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

Chapter 144, Section 143: Mid-Autumn Festival Gifts – Envy and Gratitude, a Small Shock, and Sweet Anticipation
As the days went by, the 26-square-meter apartment in the tenement building that Yang Guangming had been allocated was no longer the empty and dilapidated place it had been when he first saw it.

The snow-white walls emitted a faint smell of lime, and the floor was clean and flat.

However, a truly livable "home" requires more than just a house and a few large pieces of furniture.

In the days that followed, Yang Guangming threw himself into the trivial yet necessary task of acquiring daily necessities.

Pots and pans were of utmost importance, so he took some time to visit the nearby department stores and general merchandise stores several times.

An aluminum steamer, a sturdy cast iron wok, a pure copper kettle, a thermos, several enamel basins of different sizes, a stack of delicate porcelain bowls and plates printed with the words "Labor is Glorious," and a few bamboo chopsticks...

These unassuming household items were bought one by one and gradually placed in the cupboard or stacked on the kitchen counter.

Bedding and blankets are another major expense. Even after moving to the new house, he still needs to go back to the Shikumen (stone gate house) for one or two days every week, so he can't bring his old bedding over yet.

He took out the cloth coupons and cotton coupons he had saved, and easily exchanged them for the rest using the supplies in the refrigerator.

After buying thick cotton fabric and lining cloth from the fabric store, along with a heavy load of new cotton, and paying a small labor fee, I asked a tailor to make two sets of quilts. This solved the most troublesome problem.

The most crucial issue, the stove, should not be overlooked.

In the hallway by the entrance, in his designated spot for a coal stove, a brand-new, gleaming stove was already placed, with a small, neatly stacked pile of shiny black coal briquettes and bits of firewood for kindling. This was an "open stove."

In the small, five- or six-square-meter room in the east wing, with a door and a window, Yang Guangming quietly installed a brand-new kerosene stove. This was his hidden stove.

This secondhand kerosene stove has a blue sheet metal exterior, a sparkling clean glass cover, and a smooth-turning knob. He specially bought two spare wicks and two cans of kerosene, placing them in the corner of the cubicle.

This tiny room became his fortress for consuming the food in the refrigerator.

Those foods that would be absolutely conspicuous and difficult to explain their origin in the common corridors of the tenement building—such as several boxes of frozen dumplings, frozen meat buns, and various meat dishes—could be quietly heated here using kerosene stoves.

As long as the door is closed, even if the food is taken out and seen by others, at most they will say something like, "Master Yang is really generous, even eating dumplings," and it won't cause any big trouble.

This hidden convenience gave him a sense of security that was hard for others to match in this era of extreme scarcity.

***
The wind in the alleyway began to carry a chill, and the edges of the palm-sized leaves of the plane trees quietly curled up and turned slightly yellow.

The atmosphere of the Mid-Autumn Festival, like the sweet fragrance of osmanthus, silently permeates the streets and alleys.

For ordinary people, this is the second most important day after the Spring Festival.

In order to celebrate the festival, the streets and workplaces showed a rare generosity. Rare coupons were scattered like precious raindrops: half an ounce of sesame oil coupons, two ounces of melon seed coupons, and half a pound of hard "Mid-Autumn Festival mooncakes" supplied with coupons—this was already the best festival gift.

Yang Guangming will naturally also rely on that magical "refrigerator" to make more preparations for this Mid-Autumn Festival.

Besides the things he planned to take home, he also had one family on his mind—Chu Dahu's family.

He knew the Chu family's situation all too well.

The Chu family only has one formal job, Tiger Head's father, with a meager income; Tiger Head's mother has always been in poor health and stays at home to take care of things. She also has two younger brothers who are about to start school and a younger sister who has just started elementary school.

Chu Dahu's father worked alone, yet he had to feed five mouths in his family. One can imagine how difficult their lives were.

The weighty entrustment Tiger Head gave before leaving still echoes in my ears.

For the past two months, he has kept his promise and visited the Chu family every two weeks. Sometimes it was a tightly bundled bundle of dried rice noodles, sometimes a few pounds of walnuts or chestnuts, and sometimes a bottle of clear peanut oil—all things that could fill their stomachs and be of practical use.

