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

Chapter 117, Section 116: Abundance and Contentment, A Father's Admonition

Shikumen courtyard.

Pushing open the heavy, black lacquered stone gate, a bustling, everyday atmosphere, mingled with the smells of cooking, hits you.

The aroma of food wafting from each kitchen, some as bland as salted vegetable and broad bean soup, others as rich as the sizzling fragrance of fried ribbonfish, filled the narrow courtyard.

This is the taste of life, and also a unique mark of the crowded yet symbiotic relationship that belongs exclusively to the residents of Shikumen.

Beside the sink, Granny Chen, with her back hunched, was slowly washing a few thin scallions.

The water flowed gently, almost silently, as if afraid to disturb the tranquility of the twilight.

Her hands, covered in age spots, moved slowly and carefully, plucking each scallion leaf clean.

On the drying platform in the kitchen, Zhao Tiemin was intently poking at the coal stove with a polished iron rod, his head down.

A few sparks occasionally crackled and popped in the furnace, instantly illuminating his dark, silent, and rock-hard face.

Sweat streamed down his thick neck, soaking his faded work vest.

On the drying platform, He Caiyun was hanging out a few worn-out clothes to dry. Her movements were somewhat absent-minded, and her eyes seemed to be drawn by invisible threads, always involuntarily glancing towards the black lacquered door downstairs.

As dusk approached, Zhang Xiuying stepped into this small courtyard, a place that held countless stories of neighborhood life and everyday conversations.

Upon entering, the urge to share immense joy, which had been suppressed for most of the day, burst forth like a flood.

She subconsciously straightened her back, which had been slightly hunched from years of blocking cars, and her face radiated a new glow, a blend of effortful restraint and undisguised pride.

She cleared her throat, her voice not loud, yet it clearly pierced through the subtle murmurs of daily life in the courtyard, carrying a solemn, almost declarative tone as her gaze swept over the crowd:

"Grandma Chen, Mrs. Feng, Caiyun, Guihua... are you all here? I have something to tell you!"

The sound was like an invisible pause button had been pressed.

The sound of water flowing while washing scallions abruptly stopped. The iron rod used to stir the stove froze in mid-air. On the drying platform, He Caiyun's action of hanging clothes was instantly frozen.

All eyes, filled with doubt and instinctive curiosity, focused on Zhang Xiuying.

Facing the gazes of the crowd, Zhang Xiuying's face beamed with an irrepressible smile, like a spring breeze caressing frozen earth: "From today onwards, I... I will no longer be blocking the loom in the weaving workshop."

She paused deliberately, pleased to see the surprise on her neighbors' faces, especially He Caiyun's suddenly tense jawline and the fleeting look of astonishment in her eyes on the rooftop.

He Caiyun pursed her lips, about to mutter, "What else can a car stopper do besides that?", when she heard Zhang Xiuying announce clearly in a tone brimming with obvious joy and even a hint of triumph:

"The factory arranged for me to be transferred to the office of the weaving workshop, to take over as the labor relations officer! I'm being put on a work-study basis instead of working!"

"Ouch!" Li Guihua was the first to cry out, and the enamel basin she was holding fell to the ground with a "clatter," but luckily it didn't break.

She didn't even bother to pick them up; her eyes were wide open, filled with disbelief and raw, almost overflowing envy. "A labor relations officer? Mom! You...you've become an official? You're sitting in an office now?"

Labor relations officer! In the minds of factory workers, these three words represent a leisurely, respectable, and prestigious position—a coveted job that they dare not even dream of and can only discuss in secret!

Now, this position has actually fallen to her mother-in-law, who is usually quiet and only knows how to bury herself in her work! Li Guihua felt her heart pounding and her face burning.

Grandma Chen's cloudy old eyes lit up instantly, as if two small oil lamps had been lit.

A genuine smile bloomed on her deeply wrinkled face. Her withered hands unconsciously wiped themselves on her gray apron, and she sighed repeatedly.

