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

Chapter 130, Section 129: Goodbye Lin Jianyue, Offstage Interaction, Humorous and Witty, Invitation

In August, the air at the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill was thick with the sweltering heat of late summer.

Yang Guangming put down the phone, leaving a slightly damp sweat stain on the handle.

Outside the window, the cicadas chirped incessantly, each chirp louder than the last.

The call was from a higher-level department. The content was concise and to the point, carrying an unquestionable authority: all factories and mines were required to organize young employees and cadres who had joined the company in the last year or two to attend the "Citywide Advanced Youth Deeds Report Meeting" to be held the day after tomorrow afternoon in the auditorium of the district workers' cultural palace.

The notice was worded seriously, repeatedly emphasizing that this was an important task to "strengthen ideological education for young people and cultivate successors for the revolutionary cause," and requiring all units to "attach great importance to it, ensure that personnel are in place, and avoid any mistakes."

Yang Guangming, as the newly appointed full-time secretary to the deputy factory director, and who happens to fall within the category of "young cadres," naturally has his name on the list.

He picked up the brand-new Hero fountain pen and neatly wrote down the date on the calendar page for August 20th: 2 PM, Auditorium of the District Workers' Cultural Palace.

His handwriting was strong and vigorous, just like the thoughts beneath his calm exterior.

His past life experience told him that such activities are more about form than substance, but once you're in a position, you're not in control of your own destiny.

The factory canteen was bustling with activity at lunchtime.

The clattering of aluminum lunchboxes, the loud conversations or hushed whispers of the workers created a noisy background.

Yang Guangming carried an aluminum lunchbox filled with rice and braised potatoes and eggplant. His gaze swept across the noisy crowd and found Lin Shunan eating quietly in a corner.

He was still wearing his faded work clothes with worn collar and cuffs, head down, focused on the simple rice and pickled cucumber in his lunchbox, as if the surrounding noise had nothing to do with him.

"Shunan." Yang Guangming sat down opposite him, the plastic stool creaking slightly. "Your workshop received the notice for the report meeting at the district cultural center the day after tomorrow afternoon, right?"

Lin Shunan looked up when she heard the voice, saw Yang Guangming, and smiled.

"Yes, the captain mentioned it in the meeting this morning. We have to go."

“Perfect timing, I’ll go too. I’ll give you a ride on my bike?” Yang Guangming said cheerfully, taking a bite of rice. “It’ll save you from squeezing onto the bus, which is stuffy and hot.”

A glint of light flashed in Lin Shunan's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by his usual hesitation:
"This...is too much trouble for you, isn't it? I can take the bus...it's fine with me."

He rubbed his fingers together subconsciously.

“What trouble? It’s on the way.” Yang Guangming waved his hand decisively, a frank smile on his face. “We’ll leave at two o’clock and arrive at two-thirty, plenty of time. It’s settled!” The certainty in his tone dispelled Lin Shunan’s hesitation.

Looking at Yang Guangming's bright and sincere smile, Lin Shunan's tense shoulders relaxed slightly. Finally, he nodded, and tried to curve the corners of his mouth into a slight smile: "Okay, thank you, Brother Ming." The "Brother Ming" sounded lighter than usual.

Two days later, in the afternoon, the sun was still blazing, the asphalt road surface was softened by the heat, and distorted waves of heat rose up.

Yang Guangming straddled the brand-new, clean "Forever" brand bicycle, its gleaming handlebars reflecting the sunlight.

He waited for Lin Shunan under the dense shade of the big sycamore tree at the factory gate.

Lin Shunan was still wearing the same faded work clothes, carrying a yellowish canvas bag, carefully sitting sideways on the back seat, her hands tightly gripping the cold metal frame of the back seat.

"Are you seated properly?" Yang Guangming turned around to check, his forehead already beaded with sweat.

"Yes, it's settled." Lin Shunan's voice was a little tense.

The wheels turned, rolling over the scorching asphalt outside the factory area, making a slight rustling sound.

The wind, carrying a scorching heat, brushed against their cheeks and blew their thin clothes.

Yang Guangming pedaled slowly, chatting with Lin Shunan about recent trivial matters at the factory along the way.

