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

Chapter 168, Section 167: A New Job. A Visit to Express Gratitude. Neighbors' Gossip. Xianglan Returns to Her In-Laws' Home.

May slipped by silently, and the calendar turned to June.

In the alleyways of Shanghai, the damp plum rain season has not yet fully arrived, but the air is already filled with a muggy and sticky atmosphere.

It has been a full month since Wang Jianjun passed away unexpectedly.

Time flows silently in the cramped courtyards and deep passageways of Shikumen houses, like stagnant water in the corners that never dries up, slowly eroding the moss-covered bricks and stones.

It took away the heart-wrenching cries and the overwhelming bewilderment of the first few days, but left a deeper, more everyday mark on the faces and hearts of the survivors—a weariness bent over by the burdens of life, a dull pain that had to be accepted.

Life goes on, people still have to breathe, and they still have to worry about a pound of grain coupons, two ounces of oil, their children's tuition fees, and the coal briquettes for cooking.

Tang Jianhong put a lot of thought into the job arrangement for Yang Xianglan after she took over the shift at the factory.

The factory's newly established "Employee Mutual Assistance Coordination Group" may not sound like a big deal, but it's a highly sought-after new initiative.

The job is easy, I don't have to work hard in the factory, I have a wide social circle, and I can still take care of my family.

Throughout the factory, many people were eyeing those two spots, and each had some connections and influence behind them.

With his years of experience operating at the Dongfang Machinery Factory, coupled with his strategic maneuvering at crucial moments, Tang Jianhong managed to secure Yang Xianglan's name among numerous competitors.

When the news reached the Yang family, even Yang Yongkang, who was usually serious and taciturn, fell silent for a moment. Then he nodded to his wife, Zhang Xiuying, with a rare expression of approval in his voice: "This Section Chief Tang is quite a character."

The job is easy, stable, offers opportunities for advancement, and allows them to take care of their families. It's much better than they originally expected, almost an unexpected bonus.

At the same time, Li Guihua, the eldest sister-in-law, also successfully completed her onboarding procedures.

She was filling in for Li Erzhu.

According to the factory's usual practice, it was almost a certainty that a female worker like her, who had no special background and was a replacement, would be assigned to do manual labor in the workshop.

The roaring machines, the heavy workpieces, the pervasive smell of machine oil and dust—just thinking about it makes it hard to breathe for a woman with a young child at home to take care of.

Yang Guangming made a suggestion.

He approached his father, Yang Yongkang, and his elder brother, Yang Guanghui: "Dad, brother, you know many people in the factory and have a wide network of contacts. Could you ask around privately?"

See if there are any young and strong male workers who are assigned to easy positions like logistics or the canteen, but are secretly eager to learn skills in the workshop and earn more job allowances.
If someone really has this idea, but feels that switching to the workshop would be a loss for them, our family can give them some money as compensation.

Yang Yongkang and Yang Guanghui worked at the Dongfang Factory for most of their lives, rising from workshop workers to team leaders, and they knew quite a few people from all walks of life.

Yang Guangming's idea, which had a somewhat "opportunistic" feel to it, was actually put into practice by them.

While getting food in the cafeteria, Yang Guanghui noticed a young man named Dongzi.

Dongzi came in to take over his mother's job after she retired. He was in his early twenties, sturdy, and quick at his work. But he was assigned to the canteen kitchen, where he dealt with potatoes, cabbage, and greasy dishes all day long.

The young man felt extremely frustrated. He dreamed of going down to the workshop to touch those roaring machines, learn some real skills, and be respected like those experienced workers.

Yang Guanghui seized the opportunity and handed Dongzi a Pegasus cigarette through the back door of the cafeteria. The two started chatting over the smell of the cigarette.

Yang Guanghui didn't beat around the bush and directly explained his family's situation and thoughts.

When Dongzi heard that he could be transferred to the workshop, his eyes lit up instantly, and he was so excited that he almost dropped his cigarette butt on the ground.

"Brother Hui! Really? I can go to the workshop? Hey! Forget about the money! As long as I can go!"

Working in the cafeteria is fucking... not a man's job, it's so frustrating!
I'd be happy to exchange it!

Tomorrow, no, this afternoon I'll go talk to our class monitor!

Things went so smoothly that even Yang Guangming was surprised. Dongzi didn't even mention compensation; he was only focused on escaping the cafeteria.

And so, Li Guihua naturally took over the vacancy of kitchen helper at Dongzi's canteen.

The work in the canteen is tedious, with endless vegetables to wash and dishes to clean. The large stove is also very smoky, and it is even more unbearably hot and humid in the summer.

The advantage is that there are no three shifts, the working hours are relatively fixed, and you are protected from wind and rain. The physical exertion is vastly different from moving heavy metal objects or guarding machine tools in the workshop.

For Li Guihua, who has a family to support, this was an unexpected joy that put her at ease.

Yang Guangming really had to think carefully about how to repay Tang Jianhong's favor.

This favor is quite significant.

Getting Xianglan into the union's newly established coordination group—a relaxed but promising group—would have been impossible without some strong connections and skill.