He doesn't give much, but he never comes empty-handed. It's not that he's unwilling to give more, but rather that giving too much makes it difficult to find a suitable reason.

The look in Chu's parents' eyes, a mixture of gratitude, unease, and embarrassment, made his heart ache.

With the Mid-Autumn Festival approaching, every household is trying to prepare some decent festive goods, and the Chu family must be facing even greater difficulties. Perfect timing! Taking advantage of the pre-festival employee benefits distribution, he can send over a larger amount without drawing too much attention.

……

Two days before the Mid-Autumn Festival, at the end of the workday, the bell at Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill rang sharply, piercing the dusk.

A stream of people poured out of the factory gate, their dark blue work clothes forming a torrent. Zhang Xiuying and Yang Guangming, pushing his bicycle, walked out of the factory area together.

They sped along until they reached the entrance of their alleyway. Yang Guangming said to his mother, "Mom, you go back first. The Mid-Autumn Festival is just around the corner. I'll go to Hu Tou's house and see if there's anything I can help with."

Zhang Xiuying stopped, her face showing understanding, but also a hint of heartache for her son's hard work: "Oh, go see him. Master Chu's family has it tough. Come back for dinner soon, I've saved some for you in the pot."

"Got it." Yang Guangming replied, pushed off with his foot, and his bicycle nimbly merged into the crowd of people leaving get off work.

Instead of going directly to the alley where the Chu family lived, he first went around to the depths of a quiet alley nearby.

After confirming that no one was around, he quickly took out several items from the "refrigerator": a heavy, two-pound pork knuckle wrapped tightly in thick oil paper and emitting a rich aroma of braising.
A large yellow croaker with shimmering silver scales was wrapped in several layers of damp old newspaper; a pound of White Rabbit milk candy, its colorful wrappers standing out in the dim alley; and two pounds of fresh meat mooncakes wrapped in straw paper, emitting an enticing aroma.

He carefully stuffed these things into a slightly worn, military-green satchel, making it bulge and quite heavy.

Yang Guangming weighed it in his hand and then adjusted the strap of his bag.

He certainly had the ability to produce more, but the amount of these items was already enough to make an ordinary working-class family the envy of their neighbors before the holiday. Any more would be truly inexplicable.

He took a deep breath, got back on the car, and drove towards the Shikumen alley where Chu Dahu's family lived.

The Chu family lived in a typical "three-story pavilion." It was a low-ceilinged room partitioned off from the top floor of a Shikumen building, utilizing the space under the sloping roof. In summer, it was as stuffy as a steamer, and in winter, it was chilly and windy. Except for the middle section, one could only walk around the other areas by bending over.

When Yang Guangming pushed his bicycle into the familiar courtyard, it was the busy time before dinner.

The courtyard was filled with the sound of rushing water, the steam from washing rice and vegetables, and the mixed aromas wafting from the kitchens of each household.

Chu Dahu's mother was hunched over, washing a handful of wilted green vegetables in the cement pool under the tap.

She looked very thin, with a sickly pale face. Hearing footsteps, she looked up and saw the bright sunlight. A glimmer of light immediately flashed in her dim eyes, and she quickly wiped her wet hands on her apron.

"The light has come!" Her voice carried surprise and a hint of barely perceptible unease.

"Aunt Chu, are you washing vegetables?" Yang Guangming greeted her with a smile and propped up his bicycle.

His bulging satchel immediately attracted the attention of several other neighbors who were busy or chatting in the courtyard.

Zhao's mother, who lived in the living room, was poking the coal stove. She straightened up, her eyes lingering on her satchel, and clicked her tongue in amazement:
"Oh my, Guangming has come to see Master Chu again? He brought so many good things! Mother Chu, you're so lucky. Hutou is gone, but Guangming is as filial as a son!"

Another old woman, who was scaling fish by the sink, chimed in: "That's right, ever since Guangming started visiting Master Chu's place more often, life seems much easier than before. Hu Tou has made a good friend!"

Hearing her neighbor's words, Chu Dahu's mother forced a grateful smile and nodded repeatedly, but her eyes showed more unease and remorse.

