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

Yang Guangming, carrying the heavy bag of medicinal herbs, left the somewhat dimly lit threshold of Jishengtang with slightly hurried steps.

Father's leg injury was like a sword hanging over the whole family; there could be no further delay, and the medicine had to be used as soon as possible.

Instead of immediately returning to that crowded and dilapidated courtyard, he stood at the street corner, briefly determined his direction, and headed towards another, slightly more bustling street in the southern part of the city.

He needed to add some appropriate "flavor" to the stewed fish that the whole family had pinned their hopes on that evening.

Along the streets, some shops selling daily necessities, cooking oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar were still open, with long or short queues winding in front of each shop.

The line of people moved slowly and anxiously, like dying snakes.

The people in the queue mostly had a numb look on their faces, as if they had been repeatedly battered by life, but deep in their eyes, there was an almost frantic urgency.

Their eyes were fixed on the dwindling stock behind the shop counter like hungry wolves, as if it were not ordinary goods, but the last straw to sustain their lives.

The buying frenzy triggered by the introduction of the Gold Yuan was like a terrifying plague that eroded people's hearts, sweeping through every corner of this ancient capital and infiltrating every street and every family.

The seemingly tough "price control order" issued on August 19th now appears to be nothing more than an attempt to use a paper dam to stop a raging torrent. The result can only be that the dam collapses everywhere, and the market order has long since become a mere shell.

According to official pricing, the prices of everyday items in gold yuan, as published in the newspaper, were:
1. Grains (staple foods)
• Flour: (per bag, approximately 44 jin) - 7.60 yuan

Rice: (per shi, approximately 160 jin) - approximately 20 yuan (prices vary depending on the variety)
Millet: -0.07 -0.08 yuan per jin (500g)

Cornmeal: (per jin) - 0.05 - 0.06 yuan

2. Side dishes

Pork: (per jin) - 0.48 - 0.56 yuan

Lamb: (per jin) - 0.32 - 0.40 yuan

Eggs: (each) - 0.03 - 0.035 yuan (approximately 0.40 - 0.50 yuan per jin)
• Salt: (per jin) - 0.10 - 0.12 yuan

• White sugar: (per jin) - 0.32 - 0.38 yuan

Soy sauce: (per jin) - 0.16 - 0.20 yuan

3. Textiles and Clothing
• White fine cloth: (approximately 0.33 meters per foot) - 0.30 - 0.35 yuan

Cotton: (per jin) - 0.80 - 1.00 yuan

A pair of cloth shoes: approximately 1.50 - 2.50 yuan

4. Fuels

• Coal briquettes: (per 100 kg) - 1.20 - 1.50 yuan

• Firewood: (per 1.00 jin) - 1.00 - 1.20 yuan

5. Other
• Soap: (per bar) - 0.25 - 0.30 yuan

Cigarettes: (Regular brand, 20 cigarettes per pack) - 0.20 - 0.40 yuan

The exchange rate of three million legal tender for one gold yuan is not intuitive enough. However, the exchange rate of one silver dollar for two gold yuan is more intuitive.

In order to force the implementation of the gold yuan, the official price was set at a low level, but the problem was, where could one buy it?

Slightly scarce supplies, especially essential food and commodities, have long since disappeared from the shelves of legitimate stores and flowed into the black market. The few supplies still on the shelves and openly sold are merely for the purpose of passing off as official inspections.

Black market prices soar like wild horses, often several times, or even ten times, higher than official prices.

Ordinary people clutched the gold yuan notes they had just exchanged, which still smelled strongly of ink. They felt no sense of security, only immense fear about the future and deep anxiety about the rapid devaluation of their currency.

Everyone knows perfectly well that this thin stack of paper will soon be worth less than waste paper.

The only way to survive is to spend it as soon as possible while it can still be exchanged for something tangible, turning it into supplies that can fill our stomachs and sustain our lives.

This widespread and profound sense of panic has coalesced into the current torrents of frenzied buying, eroding the already fragile fabric of the city.

Yang Guangming's goal is very clear.

He needs some basic seasonings—salt, soy sauce, and vinegar.

Although they are also available in the market, there are obvious differences in quality and packaging. Changing the packaging will also take time. Since you can buy them directly, it is more convenient.

If you're going to stew fish for dinner, without salt to enhance the flavor, soy sauce to add color, and vinegar to remove the fishy smell, that big pot of fish would probably be unbearably fishy and hard to swallow.

His gaze swept around and finally settled on a grocery store with a relatively short queue at the door.

The four characters "North and South Groceries" on the shop's signboard have long been eroded by wind and rain, making them difficult to read.