But upon closer examination, it doesn't seem to be so heavy as to be immeasurable.

After all, it was already a done deal that Xianglan was filling in for someone else at the factory; Tang Jianhong was just helping her secure a better position.

This favor was not enough for him to use the precious rhinoceros horn, bezoar, and other medicinal materials in his personal refrigerator to repay the debt—that would be too much, and would seem deliberately distant, and might even attract unnecessary suspicion and trouble.

After weighing his options, Yang Guangming chose to visit the Tang family again on a Sunday morning.

He carried a slightly worn military green canvas bag containing two tubes of top-grade "pre-Qingming Longjing tea," two bottles of clear peanut oil, and two kilograms of high-end cookies in a cardboard box.

In Shanghai in the early 1970s, these items were considered quite respectable, even somewhat luxurious, as a thank-you gift.

Deep inside the canvas bag, he had also specially prepared a pound of something wrapped tightly in thick kraft paper—it was a large block of imported chocolate!
In an era of scarcity, this was undoubtedly a rare find.

Of course, Yang Guangming knew in his heart that these physical objects were merely a means to express his gratitude.

What truly mattered to Tang Jianhong was the promise he was about to make.

After taking their seats, Yang Guangming spoke earnestly, "Uncle Tang, we are so grateful for your great help in helping my eldest sister this time. Our whole family will remember this kindness."

I also told my relatives in detail about how much help you had given me.

The relative was very grateful and specifically asked me to pass on a message: "If you ever need more rhinoceros horn in the future, cash is sufficient for the transaction; no receipts or vouchers are necessary."

He paused briefly, noticing a fleeting glint in Tang Jianhong's eyes, before adding clearly and solemnly, "Moreover, as long as the weight of the next transaction does not exceed ten grams, I can agree on behalf of my relative and try my best to meet your needs."

This was just a verbal promise, without any written proof. But Tang Jianhong knew perfectly well that the value of this return gift far exceeded the combined value of all the tea, biscuits, and chocolates piled on the table.

In this day and age, top-quality Sumatran rhinoceros horn slices are extremely rare; they are truly a life-saving medicine that is priceless and unavailable.

For acute and strange illnesses that Western medicine is helpless against, rhinoceros horn tablets are often the only medicine that can keep patients alive if they are effective.

He might not need it at home for the time being, but among his relatives, friends, superiors, and colleagues, someone might suddenly be desperate and come to him for help.

At that time, Yang Guangming's promise today about "cash transactions within ten grams" will be the key to gaining immense favor and opening up crucial connections!
Tang Jianhong felt as comforted as if he had drunk a small cup of warm Shaoxing rice wine, and his whole body felt relaxed.

But a feigned displeasure quickly appeared on his face, and he waved his hands repeatedly:

"Guangming! What are you doing! You're being too polite! Xianglan's matter is something I should do! Your older sister is so young and already... it must be so hard for her to raise two children alone. I should help her if I can!"
Do we really need this between us?

"You're giving me gifts and making promises, where am I supposed to put my face?"

His tone was unusually firm, "No, no! You must take your things back! And that promise is absolutely out of the question! We're all on the same side, talking about these things will only create distance!"

Yang Guangming knew this was just a polite way of declining, but he smiled and insisted:
"Uncle Tang, if you don't accept this small token of my appreciation, that would be a real slap in my face, and I wouldn't be able to face my relatives when I get back."

My relatives are genuinely grateful for your help. If you refuse even this small token of appreciation, then you don't want to be my friend anymore.

After several sincere refusals, Tang Jianhong finally "reluctantly" accepted the gifts, and tacitly agreed to the promise about the rhinoceros horn, his smile becoming much more genuine.

Yang Guangming originally planned to treat Tang Jianhong to a meal at the "Gongnong Restaurant" outside to properly thank him.

He had already made arrangements in advance with Wei Hongyu, the head of the housing management department at Hongxing Factory, with whom he had a good relationship, so that the three of them could get together at noon and make a proper appearance.

At this moment, Tang Jianhong was very satisfied with the promise made by Yang Guangming. In addition, he felt that this young man was calm and composed and had extremely strong personal abilities. Therefore, he wanted to further deepen their personal relationship and enthusiastically suggested that they eat at home.

"Guangming, why go out to eat at a restaurant? It's expensive and noisy! Let's just stay at home, have your aunt cook some home-style dishes, we're all family, have a few drinks, chat, it'll be so much more comfortable!"

"No restaurant food can compare to the comforting taste of home-cooked meals."

Without further ado, he made the decision: "It's settled then! I'll give Lao Wei a call, he'll definitely be happy!"

Sure enough, not long after, Wei Hongyu arrived at the Tang family's house carrying a bottle of his treasured Moutai liquor.

Upon hearing Tang Jianhong's arrangement, she immediately smiled and agreed: "Old Tang is right! Home is great! Quiet! Comfortable! Bright! Today, I'll give Aunt Zhai's cooking a good taste; I guarantee it's just as good as a restaurant!"

Seeing that he couldn't refuse such a kind offer, Yang Guangming smiled and agreed.

