like a needle quenched in fire, pierced through without any attempt to conceal their meaning, directly targeting the merciless criticism Zhao Guodong had given him at the factory meeting a few days earlier.

At this moment, Wen Yongze from the Personnel Department and Li Tiemin from the Post-Construction Workshop arrived one after the other.

Wen Yongze was in his forties, tall and thin, like a bamboo pole. He wore a gray "Dacron" shirt, the collar buttoned up tightly.

His face was expressionless, his thin lips were pursed, but his eyes habitually scrutinized, sweeping over everyone like a searchlight, especially lingering on Yang Guangming for a moment, as if searching for some flaw to criticize.

Li Tiemin was a short, stout man with a round face and small, always smiling eyes. He would smile before even speaking, revealing the slickness of a stock market shrew.

He was wearing an ill-fitting, faded blue work uniform, and he started making a ruckus as soon as he walked in:
"Wow! Everyone's here? Only I, Old Li, am missing? Sorry, sorry, something came up on the way, I was delayed!"

His eyes darted around, and when he saw Yang Guangming, he immediately put on an exaggeratedly enthusiastic smile and spoke in a loud voice:

"Oh my! This young man looks unfamiliar. You must be Yang Guangming, the one Secretary Zhang mentioned? What a spirited young man! He's got the looks to do great things!"

He spoke with a heavy local accent and a江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry) air.

"Alright, alright, everyone's here!" As the organizer, Zhang Weiqiang took it upon himself to invite everyone to sit down.

He deliberately placed Yang Guangming to his right, a detail that silently conveyed his closeness and respect.

"It's Xiaoyang's first time here, so please take good care of him. We're all old colleagues from the factory, and we're all usually so busy with work that it's rare for us to get together. Let's not talk about work today, just life and relax!"

The waiter carried a heavy tray and began serving the dishes.

The glistening, tempting braised pork belly sits precariously in a rough porcelain bowl, steaming sea bass steams with heat, and poached chicken with its yellow skin and tender meat is neatly arranged. There are also several seasonal vegetables and a large bowl of three-delicacy soup with egg drop soup, sliced ​​meat, and wood ear mushrooms floating on top.

Zhang Weiqiang took the initiative and opened a few bottles of "Qibao Daqu," a local specialty. The strong and mellow aroma of the liquor immediately filled the small private room, mixing with the heat of the food and instantly warming up the atmosphere.

The rough porcelain wine glasses were filled one by one.

Zhang Weiqiang raised his glass first, his smile warm and polite: "Come on, the first glass, welcome Xiaoyang to our... well, little group! From now on, we're all family, let's communicate more at work and help each other out in life!"

"Welcome, Xiaoyang!"

"Let's visit each other more often in the future!"

"Keep up the good work, young man!"

Everyone raised their glasses in agreement, their faces beaming with smiles, and the atmosphere instantly warmed up, temporarily masking the slight disharmony caused by Chen Guoqiang.

Yang Guangming stood up, holding the glass with both hands, his posture solemn yet generous, his attitude sincere:

"Thank you, Director Zhang, and thank you all for your kind words. I'm new here, young and inexperienced, and my work experience is limited. I humbly request your criticism and guidance in any way I may fall short in my work or life. Thank you all!"

He tilted his head back and drank the spicy, clear liquid in the glass in one gulp, his movements swift and decisive, his Adam's apple bobbing without any hesitation, displaying a composure beyond his years.

"Good! That's straightforward! You're a real man!"

Chen Guoqiang was the first to cheer, his voice so loud it seemed to make the bowls and plates on the table jump.

He downed it in one gulp, then slammed the empty glass down on the table with a loud thud.

He raised his hand to wipe the wine stains from his mouth, and looked at Yang Guangming with obvious provocation and a defiant spirit. Under the influence of alcohol, his suppressed resentment found an outlet.

"Comrade Xiao Yang, you've got a good capacity for alcohol! No wonder you're someone Director Zhao trained! You've got guts!"

"How about we go out alone later, you two brothers? Let's deepen our bond, and let Old Chen see what kind of people working for Director Zhao really are!"

He emphasized the words "Director Zhao".

The room fell silent for a moment after those words were spoken.

All eyes, filled with curiosity, curiosity, and anticipation, were focused on Chen Guoqiang and Yang Guangming.

I still vividly remember the scene a few days ago at the factory meeting where Zhao Guodong publicly criticized Chen Guoqiang, making him lose face because the new equipment was not being debugged smoothly.