The line moved slowly forward, with those at the front occasionally letting out small commotions and pleas for help, fearing the goods would sell out, creating ripples of unease in the otherwise dull queue.

A waiter in a dirty cloth jacket stood inside the doorway, expressionless, mechanically calling out in a hoarse voice:

"Stop pushing! It's no use! We only have a few pounds of salt left! We still have half a vat of soy sauce, and not much vinegar left either! We'll sell out quickly! Please come back tomorrow if you're behind!"

The sound was like a death knell, immediately causing a low commotion and sighs in the group.

People subconsciously tiptoed and craned their necks, trying to see the depth of the salt bags and the height of the soy sauce jars behind the counter. Their faces were filled with a complex expression of despair and anticipation.

Yang Guangming silently walked to the end of the line and stood still.

He was tall and, although thin, his spine was ramrod straight, making him stand out somewhat in the crowd whose backs were bent over by anxiety.

He waited patiently, feeling the almost palpable tension in the air around him.

The wait of more than half an hour felt long and oppressive.

Time ticked by, and the line moved forward at a snail's pace. Finally, it was his turn.

The clerk behind the counter, drenched in sweat and barely able to lift his eyelids, rudely asked, "What do you want? Hurry up and tell us! There are people waiting in the back!"

"A bamboo basket with a lid, two glass bottles, half a pound of salt, a bag of soy sauce, and a bag of vinegar," Yang Guangming said clearly and calmly, stating what he needed.

It wasn't that he didn't want to buy more, but that each person was limited to one pack, so he could only buy this many.

Of course, the shop owners don't want to go through all this trouble, but in order to cope with the inspections and supervision from above, they can't close down and have to ensure a minimum operating time.

The waiter turned around nimbly, scooped out coarse salt grains from a nearly empty salt bag with a rough wooden spoon, poured them onto rough, yellowed straw paper, and quickly wrapped them into a triangular bag with swift, flying fingers.

Then, he took down two new glass bottles and, using a long-handled bamboo scoop, accurately scooped out a handful of dark brown soy sauce and clear vinegar from a half-person-high earthenware jar behind him and poured them into the glass bottles.

The movements were practiced, yet also revealed a hint of numbness.

"Thank you, six cents in gold notes." The waiter quoted the price without looking up, while extending his hand, which was stained with oil and soy sauce.

Without hesitation, Yang Guangming took out banknotes from his pocket, counted out the corresponding amount, and handed them over.

He walked out of the grocery store, carrying the now heavy bamboo basket, and headed home.

With a slight thought, a jar of lard, weighing about half a pound and as white and delicate as solidified fat, appeared out of thin air in the basket.

Pork fat is a scarce commodity and it's hard to buy it by queuing up. Stewing fish is also essential at night, so he still took out the stock from his space.

In those days, lard was a real commodity, a rare and precious oil for ordinary families. When stir-frying or stewing, just pick up a small piece with chopsticks, let it melt in the hot pan, and the aroma will instantly fill the house, greatly enhancing the flavor and satisfaction of the dish.

This jar of lard is enough to make tonight's stewed fish a truly amazing dish.

With salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and this crucial jar of lard, the flavor of the stewed fish for dinner is guaranteed by the most basic and solid ingredients.

As for staple foods such as rice and flour, he thought about it briefly and forcibly suppressed the urge to take them out of his spatial storage immediately.

It's hard to make up a reason.

He wasn't away for very long. It was alright for him to queue up and buy some condiments that were still available, but it was a bit of a stretch for him to buy half a pound of lard.

It would be too absurd and hard to believe to say that one could miraculously buy even more scarce food that requires queuing up early and for a very long time to purchase in small quantities.

If he wanted to take the grain home, he could say that he traded it for the fish he caught after tomorrow, which would be more convincing.

With those dozens of kilograms of fish as a foundation, the whole family can at least have a few hearty meals of fish and meat, temporarily relieving their gnawing hunger.

Once a new place to live is found as soon as possible, and the residents move out of this crowded and chaotic courtyard, then the reasons for gradually and reasonably "adding" things will be much more valid, and there will be more room for maneuver.

Having made up his mind, he quickened his pace and headed home.

When they returned to that small, dimly lit room, Yang Huai-ren, the father, was still sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), his posture almost unchanged. However, his eyes were no longer as empty and desperate as before, but instead held a hint of expectation as he stared intently at the door.

When he saw his son return, his cloudy eyes lit up, and his gaze first fell on the bamboo basket his son was carrying.

"You're back? The medicine...were caught?" Yang Huai-ren's voice was urgent and trembled slightly.

