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

Chapter 125, Section 124: Unity Leads to First Victory
Zhao Tiemin, who was squatting in the corner like a block of wood, also muttered, "Hmm, that makes sense."

These four simple words, uttered by him, were already a high level of approval. He usually spoke with utmost sincerity, so for him to nod in agreement meant that Yang Guangming's plan had indeed hit the nail on the head.

Zhao Tiemin stubbed out the cigarette butt, which had long since gone out. All that remained of the cigarette butt was the charred filter tip, which he rubbed and rubbed between his rough fingers.

He supported himself on his knees and stood up with some difficulty, moving his numb legs and feet, a faint clicking sound coming from the bones.

In his cloudy eyes, it was as if a drop of rain had seeped into parched land, and a faint vitality had appeared.

Grandma Chen was so excited that she grabbed Zhang Chunfang's wrist tightly with her withered hand, so hard that Zhang Chunfang felt a slight pain.

The old woman's fingers trembled violently from the effort, and the loose skin on the back of her hand taut the veins.

Her voice trembled, choked with sobs, yet filled with hope:

"Yes, yes, yes! Our family is counting on getting more odd jobs! Chunfang is quick-handed and has sharp eyes. She's really good at pasting matchboxes! She's fast and good! One of hers is worth two!"

She seemed to be placing all of her family's hopes on this sentence, staring intently at Yang Guangming, then glancing at the neighbors around her, seeking their approval.

Zhang Chunfang felt a sharp pain from the old woman's grip, but a surge of warmth welled up inside her.

A blush rose to her cheeks, and she nodded vigorously, shyly yet expectantly, her voice soft but firm: "Yes! I promise I'll paste it quickly and well! I won't slack off!"

She seemed to see stacks of pasted matchboxes piled up in the dimly lit living room, which would be exchanged for a few precious tickets to give the emaciated little girl some food.

The courtyard, which was originally filled with resentment, confusion, and despair, was now quietly replaced by a fighting spirit with a clear goal.

The heavy gloom seemed to have been torn open, letting in a faint but real light. The air was no longer stagnant, but began to flow, carrying a heat that was about to burst forth.

The atmosphere became lively, and everyone chattered about the details, their voices regaining their energy, like pebbles being thrown into a still pond.
“Food coupons are the most important! The elderly and children in the family need nutrition! Look at my little girl, she’s as thin as a bean sprout!” Li Guihua slapped her thigh, her face full of worry and anxiety.

"Cloth coupons are important too! The little girl grows so fast, her pants are already bunched up! Patches upon patches, we're afraid people will laugh at us when we go out!"

"Industrial coupons! Soap coupons! We use soap like crazy at home! There are so many people, so much sweat, and our clothes get dirty so quickly!"

"We need more matchboxes! All the women in our family can do it! We're quick and efficient!" He Caiyun's voice rose, carrying an undeniable certainty.

“Yes, we need to make it clear that we’re not being unreasonable, we’re just facing real difficulties, and the neighborhood committee must provide more compensation!” Zhang Xiuying concluded, her sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd with the confidence of a homeowner from the front building.

Yang Guangming became the temporary "strategist," surrounded by the crowd, answering various practical questions.

He calmly added his suggestion, his voice not loud, but clear and soothing, calming the restless heart:

"At that time, each family should list out their actual difficulties, especially the size of their housing, the number of people in their household, and the situation of the elderly and children. They should make sure that there are clear facts and evidence. Presenting the numbers is more effective than just talking."

Safety and hygiene hazards are a key concern, and it must be emphasized that this neighborhood committee is also afraid of taking responsibility. If a fire or an infectious disease occurs, they won't be able to cover it up.

When allocating casual labor, let's discuss a fair method beforehand: should it be based on the number of people or the number of households? We don't want to cause conflicts over this and lose our composure first.

We must be firm in our stance, but we must also be mindful of our words so as not to give anyone ammunition to accuse us of resisting policy.

We're here to discuss our difficulties and seek solutions, not to cause trouble.

Yang Guangming emphasized the last point, his gaze sweeping over He Caiyun and Li Guihua.

As dusk settled completely, it descended like a vast, dark velvet cloth.

Inside the Shikumen, dim lights shone from every household. 15-watt incandescent bulbs cast a blurry and weak glow through the grease-stained windows, barely dispelling the darkness in the corners.

