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

Chapter 147, Section 146: Second Brother Returns Home, Full of Questions, Shock, and Bitterness

In November, the air in Shanghai was damp and chilly. The plane tree leaves withered and fell, and the gradually bare branches pierced the gray sky.

In the streets and alleys, large heads of Chinese cabbage with green stems and white leaves are laid out under the sun—these are rare items that have just been transported from the north and are not local vegetables.

There is no local tradition or means of storing Chinese cabbage for winter; the local Chinese cabbage will be available in large quantities from March to May of the following year.

Because it was a transported vegetable, the supply was very tight, and there were often long queues in front of the grocery store. It could only be purchased with ration coupons, and each household could only buy two or three pieces at a time.

"For this amount of vegetables, pickled mustard greens are the best choice; they add a salty and savory flavor to soups or rice porridge."

The housewives in the alley greeted each other and exchanged experiences.

The quantity of cabbages was limited, so the scale of the event was not large.

Clean enamel basins or small earthenware jars are laid out in the corners of walls and under windowsills.

The women, wearing aprons, squatted on small bamboo stools, chopping the cabbage leaves with cleavers. The air was filled with the astringent smell of raw cabbage and the salty tang of coarse salt.

The shredded vegetables were laid out on a bamboo tray and exposed to the meager winter sun, waiting for some of the moisture to evaporate. Then, the vegetables and salt were carefully layered and pressed into the jar.

This small jar of pickled vegetables is a small comfort food for ordinary families during the long winter months. It may be small in quantity, but it is precious.

The sunlight shone brightly along with the scenery.

Room 203 in the tenement building wasn't very big, but he still managed to stuff a dark brown, rough earthenware jar under the bed.

Since moving to the family housing building, he has separated from his family and has his own household registration book.

This way, they can save money on invoices and everyday shopping. He himself doesn't care about these things, but his mother and sister-in-law are very clear about the calculations and will never let the family suffer a loss.

I got up early, lined up, and bought two rationed cabbages with my ticket.

The cleaver made a sound on the cutting board, and the shredded vegetables piled up to about half a basin. He spread a layer of shredded vegetables into the jar, sprinkled some salt, and then repeated the process, pickling a jar of salted vegetables.

For him, this jar of "salted vegetables" was just a decorative item to suit the occasion, or a prop to prove that he was "following the crowd" when necessary.

He simply couldn't muster any interest in that overly salty, pickled taste.

Looking back on the past month of October, we were busy and our relationships were intertwined.

The first Sunday of October is for family celebrations, and the second Sunday is for social gatherings.

As soon as the appointed time arrived, footsteps and laughter echoed in the hallway.

Zhang Weiqiang led the way, still wearing that meticulously ironed light gray "Dika" shirt, the collar buttoned up, his gaze behind his black-rimmed glasses gentle and smiling.

Behind him followed Liu Jinsheng from the finance department, a friendly smile on his face.

Wei Hongyu, from the Housing Management Section, had a slightly protruding belly, slicked-back hair, and an air of authority.

Lang Tianrui, from the Labor and Personnel Department, is a lean man with quick, sharp eyes.

Wang Weidong, head of the security section, and Zhou Jiefang, head of the procurement section, both former military officers, stood straight and moved with the efficiency of soldiers.

Chen Guoqiang, the workshop director, has the loudest voice and is always in a hurry.

Li Tiemin, the workshop director, smiled before saying a word, exuding a slick and warm demeanor.

"Xiao Yang, congratulations on moving! Your new home is quite tidy!" Zhang Weiqiang said with a smile, handing over a net bag containing two bottles of "Luzhou Laojiao" special liquor with red labels and red ribbons tied to them.

"Director Zhang, you're too kind. Please come in." Yang Guangming took the wine and stepped aside to let the guest in.

Others also offered their "gifts".

Liu Jinsheng's "Qibao Daqu", Wei Hongyu's more exquisite "Xifeng", Lang Tianrui's "Zhuyeqing" plus a big bag of Gaoqiao Songbing, Wang Weidong's Peony cigarettes and Zhou Jiefang's "Fenjiu", Chen Guoqiang's loud voice clapping "Gujinggong", and Li Tiemin carrying a bag of Tianjin pears and two bags of pastries.

