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

Chapter 143, Section 142: Market Bargains - Rosewood Furniture, Big Win!
After a hearty and lively lunch, the joy of reunion lingered amidst the scattered dishes and cups.

Yang Guangming settled the bill quickly and efficiently, handing over several oil-stained banknotes to the small payment window, which was met with the crisp sound of abacus beads clicking.

The family filed out of the greasy, shiny cotton curtain of the "Xinfeng Restaurant." The golden sunlight of early autumn shone down, dispelling the mixed smells of oil and sweat in the restaurant.

"Let's go home, you've been exhausted all morning."

Zhang Xiuying greeted everyone, her face still flushed with the joy of celebrating her youngest son's housewarming, but her shrewd and capable eyes had already begun to calculate: the dishes to wash, the floor to sweep, the vegetables piled up in the kitchen...

“Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister-in-law,” Yang Guangming stopped at the door, his gaze fixed on the more bustling west end of Huaihai Road. “You all go back first. I want to go and see Huaiguo Old Town.”

“Huaiguo Old?” Zhang Xiuying was taken aback, as if she hadn’t heard clearly, or as if she found it unbelievable. “A secondhand shop? What would you do there?” She subconsciously pinched the hem of her faded blue cloth blouse, as if mentioning that place would taint her with poverty.

“Take a look at some used furniture.” Yang Guangming’s tone was calm, with a kind of confidence that came from careful consideration. “The new house is empty, so we need to add some things. Used furniture is cheap and practical, and we might be able to find something suitable.”

Zhang Xiuying's brows immediately furrowed like a knotted rope. Frugality was an instinct ingrained in her bones, a creed she had upheld for decades of careful budgeting.

But at that moment, a powerful desire to provide his youngest son with a "decent" new home suddenly overwhelmed him. This was a bright new beginning, the future bridal chamber! How could he…

Buying used furniture?

Her voice suddenly rose, filled with undeniable opposition, "How can that be! Mingming, this is your new home! The new house you'll use when you marry! How can we use someone else's old furniture? It makes us look so shabby! No, no, if we're going to buy something, we'll buy something new!"

She waved her arms vigorously, as if trying to fan away the word "old" completely. "The style is new, and the wood is sturdy! You don't need to worry about the money."

She abruptly turned to her husband, Yang Yongkang, who had been silently observing with his hands behind his back. Her tone was resolute, carrying the decisiveness of a matriarch, "Old man, this is a big deal! We, as his parents, should pay for this! We'll save Guangming's salary for future living expenses!"

Yang Yongkang still stood with his hands behind his back, his face, etched with the wrinkles of time, expressionless, but his gaze, like a probe, slowly swept over his youngest son's calm and resolute face, and then over his wife's anxious expression that was almost jumping up and down.

He was always a man of few words, like a deep well, but his mind was very deep. He knew his youngest son's abilities and insight.

Yang Guanghui held his son Zhuangzhuang, who was already somewhat drowsy, and nodded earnestly, his forehead still damp with sweat from his work.
"Mom's right, a new house with new furniture looks great!"

He had no opinions of his own; he only felt that brand-new things placed in a snow-white house were what made it impressive and prestigious.

Standing to the side, Li Guihua felt as if an invisible hand had suddenly clenched her heart.

Buy new furniture? That would cost so much!

My mother-in-law said that my parents-in-law should pay, but isn't my parents-in-law's money the money of this whole family?
Filling my brother-in-law's 26-square-meter apartment is no small feat!

"If we save this money, Zhuangzhuang can go to school, buy clothes, get married... everything costs money!" She subconsciously hugged her sleeping son tighter, her lips moved a few times as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back in the end. She just looked nervously at Yang Guangming, with a hint of pleading in her eyes.

Yang Guangming saw through his mother's burning desire and his sister-in-law's veiled schemes.

He smiled gently and said, “Mom, I know your intentions, I really do. But when it comes to living, practicality and thrift are key. New furniture is nice, but it’s also expensive.”

He paused, looked at Li Guihua with sincere eyes, and said with obvious reassurance, "What's wrong with old furniture? The wood is good, and the old furniture is well-made. It's just as comfortable to use, and it saves money."

Look at that old table in our house, hasn't it been used by several generations? It's still sturdy and reliable.

He took a small step forward, his tone carrying a wisdom beyond his years:
"Besides, the new furniture that's popular nowadays just looks so-so to me. They're square and clumsy, painted with a chemical smell, and they don't necessarily have the charm of old furniture or the durability to last."