"Oh my! Labor and personnel officer! What a great job! A really great job! Xiuying, congratulations! You've finally made it! You don't have to suffer through three shifts anymore! Good, really good! God bless you!"

Her words were filled with sincere blessings and a deep empathy for those who had "escaped from suffering," as if Zhang Xiuying's good fortune had also illuminated the darkness of her later years.

Mrs. Feng, Lin Fengjiao, also put down the bean sprouts she was picking and walked gracefully from her own doorway.

She wore a faded light gray short-sleeved shirt, her hair was neatly combed, and her face held a gentle and sincere expression of admiration:

"Xiuying, congratulations! The responsibilities of a labor relations officer are not light; you need to be meticulous and fair. But it is indeed a better position for you. The working environment will be much better in the future, and it will also be better for your health."

Her gaze was clear, filled with pure appreciation and blessing, without a trace of impurity, and her tone was gentle and warm.

Zhao Tiemin gave a muffled "hmm" as a form of congratulations. His dark face remained expressionless as he continued poking at his stove, seemingly oblivious to the earlier commotion.

But a fleeting hint of envy flashed across his eyes as they briefly lifted and then quickly lowered again.

On the balcony, He Caiyun's expression was a mixture of emotions, like a jumbled mess of feelings. Shock, jealousy, resentment, disbelief... all twisted into a stiff, mask-like smile.

Her voice was dry and strained, carrying an undisguised sourness, drifting down from above:
"Oh my...it's...it's good news, Aunt Xiuying...congratulations...it's really...I never expected this..."

His tone sounded like it was being forced out through clenched teeth, every word tinged with bitterness, his eyes darting around, avoiding eye contact with Zhang Xiuying.

Zhang Xiuying took in everything, especially He Caiyun's forced smile, which was more like a grimace, and the undisguised bitterness in her words. This gave Zhang Xiuying a sense of triumph and relief, like drinking chilled plum juice, which instantly brought her to the peak of her joy, leaving her feeling completely refreshed.

She smiled reservedly, as if sharing something utterly ordinary, her tone calm yet carrying a subtle confidence befitting a newly promoted "cadre":

"Thank you, thank you everyone! It's thanks to the organization's trust and the leadership's high regard. I'll need your continued support in my future work!"

Her gaze inadvertently swept towards the balcony, her tone gentle yet subtly sharp, as if responding to that bitterness.

The joy of "working instead of doing manual labor" and the ripples it created among her neighbors, along with the various reactions she received, brought her immense satisfaction.

She said no more, and with a relaxed air and the faint joy of a victor, she walked with her son, Yang Guangming, who was carrying a heavy satchel that exuded an enticing fragrance, into the front door of their house, where the paint was peeling and the wood was showing through.

The door closed gently behind him with a click, shutting out the complex gazes, hushed discussions, and the distinctive smoky smell of the coal stove from the courtyard.

……

The front building of the Yang family.

Once the heavy door closed, it seemed to instantly shut out the noise, prying eyes, and complicated gazes of the outside world.

The atmosphere inside was immediately filled with a pure, warm, and kinship-based connection. The aroma of home-cooked meals mingled with a faint smell of coal smoke wafted over.

Wearing a blue apron, Li Guihua deftly placed a plate of bright green cold chicken feather salad onto the square table where the paint was peeling off, revealing the wood grain.

A rough porcelain bowl and chopsticks, along with several steamed buns made from two kinds of dough, were already laid out on the table.

Yang Yongkang was still sitting on his old, worn-out stool against the wall, a self-rolled "trumpet" cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Amidst the swirling smoke, a rare relaxation graced his face, as if his perpetually tense nerves had eased somewhat with the unexpected good news from his wife.

He squinted slightly, looking at the doorway.

Yang Guanghui held his son Zhuangzhuang in his arms. Zhuangzhuang was pointing at the freshly served vegetables on the table with his chubby little finger, babbling and making sounds. His little face was full of anticipation, and there was a glistening drool at the corner of his mouth.