The small outer hall was instantly filled with the aroma of wine, cigarettes, and the fresh scent of fruit.

A small mountain of various liquor bottles was piled up in one corner of the octagonal table. Xifeng, Luzhou Laojiao, Fenjiu, Gujinggong, Zhuyeqing... almost all the well-known liquors on the market at the time were included, silently telling the weight of the guests and the "standard" of this gathering.

Yang Guangming wore a polite smile, but he knew in his heart that these "not insignificant gifts" were not only a matter of personal favor, but also a measure and investment in him, the newly appointed secretary.

The main dishes were still the hearty dishes that Yang Guangming had "asked friends" to get.

Golden ham takes center stage; the taro stew with ham melts in your mouth, its rich and mellow flavor drawing gasps of amazement from everyone.

Chen Guoqiang ate several pieces and exclaimed that he enjoyed it very much. Taking advantage of his drunkenness, he shouted that he wanted to "compete" with Yang Guangming in drinking.

Yang Guangming, neither humble nor arrogant, calmly accepted the situation, saying, "We cannot weaken the morale that our Factory Director Zhao has always valued most." His words, seemingly gentle but actually sharp, both gave face and made his stance clear, drawing loud applause from everyone.

After several rounds of drinks, the atmosphere became increasingly harmonious, and everyone enjoyed themselves immensely at the gathering.

On the last Sunday of October, the lively atmosphere at Yang Guangming's home was replaced by youthful faces and pure laughter.

He invited all his classmates with whom he often gathered: the cheerful and enthusiastic Wu Hongtao, the introverted and honest Lin Shunan, the shrewd and capable purchasing agent Wu Kai, the handsome son of a high-ranking official Xie Feiyang, the poised and elegant Feng Xianghong, and the pure and innocent Lin Jianyue. His childhood friend Yan Jun also arrived early.

The cramped space of the tenement building was filled to the brim with the energy of young people.

Everyone brought something.

Wu Hongtao brought pear syrup candy from a traditional Chinese medicine shop and pickled mustard greens from his home; Yan Jun brought sponge cake and a small bag of sesame brittle, which could only be bought inside the grocery store.

Wu Kai contributed "Evergreen" biscuits and hawthorn slices issued by the factory; Xie Feiyang and Feng Xianghong brought "White Rabbit" milk candy and fruit hard candy.

Lin Jianyue brought a small jar of homemade osmanthus-flavored lotus root, which was crystal clear and had a sweet aroma; Lin Shunan also brought out his own roasted pumpkin seeds.

Sunshine Ming is still making a "big splash".

The sweet aroma of chestnut kernels was the first thing to win everyone over.

Next came the drunken chicken, fragrant with the aroma of wine; the salted duck with its glossy skin; and the sausage with its perfect balance of lean and fat.

These three main dishes were like bombshells, making Xie Feiyang exclaim, "Guangming...you've...robbed a grocery store, haven't you?"

After the meal, Yang Guangming led everyone on a walk around the family compound.

The gray, cramped apartment building had narrow public corridors piled with honeycomb briquettes and other miscellaneous items. There were queues outside the water room, and the air was filled with the mixed smells of food from each household.

This crowded, noisy, and bustling scene of workers' lives was a fresh and real world for Xie Feiyang, Feng Xianghong, and Lin Jianyue.

"This is the house the factory assigned to you? It's quite nice, you're comfortable living alone." Xie Feiyang looked it over, his tone carrying the composure typical of a cadre's child.

"It's just a bit small; there's not enough room for so many people to turn around," Feng Xianghong said with a smile.

Lin Jianyue curiously examined the mottled walls in the stairwell and the clothes drying in front of each household, her clear eyes filled with inquiry.

She walked slightly behind Yang Guangming, and when their eyes occasionally met, she would quickly lower her gaze like a startled fawn, her fair ears turning slightly red.

Wu Hongtao and Wu Kai were very interested in the family compound, their words filled with envy as they looked around and commented on the living conditions of the tenement buildings.

Yan Jun and Lin Shunan didn't say much, and followed quietly.

