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

Chapter 171, Section 170: The News Spreads, Public Opinion Accuses, Xianglan's Changes, and Her Visit to Apologize.
Life is like water in a deep well; the surface is calm, but the flow beneath is unpredictable.

Yang Xianglan stayed at her parents' home.

Her father, Yang Yongkang, had spoken so powerfully in public that day, as if an invisible wall had been erected around her, separating her from the outside world's disturbances and temporarily blocking her way back to her husband's family.

Yang Xianglan's mind was in turmoil, like a ball of yarn that had been scratched by a cat, and she couldn't make sense of it.

Her feelings of heartbreak and resentment towards her mother-in-law, Wang, were genuine, as were her feelings of reluctance and longing for her deceased husband, Jianjun.

She instinctively resisted her father's suggestion of "remarrying in the future." Just thinking about it made her heart ache as if it were being pricked by needles. It felt like a betrayal of Jianjun, a denial of her past deep affection.

But how could she not feel the deep love hidden beneath her father's tough attitude? His words, "We're not jumping into that fire pit of the Wang family," were like a warm stove handed to her in the cold winter, burning her heart and making her eyes well up with tears.

She no longer mentioned going back to her in-laws' house. Every day after get off work, she would quietly help her mother, Zhang Xiuying, with housework and take care of Honghong and Amao. Feeding, changing diapers, putting them to sleep, washing and cleaning. Her movements were mechanical, her eyes often vacant, staring at a certain place, motionless for long periods.

Seeing her daughter's distraught state, Zhang Xiuying felt a pang of heartache, but dared not offer any further words of comfort.

The old man has already shown the way clearly; all that's left is to rely on time, like a slow medicine, to gradually melt away the knot in his daughter's heart.

The courtyards of Shikumen houses still witness the daily bustle of everyday life.

The taps gurgled as housewives washed vegetables and clothes, exchanging limited information about ration coupons and gossiping about everyday matters. The men smoked cheap cigarettes, discussing factory production targets and the occasional international news they'd overheard. Children chased and played around their legs, their laughter ringing out.

However, whenever the Yang family members appeared, especially when Xianglan carried Amao out, the laughter and chatter in the courtyard would subconsciously decrease.

The neighbors' gazes became complex, a mixture of sympathy, curiosity, inquiry, and a barely perceptible watchfulness. They tacitly stopped mentioning the Wang family and stopped asking when Xianglan would return, but that silent concern permeated the air.

When Aunt Chen was washing clothes, she would sigh, "Xianglan's complexion is still not good, sigh."

He Caiyun picked through the vegetables, her voice low: "You bet it's heartbreaking to see. Uncle Yang's words that day really hit the nail on the head. Old Mrs. Wang's actions were so dishonest."

Mr. Feng was repairing his old radio. Occasionally he would look up, shake his head, and then bury himself back down.

Yang Guangming goes to get off work and comes home as usual. The factory director's secretary has a lot of work to do and is always busy.

He increased the frequency of his visits to the Shikumen, staying at home for one night every one or two days.

Every time he returned home, he would pay attention to his sister's condition and exchange a knowing glance with his father.

Yang Yongkang remained silent, sitting in his bamboo chair, fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan, his gaze fixed intently on everything in the courtyard. He was the pillar of this family, and after that day's declaration, he had become even more composed, as if patiently awaiting a storm he had long anticipated.

Days passed by, peacefully yet strangely so.

A week has passed in the blink of an eye. Sunday has arrived again.

For the past week, there has been no movement from the Wang family. No one has come to visit, no one has delivered a message, and there hasn't even been a hint of probing. It's as if Xianglan taking her child back to her parents' home is the most ordinary thing in the world, as if the fierce conflict had never happened.

But this silence, like the low pressure before a storm, makes one feel inexplicably heavy-hearted.

Yang Yongkang was not in a hurry. He was certain that his words would not be ignored.

Indeed, the flow of words has its own channels and speed, like mercury spilling onto the ground, penetrating everywhere.

Inside the forging workshop of Dongfang Machinery Factory, the machines roared and the heat was oppressive.