"Dad, brother, sister-in-law!" Yang Guangming greeted them with a smile, his voice light and cheerful.

He carefully placed the heavy, grass-green military satchel on the corner of the table.

Zhang Xiuying put down the small cloth bag in her hand, her face radiant, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes smoothing out, and her voice filled with irrepressible laughter and a desire to share:
"Old man, Huihui, Guihua, you have no idea what happened just now in the courtyard when I made that announcement..."

She vividly and dramatically described the shocked expressions on the neighbors' faces when they heard the news, mimicking He Caiyun's frozen face and dry congratulations:

“‘Oh my…it’s…it’s a good thing…’ Tsk tsk, that expression, that tone, tsk tsk tsk…”

Her description was vivid and interesting, which made Li Guihua giggle. Even Yang Yongkang, who was usually silent, had a slight, almost imperceptible curve in the corner of his mouth, which was usually tightly pursed and had lines like stone carvings.

"Alright, alright, let's eat first, we can talk while we eat, the food is getting cold."

Li Guihua smiled and urged them on, quickly setting out the bowls and chopsticks. She then picked up a chipped enamel mug and poured a small half-bowl of cooled boiled water for each person.

Yang Guangming pulled open the flap of his satchel and, as if by magic, took out the "goods" inside one by one.

First, there's a large piece of beef wrapped in thick oil paper; once the hemp rope is untied, it releases a rich, savory aroma.

Once the oil paper is lifted, the deep red, glossy color, distinct and enticing texture, and the interlocking muscle-like quality are revealed. The rich aroma of soy sauce forcefully penetrates everyone's nasal cavity, making their mouths water.

Next was a box of neatly arranged braised duck gizzards.

The duck gizzards are an enticing dark brown color, glossy and emitting the rich aroma of complex spices such as star anise and cinnamon. Their chewy and springy texture is mouthwatering.

Finally, and most eye-catching, was the large, silvery-scaled yellow croaker!
The fish's eyes are as bright as black gemstones, its gills are bright red, its body is plump and thick, its scales are intact and tightly packed, and its tail is slightly upturned.

A strong, pure aroma of fresh seafood instantly filled the small room, assertively announcing its presence. Even Zhuangzhuang stopped babbling, staring wide-eyed with curiosity, his little nose twitching.

"Oh my! Braised beef! Braised duck gizzards! And such a big, fresh yellow croaker!"

Li Guihua exclaimed in surprise, her eyes wide with astonishment. She couldn't help but reach out and touch the cool, slippery fish. "Mingming, you are truly... amazing! You even managed to prepare such a rare large yellow croaker!"

The undisguised smile on her face and the shining eyes betrayed her immense joy.

These days, large yellow croakers like this are rare finds, only seen during festivals!

When Zhuangzhuang saw the shimmering fish, he excitedly bounced around in his father's arms, waving his little hands as if to catch it.

"It's just a little something to celebrate Mom's 'promotion'," Yang Guangming explained with a smile, a hint of youthful pride in his voice, as he deftly began unwrapping the beef in oil paper.

Zhang Xiuying was still habitually complaining about her son: "He's so extravagant," "He doesn't know how to manage money," "There will be so many places to spend money in the future, dating, getting married, none of those things require money?"

But his hands were already moving nimbly, and he couldn't hide the smile on his face:

"This fish is so fresh! Great! Steamed, steamed is the best! It brings out the original flavor and sweetness! Just add some scallions and ginger, and drizzle with cooking wine! Osmanthus, quick, get a bigger plate! Slice the beef, and cut the duck gizzards and plate them too, all ready-made good dishes!"

She directed Li Guihua while she skillfully processed the fish.

He scaled, removed the gills, and gutted the animals in one swift motion, his knife skills clean and efficient. He was clearly in a great mood, his movements light and rhythmic.