Chen Guoqiang, who was suppressing his anger and dared not contradict the dignified Factory Director Zhao, was clearly trying to find some balance with the new secretary, or rather, to test the young man's capabilities.

Zhang Weiqiang's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly behind his glasses. He didn't speak, but simply picked up the rough porcelain teacup in front of him and slowly took a sip, as if he were savoring the taste of the tea, or as if he were calmly observing the situation.

Lang Tianrui, Wei Hongyu, and the others wore knowing expressions, waiting to see what would happen. Liu Jinsheng shook his head slightly, seemingly thinking that Chen Guoqiang was being a bit reckless.

Yang Guangming's humble and gentle smile remained unchanged, but his eyes were as calm as a deep pool without any ripples.

He put down his empty glass, meeting Chen Guoqiang's eyes, which were tinged with alcohol, provocation, and a hint of grievance. His voice was clear and steady, neither too loud nor too soft, yet it carried an undeniable confidence that resonated clearly in everyone's ears:

"Director Chen is a senior colleague and a pillar of our factory's cleaning workshop. He has excellent skills and has made great contributions."

"It would be my honor to offer you guidance; I would be more than happy to accept. At the dinner table, you are my senior; you tell me how to drink, and I will follow suit. I can't spoil your enjoyment."

He paused slightly, then emphasized his point, stating clearly, "We must not let down Director Zhao's morale...which he has always valued most."

These words were perfectly worded, both giving Chen Guoqiang face and acknowledging him as a "senior" and "pillar of support," while also firmly accepting the challenge.

In particular, the last sentence, "We cannot weaken the morale that our factory director has always valued most," clearly stated the position and implicitly implied that it was on behalf of Zhao Guodong to "fight the battle."

"Good!" Wang Weidong, a demobilized soldier, was the first to cheer, his eyes filled with admiration and recognition as he looked at Yang Guangming.

Zhou Jiefang nodded slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards for once.

Chen Guoqiang was taken aback by Yang Guangming's words, which were neither too soft nor too hard, but rather barbed. His facial muscles twitched, and his stubborn temper was completely aroused, as if he had found an outlet for his anger.

He slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes clatter: "Great! Comrade Xiao Yang, just for what you said! We'll have a good sparring match later! Let everyone see that the people in our Qinghua workshop are not only capable of handling heavy loads, but they're also definitely not cowards when it comes to drinking!"

His words seemed bold, but the seasoned veterans present could clearly see the underlying motive of venting his anger and proving himself under the influence of alcohol.

"Old Chen, take it easy! Xiao Yang just arrived, don't scare him!"

Lang Tianrui smiled and tried to smooth things over, but his eyes also gleamed with a light that seemed to enjoy watching the drama unfold.

He was worldly-wise and happy to see Chen Guoqiang, this roughneck, test the newcomer's abilities.

"That's right, Chen Dapao, don't show off your drinking capacity. If Xiao Yang knocks you under the table, your sister-in-law will come after us!"

Li Tiemin immediately joined in the commotion, speaking the loudest and deliberately making faces, trying to heat up the atmosphere even more.

Chen Guoqiang's disruption didn't cool the atmosphere; instead, it became even hotter, like charcoal fire doused with oil.

A tacit, subtle emotion, tinged with scrutiny and expectation, permeated the atmosphere at the dinner table.

Zhang Weiqiang picked up his chopsticks at the opportune moment and urged everyone to eat: "Come on, all the dishes are served, eat while they're hot! Old Chen, don't just keep shouting, fill your stomach first, or you might actually pass out!"

He cleverly used food to temporarily change the subject, but everyone knew that this "exchange" initiated by Chen Guoqiang and imbued with personal emotions was unavoidable.

After three rounds of wine, five flavors of food.

After several rounds of toasts, the atmosphere at the table became increasingly relaxed and casual.

Just as Zhang Weiqiang had said beforehand, no one mentioned a single work-related problem; reports, targets, and production schedules were temporarily put aside.

The conversation, like a slippery eel, quickly burrowed into the factory's gossip, the latest happenings on the streets, and the various trivial problems that one can never escape in life.

Li Tiemin, the workshop director, was the main force behind creating a lively atmosphere.

After a few glasses of strong liquor, his oily, round face turned even redder, like a ripe persimmon. His small eyes narrowed into slits, and spittle began to fly as he spoke passionately.

When he tells dirty jokes that he's heard somewhere and that bear the heavy marks of the times, he always manages to tickle the itch of these middle-aged men.

"Hey, do you guys know that kid from Old Zhang's family on the front street?"