The faint light illuminated the faces in the courtyard, faces that had been rekindled with hope yet filled with nervous anticipation.

Hope is a tiny flame, tension is a heavy stone; the two emotions intertwine, making everyone's expression complex and solemn.

This battle to defend our living space, under Yang Guangming's planning, has moved from chaos to clarity, from despair to hope, with a clear battle plan and a pragmatic goal that can be set aside as a second choice.

People are no longer blindly angry, but have bargaining chips and a direction to strive for.

With these preparations in place, everyone felt a little more at ease. Now, they were just waiting for the street's "messenger" to come again for a direct confrontation, to fight for that slim chance of victory or meager compensation.

Everyone was mentally rehearsing their lines, calculating the other's reaction. After a brief period of commotion in the courtyard, a deeper wait began.

The next evening, the heat was still intense, as thick and sticky as syrup that wouldn't dissolve.

The air was so stuffy it felt like it had solidified; there wasn't a breath of wind, and even the cicadas seemed to be chirping weakly.

The men and women in the Shikumen (stone gate) gathered in the courtyard earlier than usual.

After yesterday's "pre-battle mobilization" and strategic deployment, the bewilderment and fear on everyone's faces have lessened, replaced by a tacit understanding of shared hatred and a hint of anticipation.

A silent tension permeated and fermented in the humid and sultry air, like the low pressure before a storm, making one's chest feel heavy.

Li Guihua had moved a creaky little stool to the doorway early in the morning, her eyes like searchlights, constantly glancing nervously at the heavy, peeling black door. Her body leaned slightly forward, as if ready to spring up at any moment.

Zhang Xiuying stood in the center of the courtyard, her back ramrod straight, hands behind her back, chin slightly raised, her expression serious and focused, like a sentry awaiting orders. However, the fingers behind her back were nervously twisted together, betraying the turmoil within her.

Mrs. Feng, Lin Fengjiao, remained standing steadily with her arms crossed.

Her gaze calmly swept over everyone in the courtyard, from Li Guihua's clasped hands to Zhang Xiuying's straight back, and then to Zhao Tiemin leaning against the wall, like an experienced general making a final assessment of the team's morale and weaknesses before battle.

He Caiyun leaned against her own door frame, arms crossed, toes tapping impatiently on the ground, making a soft but clear tapping sound.

The sound was particularly jarring in the silence, like a sharp blade poised to strike from its sheath.

Her eyes were sharp as an eagle's, fixed on the direction of the door, as if trying to pierce through the thick wooden planks to see the appearance of the person who came in.

At the entrance to the living room, Grandma Chen, supported by her eldest granddaughter-in-law Zhang Chunfang, had already moved a small bamboo chair and sat down.

The old man tried to straighten his hunched back, his face, covered with age spots and deep wrinkles, was filled with tension and determination, and his cloudy eyes were fixed on the direction of the door, unblinking.

She was like an old general commanding the central army, conveying an indomitable spirit with her hunched back.

Zhang Chunfang half-squatted beside the old woman, gently placing one hand on the old woman's thin, bony knee, feeling the old woman's slight trembling, while her other hand was clenched into a fist and placed on her own leg, her young face full of determination.

Zhao Tiemin stopped silently squatting in the corner and stood leaning against the wall next to the faucet.

He held a half-smoked cigarette in his hand, unconsciously twisting the filter, his gaze fixed on the uneven ground beneath his feet. Occasionally, he would lift his heavy eyelids and quickly glance at the door, his eyes cloudy yet weighty, as if gauging the strength of his approaching opponent.

The air was eerily quiet; you could clearly hear the dripping sound of the faucet that could never be turned off properly.

The dripping sound, "drip...drip...drip...", pounded on everyone's tense nerves;
Everyone held their breath, as if they were deliberately slowing their heartbeats.

Time seemed to stand still in the sweltering, sticky air, flowing at an unusually slow pace. Every minute felt like an eternity.

The occasional bicycle bells or distant, indistinct shouts from outside the alley only served to accentuate the deathly stillness of the courtyard.

Soon, just past the end of the workday, a familiar figure appeared precisely on time in the long shadow cast by the setting sun outside the black gate.

He is none other than Liu, the street-level official.

Officer Liu was wearing a worn-out gray short-sleeved shirt, with a bulging black faux leather briefcase tucked under his arm. The edges of the briefcase were worn white and frayed, revealing the rough fibers inside.