Soon, the food was served.

In addition to the three main dishes that Yang Guangming brought back, there was also a cold salad of chicken feathers made by Li Guihua, a small dish of homemade pickled crisp radish, and a pile of white and yellow steamed buns with a rustic wheat aroma.

The steamed yellow croaker was solemnly placed in the center of the table.

The fish is placed on a bed of bright green scallions, and topped with slices of tender yellow ginger. After steaming, the fish skin slightly cracks open, revealing the snow-white, delicate, garlic-clove-like flesh underneath. The broth from steaming the fish is clear, mixed with the aroma of scallions and ginger, and its fresh fragrance fills the air.

The braised beef is sliced ​​thinly and evenly, with a deep red color interspersed with translucent tendons. It exudes a savory aroma, and the joints between the meat and tendons gleam with an enticing sheen of oil.

The braised duck gizzards, cut into bite-sized pieces, are dark brown, glossy, and tempting, exuding the unique complex aroma of the braising spices, and lie quietly in a small dish.

Under the dim light of a 15-watt incandescent bulb, the abundance and rarity of the meal only served to highlight its preciousness in an era of scarcity.

The family sat around the square table, with Zhuangzhuang sitting in his father Yang Guanghui's arms, a small enamel bowl in front of him.

The fresh, sweet, and delicate flavor of steamed yellow croaker is undoubtedly the star of the show.

Zhang Xiuying first placed a large piece of the fattest fish belly meat into Yang Yongkang's bowl: "Old man, try it, it's so fresh!"

Yang Yongkang nodded, and with a gentle flick of his chopsticks, the snow-white fish meat scattered like flower petals. Dipping it in a little soy sauce at the bottom of the plate, which was infused with the essence of the fish, it melted in his mouth, so fresh that it made his eyebrows dance.

He chewed slowly, a rare look of enjoyment on his face. The braised beef was savory and rich, with a satisfying chewiness—a perfect accompaniment to rice.

Yang Guanghui didn't talk much, just smiled憨厚ly, but the speed and frequency of his chopsticks eating honestly expressed his satisfaction with this sumptuous dinner. Braised beef and duck gizzards were his favorites, and he ate one piece after another until his mouth was glistening with oil.

The braised duck gizzards are crisp, chewy, and bouncy, becoming more fragrant the more you chew them, with the flavor of the braising sauce permeating every fiber.

Li Guihua diligently served food to her parents-in-law, especially the dish of duck gizzards, which she piled into Zhang Xiuying's bowl: "Mom, these are chewy, you should eat more."

Li Guihua carefully removed all the fish bones and fed Zhuangzhuang a few small pieces of the tenderest fish meat.

The little one's mouth was glistening with oil from eating, and he was so happy that he was waving his arms and legs, babbling to express his satisfaction. His little hands even tried to grab the shiny fish eyes in the plate.

The dinner table was filled with relaxed and cheerful laughter. Zhang Xiuying was still enthusiastically sharing her observations of the new office:
"...The lush green spider plant on the windowsill is growing so well! The new notebook I received has a hard cover! And a new dip pen, the kind that fills with ink!"
The office was so quiet that you could hear the cicadas chirping in the sycamore trees outside the window, their calls a complete contrast to the clanging of the looms in the workshop…

Her tone was full of novelty and excitement at stepping into a new world, as if even the air was sweet.

Yang Guanghui listened with a simple, honest smile, occasionally adding, "That's good, it'll be quiet." He didn't miss a beat while picking up food with his chopsticks.

While taking care of Zhuangzhuang, Li Guihua listened to her mother-in-law's story with a smile, occasionally interjecting, "Mom, then you won't have to work night shifts anymore. Your health is the most important thing."

Yang Yongkang remained silent, but his appetite was clearly much better than usual.

He silently ate the braised beef his son had brought back, then picked up a large piece of snow-white fish belly, chewing slowly and carefully.