"Yes, yes, Guangming is such a good guy... I always have to trouble him..."

She rubbed her hands, unsure of what to do.

Yang Guangming pretended not to notice the neighbors' curious looks and said to Chu's mother, "Aunt Chu, has Uncle come back? I'll go upstairs to see."

"You're back, you're back. Just got home. You're taking a break in the attic and having some water." Mother Chu quickly pointed to the narrow, steep wooden staircase leading to the third-floor attic.

“Okay, I’ll go up then.” Yang Guangming picked up the heavy satchel, nodded to the neighbors, and stepped onto the creaking wooden stairs.

The three-story pavilion is low and oppressive, making it almost impossible for an adult to stand up completely inside.

A dim 15-watt light bulb hangs under the beam, barely illuminating the cramped space.

Against the wall was a large bed with an old mosquito net hanging on it, next to which was an old square table, and in the corner were some odds and ends.

Chu Dahu's father was a middle-aged man who was not tall but had unusually broad and sturdy shoulders. He was sitting on a small bamboo stool next to a square table, holding a large tea mug with many chipped enamel pieces, and drinking cold boiled water.

His face was etched with the marks of hard work and toil, and his eyes were somewhat dull.

Seeing the sunlight coming in, he quickly put down his teacup and tried to stand up, but the low beams restricted his movements, making him appear somewhat clumsy.

"The light has come? Sit, sit." His voice was hoarse as he pointed to the only other small stool beside the bed.

"Uncle Chu, don't rush." ​​Yang Guangming placed his satchel on the only square table, making a dull thud.

As he unzipped his jacket and took things out, he said, "The Mid-Autumn Festival is coming soon, and the factory gave us some benefits. We can't use them all at home. Here's some for my uncles, aunts, and younger siblings to add to their meals and sweeten their mouths."

A large pork knuckle wrapped in oiled paper, a large yellow croaker wrapped in damp newspaper, brightly colored White Rabbit milk candies, and fragrant fresh meat mooncakes...

One by one, the dishes were brought out, appearing exceptionally abundant and eye-catching under the dim light, instantly filling most of the small square table.

Looking at these things, Chu's father's dark face twitched a few times, his lips trembled, and his calloused, bony hands rubbed helplessly on his trouser legs before he finally managed to squeeze out a few words:

"This...this is too precious...Guangming...you...you should celebrate your own festival too..."

His voice was hoarse, filled with deep remorse.

He knew that Yang Guangming's family was not well-off either. Before his son went to the countryside, he entrusted his son to them, but in the end, they spent so much money on him.

Chu's mother, panting, also climbed upstairs. Seeing the pile of things on the table, she was equally shocked and speechless, simply covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes instantly reddening: "Guangming... this... how can I accept this... taking so much of your stuff every time..."

"Uncle, Auntie, please don't say that." Yang Guangming quickly interrupted their impending outpouring of gratitude, trying to keep his tone light. "They were all issued by the factory, or exchanged with coworkers, they're not worth much. Hu Tou isn't home, so it's only right that I come to check on you. Where are your younger siblings?"

"They're playing in the courtyard downstairs." Mother Chu wiped her eyes.

"Here, these candies and mooncakes are for your younger siblings to enjoy during the festival." Yang Guangming pushed the candies and mooncakes further onto the table. "Auntie, keep the braised pork knuckle and yellow croaker safe. You can cook them for the festival. I have some things to do, so I won't stay any longer."

He was really bad at dealing with this kind of scene that was both full of gratitude and heavy burden, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"Guangming, sit down for a while, have some water..." Chu's father awkwardly tried to persuade him to stay.

"No, no, I really have something to do. Uncle and Aunt, I wish you a happy Mid-Autumn Festival in advance. I'm leaving now." Yang Guangming said, turning and heading towards the stairwell.

The elderly couple chased after him to the top of the stairs, watching his lithe and agile figure quickly disappear below. They murmured words like "thank you," "take care," and "come visit sometime" until the footsteps faded into the distance. Only then did they slowly turn around, look at the abundant holiday gifts on the table, and sigh deeply, feeling both joy and a pang of sadness.