Master Wang, dressed in sweat-stained overalls, operated the pneumatic hammer. The heavy hammerhead rose and fell, sending sparks flying from the red-hot forgings. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, etched deep into the wrinkles of his face.

The break time whistle blew. He turned off the machine, walked to the corner of the workshop, picked up his large tea mug, and gulped down several mouthfuls of cold tea.

Several familiar old coworkers gathered around and offered cigarettes. After being lit, the smoke rose in wisps through the noisy workshop.

"Old Wang, take a break." An old friend nudged him with his elbow. "How's things at home lately?" His tone was cautiously inquiring.

Master Wang took a drag of his cigarette and mumbled a "hmm".

Another coworker looked around and lowered his voice: "I heard... your daughter-in-law has been visiting her parents for a while now?"

Master Wang paused for a moment, holding the cigarette between his fingers, but didn't say anything.

The coworker sighed, "That Yang Yongkang from the Yang family, he seems quiet and unassuming, but I didn't expect him to be so tough. I heard he said in the courtyard that if your family can't accept Xianglan, she won't be allowed to go back. He's supporting his daughter in taking another step forward!"

“Yes, we heard about it too.” Someone chimed in. “They said that everything that belongs to the Wang family will be theirs, but the daughter has to be taken away. That’s quite a tough statement.”

"Old Wang, it's not that I'm being mean, but Jianjun is gone, and Xianglan is so young raising two kids, it's not easy. As for your family... sigh, some things were done a bit too hastily, and it hurt people's feelings. What's money compared to your daughter-in-law and grandchildren?"

His coworkers' words struck Wang's heart like tiny hammer blows. His face burned, as if something had been publicly exposed. The factory was small; the slightest disturbance quickly became public knowledge. Especially gossip about family matters—it spread the fastest.

He could only inhale deeply, the smoke choking him and causing him to cough a few times, deepening the wrinkles on his face as if they were carved by a knife.

What could he say? That his wife did the right thing? That he had to hold onto his daughter-in-law tightly now that his son was gone? He couldn't bring himself to say it.

But the frustration and helplessness in my heart weighed on me like a heavy lead weight.

The same words, through different channels, also found their way into the alley where the Wang family lived.

Wang Yinhuan, who often visits her parents' home, came out carrying a basin to pour water. Her neighbor, an older woman, asked casually, "Yinhuan, it's been a while since I've seen your sister-in-law bring her child back. Are you getting used to staying at your parents' home and want to stay a few more days?"

Another woman carrying a shopping basket chimed in, "Hey, speaking of which, Xianglan's father really dotes on his daughter. I heard he was furious, saying his daughter was being mistreated at her in-laws' house and wouldn't let her come back? He even wants to arrange a new marriage for her? Is that true?"

Wang Yinhuan was shy and blushed when asked the question. She stammered and couldn't say a coherent sentence. She hurriedly poured water, lowered her head, and quickly hid back in the house, her heart pounding.

Even someone as outspoken as Wang Jinhuan felt gossiped about behind her back these past few days while visiting her parents. When she went to the market, even familiar stall owners gave her strange looks. She forced herself to talk to them, but they only gave her perfunctory replies before quickly turning back to their work.

Rumors, like invisible threads, entangled every member of the Wang family, making them uneasy.

These words eventually converged in the somber atmosphere of the Wang family's main room.

When Mr. Wang returned home from get off work, his face was even more gloomy. He sat at the table, silently smoking without saying a word.

Wang Shi had lost the harshness and scheming she had shown in the past few days, and her face was filled with bewilderment and unease.

She thought she had her daughter-in-law's reluctance to remarry, which was why she dared to press her so hard, trying to firmly grasp the financial power. As long as Xianglan had no money or confidence, even if she had ideas, they couldn't escape her grasp.

To her utter surprise, her father-in-law, Yang Yongkang, was so adamant. Not only did he keep her daughter there, but he also publicly expressed his support for her remarriage. This completely threw her into disarray.

What upset her even more was that the neighbors' gossip clearly sided with the Yang family, accusing her, the mother-in-law, of being heartless and bullying a widow and her orphan. This made her lose face and start to panic.