Occasionally, I would pick up the small wine cup with the words "Labor is Glorious" printed on it and take a sip of the loose sweet potato liquor.

The spiciness of the cheap liquor seemed to become easier to swallow because of the good meal and his wife's happy occasion. He looked unusually relaxed, and his perpetually furrowed brows unfurrowed.

After a satisfying meal, the dishes on the table were almost empty, leaving only the fish head and a few scraps of soup.

The room was filled with the lingering aroma of food, a faint scent of alcohol, and a warm and contented atmosphere.

The dim yellow light seemed to become exceptionally warm and soft, enveloping the family.

Yang Yongkang put down his chopsticks, picked up the enamel mug with the red star on it, took a big gulp of warm coarse tea, smacked his lips, as if savoring the taste.

He remained silent for a few seconds, then slowly shifted his gaze to his youngest son, Yang Guangming.

His gaze carried a calm composure born of experience and an almost imperceptible inquiry, like an eagle scrutinizing its fledglings about to leave the nest, piercing through the relaxed atmosphere after the meal.

He cleared his throat, and his deep, calm voice broke the post-dinner tranquility: "Mingming."

"Father." Yang Guangming sat up slightly, meeting his father's penetrating gaze.

He knew what was coming would eventually happen. His father ate the meal in silence, his mind clearly not on the food. The relaxed atmosphere in the room seemed to freeze for a moment.

Yang Yongkang spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen and carrying the authority of the head of the family: "Your mother's job..."

He glanced at his wife, whose face was still flushed, as she wiped the corner of the table with a rag. "It's a good thing that she's been working the shift for over twenty years, three shifts a day. Even the strongest person couldn't endure that. Your mother will suffer less, and things will be much more relaxed at home."

He affirmed the value of the matter, his tone tinged with pity for his wife.

He paused, his eyes, which had seen through the ways of the world and were as deep as an ancient well, became exceptionally serious. His gaze fell on Yang Guangming as if it were a physical object, with an unavoidable penetrating power: "But..."

He abruptly changed the subject, like a pebble thrown into still water, instantly creating ripples, "Where did you get this favor? Tell me the truth, did you pull some strings at the factory? Did you ask that... Section Chief Lang from the Labor and Wages Department?"

His tone was firm, clearly indicating that he already had the answer in his heart. His question at this moment was more like a confirmation and examination, a test of his son's character.

The warmth inside the room instantly froze.

Zhang Xiuying's smile froze, her hand wiping the table stopped in mid-air, turning into a tense look as she looked at her son.

Li Guihua's hand, which was clearing the dishes, froze in mid-air. She held her breath, her eyes darting back and forth between her father-in-law and brother-in-law.

Yang Guanghui, holding Zhuangzhuang who was already dozing off and whose little head was nodding, also looked up and nervously looked at his younger brother.

The air seemed to thicken suddenly, and even the dim yellow light seemed to dim a bit, leaving only the clear ticking of the old-fashioned wall clock.

Sunlight met his father's sharp, all-seeing gaze with a calm expression, without the slightest hesitation.

He nodded, his voice clear and steady: "Father, you can't hide it from me. It was indeed through Section Chief Lang's help." He didn't deny it.

He continued to explain, speaking slowly and deliberately: "My mother worked at the machine-operating station for over twenty years, in three shifts. It was so hard that her back and legs became sore, as you know."

Section Chief Lang... is a very warm-hearted person. In our daily work interactions, he thinks I am quite reliable and we get along well.

He knew about his mother's situation. There happened to be a vacancy in the labor relations officer position. He felt that his mother was a steady and reliable person who had worked in the factory for a long time and was familiar with the situation, so he offered to help her change positions.

The procedures were all handled normally according to factory regulations; there were no shortcuts or irregularities.

He emphasized Lang Tianrui's "proactiveness" and "congeniality," as well as the "normality" of the procedure, focusing on the mother's abilities and Section Chief Lang's "enthusiasm," cleverly avoiding certain details that were inconvenient to mention.