Which workshop has achieved a new production record? The new technician has solved an old problem. And there are sporadic messages from old classmates since the last gathering.

Lin Shunan spoke more than usual. Although her voice was still not loud, as if she was afraid of disturbing something, her responses were clear, and she could occasionally add a sentence or two of her own thoughts, with a rare sense of relaxation.

As Yang Guangming listened, a smile played on his lips, and he felt a sense of relief at the growing cautious "cheerfulness" in Yang Guangming's heart.

The heavy, gray Soviet-style building of the District Workers' Cultural Palace, bearing a distinct mark of its era, soon came into view at the edge of the horizon.

A striking red poster was displayed on the bulletin board at the entrance, with the words "Learn from advanced role models and strive to be pioneers of the cause" written in bold and powerful Song typeface: "Report Meeting on the Deeds of Advanced Youth in the City".

Many young people dressed in various work clothes, green military uniforms, or white shirts and blue pants have arrived one after another. They gather in twos and threes under the shade of trees or by the steps, talking in hushed tones. The air is filled with a unique atmosphere that is a mixture of anticipation and a sense of mission.

They arrived a little early; the two heavy vermilion doors of the venue had not yet been opened.

Yang Guangming pushed the bike, found a quiet corner shaded by tall plane trees, set up the frame, and skillfully locked the heavy ring lock.

"We still have some time. It's shady here, let's wait a bit." Yang Guangming wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and leaned against the rough tree trunk.

Lin Shunan relaxed, took off his glasses and wiped the thin layer of sweat from the lenses. His gaze was somewhat blank as he casually swept over the crowd that was gradually gathering.

Suddenly, his gaze froze, as if drawn by something, landing on a figure walking gracefully in the distance.

“Ming-ge…” Lin Shunan gently touched Yang Guangming’s arm, gesturing in that direction, her voice carrying a subtle hint of reminder.

The sunlight shone brightly as I looked in that direction.

Lin Jianyue was walking towards the venue alone.

She wore a light blue shirt today, with a small round collar and short sleeves, and the collar and cuffs were decorated with delicate white openwork lace, as refreshing as a cloud drifting in on a summer day.

Two jet-black, glossy braids hung down her shoulders, swaying gently with her steps, the red ribbons tied to the ends of her hair flashing a bright color in the blazing sun.

She lowered her head slightly, seemingly focused on the road beneath her feet, her steps light yet carrying a touch of girlish reserve and caution.

A slight ripple of emotion stirred in Yang Guangming's heart, and a smile naturally appeared on his face. He raised his hand and called out, his clear voice cutting through the buzzing crowd: "Comrade Lin Jianyue!"

Lin Jianyue looked up at the sound, her clear eyes instantly capturing the sunlight under the shade of the tree and Lin Shunan beside him.

She was taken aback at first, a hint of surprise flashing in her clear black and white eyes. Then, her face blossomed into a delighted smile, like a gardenia in bloom meeting the morning dew, pure and bright, instantly illuminating the sultry air around her.

She quickened her pace and walked over, her canvas backpack patting gently beside her.

"Comrade Yang Guangming! Comrade Lin Shunan! You've come too?" Her voice still carried the soft, sweet tone of the Jiangnan water towns, and her tone was filled with undisguised joy, like a cool breeze.

"Yes, it's what the higher-ups require." Yang Guangming nodded with a smile, his gaze gently falling on her slightly sweaty nose and bright eyes. "Why are you alone? Didn't Comrade Feng Xianghong come?" He noticed that the always energetic figure was not by her side.

Mentioning Feng Xianghong, Lin Jianyue's small nose wrinkled slightly, a hint of helplessness and sympathy in her expression:

"Sister Xiang Hong is in trouble. Her finance department is rushing to finish a very important quarterly report. Her department head said they were short-staffed and wouldn't let her leave, so he made her stay to work overtime. I don't know the others well, so I came alone."

She imitated the section chief's serious tone, with a touch of cute complaint.

"Oh, I see." Yang Guangming expressed his understanding. "Work is more important." He pointed to the open space under the shade of a tree beside him. "We just arrived too. It's shady here. Shall we wait together?"

“Okay.” Lin Jianyue readily agreed, walked over to them and stood down, bringing with her a faint, clean scent of soap.