"Mom, please say something!" Wang Jinhuan couldn't hold back any longer, her tone filled with resentment. "Now the rumors are spreading everywhere, saying that our family can't tolerate Xianglan, that she's cursed with bad luck and brought misfortune to her husband, and that she's gone back to her parents' home in anger. They're even saying that the Yang family is going to find her a new husband. These rumors are so awful."

Wang Yinhuan chimed in softly, "Yes, Mom, Amao is still over there. What if he really doesn't come back?" What she missed most was her chubby nephew.

Frustrated and upset, Wang slammed her hand on the table: "What can I do? Who knew that stubborn old man Yang Yongkang would say such a thing? He may not care about his reputation, but the Wang family does."

"What's the use of saying this now?" Master Wang finally spoke, his voice hoarse and tired. "I advised you not to go too far back then. Xianglan isn't that kind of person, but you wouldn't listen. You were always being egged on by Jinhuan and Yinhuan. Now look what's happened. You drove her away, and outsiders have said all sorts of good and bad things about her."

Wang Jinhuan was displeased: "Dad, what are you saying? Yinhuan and I were doing this for the family and for Amao. Who knew Xianglan's father would be such a scoundrel?"

"Enough!" Master Wang roared, interrupting his daughter, his chest heaving. "Say less. Now is the time to think of a solution, not to blame each other."

The main room fell silent, with only Master Wang's heavy breathing remaining.

After a long silence, Wang finally spoke timidly, with a hint of resentment and a last glimmer of hope: "Father, do you think the Yang family is just trying to scare us? Xianglan doesn't seem like the type to be so heartless as to remarry."

Master Wang glared at her: "Scare me? Is Yang Yongkang the kind of person who talks nonsense? He said it in front of so many old neighbors, so it's a done deal."

Xianglan isn't in the mood for that now, but what about later?

"After living at her parents' house for a long time, the environment changes, and with her parents and brothers constantly trying to persuade her, how could her mind not change over time?"

The more he talked, the more likely it seemed. "Besides, even if Xianglan is determined not to remarry, the Yang family can really let her stay indefinitely."

Yang Yongkang said he'd be happy to raise his daughter for life. He has the means to do so. But what about us? What about Amao? What about Honghong? Will she really become someone else's child?

These words struck Wang like a hammer blow. Her grandson was her greatest weakness, and also the source of her confidence in manipulating her daughter-in-law. But if she couldn't even see her grandson, then all her calculations would be in vain.

The thought that Amao might call someone else "Dad" or leave the Wang family for good filled Wang with a suffocating panic.

"Then, what should we do?" She was completely at a loss, her voice trembling. "We can't just let her take A-Mao away, can we? Then the Wang family line will be ruined..."

Wang Jinhuan interjected, "Why don't we go and bring Xianglan back? We can lower our heads and say a few kind words. After all, Honghong and Amao are surnamed Wang, and Yang Xianglan is also a daughter-in-law of our Wang family."

Wang Yinhuan hesitated: "If we go to pick them up now, will they be willing to come back? Last time things got so tense."

Master Wang sighed heavily: "We definitely have to go pick them up. Otherwise, if this drags on, the fake will become real. But we can't go empty-handed, and we can't just go by ourselves."

He hesitated for a moment, then made a decision: "Prepare some things, make it look presentable. Next Sunday, Jin Huan and Yin Huan, you two will go to the Yang family with your mother."

"Speak nicely, adopt a proper attitude, admit that what happened before was wrong, and beg Xianglan to come back and live with us for the sake of the two children."

He looked at his wife and two daughters, his eyes stern: "Remember, once you're there, don't mention anything about the deposit slips or wages. Bringing them back is the most important thing. We'll talk about the future later. Just be polite. Do you understand?"

Wang nodded hesitantly. Wang Jinhuan and Wang Yinhuan exchanged a glance and reluctantly agreed as well.

Although they were still somewhat resentful, they understood that they had no better option than to back down. The pressure of public opinion and the risk of losing their grandson forced them to compromise.

The Wang family reached a consensus on their decision amidst repression and a touch of resentment.