"We caught him." Yang Guangming first placed the bamboo basket on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), then took out the medicine packet and the small bottle of safflower oil.

Seeing that there were still things in the bamboo basket, Yang Huai-ren couldn't help but ask, "What's in this bamboo basket...?"

"I bought some oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar." Yang Guangming said casually as he untied the medicine packet, revealing ten patches of musk-infused bone-strengthening plaster wrapped in oil paper. "I'll need them to stew fish tonight. We can't keep boiling it in plain water like before, it's so fishy we can't swallow it."

Yang Huai-ren nodded, accepting the explanation. Having fish to eat was already a great blessing; if it could be cooked to be delicious, it would be the icing on the cake.

But then he thought of the price, and his brow furrowed again as usual: "These things...aren't they cheap now? How much did they cost?"

He knew his son had earned six yuan from selling fish, and most of it would probably have gone to medicine, not to mention the seasonings...

Yang Guangming continued examining his father's injured leg, his hands still busy, and casually replied, "It didn't cost much. The medicine and these things together cost three gold yuan."

He deliberately underestimated the cost of the medicine. Twelve yuan and fifty cents was a huge sum for a family like theirs in those days. He didn't want to put too much psychological burden on his father.

Yang Huai-ren was taken aback upon hearing this.

Although he didn't know the exact price of the two medicines, he knew that plasters and medicated oils for treating sprains and bruises wouldn't be cheap.

Three yuan? Absolutely not!
The son definitely didn't tell the truth; he probably underreported the cost of the medicine.

He opened his mouth, watching his son intently preparing to apply the medicine, his calm eyes showing no flicker. The question that was on the tip of his tongue was swallowed back down.

My son has grown up and has his own ideas now. He must have his reasons for doing this; perhaps he just doesn't want his father to worry about money.

Yang Huai-ren felt a mix of emotions. He felt heartache for his son's maturity, guilt for having to rely on his son to work hard as a father, and a sense of unfamiliarity with the maturity and decisiveness his son displayed beyond his years.

He simply nodded silently and didn't ask any further questions.

Seeing that his father didn't investigate further, Yang Guangming breathed a sigh of relief.

He carefully untied the simple, somewhat blackened strip of cloth covering his father's leg, revealing the swollen and bruised wound.

The injury looked even more frightening than in the morning; the skin was taut and shiny from the swelling, and large patches of bruises had accumulated, turning a deep black color.

Sunlight shone through his eyes, his gaze slightly narrowed.

Following the doctor's instructions relayed by the pharmacy clerk, he first poured some safflower oil into his palm, rubbed it to warm it, and then gently massaged his father's wound from the outside inwards.

He moved very carefully, trying to avoid touching the most painful spot.

The medicated oil, with its strong and unique herbal aroma, filled the air. Upon contact with the skin, it brought a cooling sensation, which then began to generate heat.

Yang Huai-ren was in so much pain that the veins on his forehead bulged, his jaw clenched, and he hissed as he gasped for breath. But he endured the pain without crying out, and his hands, which were resting on the kang mat, were clenched into fists.

"Dad, please bear with it. The doctor said that this medicated oil is only effective if it's rubbed in properly to dissolve the blood stasis," Yang Guangming said softly, rubbing the oil in his hands.

I massaged the area for about fifteen minutes, until the skin became red and hot, and then I stopped.

He took out a musk-infused bone-strengthening plaster, carefully heated it by the oil lamp to soften it, and then carefully applied it to the most swollen and painful spot on his father's wound.

As the plaster was applied, an even stronger heat, mixed with the scent of musk and other medicinal herbs, began to penetrate continuously.

"How are you feeling?" Yang Guangming asked.

Yang Huai Ren let out a long breath, feeling that the excruciating, continuous throbbing pain in his wound seemed to have lessened somewhat, replaced by a warm, sore sensation enveloped by the medicinal properties.

"Okay...it seems a bit better, it doesn't hurt as much like being pricked with needles anymore," he said incredulously, his voice filled with a sense of relief at surviving a close call.

As Yang Guangming packed up the medicine bottles and packets, he said casually, "I asked the doctor on duty and explained your condition in detail. After listening to my description, the doctor felt that the bones were probably not injured, but the muscles were badly injured, and the blood stasis blocked the meridians."

He paused, then continued with certainty, "The doctor said that if I follow his prescription and use these ten plasters, the swelling should go down, and I should be able to walk around slowly without any problems. I won't have to stay lying on the kang (heated brick bed) all the time."

However, it takes a hundred days to recover from a broken bone. To fully recover without any aftereffects, you need to rest for at least another month.