After not seeing Yang Guangming for more than ten days, Lin Jianyue's heart pounded like a rabbit's, filled with an indescribable joy and a subtle nervousness.

While tidying her braids, she secretly glanced at him: he was wearing a nearly new white polyester short-sleeved shirt, which was ironed fairly neatly, and khaki trousers. He stood tall and straight like a poplar tree in the dense shade of the trees. The composure between his brows and the calm demeanor that was different from his peers were still so attractive.

Thinking of how he subtly helped her out of an awkward situation at the last gathering, and that unforgettable lunch, a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. Fortunately, the shade was thick, making it difficult to notice.

Yang Guangming also clearly noticed Lin Jianyue's subtle changes.

The way she looked at me was brighter than before, and her innocence was now tinged with a newfound closeness and dependence.

The three chatted casually, their conversation naturally shifting from the annoying weather and the upcoming conference to their last gathering.

When talking about Xie Feiyang and Feng Xianghong's embarrassing moment when they were "exposed" in public, Lin Jianyue covered her mouth, her shoulders shrugged slightly, and her eyes curved into beautiful crescent moons.

When Lin Shunan unexpectedly showed off his accordion skills that night, her eyes revealed sincere admiration;
Yang Guangming used humor to lighten the mood, making Lin Jianyue burst out laughing several times, while Lin Shunan smiled shyly beside him.

Fifteen minutes flew by in this relaxed and pleasant chat.

The venue doors creaked open, and a flow of people began to surge through. Yang Guangming casually suggested, "Shall we go in? Let's find a quiet spot towards the back."

Lin Jianyue and Lin Shunan both nodded in agreement. The three of them followed the flow of people into the tall but somewhat old and gloomy auditorium, and they quickly found three adjacent empty seats in the back row near a high window.

Yang Guangming sat in the middle, Lin Shunan to his left, and Lin Jianyue to his right. The hardwood chairs were cool and made a slight creaking sound when you sat down.

A bright red banner hung above the rostrum: "Learn from advanced youth and dedicate your life to the cause of revolution!"

Several high-powered light bulbs illuminated the tabletop covered with faded red velvet, and several leaders dressed in gray or dark blue Zhongshan suits had already taken their seats with serious expressions.

The loudspeaker, high above, first emitted a piercing electrical whistling sound, followed by a "Hello—Hello—" test call. The buzzing conversations below the stage seemed to be strangled by an invisible hand, gradually subsiding, leaving only suppressed breathing and occasional coughs.

The report meeting has begun.

The first person to go on stage was a burly, dark-skinned steelworker with a booming voice.

He was wearing work clothes soaked in sweat and stained with coal dust, with a large badge pinned to his chest.

He recounted how, under the scorching heat, he was "not afraid of hardship or death," working continuously for several days and nights, and together with his comrades, "carrying forward the spirit of ants gnawing at bones," overcoming technical difficulties and producing more "patriotic steel" for the country.

His words were filled with the simplicity and strength of the working class, and also brimming with the passionate slogans and vows unique to this era: "For the cause! For the motherland! No matter how bitter or tiring it is, our hearts are sweet!"

Yang Guangming symbolically took out the hard-covered notebook with the words "Serve the People" printed in red and a Hero brand fountain pen, and placed them on his lap.

Having witnessed countless grand narratives and performances in his previous life, he found it difficult to truly engage with this report, which was specific to a particular era and in a particular form; he only felt that the high-pitched tone made his eardrums throb.

He caught a glimpse of Lin Jianyue beside him out of the corner of his eye. She had also opened her soft-covered notebook, which was printed with the words "Work Notes," and was holding a pen. Her back was ramrod straight, and she looked like she was listening attentively and ready to take notes at any time.

Only occasionally would her long eyelashes flutter gently like butterfly wings, and her gaze would briefly drift towards the swaying sycamore leaves outside the high window, revealing a hint of detachment and longing for nature.

Sunshine Ming understood perfectly.

Without making a sound, he opened his notebook and, on the first blank page, wrote a line of text in a smooth and forceful hand with a fountain pen:

On stage, the fire blazes brightly, and slogans resound loudly; off stage, the heart is calm and cool, listening to the long chirping of cicadas.