...The next day at noon, the factory canteen was bustling with noise.

Yang Guangming quickly ate lunch and returned to his office.

He took a clean mesh bag from his desk drawer. Inside were two things:

One pound of fresh meat mooncakes, carefully rewrapped in ordinary oil paper, had oil stains that had completely soaked through the paper, emitting a rich aroma of meat and crispy crust; there was also a one-pound glass jar containing scallion oil sauce with bright green scallions floating on top, glossy, thick, and with an overpowering aroma.

Both of these items naturally came from his "refrigerator space," but the packaging was made as "everyday" as possible.

He carried a net bag and arrived at the office of Deputy Factory Director Zhao Guodong, then gently knocked on the door.

"Go in." Zhao Guodong's steady voice rang out.

Guangming pushed open the door and entered. Zhao Guodong was sitting behind his large desk reading documents. He looked up and saw him, a gentle smile appearing on his face: "Guangming, is something the matter?"

"Uncle Zhao." Yang Guangming placed the net bag on the corner of the desk, a polite smile on his face. "Mid-Autumn Festival is coming soon. My mother made some scallion oil sauce and insisted that I bring you a bottle to try. There are also some fresh meat mooncakes, which are homemade by a friend of mine. You can't buy them outside, and there aren't many, just so you can have a taste and enjoy the festive atmosphere."

Zhao Guodong's gaze fell on the net bag, where the aroma of fresh meat mooncakes and the rich, caramelized scent of scallion oil sauce had already powerfully filled his nostrils.

He put down his pen, a genuine smile spreading across his face. His eyes lit up noticeably, especially when he heard the words "scallion oil sauce."
"Oh? It's your mom's scallion oil sauce again? That's great! That last bottle was so delicious with noodles! And fresh meat mooncakes? That's a rare treat!"

Without any hesitation, he reached out and pulled the net closer, picked up the bag of oily mooncakes, and smelled it. "Mmm! Delicious! Those hard, crumbly five-nut mooncakes outside can't compare to this! Guangming, please thank your mother for me! I appreciate the sentiment!"

Yang Guangming hurriedly said, "I'm glad you like it. It's just a little thing I made myself, nothing special."

Zhao Guodong was clearly in a good mood. He stood up, walked to the filing cabinet against the wall, opened the cabinet door, and took out a brown paper bag containing two heavy bottles of wine.

He handed the paper bag to Yang Guangming: "Here you go. It's a holiday, take these two bottles of Moutai back with you, and let your dad have a couple of sips. A friend gave them to me, and I can't finish them all."

Yang Guangming immediately recognized the gift as two bottles of Moutai. This was far too extravagant a gift. He quickly declined, saying, "Uncle Zhao, this is too valuable! I mustn't accept it..."

"Hey!" Zhao Guodong waved his hand and shoved the paper bag into Yang Guangming's hand without any room for argument. "It's for your dad, not for you! Why are you being so polite with me? Take it! Good things should be shared! Your mom's scallion oil sauce, your friend's mooncakes, aren't they valuable? It's only right to reciprocate!"

Yang Guangming sensed the sincerity and unyielding force in Zhao Guodong's words, knowing that further refusal would only create distance.

He accepted the heavy paper bag with both hands and said sincerely, "Well... thank you, Uncle Zhao! I thank you on behalf of my father!"

"Yes, that's right." Zhao Guodong nodded in satisfaction and sat back down in his chair. "Go on, you have a meeting this afternoon."

"Yes." Yang Guangming, carrying the two bottles of Moutai liquor, which could be considered "hard currency," left the office.

The distinctive, rich aroma of Moutai wafted through the paper bag. Yang Guangming understood that this was not only Zhao Guodong's affirmation of his work, but also his personal recognition—a tacit understanding of closeness.

……

When the afternoon bell rang, Yang Guangming did not go with his mother.

He got on his bike and rode towards Ruikangli, where Lin Jianyue and Feng Xianghong lived.

The evening breeze was cool and felt very comfortable on my face.

The bicycle skillfully turned into the alleyway lined with large locust trees, the afterglow of the setting sun casting a warm golden hue on the mottled walls.