"You absolutely must not do any heavy work this month, and you must avoid any further injury. As long as you follow the doctor's advice, you will recover completely."

These words are partly true and partly false.

The truth is, the medicine is indeed effective, and its timely use is very beneficial for recovery.

The false part is that he made a more optimistic estimate of the treatment effect and time, aiming to give his father confidence.

A positive mindset is crucial for injury recovery.

Sure enough, Yang Huai-ren's eyes lit up after hearing this, and his face showed the first truly relaxed expression since the family split up.

"Really? A month... a month to be basically fully recovered?" His voice trembled as he repeatedly confirmed.

His biggest fear was that his legs would become useless, making him a burden on his family and spending his whole life bedridden and needing to be taken care of.

If it's just a month since I can't do heavy work, then it's a stroke of good luck amidst misfortune!

"Yes." Yang Guangming nodded firmly. "So Dad, just focus on getting better during this time. Don't overthink things. Take your medicine on time and try to get better as soon as possible."

"Okay! Okay! I will definitely take good care of myself!" Yang Huai-ren nodded repeatedly, as if he had grasped a lifeline, and a glimmer of light appeared on his ashen face.

Hope, not just the hope of having enough to eat, but also the hope of recovering his health, rekindled in his heart like a faint flame.

After tending to his father's injuries, Yang Guangming turned his attention back to dinner.

He picked up the bamboo basket containing the seasonings and said to his father, "Dad, I'm going to Grandma's to see how the fish is being cleaned, and I'll use the stove to stew it while I'm at it."

"Go ahead, go ahead." Yang Huai-ren was in a great mood at the moment and waved his hand. "Talk to your grandma nicely, don't... don't take it too seriously."

He couldn't help but add a word of caution, worried that his son, young and impetuous, might be unhappy that his grandmother was too lenient when cleaning up the scraps.

Yang Guangming smiled and said, "I know, Dad, don't worry."

He carried the bamboo basket out of the house and came back to the main house.

Before even entering the door, an even stronger fishy smell could be detected.

The first thing that catches the eye is Grandma sitting on a small stool, with two chipped and broken earthenware basins in front of her, busy cleaning the fish.

Grandma held a pair of scissors in her hand. Her movements were not very skilled, even a little clumsy, but her attitude was exceptionally focused and serious. Her forehead was covered with fine beads of sweat, and she didn't even bother to smooth the strands of gray hair that were stuck to her cheeks.

Grandpa sat to the side, silently watching his wife's movements. His cloudy old eyes revealed no emotion, only occasionally letting out a suppressed cough or two.

When she saw Yang Guangming return, the old lady immediately raised her head, her face instantly beaming with an even more enthusiastic and ingratiating smile than in the afternoon. However, beneath that smile lay a hint of unease and nervousness that was difficult to completely conceal.

"Guangming's back! Look, Grandma's busy cleaning up!" She waved the scissors in her hand, which were covered in fish scales and blood, and said warmly, "Don't worry, I'll make sure it's spotless and neat!"

Yang Guangming's gaze calmly swept over the two earthenware pots, especially lingering for a moment on the half-filled pot of "scraps," and he already understood.

Grandma's standards for cutting off heads and tails were a bit lenient, which was within his expectations, and could even be said to be the result of his deliberate indulgence.

He put on a perfectly timed smile, walked over, and said, "Grandma, you've gone to so much trouble. I bought some seasonings, thinking that the fish wouldn't keep well in this hot weather, so I'll stew it tonight."

As he spoke, he showed the contents of the bamboo basket—salt wrapped in straw paper, and soy sauce and vinegar in glass bottles.

When the last jar of snow-white, glistening lard was taken out, Grandma's eyes widened instantly, her pupils dilated, her throat bobbed involuntarily, and she swallowed hard.

Even Grandpa, who had been expressionless the whole time, seemed to be drawn to the jar of lard for a long time, his thin throat moving slightly.

This isn't just any ordinary seasoning; it's real, savory oil! It's a "magical ingredient" that can transform bland broth into a delicious dish!
"Oh my goodness! They even bought a lot of oil!"

Grandma's voice suddenly rose, filled with unbelievable, exaggerated surprise, "This...this is really...wonderful! It's so timely! With this fish stewed in lard, my goodness, the aroma will surely travel for miles and attract all the gluttonous cats at the alley entrance!"

She immediately put down the scissors, hurriedly wiped her hands on the apron covered in fish scales and blood, and was about to take the bamboo basket and jar of lard from Yang Guangming's hands:

"Come here, my good grandson, let Grandma help you. I'm an expert at controlling the heat and adding the ingredients in the right order when stewing fish! I guarantee it will be perfectly flavorful!"