Tang Jianhong's wife, Zhai Cuilan, was clearly prepared, and she busied herself quickly in the kitchen.

Before long, several home-style dishes were served on the small square table: a plate of crystal shrimp, each one translucent; a dish of braised ribbonfish, its sauce rich and tempting; a bowl of braised pork belly, glistening with oil; accompanied by fresh stir-fried bok choy, crisp cold jellyfish salad, and a dish of golden and crispy fried peanuts.

Although it lacks the grandeur of a restaurant, it is homey and cozy, with a delightful aroma.

Zhai Cuilan's skills were indeed excellent, earning unanimous praise from Wei Hongyu and Yang Guangming.

The unique, mellow aroma of Moutai liquor filled the small living room.

The three sat around the table, toasting and exchanging drinks.

The conversation started with amusing anecdotes from the factory, then drifted to embarrassing stories from their own youth when they were sent to the countryside or apprentices, and finally to the future and their personal plans.

With fine wine and delicious food, a shared circle of friends, and the fact that Tang Jianhong and Wei Hongyu were already close old friends, the family dinner was exceptionally harmonious.

After several rounds of drinks and several dishes, the initial somewhat utilitarian purpose between them seemed to have faded considerably, and a genuine sense of warm friendship and camaraderie among friends emerged.

Yang Guangming understood that through this period of contact and mutual assistance, an invisible yet resilient network of relationships had been quietly woven between him and Tang Jianhong and Wei Hongyu, two powerful figures.

This family dinner was well worth it.

……

The days flowed slowly in the courtyard of the Shikumen, like the water drawn from the old well deep in the alley, calm and still.

Yang Xianglan has been staying at her parents' home for more than a month.

For the first few days, she was as if her soul had been taken away, immersed in immense grief, in a daze, and only supported by her mother Zhang Xiuying and sister-in-law Li Guihua who stayed by her side every step of the way.

Perhaps the blow came too suddenly and too heavily, or perhaps her spirit collapsed suddenly after a long period of tension. Just two days after she moved in, her milk stopped without warning.

Looking at her son Amao, whose face was red from hunger and who was crying loudly in his swaddling clothes, she was so anxious that her heart was breaking and tears streamed down her face. A huge sense of helplessness overwhelmed her like an icy tide, and a deeper layer of panic was added to her despair.

Fortunately, my younger brother, Yang Guangming, somehow managed to get his hands on some baby formula.

The milk powder was packaged in a heavy can, which was undoubtedly an extremely rare item in Shanghai in the early 1970s.

Thanks to these milk powders, Amao didn't go hungry.

The family breathed a sigh of relief, and Zhang Xiuying praised Yang Guangming repeatedly, saying that he "had connections" and "was capable."

In order to help Xianglan recover as soon as possible and resume breastfeeding, the family followed the advice of an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor and tried every means to increase her nutrition.

I don't know how many troubles my father, Yang Yongkang, and my elder brother, Yang Guanghui, went through or what price they paid, but every now and then, a plucked old hen, a shiny pig's trotter, or even a few lively crucian carp would appear in the kitchen.

The cramped kitchen often wafted with the rich aroma of stewing soup, mixed with the distinctive smell of the coal stove, attracting the neighbor's children to peek out from behind the door frame.

The mother-in-law, Wang, soon received the news and, worried that her beloved grandson was going hungry, her eldest daughter, Wang Jinhuan, accompanied her to the Yang family several times over the course of the month.

Each time he came, he carried a small cloth bag containing several packets of precious brown sugar, a basket of eggs he had saved up, and two cans of malted milk powder, which was considered a high-end nutritional product at the time.

Holding the noticeably thinner Amao, Wang felt heartbroken and tears streamed down her face. She repeatedly told Xianglan to "relax" and "take good care of herself."

She looked at Xianglan's haggard and pale face, then at the steaming stew pot in the Yang family's kitchen, her eyes filled with gratitude and a complex emotion that was hard to describe.

Perhaps it was the gradual effect of these rare nutritional supplements, or perhaps it was the most effective medicine of time that allowed her tense nerves to relax a little. Just a few days ago, Xianglan was pleasantly surprised to find that her long-lost breast milk was gradually returning.

Although it's not as plentiful as before, the milk powder mixed in is enough to feed Amao.

Once she recovered, Xianglan felt she had stayed at her parents' home for too long.

A strange sense of anxiety and unease began to grip her.

She began to suggest to her mother, Zhang Xiuying, that she wanted to go back to her husband's family home.

"Mom, I have breast milk now, and I feel much better. Staying at my parents' house for so long isn't right."

Honghong and Amao also miss their grandma.

"Over there... someone needs to stay home too."

When Xianglan said this, her tone was cautious and tentative, with a hint of barely perceptible guilt.

She felt like a soldier deserting his post, leaving her parents-in-law, who were still grieving the loss of their son, alone in that Shikumen house filled with the atmosphere of the founding of the army and also with sad memories.

But every time she brought it up, Zhang Xiuying flatly refused.

"What's the rush! You've just gotten a little better, and you want to go back and suffer?"