"I have some things to do at the shop this afternoon, so I have to go now," Wu Hongtao said apologetically to Yang Guangming, glancing at his slightly worn "Shanghai" brand watch. He works at a traditional Chinese medicine shop and often has work scheduled even on his days off.

“We also have a training session at our factory this afternoon, and I can’t miss it,” Wu Kai interjected. He is a purchasing agent, and his schedule isn’t entirely flexible.

Xie Feiyang and Feng Xianghong were fine, but seeing that Wu Hongtao and Wu Kai were about to leave, they said, "Then we should head back too. Let's get together again next time." Lin Jianyue naturally followed Feng Xianghong.

Yang Guangming nodded understandingly: "Work is important. Today we've just invited everyone to familiarize themselves with the place, so you can come often." He saw everyone off to the entrance of the residential compound. A chilly autumn wind blew by.

"Goodbye, Guangming! The new home is quite bright!" Wu Hongtao hopped on his "Forever" bicycle and rang the bell.

"Goodbye! I'd love to try your cooking again next time!" Wu Kai waved with a smile.

Xie Feiyang, Feng Xianghong, and Lin Jianyue left together.

Lin Jianyue took a few steps and couldn't help but look back.

Yang Guangming was still standing at the gate of the compound, his tall figure standing out against the gray backdrop of the residential buildings.

He seemed to sense her gaze and looked up as well. Their eyes met briefly in the air through the thinning crowd. Lin Jianyue's heart skipped a beat, and she hurriedly turned around, quickly following Feng Xianghong, the red ribbon at the end of her braid swaying gently in the wind.

Yan Jun smiled shyly, said goodbye to Yang Guangming in a low voice, and then turned and left.

After this class reunion, Yang Guangming's new home finally became completely quiet.

……

The November wind, carrying the chill of late autumn, blew into the courtyard of the Shikumen house in gusts.

The remaining moisture on the bluestone slabs made them slippery underfoot, and the alleyway was filled with the acrid smell of coal stoves.

The windows of the building in front were tightly closed, but that couldn't hide the anxious anticipation that permeated the air.

Since the beginning of November, Zhang Xiuying's counting down of days has never stopped, like a clockwork toy.

"Yaoyao will be back soon. Make sure the quilts that need to be aired out are thoroughly dried, and make sure the cotton filling is thicker..."

She muttered to herself as she worked, unfolding and patting the old cotton quilts that had been disassembled, washed, refurbished, and stuffed full once again.

Yang Yongkang sat on his special bamboo chair, a cigarette dangling from his hand, the embers flickering.

He rarely spoke, but his gaze would always unconsciously drift to the horseshoe clock on the dresser, listening to the ticking sound as if that sound could measure the distance his son was traveling home.

Even the most boisterous Zhuangzhuang seemed to sense the unusual atmosphere among the adults, and unusually quieted down at his grandmother's feet, his chubby little hands tugging at Zhang Xiuying's trouser leg.

Finally, two days before Yang Guangyao was scheduled to depart, a thin telegram, like a feather carrying immense hope, drifted into the Shikumen.

"Mom! A telegram! A telegram from the Northeast!" Li Guihua rushed into the front building, clutching the small piece of paper, her voice sharp, her face flushed with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

The family's hearts jumped into their throats.

Zhang Xiuying practically lunged at the telegram, her hands trembling violently, as she carefully read each word: "Arriving in Shanghai around 3 or 4 pm on the 16th."

"Three or four o'clock in the afternoon on the 16th! That's Sunday!" Li Guihua reacted quickly, her voice rising even higher, "A good day! It's a day off!"

"The 16th... the 16th..." Zhang Xiuying kept repeating, her eyes instantly reddening. She let out a long sigh, as if a huge burden had been lifted. "Finally, some definite news... Mingming, you have to remember, it's three or four o'clock in the afternoon on the 16th, at the train station!"

"Understood, Mother," Yang Guangming replied calmly, his gaze sweeping over the short line of printed text on the telegram.

He noticed that the telegram was signed "Yao," indicating that his second brother had ultimately monopolized his second sister Xiangmei's leave for visiting relatives.

A complex emotion swept through my mind, but it was quickly suppressed by the anticipation of our impending reunion.

On the 16th, a festive atmosphere permeated the Yang family's Shikumen residence.