Xianglan lived a peaceful and slow-paced life at her parents' home.

Every morning, before dawn, she would wake up. Lying in bed, she would listen to the faint sounds coming from outside the window—the ringing of the milkman's bicycle bell, the footsteps of someone emptying their spittoon, and the news broadcast coming from someone's radio.

She would space out for a while, then quietly get out of bed, careful not to wake Honghong and Amao who were sleeping beside her. Her mother, Zhang Xiuying, always got up earlier than her and was already busy in the kitchen.

"Why don't you sleep a little longer?" Zhang Xiuying turned around, saw her daughter, and asked softly.

Xianglan shook her head and took the work from her mother. She skillfully stirred the leftover rice in the pot, then took out several rough porcelain bowls from the cupboard and arranged them one by one.

Yang Yongkang sat on a bamboo chair in the courtyard, sipping tea from an enamel cup. Morning light filtered through the drying clothes, casting dappled shadows on him. He remained silent, simply watching his daughter's busy figure.

Yang Ming also woke up, yawning as he straightened his shirt collar. He walked over to Xianglan and patted her shoulder: "Sis, are you feeling better today?"

Xianglan forced a smile: "Much better."

Similar conversations are repeated every day, and everyone tacitly maintains a facade of calm.

After breakfast, Yang Guanghui pushed his bicycle, taking Li Guihua with him to work, while Yang Yongkang slowly walked towards the factory carrying a cloth bag. Zhang Xiuying started clearing the dishes, while Xianglan busied herself dressing and washing the two children.

Honghong is already three years old. She is well-behaved and sensible, letting her mother comb her hair without crying or fussing. Amao is only two months old. His chubby little legs kick around, and he babbles in a way that no one can understand.

When Xianglan changed Amao's diapers, she couldn't help but think of Jianjun. Jianjun loved to prick the baby's face with his beard, which would often make the baby cry loudly. Those images flashed through her mind like old photographs, causing a sharp pain in her heart.

"Mom, when is Dad coming back?" Honghong suddenly asked, her big eyes full of anticipation.

Xianglan paused, unsure how to answer. Honghong had asked this question several times already. Each time, she could only vaguely say that her father had gone to a very far place.

Zhang Xiuying walked over and picked up Honghong: "Honghong, be good. Grandma will take you to the cupboard to find some candy, okay?"

Children are easily distracted. Honghong nodded happily, forgetting the question from earlier.

Xianglan glanced gratefully at her mother, then lowered her head to continue her work.

Xianglan spends most of her time after get off work taking care of the children and helping with housework. Zhang Xiuying doesn't let her do heavy work, only letting her look after the children and do some light housework.

“You’re not fully recovered yet, you should rest more,” Zhang Xiuying always said.

Xianglan knew her mother was worried about her, but she preferred to keep herself busy. Being busy allowed her to temporarily forget her troubles and the things that were troubling her mind.

Sometimes she would hold Amao in her arms and sit in the courtyard to bask in the sun. The little guy would wriggle in her arms, his bright black eyes curiously taking in everything around him. Xianglan looked at her son's features, which resembled Jianjun's, and felt a mixture of sweetness and sorrow in her heart.

When neighbors passed by, they would tease the children and exchange a few polite words, but they would never mention the Wang family. Everyone tacitly avoided the topic, as if it were a wound that could not be touched.

Only Granny Chen would sometimes sit a little longer and chat with Xianglan. She wouldn't talk about the Wang family, but only about everyday matters, what vegetables were cheap at the market, which family had a happy occasion, and which family had a new addition to the family. These ordinary chatter actually brought Xianglan a sense of comfort.

After get off work in the afternoon, Xianglan would occasionally help her mother mend clothes. Zhang Xiuying's eyesight wasn't as good as before, and she had some difficulty threading a needle.

The mother and daughter sat side by side, neither of them speaking, only the faint sound of needle and thread cutting through the fabric could be heard.

Sometimes Zhang Xiuying would hum old songs softly. The melodious and slightly melancholic tunes reminded Xianglan of her girlhood. Back then, she was a carefree young girl whose biggest worry was not having enough ration coupons to buy the floral fabric she wanted that month.