In the courtyard, the sound of water dripping could be heard. Lin Jianyue and Feng Xianghong were squatting by the cement basin next to the tap, one washing a few bright green scallions, the other carefully scrubbing a few potatoes. Their sleeves were rolled up, revealing their fair wrists, and they were talking in hushed tones, occasionally letting out a clear laugh.

The sound of bicycle wheels rolling over the cobblestones startled them. They both looked up simultaneously. When they saw that it was Yangming, their young faces instantly lit up with delighted smiles, their clear eyes filled with surprise.

“Bright!” Feng Xianghong stood up first, shaking the water droplets off her hands.

"Comrade Yang Guangming, what brings you here?" Lin Jianyue also stood up, her cheeks slightly flushed in the sunset, her voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible joy.

Yang Guangming parked the car and then took a bulging cloth bag from the back seat.

He walked into the courtyard with a gentle smile on his face: "I was thinking that since the festival is coming soon, I'd like to bring you some mooncakes and pastries to celebrate the occasion."

"Huh? For us?" Feng Xianghong's eyes widened in surprise.

Lin Jianyue also seemed a little flustered. She looked at Yang Guangming, then at the heavy bag in his hand, and quickly waved her hand, "This won't do... It's too expensive..."

Yang Guangming had already opened the cloth bag and was taking out its contents one by one, placing them on a clean stone slab beside the pool:

Two pounds of fresh meat mooncakes wrapped in oiled paper, emitting an enticing aroma; two pounds of mung bean cakes wrapped in oiled paper, square and neat, with a cool, green bean paste color;

Two pounds of butter cookies, printed with simple patterns, were packed in a kraft paper bag. The rich aroma of milk and butter instantly filled the air. There was also a large glass jar of golden, thick, and translucent honey, which reflected an amber-like luster in the setting sun.

In an era of scarcity, these four items were the most presentable and practical gifts, especially for two single women, during the holidays.

Lin Jianyue and Feng Xianghong were speechless with surprise as they looked at the small hill piled up on the stone slabs, their eyes filled with emotion and guilt.

"Guangming, this...this is far too precious! We cannot accept it!" Feng Xianghong realized and repeatedly declined.

“Yes, Comrade Yang Guangming, you should take it back to your family…” Lin Jianyue echoed softly, but her gaze couldn’t help but linger on the golden honey jar.

"It's just a small token of my appreciation, something I exchanged with a friend. It's not worth much money. I have more at home."

Yang Guangming's tone was relaxed, yet carried an air of unyielding authority, "You two should have some good food for the festival. Toasting mooncakes in a dry pan will make them taste even better, mung bean cakes are refreshing, cookies are good snacks, and honey mixed with water is good for your health."

"It's just the two of you at home, so I won't bother you any longer." With that, she turned to push the cart.

"Wait!" Feng Xianghong hurriedly called out to him, her face full of determination. "Guangming, wait! We absolutely cannot accept such a valuable gift for nothing! Wait a minute, I'll go pack a few things for you to take back!" As she spoke, she was about to run into the house.

Yang Guangming had already anticipated this, so he quickly stopped Feng Xianghong, his face showing just the right amount of "predicament":
"Xiang Hong, there's really no need! These things are just my own gesture; my family doesn't know about them."

If you give me a return gift, it will be difficult for me to explain if I take it back.

He paused, lowered his voice, and said with a hint of helpless unease, "If my family asks and I say it was given to me by a female classmate... they'll probably ask even more questions, and I won't be able to explain it clearly."

Upon hearing this, both Feng Xianghong and Lin Jianyue were stunned, and then a blush rose on their faces.

Yang Guangming's words are reasonable. In this day and age, the exchange of overly "expensive" gifts between young men and women can easily attract gossip and bring unnecessary trouble to both parties.

Feng Xianghong stopped in her tracks, but still looked apologetic: "That...that can't be done like that..." She wrung her hands anxiously.

Seeing her resolute expression, Yang Guangming's mind raced, and he seized the opportunity to make a request, subtly revealing another piece of information:
"Well then, Xiang Hong, if you really feel bad about it... well, I do have something I'd like to ask you for help with."