I'll go browsing around; maybe I'll find some high-quality, stylish vintage items. With a little polishing and tidying, they'll look even better and more appealing than new ones. That's called spending a little money to achieve a lot—a long-term plan.

“But…” Zhang Xiuying wanted to argue, but she felt that the old furniture didn’t do justice to her son’s hard-won new house. She was afraid of making him feel wronged, and even more afraid of being laughed at by the neighbors. It’s a new society now; her son is a cadre, how can he use old things?

Yang Guangming quickly interrupted her, his tone earnest yet unwavering in its determination:
"Mom, don't worry! Don't you trust my judgment? If it's really broken and old, I wouldn't take it even if it were given to me for free!"
I'm just going to take a look; I might not buy anything today. If I find something suitable, I'll naturally pick the best and sturdiest. If it really doesn't work out, I can always consider a new one later, right?

His gaze, almost tangible, settled steadily on his father Yang Yongkang's face.

Yang Yongkang had been listening in silence. But when he met his youngest son's gaze, he thought of the bright and clean new house with its own door, and of the tremendous changes in his youngest son in the past few months. Finally, the scales in his heart tipped.

He nodded slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing, and uttered a single word, his voice low but weighty: "Mm."

This can be seen as tacitly approving of Yang Guangming's plan.

He believed that practicality and frugality were the foundation of managing a household, and he also believed that his youngest son was more opinionated and insightful than his eldest son, and could always see things that others could not.

Seeing her father-in-law nod, Li Guihua felt a huge weight lifted from her heart, and a sense of relief washed over her. She quickly followed up with her own opinion, her tone filled with sincere agreement:
"Mom, Guangming is right! Absolutely right! As long as you choose good old furniture and the wood is good, it's no worse than new furniture! The key is that the wood must be good, sturdy and durable."

Guangming has always had a good eye; he'll definitely be able to pick something good. The money saved can be used to buy other practical things later.

Her words were filled with enthusiasm, as if Yang Guangming's purchase of used furniture would save the entire family a significant amount of money.

Zhang Xiuying looked at her husband's face, which was full of "this matter is settled," then at her eldest daughter-in-law's obviously relieved expression, and then at her youngest son's confident and determined look. Her insistence on buying new furniture finally deflated like a punctured balloon.

She sighed deeply: "Oh well, whatever! You're all grown up now, you're independent, and you have your own ideas. But..."

She abruptly changed the subject, pointing her index finger forcefully, and emphasized with a mother's authority, "If you're going to buy something, buy the good stuff! Pick something sturdy! Don't just go for the cheapest option and buy some junk!"
If you don't have enough money, you must tell your family! Come home with me to get the money! Do you hear me?

Ultimately, she was still afraid that her son would wrong her.

Yang Guangming had already made up his mind.

His refrigerator still contained a large sum of money he had made from selling rhinoceros horn slices and dried sea cucumbers—a thick wad of "ten-thousand-yuan notes," more than enough to buy a few pieces of old furniture.

More importantly, he possessed a vision that surpassed everyone else in his time—those Ming and Qing dynasty or modern hardwood furniture pieces, such as huanghuali, zitan, red sandalwood, and chicken wing wood, which had been swept away by the tides of time and were now gathering dust in state-run secondhand stores, were true treasures in his eyes! They were gold buried in the sand!
If the parents pay for the furniture, and it becomes incredibly valuable later, the older brother and sister-in-law will inevitably have some reservations, unnecessarily adding to family conflicts.

It's better to buy it quietly yourself, cleanly and without any worries, saving you time and effort.

"Mom, no need." Yang Guangming waved his hand, his tone as light as a breeze. "I still have some savings, enough to buy some used furniture. I'm just going to take a look today. If I really need to buy something big, I'll definitely ask if I don't have enough money. You should take Zhuangzhuang home to rest. You've been busy all morning, and Zhuangzhuang is already asleep."

He pointed to his younger nephew, who was sleeping soundly in his older brother's arms.

Zhang Xiuying opened her mouth, wanting to say a few more words, but Yang Yongkang had already turned around decisively, put his hands behind his back, and walked unhurriedly towards the Shikumen alley, leaving only a low but unquestionable voice: "Let's go."