He had a neat but slightly sparse parted hairstyle, with a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead by sweat. His face, which looked to be around thirty-five or thirty-six years old, showed obvious signs of fatigue, with puffy eye bags and a habitual downward turn of his mouth.

At this moment, he had a slight smile on his face, trying his best to maintain an expression that was unique to grassroots cadres, somewhere between serious and approachable.

He lifted his foot and stepped with some difficulty over the high threshold, worn smooth by countless shoes. His gaze swept over the crowd in the courtyard, who stood ready and stared intently at him. His heart sank.

The forced professional smile on his face froze instantly, and the corners of his mouth twitched unnaturally, as if he had been pricked by an invisible needle.

The atmosphere was even more "enthusiastic" and "united" than he had anticipated!
The invisible, hostile, and scrutinizing pressure in the air was like a thick wall, instantly pressing in and soaking his shirt back with a layer of sticky, cold sweat that clung tightly to his skin.

"Oh, everyone... is here?"

Officer Liu chuckled twice, trying to make his voice sound relaxed and natural, but his gaze was somewhat evasive, not daring to meet the direct, complex gazes directed at him, only daring to look at the ground in front of everyone's feet.

"Today... it's quite tidy." He tried to break the suffocating silence and ease the tense atmosphere with the most ordinary everyday words, but his voice carried a hint of weakness and lack of confidence.

"Officer Liu is here?"

As a resident of the front building, Zhang Xiuying was considered a semi-host and spoke first.

She took a small step forward, her tone indifferent, carrying a distant and deliberately cold tone, as if she already knew the answer, "Is it about the balcony renovation?"

She cut straight to the point, without beating around the bush, her gaze sharp as a needle, piercing right into Officer Liu.

"Yes, yes, yes." Officer Liu nodded hurriedly, as if a drowning person had grasped at a straw, and quickly pulled out a mimeographed document from the bulging briefcase under his arm as if to cover up his actions.

The edges of the paper were slightly curled, and it was stained with sweat and oil from fingers.

He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound confident, his words carrying a slightly stiff, official tone:

"Everyone has probably heard about it."

The district issued a document requiring our street office to conduct a thorough investigation in order to alleviate the housing shortage and solve the housing difficulties of more revolutionary comrades and working-class brothers and sisters.

We must make full use of all the communal spaces in the shikumen houses that can be repurposed, such as kitchens and drying balconies, and convert them into housing!

He waved the document, attempting to emphasize the policy's authority and unquestionable nature:

"This is policy, a unified plan from 'above,' a major event! It's also to solve the practical difficulties of more comrades with housing problems..."

We must resolutely implement and fulfill our duties without fail…

His waving arms seemed somewhat powerless, and his words sounded hollow and distant in the face of those tense faces before him.

However, before he could finish his official jargon, He Caiyun, who had been holding back her energy like a drawn bow, sprang up like a lit firecracker and took a step so close to Officer Liu that she was almost touching his face.

Her voice was shrill and bright, filled with undisguised anger and accusation, exploding like a machine gun:
"Officer Liu! Explain yourself clearly! What does 'making full use of resources' mean?"

Our rooftop is only a few square meters! It's tiny!

Four families already don't have enough space to hang their clothes and blankets to dry! And you want to squeeze in another family? Tell me, what are we supposed to do? Hang the clothes out to dry in the sky? Or hang them inside your house?

Her finger almost poked Liu's nose with excitement, spittle flying in the afterglow of the setting sun. Every question was like a sharp nail, meant to nail him to the wall, to the pillar of shame for "not caring about the people's plight".

Li Guihua immediately followed suit, though she wasn't as direct and outspoken as He Caiyun. Her tone was more aggrieved and "reasonable," carrying a strong sense of accusation, accompanied by exaggerated gestures as she pointed to the cramped courtyard and the surroundings:

"That's right, Officer Liu! Look at our courtyard, it's already so small you can't even turn around! It's like a pigeon coop!"
When we renovated the kitchen last time, a piece of the common area was already missing. We'll just have to squeeze in and bear with it.

"Now you're going to seal off the drying platform? That would turn our four households into five, leaving us with just this tiny courtyard as our common area!"

She became more and more agitated as she spoke, her voice trembling with emotion:

"It's incredibly hot in the summer, like a giant steamer. Try standing in here for five minutes and you'll be drenched in sweat!"