Li Tiemin deliberately lowered his voice, leaned forward, and acted mysteriously, causing everyone to involuntarily tilt their ears to listen:

"We'd only known each other for a few days, and he was already rushing to take her to the movies."

Hey, I bought a ticket for the very back, the darkest, last row!

Before anything even happened, he reached out to put his arm around the girl's waist.

He paused deliberately, then slurped down a mouthful of wine, whetting everyone's appetite.

"What happened? Did someone slap you?" Zhou Jiefang from the purchasing department chimed in with a smile. He didn't talk much, but his comedic timing was perfect.

"A slap in the face? That's too lenient!"

Li Tiemin slapped his thigh suddenly, making a vivid and exaggerated gesture:
"That girl was a tough one too! With a 'smack,' she swiftly and decisively slapped his thieving hand away, her voice booming so loudly it echoed throughout the back of the movie theater:"
"Comrade! Please show some respect! This is 'The Red Lantern' being performed! Comrade Li Yuhe hasn't been arrested yet!" Hahahahahaha…

He laughed so hard he almost choked.

Everyone was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

Even Wang Weidong, whose expression is usually as serious as a stone statue, couldn't help but grin, revealing a rare smile.

This joke, with its distinct characteristics of the era and absurd black humor, elevates and twists the secret little thoughts between men and women into a grand narrative of "caring about the development of revolutionary model drama plots" and "being concerned about the fate of heroic figures," making it seem both perfectly legitimate and utterly ridiculous.

The phrase "Li Yuhe hasn't been arrested yet" carries a lofty sense of urgency, implying that "the revolution has not yet succeeded and comrades still need to work hard." When the girl uses it to rebuke inappropriate behavior in private space, it is full of biting irony, as if the young man's behavior is interfering with the revolutionary process.

"Old Li, you have such a mouth! You keep insulting young people! Aren't you afraid of setting a bad example?" Wei Hongyu smiled and pointed at Li Tiemin with his chopsticks, his tone carrying the reproach of an older brother, but the smile in his eyes was undisguised.

“How can this be called waste?” Li Tiemin glared, speaking with righteous indignation as if proclaiming the truth. “I’m just giving a reminder to all of you single young people like Xiao Yang! Studying is important, but thinking is even more important! Don’t always think about hiding in dark corners!”

As he spoke, he glanced meaningfully at Yang Guangming, who was sitting quietly next to Zhang Weiqiang, which drew another round of knowing laughter from the crowd.

Yang Guangming chuckled along with the others. He put down his chopsticks, picked up his rough porcelain teacup, took a sip of warm jasmine tea, cleared his throat, and slowly replied, his tone carrying the earnestness characteristic of young people discussing issues:
"Director Li is right. If our thinking is not firm, everything will shake. This girl's awareness is indeed something we should learn from."

He abruptly changed the subject, as if analyzing an economic expense, "But I think high awareness is a good thing. It's just a pity that the goal wasn't achieved, that those two movie tickets were wasted. I remember the last row tickets... weren't cheap either, right? At least 15 cents each?"

He frowned slightly, seemingly feeling sorry for the young man.

Upon hearing this, everyone was taken aback at first, then burst into even louder laughter. Some slapped the table, others rubbed their stomachs, and even Wen Yongze, whose face was usually taut and habitually looking for loopholes, couldn't help but break into a rare, unrestrained smile.

Who would have thought that this seemingly serious reply, which followed Li Tiemin's line of "ideological awareness," would be so shrewd and down-to-earth, hitting the more real and painful spot of "economic loss" that ordinary people would feel the most distressed about?

Yang Guangming spoke the most "stingy" truth in the most serious manner.

"Hahaha! Oh my god, that's hilarious! Xiao Yang is absolutely right!"

"Old Li, you're so happy you don't even care about the young man's ticket money! Two tickets cost three cents! That's enough to buy two pounds of rice!" Lang Tianrui pointed at Li Tiemin, laughing so hard tears were almost coming out.

Li Tiemin was so happy that he slapped his thigh and pointed at Yang Guangming: "You're something else! You look honest and simple, but you're actually a cunning little devil! You're even more shrewd than Fatty Liu when it comes to accounting!" He also teased Liu Jinsheng, who was in charge of the money.

Liu Jinsheng wasn't annoyed; he just smiled and shook his head, saying, "Comrade Xiao Yang is good at managing a household and knows how to live frugally!"

Yang Guangming simply smiled slightly, said nothing more, and resumed his quiet listening posture.

There is such a lack of entertainment in this era that I simply don't get the point of this harmless little joke.

His effortless and tactful attitude at the dinner table amazed the seasoned veterans of social interactions.