With the head of the family speaking, Zhang Xiuying had no choice but to swallow back the words she was about to say. She followed Yang Guangming around, reminding him a few more times to "be careful," "come back early," and "look carefully," before finally following her eldest son and daughter-in-law, holding the sleeping Zhuangzhuang, and joining the increasingly dense flow of people returning home in the afternoon.

Yang Guangming watched his family's figures disappear into the distance, then immediately turned and headed towards the bicycle shed.

The brand-new "Forever 28" bicycle, with its gleaming surface, stood out prominently in the bike shed.

He took out his keys, unlocked the car, deftly pushed the vehicle out, straddled it with his long legs, and sat steadily on the shiny leather seat. With a push of his feet, the wheels began to turn smoothly.

The wind brushed against his young face, carrying a sense of freedom and anticipation for the upcoming "treasure hunt".

The three-story building of the state-owned trust store on Huaihai Road, with its strong old concession style, seemed more lively than when I last visited, bathed in the afternoon sun.

Several handcarts were parked at the entrance, and there were many more people coming and going, mostly people wearing blue-gray work clothes or faded old clothes.

Yang Guangming locked his "Forever" bicycle in a familiar corner, took another deep breath, and stepped through the heavy door with its paint peeling off.

With a clear goal and steady steps, he headed straight for his destination: the old furniture section on the left side of the first floor, which resembled a silent forest.

It's even more crowded here than last time, as if it has just been hit by a torrent of "old things".

All sorts of old furniture stand silently, piled up, like soldiers forgotten by time, enduring the discerning yet indifferent scrutiny of customers. They each bear the indelible marks of time.

The space was crammed together with an ornately carved but dusty four-poster bed, a heavy and sturdy five-drawer chest, a dressing table with a now-blurred mercury mirror, an eight-immortal table with a worn-out tabletop exposing the wood but still having a sturdy frame, chairs, and even several large old-fashioned bookcases and cupboards.

The knife of time has left clear marks here:
Beneath the mottled, peeling paint, wood grain of varying shades or a yellowed putty base are revealed;

Those exquisite carvings that once symbolized good fortune and wealth—fortune, prosperity, longevity, happiness, plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, chrysanthemums, dragons and phoenixes—were roughly scraped flat with chisels or sanded smooth, leaving only stiff, ugly scars and barely recognizable outlines of scroll patterns.
The mortise and tenon joints are loose, the drawer slides are stiff and difficult to pull; the chair legs are slightly lame, and the tabletop is uneven and pitted.

Every scar, every scratch, silently tells the story of a family's former dignity.

Sunlight slowed its pace, but its heartbeat involuntarily quickened slightly.

His gaze was like the most precise searchlight, sharp and focused as he carefully searched through the mountain of old furniture.

He is not concerned with the surface appearance of newness or shine, but with the texture, grain, and weight of the wood itself, as well as the traces of carving that, though deliberately damaged, still reveal the exquisite craftsmanship of the past.

Just as he expected!
The former splendor has been deliberately buried, leaving only a bare and even ugly shell.

What Yang Guangming is looking for are these "pearls" that have been deeply covered by the dust of time.

He walked slowly, stopping occasionally, and squatting down from time to time, like a seasoned appraiser:

Gently tap different parts of the wood with your knuckles, listen to the dull or crisp echo, and feel its inherent density and toughness.
Take a closer look at the direction of the wood grain, the fineness of the pores, and the natural color;
Carefully pull out the drawer to check if the mortise and tenon joints are still tight and how worn the tracks are.
Gently stroke the smoothed carved parts with your fingertips, as if you can touch the painstaking efforts of the craftsmen of yesteryear through the rough surface and imagine their original lively and beautiful appearance.

An elderly shop assistant, wearing a faded dark blue work uniform with worn collar and cuffs, and with thinning gray hair, was pacing a short distance away, a half-smoked self-rolled pipe dangling from his lips, his hands behind his back.

His cloudy eyes seemed to casually scan the entire room, occasionally answering customers' inquiries about prices in Mandarin with a heavy local accent, but his peripheral vision would linger on Yang Guangming from time to time.

The way this young man looked at the furniture was so different from the way ordinary customers only cared about price and sturdiness.

It was an expert's scrutiny, a penetrating focus, and even... an undisguised fervor?

Finally, Yang Guangming's gaze, like a precise radar, locked onto several targets. At that moment, his heart pounded steadily and powerfully in his chest.