Lunch was served more than half an hour earlier than usual.

At the dinner table, Zhang Xiuying barely touched her chopsticks, constantly urging, "Mingming, eat quickly, eat your fill so you have the strength to pedal. The train won't wait, you need to get there early to catch it! Be careful on the road!"

"Okay, Mom." Yang Guangming quickly finished eating the rice in his bowl.

Li Guihua quickly cleared away the dishes, while Yang Guanghui silently inspected the brand-new "Forever" brand bicycle leaning against the door, carefully wiping the already gleaming frame and chrome rims with a piece of slightly worn cotton yarn.

“What’s the use of making the car shine? There’s so much dust on the road.” Li Guihua said, but her eyes couldn’t help but glance at the new car with a hint of pride.

"Go early and get a good spot so you can see Yaoyao coming out right away."

Zhang Xiuying gave another pep talk, her gaze fixed intently on her youngest son.

Yang Guangming put on his faded but neatly ironed navy blue Zhongshan suit—his most presentable "cadre uniform." He straightened his collar and pushed his bicycle.

"Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister-in-law, I'm off." He straddled the bicycle seat, pushed off with his foot, and the brand-new chain made a crisp and pleasant turning sound.

The bicycle nimbly navigated through the narrow alleyway entrance, merging into the sparse crowd of people on a Sunday afternoon.

In late autumn in Shanghai, most of the leaves of the plane trees lining the streets have fallen, and the withered yellow leaves swirl and are swept up by the cold wind.

Yang Guangming pedaled hard, the chill of late autumn hitting his face, but it couldn't dispel the fervor in his heart. The wheels rolled over the road, occasionally hitting loose paving stones with a soft "thump".

He repeatedly pictured his second brother in his mind. The words of complaint in the letter prepared him to meet a haggard, possibly even resentful, second brother.

Train stations are always a noisy vortex.

Under the enormous dome, the air was filled with the cacophony of voices, a mix of regional dialects and the clear, articulate announcements from the loudspeakers. Yang Guangming carefully locked his bicycle at the parking area outside the station and stood waiting at the exit with his wooden sign in hand.

A large crowd gathered beneath the train timetable.

He stood on tiptoe, his eyes searching the train schedule. The bright red chalk words "delayed by about 30 minutes" were like a bucket of cold water, dousing his eagerness on his journey.

He sighed, found a less crowded corner, leaned against the cool terrazzo pillar, and waited patiently.

Time seemed to grow thick and slow, the announcements over the loudspeaker repeatedly broadcasting information about other trains, each time raising his spirits only to let his disappointment sink further. He gazed at the huge round clock above the exit, its minute hand moving sluggishly.

At nearly 4:30, the station's public address system finally broadcast the arrival information of the long-awaited train.

Like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, the entire exit instantly came to a boil.

The crowd waiting to pick up the passengers surged forward, crowding in front of the iron fence, craning their necks, and anxiously searching through the surging flow of people.

The train conductor opened the iron gate, and passengers carrying large bags and dragging their weary bodies poured out like a flood.

Yang Guangming was tall, his gaze sweeping over the heads of the travelers, his eyes scanning the throng like a searchlight. Unfamiliar faces, weary from their long journeys, flashed before his eyes.

As another wave of passengers surged out of the gate, Yang Guangming's gaze suddenly froze.

Behind several travelers carrying huge packages and looking travel-worn, a slender figure squeezed out.

He carried a bulging gray canvas travel bag on his shoulder and struggled to lift a similarly bulging, tightly bound, tan cloth bag in his hand. The weight was clearly considerable, causing him to hunch slightly and walk with a somewhat dragging gait.

It's the sunshine shining!

Despite harboring some resentment towards his second brother, Yang Guangming couldn't help but feel a pang of pain in his heart the moment he actually saw him.

The complaints and grievances in the letter have finally materialized into a concrete image before my eyes.

More than two years ago, the fair-skinned young man who still had a bit of a student-like air when he left home was completely gone.

The sunlight was dazzling, and his skin was a rough, dark brown, honed by the wind, frost, and scorching sun of the Great Northern Wilderness, as if covered with a layer of indelible grime.

His cheeks were sunken from thinness, making his cheekbones stand out, and his lips were dry and chapped.