In just a few years, everything has changed.

"Mom, am I really useless?" Xianglan suddenly asked one day, stopping her needlework.

Zhang Xiuying paused for a moment, then put down her work and took her daughter's hand: "Silly child, what are you saying? Who in this world doesn't have difficult times? Your father is right, we don't owe the Wang family anything, we don't need to live at the mercy of others."

Xianglan lowered her head, tears welling up in her eyes: "But I keep thinking about Jianjun... about our past... I feel so sorry for him now..."

“Jianjun is a good boy. He knows your difficulties,” Zhang Xiuying comforted softly. “If he were watching from heaven, he would surely want you and the children to live well, instead of suffering injustice in the Wang family.”

Xianglan stopped speaking and silently shed tears. The emotions she had suppressed for the past few days finally found an outlet.

Zhang Xiuying didn't try to stop her, but simply patted her daughter's back gently, letting her cry it out. She knew that some emotions were better bottled up inside, and that crying them out would make her feel better.

After crying, Xianglan felt a little lighter. She wiped away her tears and continued her needlework, her movements much smoother than before.

As evening fell, Yang Ming and Yang Yongkang, who had gotten off work late that day, also returned home one after another. The family sat around a small square table for dinner. The dishes were simple, mostly vegetarian, with the occasional meat dish, which was mostly put into the children's bowls.

Yang Yongkang would ask his son about things at the factory, and Yang Guangming would give a few brief answers, mostly about trivial production matters. Sometimes he would also talk about which family in the factory was having difficulties and how the organization was helping to resolve them.

Xianglan listened quietly, feeding the children from time to time. Amao was already able to eat some pureed food, his little mouth opening and closing as he ate with great relish.

Honghong sat on the small stool specially prepared for her and ate with a small spoon. Although she made a mess of the table, everyone let her be.

Such dinner times are peaceful and warm. But Xianglan can always sense the cautious atmosphere among her family members, as everyone avoids mentioning certain topics, afraid of touching on her painful memories.

She was grateful for her family's thoughtfulness, but also felt a pang of guilt. Because of her situation, the whole family was shrouded in a somber atmosphere.

After dinner, Yang Guangming would help clear the dishes and then take the newspaper to the courtyard to read. Yang Yongkang would still be sitting in his bamboo chair, fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan, watching the neighbors come and go in the courtyard.

Xianglan and Zhang Xiuying bathed the children. Amao loved playing in the water and would splash around in the wooden tub, making a mess of the floor. Honghong, on the other hand, was afraid of water and would resist taking a bath every time, only getting her to come in when Xianglan hummed a lullaby to coax her.

Only after the children have gone to sleep can Xianglan have a little time to herself. She usually sits by the window, gazing blankly at the moonlight outside.

A cool breeze blew through the summer night, stirring the curtains. Occasionally, the sound of a bicycle bell or a child crying could be heard in the distance. Most of the time, the surroundings were quiet, save for the chirping of crickets in the corners.

On nights like these, Xianglan's thoughts are always particularly clear. She recalls how she met Jianjun, their simple yet heartwarming wedding, the joy of just having Honghong, and Jianjun's excited expression when he learned she was pregnant with Amao.

Those memories played back in her mind frame by frame, like an old movie. Sometimes she would smile unconsciously, and sometimes she would burst into tears.

She would also think back to the days she spent in the Wang family.

How did her mother-in-law, Wang, go from being polite and courteous at first to constantly making things difficult for her later? How did her two sisters-in-law openly and secretly ostracize her? When Jianjun was alive, he could still protect her to some extent, but after Jianjun passed away, her situation in the Wang family became increasingly difficult.

Xianglan's heart still aches when she thinks about that argument. Her mother-in-law's harsh words feel like knives stabbing into her heart.

Until her father appeared, like a solid wall, standing between her and all that hurt.

Xianglan sighed softly. She was grateful for her father's protection, but felt lost about the future.

Her father said he would support her for life, but how could she become a burden on the family? As for remarriage, she didn't even want to think about it.