Despite being the youngest and least experienced, she sat among a group of middle-level managers without showing any of the timidity, stage fright, or eagerness to perform that often comes with being a newcomer.

He doesn't talk much, but every time he does, it's either meaningful or, like just now, insightful and witty. He always blends perfectly into the atmosphere and even becomes a small focal point unintentionally, making his presence and his composure beyond his years impossible to ignore.

Zhang Weiqiang observed this, his gaze behind his glasses thoughtful, his admiration deepening.

He picked up the wine bottle and personally refilled the half-empty glass in front of Yang Guangming. The signal conveyed by this action made the hearts of the people present stir slightly.

Zhang Weiqiang's attitude towards Yang Guangming clearly shows that he is now closer to him and values ​​him more.

As the wine flowed freely and the conversation flowed, the topic, like pebbles washed by a stream, inevitably circled back to the eternal and weighty theme of life.

Although those present were all middle-level managers of the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill, and their salaries were much higher than those of front-line machine operators and maintenance workers, the types and quantities of ration coupons they received each month were essentially no different from those of ordinary workers.

Grain coupons, meat coupons, oil coupons, sugar coupons, cloth coupons, tofu coupons... Every household calculated every penny like they were using an abacus, and it was common to be short of money at the end of the month.

Their advantage was simply that they had a slightly wider network of connections and were better informed. Within the tightly woven network of the planned economy, their means and channels for "adjustment" were more flexible and covert.

In an era of extreme scarcity of resources and rationing, being able to obtain even half a pound of meat coupons, a few feet of cloth coupons, a few industrial coupons, or a bag of unplanned white sugar was enough to visibly improve a family's quality of life and become something to be quietly shared and slightly smug about at the dinner table.

"Old Zhou," Liu Jinsheng from the finance department said to Zhou Jiefang from the purchasing department, who was sitting diagonally opposite him, taking a sip of his drink, his tone filled with sincere gratitude.

"The few pounds of ribbonfish you got for me last time were a huge help! My family and children have been craving them for days, and we finally got to satisfy their cravings."

He manages the finances, and his words and actions reveal a cautious and pragmatic nature; even his expressions of gratitude seem genuine.

Zhou Jiefang waved his hand, his face showing no pride, only a pragmatic and slightly helpless expression honed by his military career:

"It was just a small favor. It just so happened that Old Zhang, who was driving the convoy to Ningbo, was coming back. The brothers at the supply and marketing cooperative there had some extra catch from the fishing, so I shared it with them."

However, things are tense now, and the higher-ups are tightening controls, so these opportunities are becoming increasingly rare.

His voice was not loud, but carried a hint of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a complex emotion encompassing feelings, reflections, and

“Yes.” Wen Yongze from the personnel department pushed up his black-rimmed glasses and slowly replied, his eyes habitually sweeping over everyone, as if searching for a way to start the conversation, or perhaps showing off his sense of superiority as a cadre from the “source” unit.

"Food is the hardest thing to deal with. The rations are so limited, and there's hardly any oil or fat. With a large family and growing children, it's rare to see any meat on the table at the end of the month. As for clothing..."

He paused deliberately, a subtle composure, characteristic of state-owned cotton mill cadres, appearing on his face.

"Our factory is at least the source, so we have a convenient advantage. We can always find a way to scrape together some of the unplanned 'defective fabric' or 'clearance fabric' to buy new jackets or trousers for the adults and children in our families, so they can look presentable. If all else fails..."

He turned his gaze to Lang Tianrui, with a hint of teasing, "Old Lang, your labor and personnel department is in charge of issuing labor protection supplies. If you unravel the threads of your labor protection gloves, can't you still knit a sweater vest? There must be that much convenience, right?"

Lang Tianrui, who hadn't said much, was holding a piece of glistening braised pork when he heard this. His hand froze in mid-air, and the smile on his face vanished instantly, like a thin mist blown away by the wind. A thick, unyielding cloud of sorrow settled between his brows.

He sighed, put the meat back in the bowl, and seemed to have suddenly lost his appetite.

"Section Chief Wen, please don't mention it!" Lang Tianrui put down his chopsticks, his voice filled with deep weariness and a sense of almost desperate helplessness, a stark contrast to his usual shrewd and quick-witted demeanor.

"Work gloves? Unraveling seams to knit clothes? Those things are a drop in the ocean! What I'm worried about right now isn't clothing! It's food! It's saving my mother's life!"

His last few words were almost squeezed out through gritted teeth, carrying a heavy weight.

(End of this chapter)