A double bed: the basic style of a canopy bed, but the canopy and the originally elaborate and exquisite carved panels around it have been completely scraped off, leaving only a sturdy and simple frame and four bare posts.

The wood is a deep, rich purplish-red, almost blackish-purple, and surprisingly heavy. When you tap it, it produces a dull, solid "thud" sound, like striking metal or stone.

The wood grain is extremely fine and smooth, like the finest silk. Under the afternoon light, it flows with a warm and restrained luster, as if it contains flames—this is a typical characteristic of rosewood.

The bed board is thick and the mortise and tenon structure is still tight and sturdy, but in some places the paint has completely peeled off, revealing the deep black wood color.

A large wardrobe: the whole body is dark chestnut, almost black, the two cabinet doors and side panels are plain and unpatterned, which also shows signs of deliberate treatment, making it look dull and heavy.

But when Yang Guangming gently pulled open a cabinet door, the wood color revealed inside made his heart skip a beat—it was a beautiful purplish-brown stripe with golden threads, the texture was clear and smooth, like flowing clouds and water, unpredictable, and shimmered with a warm amber luster under the light—this was the finest huanghuali wood!

The cabinet structure is exceptionally tight, and the back panel is made of the same thick wood, indicating that it was not made with inferior materials.

Although the copper hinges and handles have oxidized and turned black, they are still sturdy and durable.

A desk: The desktop is wide and thick, dark brown with purple hues, and the wood grain is tightly interwoven, presenting a unique and charming feather-like texture that shimmers and dances in the light, like the wings of countless birds—this is undoubtedly a typical chicken wing wood.

The table legs are thick and strong, with a simple waist design and slightly outward-turned hoof feet. Any possible carvings have been worn away, giving it a rustic and heavy appearance.

The drawer slides are made of hardwood, and they are a bit stiff when pushed and pulled, making a "creaking" sound, but they can be restored to smooth operation with a little lubrication and maintenance.

A foldable eight-immortal table: the tabletop is square and thick, the color is dark red with brown, the wood grain is clear and smooth, and the luster is soft and oily.

The four table legs can be folded inwards and folded away, a clever design that makes them easy to store.

Although the style is relatively ordinary, the wood is very oily, has a warm and heavy feel, and is solid in weight—it is a typical old rosewood, namely red sandalwood.

The tabletop has several obvious burn marks and scratches, recording the traces of life, but the overall structure is solid and stable. Eight chairs: Yang Guangming patiently picked out eight relatively intact chairs from a pile of scattered, missing arms and legs, as if panning for gold in the sand.

Three of them are matching chairs with backrests that go with the eight-immortal table. They have a simple design and are made of the same wood as the table, which is rosewood.

The other five chairs are all different in style, but all are made of solid wood: two are elegant lamp-hanging chairs with smooth lines, yellowish wood color and grain like flowing clouds and water, made of rosewood; the three are dignified and grand official's hat chairs with dark brown wood color with purple tinge and clear feather-like grain, made of chicken wing wood.

These chairs also had any carvings removed, leaving only the basic frame. The original hardwood seats were replaced with ordinary mixed wood, but the frame was made of high-quality wood and the mortise and tenon structure remained sturdy.

A kitchen cupboard: a double-layered structure, with a glass sliding door on the upper layer and double wooden doors on the lower layer.

The wood is ordinary but thick camphor wood, emitting a faint insect-repelling scent. Although the style is old-fashioned, the structure is intact and highly practical.

A single bed: The design is extremely simple, consisting of four uprights and crossbars supporting a bed board.

The wood is light-colored beech with a fine, straight grain. Although not as precious as mahogany, beech is hard and is known as "the best of the north, the best of the south." Its simple and sturdy structure makes it very suitable as a guest room or a study for relaxation.

A single bunk bed: a purely handmade wooden structure. Although the style is simple to the point of being rudimentary, the wood used surprised Yang Guangming and An Zi. The frame and bed board are made of deep purplish-red rosewood, but the surface treatment is rough, with a thin layer of tung oil applied, and some parts are already worn.

The bed frame is exceptionally sturdy, and the ladders for the bunk beds are also made of the same wood. It's highly practical and can be placed in one of the small compartments for emergencies.