After he finished writing, he gently pushed the notebook a little towards Lin Jianyue, just enough for her to see clearly as she sat on his right.

Lin Jianyue was trying hard to concentrate on the inspiring words on stage: "Fight against high temperatures and achieve high yields" and "A red heart forever devoted to the Party." Suddenly, she saw Yang Guangming push a notebook towards her with this sentence written on it. She was slightly taken aback, then suddenly realized, and the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curve upwards into a playful arc.

These two short sentences not only highlight the stark contrast between the inside and outside of the meeting, but also convey a sense of detached composure and subtle humor, while also possessing a delicate literary beauty.

She had never seen this way of expressing herself before, either in the mouths or in the writings of those around her. It was fresh, apt, and directly addressed the slight impatience and longing in her heart at that moment.

She felt a ticklish sensation in her heart, like being gently scratched by a feather, a little excited and secretly pleased to have found a kindred spirit.

She also picked up a pen and, in a serious and somewhat imitative manner, wrote in the blank space of her notebook:

The shouts were like thunder, deafening. Slogans rang out indoors, while cicadas chirped endlessly outside the window.

After finishing writing, I imitated Yang Guangming, pushing the notebook towards the middle and looking at him with a bit of expectation.

When Yang Guangming saw this childlike yet genuinely adorable feedback, he almost burst out laughing. He forced himself to hold it in, picked up his pen, and wrote again, the pen tip making a pleasant scratching sound as it glided across the paper:
No matter, when the heart is far away, the place naturally becomes secluded. Let us learn from Mr. Five Willows, and let our spirit roam freely beyond the mundane world.

He cleverly used Tao Yuanming's pseudonym.

Lin Jianyue's eyes lit up when he saw "Mr. Five Willows" and "Wandering in the Heavens Beyond the Realm".

She had read "The Peach Blossom Spring" and "Drinking Wine," and deeply loved their transcendent, otherworldly atmosphere. She responded immediately, her handwriting tinged with excitement:

Is this a paradise on earth? Slogans soar to the heavens!
Yang Guangming smiled slightly; this girl reacted quickly. He continued writing, his pen seemingly carrying a hint of amusement:

No, the true source of happiness lies within the heart. At this moment, with a clear spring beside you, a calm mind naturally brings sweetness.

"A clear spring is by her side"... Lin Jianyue's heart skipped a beat when she saw these five words, as if a small pebble had been thrown into a lake, creating ripples.

What does "clear spring" refer to? She subconsciously looked up at Yang Guangming, who was slightly tilting his head to look at her notebook. His profile was particularly clear and handsome in the dim light of the auditorium.

She felt her cheeks flush, and hurriedly lowered her head. The pen hovered over the paper for a moment before she wrote down, her fluster and shyness barely concealed:
I don't understand... what do you mean?

Seeing this coquettish question that clearly came out of ignorance, Yang Guangming's smile deepened.

This girl is so adorably innocent and intelligent. He thought for a moment and decided to change to a safer topic that would still resonate with her:

Last time you mentioned you liked reading "The Stormy Petrel," which line is your favorite?
Gorky's "The Stormy Petrel" was one of the few progressive foreign literary works that were permitted or even praised during that era.

The mention of books immediately diverted Lin Jianyue's attention, and her eyes lit up again:
"My favorite scene: the petrel soaring proudly between the dark clouds and the sea! Shouting 'Let the storm rage on!' is so powerful! It's like really seeing lightning strike!"

The words were filled with excitement.

Yes! The petrel is the spirit of the storm! Its wings pierce the darkness and herald the dawn. True courage is not about being fearless, but about flying despite knowing the dangers!

Yang Guangming wrote down his understanding of courage.

"You described it so well! I love how it's not afraid of storms!" Lin Jianyue exclaimed sincerely.

"After the storm, the sky will be bluer. The petrel's belief is like the sunlight piercing through the dark clouds." Yang Guangming wrote a hopeful sentence.

"Yes! I believe it!" Lin Jianyue wrote it down forcefully, as if encouraging herself.

The speakers on stage changed one after another:
Representatives of educated youth who settled in the Great Northern Wilderness shared their stories of how they "tempered their red hearts in the vast countryside" and found endless joy in fighting against nature and the land.