Your mother-in-law is taking care of things over there, the sky won't fall down!

Just stay home and rest, make sure A-Mao has enough breast milk before we talk about anything else! Listen to your mother!

Zhang Xiuying's attitude was exceptionally firm, sometimes even bordering on unquestionable toughness.

Xianglan had a vague feeling that something was wrong. Her mother's reaction seemed to go beyond simple concern for her health, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She could only attribute it to her mother's excessive concern for her, fearing that if she went back and saw things that reminded her of her father, she would hurt herself again.

She began working in the union mutual aid coordination group.

The office is on the third floor. It's bright and clean, and compared to the deafening noise and pervasive smell of machine oil in the workshop, it's quiet and somewhat spacious.

Her job mainly involves registering the difficulties faced by employees, organizing materials, and occasionally accompanying the team leader to visit and offer condolences to employees facing particular hardship.

Most of her colleagues were older women or family members of government officials. They spoke softly and were quite polite to her, the new young woman who had just lost her husband. However, their eyes always held a hint of sympathy and curiosity.

Xianglan tried her best to adapt, learning to write neatly with a fountain pen in the thick register, and listening to the stories of those whose families were in even more difficult circumstances than hers. The heavy sadness in her heart seemed to be squeezed into a corner amidst the busy and specific tasks, and she gained a temporary respite.

That afternoon, she was returning home from get off work. Just as she reached the familiar black lacquered gate of her Shikumen house and was about to push it open, she heard her neighbors, Granny Chen and Mrs. Feng, speaking in hushed tones from the courtyard.

She came back early today. The alley was unusually quiet in the evening. Although they tried to keep their voices down, they still reached Xianglan's ears clearly outside the door.

"Sooyoung is a woman of her own mind."

This was Granny Chen's unique, hoarse voice, tinged with sighs, "Right after Jianjun's burial, they insisted on taking Xianglan back to her parents' home. It's been over a month now, and judging from Xiuying's attitude, she still doesn't plan to let her go back."

"you do not say."

Mrs. Feng immediately chimed in, her voice carrying the sighs and understanding of someone with experience: "Xiuying is quite decisive in her actions, and she is truly admirable."

She's keeping an eye on Grandma Xianglan's side!
Think about it, although we haven't met Grandma Xianglan many times, we've heard Guihua and the others talk about her, and we know that she's the kind of person who treats her grandson like the apple of her eye and Xianglan like a tool for having grandsons.

With Jianjun gone, Amao is now the only son and lifeline of the Wang family!
Could she just stand by and watch Xianglan remarry into another family, taking her Wang family lineage with her?

At that point, they'll probably wail and threaten suicide to stop her! Using filial piety to pressure her, using Amao as leverage—with Xianglan's soft heart and strong sense of loyalty, can she withstand it?

"Ugh."

Grandma Chen sighed deeply, her voice full of helplessness, "It's so hard. Xianglan is only twenty-five, in the prime of her life, how can she be a widow for the rest of her life?"
Yes, she now has a son and a daughter, and a decent job. Once her children grow up, she will be able to make a living.

But we've all been through this. The hardest part of a widow's life isn't poverty, it's the gossip behind her back and the malicious eyes watching her!

The old saying, "There's always gossip around a widow's door," is absolutely true, especially since Xianglan is quite pretty...

Those gossipy spittle, those random knocks on the door in the middle of the night, those roadblocks—they can drive a person insane!

"Who says it isn't?"

Mrs. Feng's tone also lowered, filled with deep worry, "There's a similar case on my family's side. Her husband died in a factory accident, leaving behind a three-year-old child."

At the beginning, she gritted her teeth and said she wouldn't get married and would stay with the child.

And what happened? She didn't even last three years! The gossip around her was like knives, and there were even scoundrels knocking on her door in the middle of the night... In the end, she couldn't take it anymore, so she hastily found someone to marry and her life was... sigh, let's not talk about it.

Xianglan is a kind and loyal girl, and she must still have Jianjun in her heart. If she were to remarry now, she would be extremely unwilling.

But once she truly experiences that suffering, she might not have any control over her anymore…

Yang Xianglan, who was outside the door, felt a sudden chill rise from the soles of her feet and instantly rush to the top of her head, freezing her limbs and bones.

She stood rooted to the spot like a piece of wood, her hands and feet were ice-cold, her ears were ringing, and her blood seemed to have frozen.

She didn't hear a word of what Granny Chen and Mrs. Feng said after that.

That's it!

No wonder her family did everything they could to prevent her from returning to her husband's family!
No wonder Mom was so firm and wouldn't budge an inch!
It turns out that her parents brought her back and tried so hard to keep her for so long not so that she could recuperate in peace, but to clear obstacles for her future... for her possible remarriage!

They were afraid that she would be trapped by her in-laws, by so-called responsibilities, and by that environment filled with the atmosphere of the military construction, and that even if she wanted to leave in the future, she would not be able to break free!

A tremendous shock and a sense of injustice at being kept in the dark by her loved ones gripped her heart like a cold hand, suffocating her to the point of almost being unable to breathe.

She never considered remarrying! Not even once!