A kitchen cutting board table: The thick pine wood panel is over an inch thick, with the edges worn smooth by time. It has four sturdy cedar wood legs, and the tabletop is marked with countless crisscrossing marks of time from being chopped and hacked. Oil stains have deeply penetrated the wood grain, giving off a special smell that is a mixture of oil and wood. However, it is exceptionally sturdy and durable, as stable as a rock.

A kitchen cutting board is a thick piece of mixed wood, with its edges also polished smooth and rounded, covered with knife marks, heavy and exuding the smell of years of cooking.

After selecting the furniture, Yang Guangming's heart pounded powerfully in his chest, and a tremendous sense of satisfaction and secret ecstasy almost burst forth.

Apart from the single bed, kitchen counter, cutting board, and cupboard, the rest of these dusty old pieces of furniture are almost all treasures "disfigured" by the times!

They are being treated as ordinary "second-hand goods" at an unbelievably low price.

The rosewood bed was priced at only forty yuan, the huanghuali wardrobe at thirty yuan, the chicken-wing wood desk at twenty-five yuan, the old mahogany eight-immortal table with three red sandalwood chairs at twenty-five yuan, the other loosely matched huanghuali and chicken-wing wood chairs at around three yuan each, the beechwood single bed at ten yuan, the red sandalwood bunk bed at twenty yuan, the cupboard at eight yuan... all these items added up to far less than the price of a set of new modular furniture!

He suppressed his excitement, his face remaining calm and composed, and began negotiating the price with the elderly, gray-haired shop assistant who had been secretly watching him.

He pointed out the obvious signs of use on the furniture, the worn-out carvings, the drawer slides that needed repair, the cheaply replaced seats, and so on, giving reasons for each one. His tone was calm and not mercenary in his attempts to lower the price, but rather he pointed out the reasonable value of these "second-hand goods" in the current market.

The old shop assistant squinted, took a deep drag of the nearly burnt-out "trumpet pipe," exhaled a thick white smoke ring, and re-examined the ordinary-looking but calm and extraordinary young man in front of him.

He has worked in this old Huai State for many years, and his professional career started as a junior apprentice before liberation and continues to this day. His ability to recognize people and things is already superb.

This young man was definitely not there to collect junk. He was genuinely knowledgeable and truly wanted the furniture. Besides, very few people would appreciate the value of these "treated" hardwood pieces; it would be a miracle if he could even sell them and free up some space.

After several rounds of back and forth, the veteran shop assistant finally relented and quoted a total price of one hundred and forty-five yuan, which made Yang Guangming secretly delighted and felt like he was getting a freebie!
Without the slightest hesitation, Yang Guangming readily paid the money, took out a thick stack of brand-new "10,000-yuan bills" from his inner pocket, carefully counted them, and handed them over, receiving in return several trust store receipts stamped with a bright red official seal, on which the furniture names and prices were clearly written in blue-black ink.

"Master, could you please help me call a few handcarts to deliver directly to Unit 2, Building 3, Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill residential area? Could you also help me negotiate the price?" Yang Guangming added politely, putting away the receipt.

The old clerk nodded, stubbed out his cigarette, walked to the door, and called out to the outside, "The price is agreed upon: seven cents per person."

Soon, four cart workers, wearing white crew-neck shirts stained with sweat, with muscular builds and dark, shiny skin, gathered around.

Looking at the large pile of heavy, dark-colored, and old-fashioned furniture on the ground, they saw both the joy of receiving the job and a clear sense of apprehension—the items were numerous and heavy, and the journey was not short.

Yang Guangming didn't care about spending a few cents more on travel expenses; what mattered more was avoiding any bumps or knocks.

He immediately pulled out a few 50-cent bills from his pocket and stuffed them into the rough hands of the four workers: "You've worked hard, workers. This is just a small token to buy a pack of cigarettes to help you relax. Please be careful and handle them gently, and make sure you don't bump into anything."

Clutching the extra, tangible "cigarette money," the workers' faces immediately broke into simple smiles, their previous worries vanishing. They patted their chests and assured the boss in thick local accents, "Don't worry, boss! We're the nimblest, we guarantee it'll be delivered perfectly! If it's even slightly damaged, we'll pay for it!" The money had an immediate effect.

The heavy old furniture was carefully lifted onto the cart while shouting slogans, and then tied and secured with thick hemp ropes.

Four handcarts, piled high like small mountains, formed a peculiar moving team, led by Yang Guangming riding his gleaming "Forever" bicycle.

The wheels creaked and groaned as they rolled over the slightly worn cement pavement of Huaihai Road.