Yang Yongkang listened quietly, the wrinkles on his face appearing even deeper in the dim light, as if carved by a knife and axe.

The smoke from the cheap tobacco slowly swirled and rose in front of him.

This brief silence, however, pressed down on the small room like a mountain, so heavy it was hard to breathe. Only the faint red glow of the cigarette butt flickered in and out of the smoke.

After a long silence, he spoke again.

The voice wasn't loud, but every word carried immense weight, like a heavy hammer striking everyone's heart:
"Section Chief Lang offered to help us; we, the Yang family, will remember this kindness."

He paused, his gaze sharpening like two gleaming knives, locking onto Yang Guangming. "This is a personal favor; it's that they think highly of you and of the honest character of the Yang family."

He leaned forward slightly, exuding an invisible aura of the toughness of an old worker and the authority of the head of the household, which even seemed to repel the smoke.
"But Mingming, listen to me carefully!"
This favor can only be repaid in a private way!
Inviting someone to a meal, giving them a decent thank-you gift that we bought ourselves, or lending a helping hand if they encounter difficulties in the future—these are all acceptable options.

He drew a clear line.

Then, his tone suddenly became resolute, carrying an unquestionable determination:
"But absolutely, absolutely, you cannot use your work for trade!"
Just because your mother is the labor relations officer doesn't mean you can speak or act in the factory in a way that favors Section Chief Lang, or disobey Director Zhao's instructions or the factory's rules and regulations!
We must not compromise public principles for private gain!

Each word was hammered into the tabletop like a nail.

"When it comes to work, it's all about sticking to the facts! A nail is a nail, a rivet is a rivet!"

He emphasized his words, his rough knuckles striking the table heavily with a dull thud. "Your position as Director Zhao's secretary is a sign of the leadership's trust in you, but it's also a heavy responsibility placed on your shoulders!"

His gaze was intense, and his voice carried the unique toughness, integrity, and unyielding purity characteristic of working-class people:
"If it's to make things difficult for you at work, or to make you do something against the rules that people will talk about behind your back, just to repay this personal favor."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over his wife, "Then your mother might as well quit being a labor relations officer!"
I'll go back to stopping the cart tomorrow! I'll still be a glorious member of the working class! I'll still be protected from the wind and rain!

My wife, Yang Yongkang's wife, can endure that hardship! She can withstand it!

He spoke those last few words almost through gritted teeth, yet they were delivered with resounding force.

Upon hearing this, Zhang Xiuying's face drained of color instantly, followed by a surge of excited blush.

She nodded vigorously, looking eagerly at her son, her voice filled with a mother's determination and unwavering support:
“Mingming, your father is right! Every word he says makes sense! That’s what your mother thinks too!”

She walked to her son's side and said firmly, "No matter how good or easy this job is, if it makes things difficult for you or causes you to make mistakes, Mom will go to Director Wang first thing tomorrow morning and go back to the workshop to stop the machines!"
"Mom's in great health! What's wrong with working three shifts? We've managed all these years, haven't we?"

There was no hesitation in her eyes, only her protection of her son and absolute agreement with her husband's words.

The dignity that had just been gained seemed insignificant in the face of his son's future and innocence.

Li Guihua and Yang Guanghui also watched Yang Guangming nervously, barely daring to breathe. Even Zhuangzhuang seemed to sense the heavy atmosphere, squirming uneasily in his father's arms and making a drowsy whimper.

Looking at his father's serious and profound face, etched with the hardships of life yet dignified, and at his mother's eyes filled with unreserved support and deep worry, Yang Guangming felt a surge of warmth in his heart, and an even heavier sense of responsibility, like a boulder pressing down on his heart.

He stood up, his expression incredibly solemn, his gaze clear and open, sweeping over his parents, brothers, and sisters-in-law. His voice was clear and powerful, each word echoing in the small front building:
"Father, Mother, Brother, Sister-in-law, don't worry."