Jianjun's figure still moves so clearly before my eyes, and his voice still seems to echo in my ears.

If it weren't for Amao, this son who carries the blood of both her and Jianjun, perhaps under immense pressure, she would eventually have considered taking a step forward. But now, she has a son!

Amao is her root, the continuation of Jianjun, and her only hope for the future!
She wants to protect her son, her daughter Honghong, and this home that bears the marks of Jianjun's founding; life can go on as usual!
Why did she remarry? Why did she make Honghong and Amao call someone else "Dad"? In a new family without blood ties, how could the two children not suffer?
Emotionally, she simply couldn't accept it.

The bed Jianjun slept on, the enamel mug he used, the work clothes he left behind... every item in the house carries his presence.

She can't forget him, and she doesn't want to forget him.

She wanted to stay with their child and their home. This thought took root in her heart and remained unwavering.

"Wah—!" Ah Mao, whom Mrs. Feng was holding, woke up at some point. He was probably hungry, because his little mouth twitched and he cried loudly.

The chatter in the courtyard abruptly ceased.

Li Guihua and Yang Xianglan are both working now, and their three children—Zhuangzhuang, Honghong, and Amao—are still young.

While they were at work, the child was temporarily entrusted to the care of Mrs. Feng, the kind-hearted teacher next door.

The Yang family originally planned to give her some money every month as a reward, but Mrs. Feng firmly refused to accept it, saying that it was only right for neighbors to lend a helping hand.

The Yang family didn't insist, but they would send them more things every month. Sometimes it was a bar of soap, sometimes it was a scrap of cloth exchanged for a few feet of cloth coupons, and sometimes it was work gloves issued by the factory, as a token of their goodwill.

Of course, the Yang family will also be responsible for the children's meals, and they will only provide more, not less.

Yang Xianglan took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing her turbulent emotions, and tried to restore a calm expression to her face. Pretending that she hadn't heard anything, she casually raised her hand, pushed open the heavy black lacquered door, and stepped into the narrow courtyard of the Shikumen.

The coolness of the bluestone pavement seeped through the thin soles of my cloth shoes.

"Hey, Xianglan's off work? Amao just woke up, he's probably hungry."

Mrs. Feng quickly handed over A Mao, who was still sobbing, her face showing obvious unease and her eyes darting away.

Grandma Chen smiled sheepishly, lowered her head, and pretended to be focused on sorting the salted vegetables drying in the winnowing basket.

"Hmm, I guess they're hungry."

Xianglan's voice sounded relatively calm. She lovingly took the baby from her, unbuttoned her coat, sat on the small bamboo chair, and began to breastfeed.

Amao found a familiar source of warmth, immediately stopped crying, and began to suckle eagerly.

She lowered her head, her gaze falling on the top of her son's soft hair, but her heart was like a boiling pot of porridge, churning endlessly. Every word she had just heard felt like a needle piercing her heart.

Back in that crowded but familiar front building, Xianglan handed over Amao, who had fallen into a deep sleep after eating, to her mother Zhang Xiuying, who came to greet her. Xianglan sat by her small bed against the wall, watching her mother skillfully pat the child and humming an off-key lullaby. Her heart was in turmoil.

As dusk settled outside the window, the aroma of stir-fries and the clanging of spatulas from every household inside the shikumen (stone-framed gate) began to fill the air. She needed to think carefully about how to confront her parents.

Her decision will not change; she must move back to her in-laws' house.

The next day happened to be Sunday. In the morning, Yang Guangming returned to the Shikumen with a can of milk powder.

He sensed something was off as soon as he stepped into the house.

Father Yang Yongkang sat on a small stool, smoking silently, the pungent smell of cheap tobacco filling the small room.

The eldest brother, Yang Guanghui, sat to one side with his son, Zhuangzhuang, in his arms, also silent and with a solemn expression.

Mother Zhang Xiuying paced around the room, holding Amao in her arms, gently swaying her body, her eyes somewhat unfocused.

Meanwhile, her older sister, Yang Xianglan, sat on a small stool, head down, silently combing her daughter Honghong's hair with somewhat mechanical movements that revealed a stubbornness.

The air in the room seemed to freeze, with only the occasional babbling of Ah Mao and the soft sound of a comb running through his red hair.

"Dad, Mom, Big Brother, Sister," Yang Guangming greeted them as he placed the milk powder on the dresser.

The can of milk powder stood out conspicuously on the cluttered table.

"Mingming is here." Zhang Xiuying looked up and responded, her voice filled with undisguised exhaustion.

Yang Yongkang merely lifted his eyelids from the swirling smoke, gave a deep "hmm," and then lowered his head again.

Yang Guangming keenly sensed the tense atmosphere in the house and looked directly at his sister.

Yang Xianglan raised her head, her eyes were a little red and swollen, but her gaze was unusually firm, like two stones that had been tempered.

She stopped combing Honghong's hair, put the comb aside, and gently patted her daughter's shoulder: "Honghong, be good, go play in the courtyard for a while, Mommy has something to talk to Grandpa and Grandma about."