Passersby turned their heads and curiously examined the strange group.

When the moving team, laden with "old memories," arrived at the entrance of Unit 2, Building 3, during the leisure time before dinner, it immediately caused a small sensation.

Zhou Dayong, the tall and burly security guard across the hall, was squatting at the door smoking. Chen Zhiqing, the technician with black-rimmed glasses next door to the west, and his wife, Xiao Liu, were taking a break in the corridor with their child. Sun Baoquan, the security guard next door to the east, and his wife, Sister Sun, had just returned from grocery shopping. Several familiar neighbors from upstairs and downstairs were also attracted by the commotion and gathered around to watch the excitement.

"Oh my! Comrade Guangming! You... you've emptied out the old warehouse of Huaiguo?" Zhou Dayong's voice boomed as he stood up, staring wide-eyed at the dark-colored, old-fashioned furniture on the cart, many of which still bore obvious signs of wear and tear, his face full of disbelief.

Chen Zhiqing adjusted his black-rimmed glasses, his gaze behind the lenses revealing the meticulousness characteristic of a technician as he carefully examined the wood and structure of the furniture: "Guangming, these pieces of furniture... seem very solidly made. They look quite heavy. That's the style..."

He shook his head, leaving the rest of his sentence unfinished, but the meaning was clear: too old-fashioned, too unsophisticated.

Aunt Sun was still carrying a vegetable basket. She pursed her lips, her voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for everyone around to hear:
"Tsk tsk tsk, moving to a new house, and such a big one at that, with old furniture? Guangming, not that I'm criticizing you, but this is just too... too much, isn't it?"

She drew out her words, her face filled with undisguised sarcasm and a sense of superiority that comes from a "city person" looking down on a "country person," "When the bride comes home and sees all this old stuff, how can she feel comfortable? How can she look proud?"

It was as if Yang Guangming had done something incredibly stupid and shameful.

Holding her child, Xiao Liu, with her gentle nature, quickly smoothed things over, her voice soft: "Old furniture is fine too, it's sturdy and durable. Guangming seems like a thrifty and shrewd person." She smiled kindly at Guangming.

Yang Guangming simply responded with a calm smile to the surprised, puzzled, or mocking looks and comments from his neighbors.

As he directed the workers on the cart to carefully unload the goods, he responded loudly to Aunt Sun's barbed sarcasm, his tone light and playful, yet his eyes were clear and open, looking directly at her.

“Sister Sun is right! If the bride doesn’t like these old furniture, thinks they’re not new or grand enough, then she doesn’t have the good qualities of being hardworking, frugal and managing the household well.”

He paused deliberately, raised his voice slightly, and glanced at the neighbors with a hint of mockery, "That means she's not my type. I should find someone else sooner rather than later! Someone who knows how to manage a household!"

Upon hearing this, the onlookers were taken aback at first, then burst into good-natured laughter and cheers.

Zhou Dayong slapped his thigh, laughing the loudest: "Good! Guangming's words are firm! Real! That's how you live! What's the use of just putting on a show!"

Chen Zhiqing couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head with a smile: "That makes sense, that makes sense. Practicality comes first."

Aunt Sun choked for a moment, as if something was stuck in her throat. Her face turned red and white in turns. She wanted to retort but couldn't find the words. She could only snort, turn her head away, and slam the vegetable basket on the ground with a loud bang.

Yang Guangming's words, half-joking and half-serious, skillfully diffused the subtle awkwardness of the atmosphere and clearly expressed his attitude and values.

Neighbors like Zhou Dayong, Chen Zhiqing, and Sun Baoquan, regardless of their true feelings about the old furniture, couldn't refuse and all stepped forward to lend a hand. Sun Baoquan even glared at his wife.

"Come on, lend a hand!"

"Be careful! Slow down, slow down!"

"This bed is heavy! It's made of purple wood, what kind of material is it?"

"Lift it this way! Higher on the left! Higher still!"

"Door frame! Be careful not to chip the paint off the door frame!"

"Guangming, how about we put this table in the inner room by the window? The lighting will be better!"

"Pile the chairs in the corner first, then arrange them slowly!"

The narrow stairwell was suddenly filled with heavy footsteps, shouts, the slight clattering of furniture against the walls, and the lively chatter of neighbors.

The men chanted slogans as they worked together to move heavy items, such as the large rosewood bed, the large huanghuali wardrobe, and the red sandalwood octagonal table, up the narrow stairs and into the second floor.