It's so slippery in the rain, and moss has grown everywhere—a fall could be terrible! Especially for the elderly and children! Have you considered fire safety? What if a coal stove catches fire? Sparks could fly out, and there'd be no way to escape!
It's so crowded, even putting out a fire would be difficult!

"You can't just cramm people in to complete the task and ignore the lives of us long-time residents!"

As she spoke, she excitedly pointed to the narrow courtyard, the corner piled with clutter, the hanging bamboo poles, and the honeycomb briquettes against the wall, presenting the facts and difficulties. Every word she spoke pointed to the crisis of survival and the potential dangers, directly touching the fear in people's hearts.

Officer Liu was a little stunned by this sudden "attack from both sides". His prepared mobilization speech was stuck in his throat, and the sweat on his forehead became even more abundant, forming a small stream that flowed down his temples.

He hurriedly pulled out a yellowed handkerchief to wipe himself, his voice slightly weak, trying to soothe him:
"This...difficulty is temporary...the neighborhood committee will consider...and try to find a solution..."

Everyone needs to overcome this... and understand the bigger picture...

"Consider? How should we consider it? Think of a solution? What solution?"

Mrs. Feng, Lin Fengjiao, joined the fray at the opportune moment.

Her voice was not loud, and her pace was steady, yet it carried the calmness of an intellectual and incisive questioning, like a precise scalpel, hitting the nail on the head and cutting through the perfunctory words in the other person's speech:

"Officer Liu, we understand and support the government's efforts to address housing difficulties. However, specific problems must be analyzed on a case-by-case basis! We cannot adopt a one-size-fits-all approach!"

She stepped forward, her gaze sharp as she looked at Officer Liu, pointing to the surrounding buildings with her finger:
"Our Shikumen house is an old house that is decades old. The structure is old and the main wood is used. The space is cramped and it is a typical compact layout."

The last renovation of the kitchen was already the limit; the common space had been compressed to the brink.

Now, if we renovate the drying platform and add another household, the per capita living area and public space will be far below the city's minimum standards, right? Isn't that a fact?

She paused, then emphasized:

"This is not just inconvenience to daily life, but also poses serious safety hazards!"
Fire hazards – blocked passageways and piles of flammable materials can lead to disastrous consequences if a fire breaks out!

Hygiene risks – With so many people crammed into a small space, sewage flows freely, mosquitoes and flies breed, making it extremely easy to cause infectious diseases!
There's also the potential for neighborhood conflicts—what if disputes over space escalate into arguments and even physical altercations?

She looked directly into Officer Liu's eyes, which were beginning to flicker, and posed the most weighty question:
"If something goes wrong, who will bear the consequences? Can the neighborhood committee bear this responsibility? Can you, Officer Liu, bear it? Can the documents in your hand take this responsibility for you?"

Her words were clear, logical, and each sentence focused on the word "responsibility." These two heavy words weighed on Liu's face like two giant rocks, making his face even paler, and his hand holding the document tremble slightly involuntarily.

Zhang Xiuying also spoke with a stern face. Her voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable weight and the confidence of a private homeowner, reiterating their special status and the possibility of resistance:

"Officer Liu, last time the neighborhood committee wanted to move the drying platform, but our front building and the living room are private rooms, and both of our families strongly opposed it. The neighborhood committee respected our opinion and didn't move it."

When the district issued this document, we realized that we are not unreasonable people, and we also know that the country is facing difficulties.

But we should also consider our actual difficulties, right?

"We can't just complete the task and disregard the lives of us long-time residents who have lived here for decades, whose roots are in this place!"

She paused, her tone carrying a clear warning: "If you insist on taking action, we, the two private households, will report this to higher authorities! We demand an explanation!"

Her status as a "private resident" and a "long-time resident," along with the implication of "reporting to higher authorities," were extremely valuable bargaining chips in her hands.

With Zhang Chunfang's help, Granny Chen stood up shakily.

The old man's hunched figure looked particularly small and helpless in the twilight, as if a gust of wind could blow him over.

Her cloudy old eyes quickly filled with tears, which streamed down her deep wrinkles. Her voice was choked with sobs, filled with sorrow and pleading, striking the most tender and compassionate heart.
"Comrade Liu...please have mercy...this is terrible..."

In our family, the old are old, the young are young... our son, daughter-in-law, and grandson are all crammed into a tiny space in the living room...