Honghong obediently said "Oh," and went down the creaking wooden stairs to the courtyard, where she squatted down by the wall to watch the ants move their house.

Only the parents, Yang Guanghui, Yang Guangming, and Yang Xianglan remained in the house.

Yang Guangming pulled over a small stool and sat down.

Yang Xianglan took a deep breath, as if she had made up her mind, and spoke. Her voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable clarity and strength: "Dad, Mom, I... still want to move back to my in-laws' house. We'll move today."

Zhang Xiuying tightened her grip on Amao's hand and immediately retorted, "You're bringing this up again! Didn't I say we should stay a few more days? You're not fully recovered yet, and Amao's milk..."

"Mom!" Yang Xianglan interrupted her mother, her voice suddenly rising, filled with suppressed emotions, "I'm all better now! My milk supply is back to normal! I've been staying at my parents' house for over a month! Long enough!"

Seeing the sudden change in her parents' expressions, she steeled herself and made her point completely:
“I know you mean well. I know everything! You brought me back and won’t let me go back because you’re afraid that if I want to remarry in the future, I’ll be held back by my in-laws and tied down by Amao, and I won’t be able to leave, right?”

Yang Yongkang's fingers, which were holding the cigarette, suddenly trembled, and a long piece of ash fell down and landed on his old cloth shoes.

Zhang Xiuying's face changed instantly, and she tightened her grip on A Mao. "Xianglan...you...who are you listening to...Mom isn't..."

"Nobody's lying!"

Yang Xianglan finally couldn't hold back her tears, her voice choked with sobs, yet unusually resolute, as if she were making a vow, "I heard it myself! I understand it all!"
But I'm telling you this right now: I, Yang Xianglan, will never marry again in this lifetime!
I will never forget Jianjun! Not even for a day! Honghong and Amao are my life! I will never let them call anyone else "Dad"! I will never let them live a life of subservience in someone else's home!
I have a job, I can support them! I'll stay in the Wang family home, guard Jianjun's memorial tablet, and look after our children, and live out my life there!

Her words were like heavy stones crashing into the small room, bringing tears to Zhang Xiuying's eyes, causing Yang Yongkang to lower his head in silence, and making Yang Guangming's heart feel heavy, as if weighed down by a piece of lead.

"Mom, my mother-in-law has already subtly urged me several times. What would it look like if I didn't go back?"

Jianjun is gone. If I continue to live with my parents and take the child to my parents' house for an extended period, what will outsiders say? What will my mother-in-law think?
That's still my home!

Xianglan wiped away her tears, her tone pleading yet unwavering in its resolve.

Zhang Xiuying hugged Amao, crying so hard she couldn't speak, only shaking her head repeatedly.

Amao in her arms seemed to sense the tense and stagnant atmosphere, and began to squirm restlessly, her little mouth pouting as if she was about to cry.

Yang Yongkang took a deep drag of his cigarette, as if inhaling all his frustrations, and then forcefully stubbed it out in the old enamel mug that was used as an ashtray next to him, making a soft "sizzle" sound.

He looked up at his daughter, his bloodshot eyes filled with deep heartache, unspeakable helplessness, and profound weariness.

"Xianglan." His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed against the ground. "Your parents are doing this for your own good, thinking about your future. You're still young, and the road ahead is long. Raising two children alone is too difficult. As for the Wang family... sigh!"

He sighed heavily, as if he had used up all his strength. "Your mother-in-law dotes on her grandson more than her own life! If you go back now, she'll definitely keep a close eye on Amao. In the future... if you ever want to move forward, it'll be difficult! Harder than climbing to heaven!"

"Dad, I know you mean well."

Xianglan's tears welled up again, sliding down her pale cheeks, but her eyes remained stubborn, like grass growing in the cracks of rocks.

“But this is my path, and I have to choose how to walk it. I’m not afraid of difficulties! No matter how difficult it is, with Honghong and Amao by my side, I can get through it! I’ve made up my mind, I’m going back today.”

Her voice wasn't loud, but it pierced everyone's ears like a nail, carrying a resolute determination.

No matter how earnestly Yang Yongkang and Zhang Xiuying tried to persuade her, how they described the difficulties of raising a child alone in the future, how they talked about the hardships of widows under the world's gaze, and the invisible pressure of public opinion, Yang Xianglan just bit her bloodless lower lip, stubbornly shook her head, her eyes empty yet firm.

Yang Guanghui tried to persuade his father several times, but seeing his father's furrowed brows and his sister's stubborn and unyielding attitude, he could only sigh heavily and swallow his words.

Parents' advice is just advice; ultimately, Yang Xianglan has to make her own decisions about this long and arduous journey of life.

Her mind was as firm as a rock, unshakeable.

The stalemate lasted for a long time, and the atmosphere in the room was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe. The only sounds were Zhang Xiuying's suppressed sobs and A Mao's occasional humming.

Zhang Xiuying held Amao in her arms, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

Yang Yongkang lit another cigarette. Amidst the swirling smoke, he let out a heavy, long sigh, a sigh filled with helplessness and a weariness of being defeated by his daughter's stubbornness.