The old military uniform, which had originally fit him fairly well, now hung loosely on his body, further emphasizing his thinness.

His eyes and brows were etched with deep weariness, and there was also a lingering numbness and resentment, as if he had been squeezed by life.

His hair was messy and covered in dust. He looked like a straw that had been battered by wind and frost and had lost its moisture, exuding a haggard and desiccated appearance.

"Second Brother!" Yang Guangming forcefully pushed aside the two people blocking his way and rushed to Yang Guangyao in a few steps, his voice filled with an urgency he himself didn't realize.

Yang Guangyao, who was struggling to drag his heavy luggage with his head down, suddenly looked up at the sound. His eyes, which were somewhat cloudy from fatigue and wind and sand, suddenly burst with an unbelievable light the moment he saw the person in front of him, followed by a huge surprise.

"Mingming!" he shouted, his voice trembling slightly with excitement, carrying a heavy nasal tone, the accent of someone who had lived in Northeast China for a long time.

He tossed his heavy luggage to the ground with a thud, kicking up a small cloud of dust. He opened his arms and hugged Yang Guangming tightly, so tightly that Yang Guangming staggered slightly.

The embrace carried the dust and sweat of a long journey, as well as a sense of grievance after weathering many storms.

Yang Guangming could clearly feel the sharp angles of his second brother's shoulder blades and the chill emanating from his clothes.

"Little brother! It really is you! You've grown so tall! Goodness, you're even stronger than me! You must be at least 1.8 meters tall!" Yang Guangyao released his embrace, took a step back, and still gripped Yang Guangming's arms tightly with both hands, looking him up and down with surprise in his eyes, as if he were seeing his younger brother for the first time.

He tilted his head back, his gaze sweeping over Yang Guangming's face, from his meticulously combed hair to his crisp collar and the gleaming black leather shoes on his feet.

That look was incredibly complex, a mixture of joy, relief, and a hint of unfamiliarity and... a subtle curiosity.

"It's changed, it's really changed..."

Yang Guangyao muttered to himself, reaching out to pat Yang Guangming's shoulder, but stopped halfway, as if he felt that his younger brother's "cadre attire" was a bit too much to handle. "He's like a grown-up! So proper!"

In the end, he simply patted Yangming's muscular forearm hard, grinned, and revealed teeth that were slightly yellowed from tobacco smoke. The smile dispelled some of the weariness on his face, but it made him look even darker and thinner.

"Second Brother, you must be tired from your journey! Why are you carrying so much stuff?" Yang Guangming bent down, easily lifting the heavy homespun cloth bag with one hand and grabbing the large canvas travel bag with the other.

"Hey, let me do it! It's so heavy!" Yang Guangyao hurriedly tried to grab it, but Yang Guangming was faster and had already firmly held the travel bag in his hand.

"It's alright, I'm strong enough." Yang Guangming smiled, then weighed it in his hand. "Wow, it's quite heavy. What good stuff are you carrying?"

"What good stuff could there be?"

Yang Guangyao waved his hand, his tone a mix of self-deprecation and eagerness, "They're all rustic things from those poor, remote places, so city people who've never been to the countryside find them rare."

Black fungus and hazel mushrooms, all dried! There are also some pine nuts, wild walnuts… oh, and two dried small-scaled fish, for Mom and Dad to try. And some soybeans from the production team, and some roasted sunflower seeds we made ourselves…”

He knew them like the back of his hand, as if these heavy mountain goods were the only tangible proof he could grasp during his more than two years of hardship.

Yang Guangming's heart stirred slightly. He had thought that since his second brother had complained so much in the letter, he would surely return empty-handed and only concerned with his complaints.

Unexpectedly, he brought so many genuine "gifts," which weighed heavily on his hands.

This contrast made his impression of his second brother even more complicated.

He nodded, not saying much: "Let's go home! Mom and Dad, my older brother and sister-in-law are all waiting anxiously at home!"

He securely tied the two heavy packages to the sturdy, wide rear rack of his bicycle, carefully binding them with the hemp rope he had brought.

"Come on, second brother, get in the car!" Yang Guangming straddled the car seat with his long legs, sat steadily on one foot, and patted the back seat.