It's hard enough to even turn around... There's already so little room to turn around... and now there are more people... Waaah...

This is practically driving this old woman to her death... Where am I supposed to hide my old bones like this?!

The old man's emotional appeal had a direct and powerful effect; his helpless sobs made the air feel heavier.

Even Zhao Tiemin, who was leaning against the wall, raised his head and interjected in a muffled voice, his tone hoarse yet carrying a simple, painful truth, expressing the most practical and direct predicament of the working class:
"With the balcony gone, I have nowhere to fix my bicycle. My bicycle is my livelihood; if it breaks and I can't ride it, it'll make me late for work. Who will pay the deduction from my salary? Will my family starve?"

In a simple sentence, it points out the specific predicament caused by the loss of public space, cold and realistic.

One person spoke, another spoke; some asked sharp questions, some complained, some reasoned, some talked about difficulties and security, some played the victim card, some hinted at potential resistance and pressure, and some spoke in a seemingly simple way but hit the nail on the head regarding real pain points.

The residents of the Shikumen (stone gate) formed a three-dimensional, all-round, and comprehensive "siege," like an invisible net, firmly trapping Liu Ganshi in the center.

Liu was overwhelmed by the surging voices and emotions, sweating profusely, his forehead and neck covered in glistening beads of sweat, and the back of his shirt soaked through.

He mechanically repeated himself, attempting to build a final line of defense with policy:

"This is policy... a requirement from the district... a mandatory task..."

Everyone must overcome difficulties... understand and support the work of the neighborhood committee... and consider the overall situation..."

But these empty platitudes seem so pale and powerless in the face of the bloody realities, unavoidable safety hazards, heartbreaking plea, and obvious potential threats presented by the residents of Shikumen, like a paper shield.

Even he himself spoke without confidence, his voice growing softer and softer until it was almost a muttering to himself.

The documents in his hands were crumpled and damp, just like his current state of mind—soaked in sweat and utterly disheveled.

Yang Guangming stood a little further back, calmly observing the situation.

He saw the embarrassment, wavering, and a hint of panic and retreat in Officer Liu's eyes.

It felt like the time was right. We needed to give this cornered cadre a way out, and we also needed to formally state our position on behalf of everyone to end this "siege" and shift the pressure to the upper echelons of the street.

He took a steady step forward and stood just ahead of the crowd, becoming the center of attention.

His voice was calm yet clear and powerful, instantly drowning out all the discussions and questions, carrying an authoritative and unquestionable tone, like a concluding statement:
“Officer Liu, you have heard and seen with your own eyes everyone’s difficulties, concerns, and objections.”

He stretched out his hand and pointed forcefully to the tense faces around him, the cramped and crowded space, the corner piled with clutter, and finally to the small, soon-to-be-defunct rooftop above.

"It's not that we don't support national policies, it's just that the objective conditions here don't allow it! The space is only so big, if we cram people in, can we guarantee safety, hygiene, or living conditions?"

He emphasized, "Forcing the renovation will only create more problems and conflicts, safety hazards could erupt at any time, and neighborly relations will be completely ruined! In the end, no one will benefit, and the work of the neighborhood committee will be difficult! This is turning a good thing into a bad one!"

He looked around at everyone, then fixed his gaze on Officer Liu again: "We, the four households, are all here today, and our stance is very clear: we resolutely disagree with the renovation of the drying platform! This door cannot be opened!"

He slowed his speech at the end, but spoke clearly: "Please, Liu, you must report to the higher-level leaders the actual difficulties we raised today, word for word, without missing a single detail!"

We believe that the street leaders are reasonable and discerning, and will fully consider the special circumstances here to make the right judgment!

His words were both a concluding statement and a formal declaration on behalf of the four households that they were "sworn to fight" against the opposition, leaving no room for negotiation.

At the same time, it also passed the buck to the street leaders, giving Officer Liu a way out and a way to "report to higher authorities," while also implying the expectation that the leaders would be "reasonable." It was a perfect combination of soft and hard tactics, with the balance being just right.

Looking at the resolute, uncompromising faces before him, listening to the unavoidable and terrifying real difficulties and potential risks, and then thinking about the flimsy and unrealistic document in his bag, Officer Liu realized with complete certainty: today's mobilization mission was a complete failure.

If he tries to force the issue, he'll be the one to suffer the consequences if it provokes a mass incident or safety accident.