Seeing his daughter's resolute expression, he knew that saying anything more would be futile and would only make things worse for both of them.

"That's all."

Yang Yongkang finally waved his hand, his voice utterly exhausted, as if all his energy had been drained away, making him look several years older. "Your own path... you choose for yourself. If you want to go back... then go back."

After he finished speaking, he turned his back and stopped looking at his daughter, leaving only a hunched and silent figure.

Zhang Xiuying wanted to say something, her lips moved, but she was silently stopped by Yang Yongkang's tired back.

She hugged Amao tightly in her arms, as if he were her only support at that moment, and her tears flowed even more fiercely, dripping onto Amao's small blanket.

Yang Guangming watched quietly from the side, his heart filled with mixed feelings.

He understood his sister's temperament; she was gentle on the outside but strong on the inside, and once she made up her mind, nothing could sway her. In the end, the father chose to compromise, perhaps out of helplessness in the face of reality, or perhaps as a final act of silent respect for his daughter's choice.

"Sis, have you packed your things? I'll take you." Yang Guangming broke the suffocating silence.

Yang Xianglan nodded, forcefully wiped away the tears on her face, stood up, and began to silently pack her own and her two children's clothes and belongings.

She took out several neatly folded changes of clothes from the dresser and pulled out a worn canvas travel bag from under the bed.

Her movements were swift and decisive, with a sense of resolute determination. The small bundle and travel bag were packed quickly; there wasn't much stuff in them, as she had only bought a handful of clothes during her month-long stay at her parents' home.

Xianglan held Amao in one arm and Honghong by the other, with a bundle slung over her back. Yang Guangming carried a net bag containing a few of Honghong's toys and a change of clothes, as well as a slightly empty travel bag.

"Dad, Mom, Big Brother, I...I'm leaving." Xianglan stood at the door, her voice a little hoarse. Honghong clung tightly to her mother's legs, her little face tilted up, her big eyes filled with confusion and unease.

Zhang Xiuying put Amao down, her eyes red, and stepped forward, wanting to touch Amao's little face, but she pulled her hand back halfway, and in the end could only choke out her words of advice:

"Go back... live a good life... bring the children back to visit often..."

She turned to Honghong, forced a smile, and patted her granddaughter's braids. "Honghong, be good, listen to Mommy and listen to Grandma."

Yang Yongkang remained with his back to the door, his shoulders slightly hunched. He didn't turn around, but simply gave a muffled "hmm".

Standing behind his father, Yang Guanghui nodded to his sister with a complicated expression, wanting to say something to comfort or advise her, but in the end he could only manage a dry, "Let me know if you need anything."

Li Guihua carried Zhuangzhuang and saw them off at the courtyard entrance: "Xianglan, take care on the way. If you need any help, just let us know." Zhuangzhuang twisted in his mother's arms and waved his little hand at Honghong.

Stepping out of the familiar Shikumen gate, the afternoon sun in the alley was a bit dazzling.

Xianglan carried Amao, her steps heavy, as if filled with lead. Yang Guangming carried things and walked silently beside his sister.

Honghong seemed to sense the atmosphere of parting and her mother's silence. She held her mother's hand tightly, her usual liveliness gone, and she appeared unusually quiet.

The siblings barely spoke the rest of the way.

Xianglan stared blankly at the familiar street ahead: faded slogans remained on the dusty walls, the occasional tram clattered as it passed by, and pedestrians in blue-gray overalls or patched clothes hurried by...

All these familiar scenes were now shrouded in a gloomy hue in her eyes.

Her thoughts drifted off to who knows where, perhaps to Jianjun's departing figure, or perhaps to her mother-in-law's earnest gaze upon Amao.

Looking at his sister's thin profile and tightly pursed, bloodless lips, Yang Guangming knew that a huge wave was churning in her heart. That heavy decision was like a boulder pressing on her heart, silencing all words of comfort.

He simply followed silently, helping her carry the weight of her luggage.

As Xianglan walked to the outside of the Shikumen gate where the Wang family lived, she involuntarily paused for a moment.

She looked up at the equally mottled black lacquered wooden door, its knocker gleaming dimly in the sunlight.

She took a deep breath, as if drawing courage, before raising her hand to knock on the door knocker.

"Tuk-tuk-tuk."

Wang Yinhuan opened the door.

When she saw Xianglan and the two children outside the door, she was first taken aback, then her face lit up with immense joy:

"Xianglan! You're back! Come in, come in! Mom! Mom! Xianglan is back! She's back with Honghong and Amao!"

Her voice carried a joyful relief, sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet alleyway.

Upon hearing the sound, Wang hurried out of the inner room, carrying an old garment that was being mended.

Seeing Xianglan and Amao in her arms, her eyes immediately welled up with tears. She rushed forward, almost snatching Amao from Xianglan's arms, and held him tightly in her embrace. Her face was pressed against her grandson's warm little cheek, and her voice was trembling with sobs.

"Ah Mao! Grandma's precious darling! I've missed you so much! It's so good to be back! It's so good to be back!"