Yang Guangyao's gaze, however, seemed glued to the brand-new "Forever" car.

He circled the bike a little over halfway, his rough fingers gently brushing over the gleaming handlebars and smooth crossbar with an almost reverent care, finally settling on the shining "Forever" metal logo.

The cool metallic touch and fine paint finish under his fingertips were completely different from the clanging "old tanks" he remembered from the alleyways.

“This bike…” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice tinged with barely suppressed surprise and a hint of bitterness, “It’s brand new! A Forever brand 28-inch bicycle, wow! It must be worth a hundred and sixty or seventy yuan, right? The key is that the receipt is hard to get. Where did you get it? Borrowed? Or…”

He looked up, staring intently at Yang Guangming's face, and tentatively asked, "...Bought it?"

"Sit tight first, we'll talk on the way." Yang Guangming felt his second brother was settled, and with a push of his foot, the wheel started turning smoothly. The brand-new chain made a light and smooth "clattering" sound, carrying the two brothers and the heavy load of goods from Northeast China, merging into the traffic.

The wheels rolled over the slightly bumpy cement road in front of the train station, making a light "shush" sound. The cool autumn wind brushed against the brothers' faces.

Yang Guangming pedaled his bike, feeling the weight of his second brother behind him and the weight of the two large bags of mountain goods, and moved forward steadily.

"We bought it ourselves." Yang Guangming's voice drifted back on the wind, very calm.

"We bought these? How much did these tickets cost?"

Yang Guangyao, clutching the heavy package, still had his gaze fixed on the new car, his envy practically overflowing in his voice, "Did your family... spend a lot of money? Or did they pull some big strings?"

“I didn’t pull any strings. The neighborhood recently did a unified renovation of the drying balconies. Since our house is a private house, the neighborhood gave us an extra bicycle voucher. We still have some savings, so we don’t lack money to buy a bicycle. Since we had the voucher, we bought the bike.”

Yang Guangyao listened from behind, remaining silent for a long time.

The bicycle wheel rolled over a small pebble, causing the bicycle to lurch slightly. He instinctively gripped his younger brother's shirt at the waist, the crisp texture of the fabric stirring something within him.

"The street...replaced the ticket?" He seemed to be talking to himself, or perhaps incredulous. "Just because our family owns private property?"

In his memory, those people on the street were all arrogant and wouldn't be easy to talk to. Reasoning with them? Could reasoning really get you a valuable bicycle ticket? That was simply a fantasy.

"Mm," Yang Guangming responded without offering any further explanation.

The process was certainly not as simple as it sounds, but the result is what it is, and there's no point in saying more.

Silence descended once more, broken only by the sound of wheels turning and the wind blowing.

Yang Guangyao's gaze fell on his younger brother's broad shoulders and back. His dark blue cadre uniform, under the afternoon sun, was crisp and clean, forming a stark contrast with his wrinkled old military uniform with frayed cuffs.

An idea coiled around me like a vine, tightening its grip.

A cold wind blew in my face, carrying the complex smells unique to the city. Yang Guangming held the handlebars steadily, and the bike passed through the crowded square in front of the station, turning onto the relatively wide road.

Yang Guangyao sat in the back, holding the package tightly in one hand and unconsciously grabbing his younger brother's clothes at the waist with the other, as if he could grasp a long-lost sense of security.

Looking at his younger brother's broad and straight back, and feeling the solid and stable ride of the brand-new bicycle beneath him, the questions in his mind grew bigger and bigger like a snowball.

"Little brother." He finally couldn't hold back any longer, leaning forward slightly and asking loudly into Yang Guangming's ear, his voice drowning out the wind and the noise of the street, "A letter came from home saying you got a job at the factory, and you're even a cadre? Is it true? Did Mom and Dad... did they secretly take out the last bit of our savings and beg everyone they knew to get you in?"

This was his deepest doubt and unease.

He was well aware of his family's financial situation and understood what a "cadre position" meant.

In the icy and snowy Northeast, he wondered countless times if it was because he had gone to the countryside that his family had gone to great lengths to get his younger brother a job in a factory, securing him a stable, secure job. This thought was like a thorn stuck in his heart.

The wheels rolled over a pothole in the road and bounced.