A textile factory's "Iron Girl" commando leader shared in a loud voice the "heroic" spirit of "women holding up half the sky" and continuously setting new production records.
A skilled technician from a machinery factory recounted how they overcame the challenges posed by imperialism, revisionism, and reactionaries under rudimentary conditions through "self-reliance and hard work"...

The impassioned tone, the repeated vows, the similar hardships and revolutionary glory, all converged into a powerful and undeniable wave of sound, impacting every corner of the auditorium and attempting to cleanse everyone's thoughts.

However, in a small corner near the high window at the back of the auditorium, another silent exchange was quietly taking place, flowing with a rhythm completely different from that on the stage.

Sunlight's hard-covered notebook and Lin Jianyue's soft-covered notebook are like two small, secret stages.

With the keen insight, profound knowledge, and forward-thinking perspective cultivated by the information explosion era of later generations, Yang Guangming wrote witty and humorous sentences, such as:
On stage, they shout themselves hoarse to express their loyalty; off stage, they tirelessly wield their pens, like silkworms devouring leaves. Could we be considered as having our thoughts run wild?
Or it may be rich in literary allusions and poetic imagery, for example:
The shadows of the paulownia leaves sway in the sunlight, just like my restless thoughts. Ignore the sound of the leaves rustling through the trees; why not chant and stroll leisurely?

Or a casual remark, such as:
I'm reminded of Zhou Wenhao's words: "A true hero dares to face..." Well, never mind, let's just listen to the report.

The words are filled with a unique beauty and a humor never seen before, as if opening a secret window for her.

"Shh! Be careful not to get swept away by the 'revolutionary torrent'," Lin Jianyue warned playfully, with a hint of nervousness and excitement.

"Don't be afraid. There's always an ark in the midst of a torrent. For example, how about we talk about Pushkin, whom you admire?" Yang Guangming cleverly guided the conversation.

"My heart will always yearn for the future!" Lin Jianyue wrote down the sentence she remembered most vividly.

"Now, however, I am often melancholy. Everything is fleeting, everything will pass; and what has passed will become a cherished memory." Yang Guangming completed the second half of "If Life Deceives You".

"You like this sentence too!" Lin Jianyue exclaimed in surprise.

"I love the yearning for freedom and the passion for life in his poems, like a star in the dark night, never to be extinguished," wrote Yang Guangming, expressing his understanding of the poet.

"It's a pity... there are very few of his works available to read nowadays." Lin Jianyue said with regret.

"If there is a spark in your heart, you can always find firewood and wait for the spring breeze and rain to bring warmth." Yang Guangming wrote down this metaphorical encouragement.

Lin Jianyue was deeply attracted by Yang Guangming's knowledge, profound insights, and calm and composed charm.

She felt that the young man in front of her was like a deep mountain containing endless treasures, and every conversation with him brought her new discoveries and amazement.

He knew so many things she had never heard of, and he could express them in such beautiful and unique, rhythmic language that was both safe and profound.

Her written response was full of girlish innocence and keen observation, for example:
The sycamore leaves outside the window are so green, like freshly splashed oil paint, that they are dazzlingly bright when the sunlight shines on them.

There is also a natural yearning for beautiful things, such as:
Look, the red ribbon on the end of the braid of that woman diagonally across from you is bouncing around like a little butterfly.

"A single falling leaf signals the approach of autumn, while lush greenery heralds the deepest summer." Yang Guangming's observations sparked her insights into the seasons.

She also has a touch of playfulness, for example:

When will the presentation end? My stomach is starting to rumble.

"Almost there, almost there. Think of something delicious. Like, some glistening braised pork?" he teased her.

"Oh dear! Stop talking! You're drooling!" Lin Jianyue protested.

"Haha, food is the most important thing for people, there's nothing wrong with thinking about it. I'll find a place to satisfy my hunger later," Yang Guangming replied.

“You’re bad!” Lin Jianyue wrote, followed by a small, angry face she drew herself.

Occasionally, Yang Guangming would write a sentence: "Shunan seems to have gone to see the Duke of Zhou (a figure in Chinese mythology associated with dreams)?" His mouth was watering.

Lin Jianyue secretly glanced to her left, and sure enough, Lin Shunan was nodding his head.