She kissed Amao again and again with affection, carefully examining her grandson's face, as if to confirm whether he had really gained weight and whether he still recognized his grandmother.

After a long period of intimacy, Wang finally turned her gaze to Xianglan, her face beaming with a genuine smile, tinged with a sense of relief.

"Xianglan, you're finally back! I can finally put my mind at ease!"

Is everything alright at your parents' home?

"It's good that I have enough breast milk! Amao looks a bit chubby, but he's got a lot of energy."

Her gaze swept over Yang Guangming behind Xianglan, and she greeted him warmly, "Guangming's here too! Come in and sit down! Perfect timing, the grocery store had meat today, so I bought some. We'll have lunch at home! I'll have Yinhuan go buy some vegetables to add to the meal!"

As she spoke, she hugged Amao and ushered them into the house, as if afraid they would leave.

Wang's joy and enthusiasm were genuine.

Xianglan stayed at her parents' home for a month. If it weren't for the fact that she didn't have enough breast milk and needed her parents' home to find a way to supplement her nutrition, she would have sent Jinhuan and Yinhuan to pick her up long ago.

During that month, she was constantly on edge, afraid that her daughter-in-law would become unruly if she stayed at her parents' house for too long, or that her family would instigate her to have other ideas.

She had even planned that if Xianglan didn't return next week, she would personally take her eldest daughter, Wang Jinhuan, with some things to "check things out" at the Yang family's shikumen, to find out the truth and also to give them a heads-up.

Now that she saw Xianglan return with her two children, Wang's heart finally settled down, and a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders.

My daughter-in-law is back, and my grandson is back too. This house finally feels like a home again.

As for why Xianglan stayed for so long before returning? As long as she's back and the child is alright, none of that matters anymore.

This at least shows that Xianglan still cares about her family and children, and has no other thoughts.

"Aunt Wang, no need to trouble yourself." Yang Guangming placed the net bag and travel bag on the stool by the door, his tone calm. "I'm just bringing my sister and child back. I have some things to take care of at home, so I have to rush back. I won't be eating."

"Oh dear, we're already at your doorstep, how can you leave without eating? No matter how busy you are, a meal won't make a difference!" Wang Shi held onto A Mao tightly, trying her best to persuade him to stay. "Sit down and rest, have some water! Yin Huan, pour some water! Use that glass!"

Unable to refuse, Yang Guangming sat down in the old rattan chair in the main room.

The furnishings in the main room were not much different from a month ago, except that it looked even more deserted.

Wang Jianjun's portrait still hangs in the most conspicuous position on the wall, the frame wiped spotless, the smile in the photo honest and simple, silently watching over this family.

Wang Yinhuan deftly poured him a glass of plain water and handed it to him.

Wang Shi sat on the opposite stool, holding Amao in her arms, and lovingly teased her grandson. She kept asking Xianglan about her situation at her parents' home, how her health was, whether she had enough breast milk, and whether Honghong was fussing.

Xianglan held Honghong in her arms and sat on another stool, simply replying with "All is well," "Not bad," and "No trouble." She looked somewhat tired and distant, her gaze occasionally sweeping over Jianjun's photo on the wall.

Yang Guangming silently drank his water, his gaze calmly sweeping over the familiar main room.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to have less of the heart-wrenching sorrow compared to a month ago, and more of a heavy, resigned silence.

The spider plant on the windowsill, which had been somewhat wilted, seemed to have unfurled its leaves, revealing a tenacious green hue.

After finishing his glass of water, Yang Guangming put down the glass, stood up, and said, "Auntie, Sister, I really have to go. I still have some things to take care of at home." He glanced at the wall clock.

Seeing that she couldn't keep him any longer, Wang stopped insisting, carried Amao to the door, and thanked her repeatedly.
"Guangming, thank you for your hard work! You've come all this way! Please give my regards to your parents when you get back! Tell them not to worry, Xianglan and the children are here, I'm here to take care of them!"

Her tone carried a sense of assertive sovereignty, as if making a promise or emphasizing ownership.

"Okay, Aunt Wang, please wait a moment." Yang Guangming nodded, then glanced at his sister Xianglan, who was standing to the side holding Honghong.

Xianglan looked at him with a complex expression, a mixture of gratitude, deep weariness, a hint of bewilderment, and a resolute determination.

"Sister, I'm leaving. If there's anything I need... just ask someone to pass on a message," Yang Guangming said softly.

"Okay, drive carefully." Xianglan's voice was very soft, with a slight, almost imperceptible hoarseness.

Yang Guangming turned around and strode out of the narrow courtyard of the Wang family's stone gate.

Behind them came Wang's cheerful voice as she teased Amao: "Oh my dear grandson, I've missed you so much!"

The heavy, black lacquered door slowly closed behind him with a creak, shutting out all sounds from inside.

He walked out of the alleyway; the afternoon sun was still quite dazzling, making him squint.

He stopped and glanced back at the two tightly closed black doors, knowing that the path his sister had chosen was fraught with thorns and had only just begun.

Behind that door lie her beloved children, her unforgettable past, and the storms of the future she is determined to face alone.

(End of this chapter)