Yang Guangming's words were, in a way, a way for him to back down.

He sighed heavily, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted, or as if he had been utterly defeated. He wiped the sweat from his brow again with his soaked handkerchief, forcing a smile that was more like a grimace than a pleading one, and said repeatedly:
"I've heard everyone's opinions... They were very specific, very... very practical, very important, and very pertinent! I... I've kept everyone's difficulties in mind!"

He patted his chest and assured them, his tone urgent and earnest: "I will report everyone's actual difficulties to the street leaders in detail, word for word! I will report them thoroughly! I will report them in detail! I will report them in detail! I ask the leaders... to consider this carefully! To consider everyone's opinions carefully! I will definitely consider this carefully!"

He practically fled, clutching his bulging yet weightless briefcase, turning around hastily, even tripping over the not-so-high threshold.

He stumbled, awkwardly bracing himself against the doorframe to regain his balance. Without looking back, he staggered out of the heavy, black lacquered door, his figure quickly disappearing into the dim light of the alleyway.

The setting sun stretched his hurried and defeated shadow long, casting it on the mottled wall of the alley, like a driven, fleeing shadow that quickly disappeared into the twilight.

In the courtyard, everyone watched as Officer Liu fled in disarray, and for a moment they were silent, as if they couldn't believe that he had retreated so easily.

Immediately, suppressed discussions filled with the joy of victory erupted like a flood.

"They're gone! They've been pushed back! They slunk away like a defeated rooster!" Li Guihua clapped her hands excitedly, a triumphant smile on her face, her voice loud as if she wanted to shout out all the pent-up frustration from yesterday.

He Caiyun stood with her hands on her hips, pursed her lips, and exuded a victor's contempt and boundless satisfaction:

"Hmph, all he does is use policies to intimidate us! Our difficulties are real! Undeniable! Let's see if he dares to use force again! If he tries again, we'll fight back like this! Let him know how powerful we are!"

Her voice was clear and strong, echoing in the small courtyard.

Zhang Xiuying and Mrs. Feng, Lin Fengjiao, exchanged a glance, both of them breathed a sigh of relief, and a relaxed smile appeared on their faces.

But the worry deep in their eyes had not completely disappeared.

They were experienced people who understood that this was probably just the first test.

The district's documents are like a sword hanging over our heads; they won't disappear just because one official backs down. The pressure from the neighborhood committee will inevitably return.

Who will come next time? And what conditions will they bring?
Yang Guangming did not join the celebration. He quietly watched the sky outside the door gradually darken and the dim lights in the alley gradually illuminate, his expression calm and serene, without much joy.

Pushing back is just the first step in a long journey.

The pressure on the streets, or rather the district, will not simply disappear.

Officer Liu's disheveled state precisely demonstrates that the "difficulties" they presented were effective bargaining chips, proving the power of unity. But are these chips heavy enough? Can they secure the "compensation" they desire?
He could almost see that the next time Secretary Liu came, the briefcase might contain something different—no longer cold, mandatory documents, but a list of compensation items that could be negotiated and bargained over.

That's the real test of wisdom, patience, and bottom line.

How can we obtain as many food coupons, cloth coupons, and temporary work quotas as possible? How can we distribute them fairly among the four households? How can we maintain our bottom line under pressure?

You should be mentally prepared for these issues in advance.

After a brief period of turmoil, daily life in Shikumen returned to a superficial calm.

The gray brick walls stand silently, and in the narrow alley, clothes drying in the sun sway listlessly in the sultry breeze.

The aroma of dinner wafted from each kitchen, whether it was the salty fragrance of stir-fried pickled vegetables and edamame or the bland taste of vegetable soup.

When neighbors meet, the greetings are as usual: "Have you eaten yet?" or "It's so hot today."

However, this calm is like a thin layer of floating ice, beneath which turbulent undercurrents lurk.

Everyone felt heavy-hearted, as if carrying an invisible stone, and even their steps seemed a little slower than usual.

When cooking, I subconsciously look at the sky above; when hanging clothes to dry, I look worriedly at the small drying platform.

This ongoing battle to protect public spaces, like an unresolved shadow, silently lingers in every corner of the alleyways and hangs between everyone's brows.

That black lacquered door seemed to be the eye of a storm, where beneath the calm, the next clash was brewing.

(End of this chapter)