These questions are like a tangled mess, swirling in my mind, and I can't seem to find a way out.

Days passed by, and beneath the surface of calm, undercurrents were stirring.

Xianglan noticed that although her father appeared calm on the surface, he would pay special attention to her expression every time he came home, as if observing her state. Her younger brother, Guangming, did the same, always finding opportunities to talk to her and trying to cheer her up.

Her mother took meticulous care of her, always finding new ways to cook her favorite dishes, even though the ingredients were limited.

The neighbors' attitudes also subtly changed. Initially, it was curiosity and sympathy, but later it grew into understanding and respect. Sometimes, neighbors would bring some vegetables they had grown themselves, or clothes that their children had outgrown, all under the guise of expressing goodwill.

Even the children in the alley were exceptionally friendly to Honghong, often playing with her. Honghong quickly adapted to life at her grandmother's house, and smiles returned to her little face.

Amao was too young to understand what was happening around him; he simply nestled in his mother's arms, enjoying her care.

As Xianglan felt the love from her family and the kindness from her neighbors, the ice in her heart gradually melted. She began to take the initiative to help with more housework, and sometimes she would take her children to the courtyard to chat with other neighbors.

Although she never mentioned the Wang family again, she no longer avoided crowds. Her complexion gradually regained its color, and her eyes were no longer so vacant.

Yang Yongkang saw this and felt somewhat relieved. He knew his daughter was slowly emerging from the shadows; it would take time, but he was patient.

Zhang Xiuying was overjoyed by her daughter's transformation. She often hummed a little tune while cooking, and the wrinkles on her face smoothed out.

Everyone knew that the Wang family's silence wouldn't last long. That undercurrent would eventually break through the surface calm.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere at the Wang family home grew more and more oppressive each day.

After get off work, Mr. Wang became increasingly reluctant to go home, often lingering at the factory or taking a longer walk. He didn't want to face the oppressive atmosphere at home and the sighs and complaints of his wife and daughter.

Wang Shi had completely lost her former arrogance and was filled with anxiety every day. The neighbors' whispers and pointing fingers made her afraid to go out, and she even sent her daughter to buy groceries. Her biggest worry was her grandson, Amao, fearing that the Yang family would really not let the child come back.

Wang Jinhuan and Wang Yinhuan were also having a hard time. Wang Jinhuan's fierceness was useless in the face of public opinion, and instead attracted more criticism. Wang Yinhuan, on the other hand, had red eyes all day long, worried about her younger brother's flesh and blood being left out, and afraid to face the Yang family.

Finally, before the next Sunday arrived, the Wang family sat down together and made a decision.

Master Wang said with a stern face, "The day after tomorrow is Sunday. As we agreed before, you three, mother and daughters, go to the Yang family. Remember, you must be polite and don't say anything unnecessary."

Wang asked timidly, "What should I bring?"

Mr. Wang thought for a moment and said, "Take my bottle of Moutai with me, and weigh out some candy and biscuits. The important thing is that the thought is there."

Wang Jinhuan said reluctantly, "Do we really have to be so humble? When has our Wang family ever been so humiliated?"

"Isn't this all your fault!" Master Wang glared at her. "Now you know you care about saving face? Where were you before! Let me tell you, if you cause any more trouble at the Yang family tomorrow, don't blame me for turning my back on you!"

Madam Wang quickly tried to smooth things over: "Father, don't be angry. Jin Huan was just saying that. We'll definitely talk it over properly tomorrow and bring Xiang Lan and Amao back."

Master Wang sighed heavily: "I hope so. Jianjun is gone, but Xianglan is still a member of our Wang family, and Amao is Jianjun's root. These things are more important than anything else."

These words silenced everyone. Yes, compared to material possessions, people are the most important. One shouldn't be too greedy, always trying to grasp everything.

It's just that I realized this a little too late.

The next morning, Wang and her two daughters packed their things, carrying gifts, and nervously went out the door.

Walking through the alley, they could feel the gazes behind them and hear the hushed whispers.

This time, however, they did not turn back, but quickened their pace and headed towards the direction where the Yang family was located.

(End of this chapter)