His tone was calm, carrying a certainty beyond his years:
"I have a clear conscience and can distinguish between public and private matters, and weigh the important and the trivial."

Section Chief Lang's help with the job transfer was a personal favor, a timely act of kindness.

I will remember this kindness and will express my gratitude to him properly and sincerely in a private way in the future.

He changed the subject, his tone becoming even more firm: "But work is work!"

He emphasized his words, his gaze sweeping over his family again, carrying an undeniable authority.
"I sit in the secretary's position, receiving a salary from the factory, and working for the government. I am only responsible to Director Zhao, only responsible for the factory's production tasks, and only responsible for the written rules and regulations!"

He stood straight, his voice not loud, but carrying an unwavering strength:
"I will never let personal feelings interfere with official business, and I will never compromise my principles! I, Yang Guangming, assure you of this!"

Yang Yongkang stared intently into his son's eyes. Those worldly-wise eyes seemed to pierce through his skin, reaching the depths of his soul, scrutinizing the truth and weight of every word he uttered.

Time flowed silently, broken only by the ticking of the old-fashioned wall clock and Zhuangzhuang's soft breathing.

After a long while, Yang Yongkang's tense facial lines finally relaxed slowly, like ice thawing in spring.

His brows, which were usually furrowed as if carved by a knife, relaxed completely for the first time ever.

He nodded slowly and heavily, picked up the enamel mug with the red star on it, tilted his head back and took a big gulp of warm tea, his Adam's apple bobbing as the tea went down his throat.

He simply said one word: "Okay."

This word was like a heavy burden being lifted, or like a pardon.

The tense atmosphere in the room instantly dissipated, and warm air began to flow again. The taut string relaxed.

Zhang Xiuying let out a long, silent sigh of relief, a relieved smile returning to her face. She glanced at her husband with a mixture of reproach and affection:
"Old man, look at you, you've scared the children. Mingming has always been independent and knows his limits, and you still don't trust him?"

She turned to look at Yang Guanghui and Li Guihua, her tone light and cheerful again, "Quickly, tidy up the table, sweep away the fish bones and bones, be careful not to prick your feet. Huihui, take Zhuangzhuang to the inner room to sleep, the child is too sleepy to keep his eyes open."

The family got moving again.

Li Guihua quickly cleared the table and stacked the dishes. Yang Guangming picked up a rag and wiped the greasy tabletop. Zhang Xiuying found a small broom and carefully swept away the fish bone scraps and fallen rice grains on the floor. Yang Guanghui, carrying the sleeping Zhuangzhuang, tiptoed into the inner room.

Although the family no longer talks and laughs as loudly as before meals, a deeper, more grounded, and earth-solid warmth quietly flows through the small front building.

The air still seemed to linger with the delicious aroma of large yellow croaker, the rich aftertaste of braised beef, and the strong fragrance of braised duck gizzards, mixed with the smell of coarse tea and cheap tobacco, creating the unique taste of home deep in the Shikumen on this summer night.

Yang Yongkang silently took out a small pinch of tobacco from the crumpled empty cigarette box and spread it on his rough palm.

With practiced skill, his fingers twisted and rolled up a new "trumpet".

He struck a match, and the orange flame leaped for a moment, illuminating his weathered yet relaxed brows and eyes, the thick calluses on his fingers, and his eyes that held a hint of barely perceptible relief.

Immediately, a bluish-white smoke rose up and enveloped him.

He took a deep breath, and the spicy taste seemed to bring a sense of tranquility.

The night outside the window gradually deepened.

In the alleyways of the Shikumen, the occasional soft ringing of a bicycle bell or the long, drawn-out call of a mother for her child to come home can be heard before silence returns.

This summer night was filled with the aroma of fish and meat. For the Yang family, this represented not only material abundance but also spiritual fulfillment.

(End of this chapter)