She quickly wrote, barely suppressing a smile: Shh—be gentle! Let him take a nap. He must be having a really hard time.

Lin Shunan wasn't actually completely asleep, but the monotonous reports on stage were so soothing, and combined with the afternoon heat and drowsiness, he was indeed a bit drowsy.

He could clearly feel the rustling sound of the two people beside him as their pens moved quickly across the paper, like silkworms eating mulberry leaves, fine and continuous; occasionally he could also hear their barely suppressed, very soft laughter escaping from the depths of their throats.

He knew they were having a wonderful and pleasant conversation on their laptops that he couldn't participate in. Although he was curious about the content, he was more happy for Yang Guangming and felt at ease that he could feel this small, warm understanding between them in this somewhat dull environment.

His eyes were closed, and a gentle smile played on his lips.

The report session went on for a long time.

The voice on stage was sometimes high-pitched and soaring, sometimes low and serious, sometimes passionate and stirring like war drums, and sometimes earnest and profound like that of a teacher.

Yang Guangming and Lin Jianyue, however, were completely immersed in the little world they had built with words, their thoughts already soaring over the dome of the auditorium.

Those grand narratives about advanced deeds, ideological awareness, and revolutionary passion were like a passing breeze, leaving little substantial trace in their hearts. Only the faint light of thought between the pages illuminated each other's hearts.

When the last speaker on stage finished speaking and the leader began his lengthy concluding remarks, Yang Guangming and Lin Jianyue almost simultaneously put down their pens.

The two of them opened their notebooks at the same time—Yang Guangming's large hardcover notebook and Lin Jianyue's small softcover notebook, both of which were filled with dense, back-and-forth handwriting, nearly half of the pages!

Those elegant or delicate strokes of ink silently recorded a feast of ideas.

Looking at the conversations in each other's notebooks, which resembled mysterious codes and contained countless moments of understanding and laughter, the two looked up and their eyes met in the air.

Yang Guangming's smile carried a hint of understanding, mischief, and the joy of sharing a secret; Lin Jianyue's smile, on the other hand, was a mixture of lingering shyness, immense excitement, and an indescribable sweetness of finding a kindred spirit.

Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were strikingly bright.

"Is it over?" Lin Shunan "woke up" at the right moment, rubbed his sore neck, and asked in a low voice.

"Yes, the leader is giving a summary, it'll be over soon." Yang Guangming nodded, his voice carrying a hint of relief that the report meeting was finally coming to an end.

The hall erupted in applause, not particularly enthusiastic, but loud enough, like a signal of receding tide.

As the leader on the podium announced "meeting adjourned," the crowd surged toward the exits like a floodgate opening, and the sounds of footsteps and conversations instantly became deafening.

As I squeezed through the heavy doors of the Cultural Palace auditorium, the sun was already setting.

The daytime heat subsided slightly, but the air remained muggy and sticky. The sunset painted the western sky a magnificent orange and golden hue, reflecting the five-pointed stars on the spires of the Soviet-style buildings.

"Time flies, it's getting dark." Yang Guangming glanced at his Shanghai brand watch and said to Lin Shunan and Lin Jianyue, "Shall we have dinner together before going back? I know a small restaurant nearby that's decent and quiet."

Lin Shunan shook her head almost immediately, her face showing her usual shyness, as if she didn't want to trouble others: "No, no, Ming-ge. Thank you. I can't go back too late, I have to catch the bus, and it's quite a long way back."

He pointed to the bus stop not far away, where a small queue had already formed, with anxious people craning their necks to look in the direction the bus was coming from.

"Really not going to be together? Is there still time?" Yang Guangming still wanted to persuade him to stay.

"It's really no good, Ming-ge."

Lin Shunan's attitude was firm. He glanced at Yang Guangming, then at Lin Jianyue standing beside him, her cheeks flushed red by the sunset and her eyes slightly darting around. A knowing, sincere, and simple smile appeared on his face. "You go with Comrade Lin Jianyue. I'll be going now!"

After saying that, without waiting for Yang Guangming to speak again, he waved his hand, turned around and walked quickly towards the bus stop, his thin figure soon blending into the queue of people.

Under the sycamore tree, only Yang Guangming and Lin Jianyue remained.

(End of this chapter)