I was recently assigned a small house, which was a reward from the factory.

After I've packed everything up and moved in a few days, I'd like to invite a few old classmates over for a get-together, to warm up the house.

When the time comes, we'll have to prepare some drinks to entertain them.

"You have wide connections and know many people. When it's convenient, could you keep an eye out for me and find a couple of bottles of decent liquor? I'll pay for it, but I won't give you a receipt."

After he finished speaking, he turned his gaze to Lin Jianyue and said with a smile, "Comrade Jianyue, come along too."

"You got a house?" Feng Xianghong and Lin Jianyue exclaimed almost simultaneously, instantly forgetting about returning the gift. Their eyes widened in disbelief and shock.

In an era where generations squeeze into a single room, and a space of just over ten square meters is considered a luxury, how could Yang Guangming, who had only been working at the factory for a short time, have already been allocated his own housing? This is simply unbelievable!

"Comrade Guangming, is it true? You've been allocated a house? How big is it? Where is it?" Feng Xianghong asked in rapid succession, her tone urgent.

Lin Jianyue forgot her shyness and stared at Yang Guangming with her clear eyes, full of curiosity and admiration: "Comrade Yang Guangming, is this a reward for publishing your article?"

Seeing their shocked yet sincere expressions, Yang Guangming felt a small sense of accomplishment.

He smiled and explained simply: "Yes, it's a small suite in the factory's residential area, a tenement building, about 26 square meters, with a small inner room."

It was indeed a factory reward. Because we published several articles in the *Workers' Daily* recently and exceeded our performance targets, the factory committee gave us special approval.

"Twenty-six square meters? And it's a suite!" Feng Xianghong gasped, looking at Yang Guangming as if he were a god. "Guangming, you're amazing! Truly incredible! This is absolutely the best treatment in our factory! Congratulations!" She praised him sincerely and clapped her hands vigorously.

Lin Jianyue was also deeply moved. Looking at the composed and upright young man in front of her, and thinking of his sharp and incisive articles, and the achievements he spoke of so casually, the vague goodwill she had felt now turned into genuine admiration and respect.

Her cheeks flushed even more, but her eyes sparkled as she sincerely whispered, "Comrade Yang Guangming, congratulations! This...this is wonderful!"

"Thank you." Yang Guangming accepted their congratulations readily, and emphasized again, "So, I'll leave the wine to Xiang Hong. I'll definitely let you know in advance once the house is ready. Then, let's invite Fei Yang, Yan Jun, and the others for a get-together."

"No problem! Leave it to me!" Feng Xianghong patted her chest and assured him. Her earlier slight unease vanished instantly at the prospect of helping Yang Guangming with his housewarming celebration, replaced only by excitement. "I'll definitely find a way to get you two bottles of good wine! I promise I won't delay your cooking!"

Lin Jianyue nodded vigorously, a gentle, expectant smile on her face.

"Okay, it's settled then. You guys pack up the mooncakes and pastries. I'm off now." Having achieved his goal, Yang Guangming didn't linger and pushed his bicycle away.

"Take care, Comrade Guangming!"

"Comrade Yang Guangming, be careful on the road."

Two girls stood at the entrance of the courtyard, watching Yang Guangming's tall figure push his bicycle and disappear into the long shadows cast by the setting sun at the alley entrance.

The evening breeze carries the enticing aroma of fresh meat mooncakes and cookies from the stone slabs.

Feng Xianghong excitedly grabbed Lin Jianyue's arm and shook it: "Jianyue! Did you hear that? Guangming got an apartment! A big suite of 26 square meters! They're even inviting us to cook for them! Oh my god..." She chattered on and on, already planning where to find some good wine.

Lin Jianyue didn't speak, but just looked in the direction of the alley entrance. The afterglow of the setting sun reflected in her clear eyes, like two warm, dancing flames falling into them.

She took a light breath; the air seemed to still carry the faint scent of sunshine and warmth emanating from Yang Guangming.

New house...class reunion...

She looked down at her fingers, still damp from washing vegetables, and a sweet anticipation rippled through her heart.

(End of this chapter)