Yang Guangming gripped the handlebars tightly, his steady voice carried on the wind: "Second brother, you've misunderstood. I didn't do anything behind your back, nor did I spend a single penny of the family's money to ask for favors."

"Then... how did you get in? And as a cadre? You just graduated, and you don't have any connections..." Yang Guangyao was even more confused, and his hand gripping his younger brother's clothes tightened unconsciously.

"It's Director Zhao. He's a deputy director of the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill. I helped him out a little, and he thought I was pretty quick-witted, so he gave me this job opportunity."

Yang Guangming tried to simplify the process, briefly recounting how he joined the company and later became Zhao Guodong's full-time secretary.

"Secretary? The deputy factory director's secretary?" Yang Guangyao gasped, this position was even more "high-ranking" than he had imagined. "You...you just fixed his car once? Kid, are you kidding me?"

He couldn't believe it.

In his mind, such a position was only attainable by those with impeccable political backgrounds or by veterans who had spent half their lives in the military.

"It was a coincidence, I suppose," Yang Guangming said vaguely, not wanting to elaborate on the journey. "Director Zhao valued me and gave me the opportunity."

Yang Guangyao remained silent for a long time, processing the information.

The cold wind made him shrink his neck, and he nestled his face against his younger brother's warm back. Then, another question, even more shocking to him, suddenly popped into his head.

"Then... what about the housing allocation?"

His voice trembled with urgency. "The letter from home said you were allocated an apartment? A 26-square-meter inner and outer room? Little brother, you've only been working at the factory for a few days! This... how is this possible?"

Many older factory workers and their families are still crammed into tiny cubicles of just over ten square meters! Isn't that right...?

He wanted to ask, "Does Director Zhao take special care of you?" but then felt it was inappropriate to ask such a question, so he swallowed it back.

But the doubt and disbelief in his tone were already evident.

In this era where housing is more precious than gold, the difficulty of getting housing allocation far exceeded his imagination. What right did he, a newcomer to the factory, have to qualify?
Yang Guangming could feel the tension in his second brother's body and the rapid breathing behind him. He knew that these questions had been weighing on his brother's mind for too long; the letters from home always reported good news and omitted the bad, or rather, they reported the good news and omitted the difficult process.

“Second Brother.” Yang Guangming’s voice remained steady, carrying a comforting power. “It’s a long story. To put it simply, I published a few articles in the Workers’ Daily, which brought some honor to the factory. The factory happened to have a reward policy: publishing three important articles would qualify you for housing. I… was lucky; I not only wrote enough but also published one more, so the factory committee allocated me a house according to the policy.”

"The Workers' Daily? Published an article? And...and several articles?"

Yang Guangyao's mouth was agape, wide enough to fit an egg, and his arms, which were holding the package, froze.

Every word his younger brother spoke felt like a hammer blow to his heart.

A national-level newspaper! Published articles! Several articles at that! This is simply unbelievable! When did I acquire such ability?
In his memory, his younger brother's writing was not bad, but that was all! This huge contrast left him speechless for a moment, with only shock churning in his chest.

His gaze returned to his younger brother's straight back, to the brand-new "Forever" car, and to his own rough, chapped hands.

The seemingly casual remarks his younger brother made about "publishing articles" and "getting a room" stirred up a tidal wave of emotions within him.

What exactly happened at home in the past six months? What happened to his younger brother? When he left, the familiar home and his younger brother seemed to have been pushed onto a different track by a force he couldn't understand at all.

A cold wind blew into his collar, and he shivered, clutching the package in his arms even tighter, as if it were the only remaining tangible connection he had with his past life.

He looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar streets stretching out before him, and at his younger brother's steady figure pedaling the bicycle. He was filled with questions, shock, confusion, and a hint of bitterness, all of which eventually turned into silence.

The wheels continued forward, crushing the falling sycamore leaves with a soft cracking sound.

Knowing that his second brother needed time to process this, Yang Guang stopped talking and pedaled harder, steadily heading towards the Shikumen (stone gate) and towards the home filled with anticipation.

The autumn wind swept past their ears, carrying the two brothers' complicated thoughts, and rushed into the depths of the alley.

(End of this chapter)