The women helped move light items such as chairs and panels.

Yang Guangming thanked everyone loudly as he directed them to place the furniture in the locations he had already planned. He was clear-headed and decisive in his instructions.

The heavy, deep-black rosewood bed was placed in the innermost part of the inner room, settling down heavily as if it were rooted to the ground, as stable as Mount Tai.

A large wardrobe made of rosewood stands opposite the bed in the inner room. Its deep color contrasts sharply with the pristine white walls, and the subtle gold threads inside the wardrobe doors are faintly visible in the afterglow of the setting sun.

The chicken-wing wood desk was placed in the inner room by the window. The beautiful, feather-like grain of the desktop shimmered and shone under the slanting sunlight, making it a breathtaking sight.

The foldable old rosewood octagonal table is placed against the wall in the outer room. When unfolded, it is square and grand, exuding a calm and composed demeanor.

The three matching rosewood armchairs and five other sturdy huanghuali lamp-hanging chairs and chicken-wing wood official hat chairs, each with a different style, were placed at the entrance of the three small compartments and next to the eight-immortal table in the outer room.

The beechwood single bed was placed in the small compartment on the east side.

The precious rosewood bunk bed was placed in the small compartment on the west side. Although the style was simple, the luster of the wood itself could not be concealed in the small compartment.

The sturdy pine wood cutting board and mixed wood chopping board used in the kitchen are temporarily placed against the wall in the corner of the west corridor outside the door.

The kitchen cupboards are placed against the wall in the east-facing corridor outside the door.

The once empty, snow-white new house, exuding the fresh smell of lime, quickly became full and even somewhat crowded and oppressive as these dark, heavy, antique-style, and even obviously "scarred" pieces of old furniture were filled in one by one.

The fresh, pungent smell of lime intertwines and blends with the deep, understated somber scent of old wood, creating a unique and intense "life" flavor that belongs solely to this new home.

The neighbors helped set up the last piece of furniture—the heavy pine cutting board table—and stood at the doorway or inside the house, looking around at the newly renovated yet "unique" room.

Against the backdrop of the snow-white walls, these dark-colored, old-fashioned pieces of furniture, bearing the scars of history, do indeed seem out of place to most people, even somewhat shabby and outdated.

Aunt Sun pouted, her voice low but clear: "We've saved money, but we've also lost face. When the bride comes home and sees this, she'll probably cry." Her tone was undisguisedly sarcastic.

Zhou Dayong clicked his tongue, looking at the bare rosewood bed frame: "The material is quite good, and it's incredibly heavy, but it's a bit too old-fashioned. Guangming, you're really good at budgeting." His words carried a hint of teasing admiration.

Chen Zhiqing also shook his head slightly, feeling that Yang Guangming was really making a sacrifice for this nice house and his new identity in order to save money.

Only when the sun shines brightly, standing in the center of the house, looking around at the old furniture that the neighbors consider "low-class" and "stingy," does he feel an indescribable sense of immense satisfaction and a kind of ecstatic anticipation of the future.

His fingers gently traced the smooth, yet still warm and jade-like, cool-to-the-bone bedposts of the rosewood bed, feeling its unparalleled density and weight; he opened the door of the huanghuali wardrobe, his fingertips gliding over the flowing golden grain of the inner panel, inhaling the faint, delicate fragrance of sandalwood; he gazed at the chicken-wing wood desk's surface, its feather-like patterns shimmering and dancing in the setting sun…

These priceless treasures are now his!

They are solid, heavy, and silent, bearing witness to the long passage of time and the painstaking efforts and wisdom of nameless craftsmen.

In his new 26-square-meter home, these items are not merely practical household goods, but also treasures he has quietly collected in this small space—treasures that will be priceless in the future! They are proof of his accurate grasp of the pulse of the times!
What his neighbors see as "stingy" and "out of touch" is, for him, the most solid joy at this moment and the most certain and strong foundation for the future.

He seemed to clearly see that in the distant future, when people rediscover the value of traditional culture, and when the value of rosewood furniture is wildly sought after, soaring to astonishing astronomical figures,

He calmly sold these carefully maintained and revitalized "old belongings," enough to buy a luxurious villa.

The golden rays of the setting sun streamed through the bright glass windows, filling the room and illuminating his young and hopeful face.

(End of this chapter)