Yang Guangming subtly turned his body to the side, avoiding her outstretched hand. His smile remained gentle, but his tone was firm: "Grandma, you can continue cleaning the fish. I'll stew it myself later."

My dad has difficulty walking and is in a bad mood. He's also a bit picky about food, so I wanted to make it more palatable for him, using rich, dark sauces, so he could recover faster.

His words were reasonable, clearly stating that it was for his father's health, while also implying that no one else should interfere.

Grandma's outstretched hand froze in mid-air, her smile instantly turning into a barely concealed embarrassment and awkwardness.

She awkwardly withdrew her hand, unconsciously rubbed it on her apron, then forced an even bigger smile and nodded repeatedly:

"Alright, alright! You're right! Your father is sick, so we should cater to his tastes!"
You young people have your own way of doing things. Fine, do it yourself! I... I'm almost done! Just two more things left!

As if to prove her point, she immediately sat back down on the stool, grabbed the scissors, and cut the carp's head even harder, as if venting some kind of emotion.

Without saying another word, Yang Guangming picked up his bamboo basket and walked straight into the kitchen next door, which was filled with dampness, mold, and years of grease.

The kitchen utensils that were commonly used in the kitchen were all there, because the family still needed to cook, so they didn't pawn them. The most important thing was the big iron pot on the stove.

He skillfully scooped water to wash the pot, and then started a fire.

The dry thatch and a small amount of firewood crackled in the stove, and orange flames leaped up, dispelling the gloom.

He scooped a large spoonful of the lard from the jar into the pot.

The white paste melts rapidly under the heat, turning into clear oil that emits an enticing meaty aroma.

This aroma is irresistibly appealing to a digestive system that has long been deprived of oil and moisture.

Grandma slowed down when she smelled the aroma in the yard and couldn't help but take a few deep breaths.

Grandpa also squinted his eyes slightly, as if savoring the long-lost aroma that represented abundance and peace.

Yang Guangming put the fish meat belonging to the eldest son's family, which his grandmother had already partially prepared—mainly the fish body with scales and internal organs removed, as well as the small miscellaneous fish and river shrimp—into the pot to fry in batches.

With a sizzle, the hot oil collided with the fish, releasing an even richer aroma.

He carefully controlled the heat, added soy sauce and vinegar, then added an appropriate amount of salt and water, covered the heavy wooden pot with a lid, and simmered it over low heat.

Soon, an even more fragrant aroma wafted out from the gaps in the pot lid, filling the entire courtyard and even drifting into the alley.

This fragrance, so incongruous with the original atmosphere of desolation and despair in the courtyard, seemed like a warm and fulfilling dream from another world. It felt so luxurious, so unreal.

As we waited, the sky gradually darkened.

Grandma finished the final tasks and tidied up the mess. Looking at the half-basket of fish heads, tails, and innards, she had a satisfied expression on her face and began to plan how to divide it among her two younger sons.

After the fish stew was ready, Guangming asked his grandfather whether he planned to go over and eat together later, or serve two bowls to him.

Before Grandpa could speak, the old lady said that they should leave two bowls of fish there and not go over to cause trouble.

Grandpa didn't object, so Guangming followed the old lady's advice and served two large bowls of fish for his grandparents.

Just then, footsteps and voices came from the courtyard.

The army that went out to dig for wild vegetables has returned.

Walking at the front was Yang Guangming's mother, Chu Yuanjun. She held her youngest daughter, Jingyi, who had a sallow complexion, tightly in one hand, and carried a half-full bamboo basket that didn't look very heavy in the other. Her face was full of undisguised fatigue and frustration.

Yang Jingwan followed silently behind her mother, her face pale, her lips cracked, and her steps unsteady as if she were walking on cotton.

Behind them were their second and third aunts and their respective groups of children, all of them pale and thin with sunken eyes, their baskets only half full of wild vegetables.

After a busy day, having explored almost every corner outside the city where wild vegetables might grow, the harvest was so meager that it wasn't even enough to fill a family's stomach.

Every inch of land outside the city had already been thoroughly plundered by countless waves of hungry people, leaving nothing edible or inedible untouched.

The harvest fell short of expectations, and a sense of despair, like a cold tide, once again enveloped the faces and hearts of every returning traveler.

However, the moment they stepped into the courtyard, everyone seemed to be frozen in place, suddenly stopping in their tracks and involuntarily sniffing hard.

"What's that smell? It smells so good!" Auntie exclaimed in surprise, her eyes wide as bells, her tiredness instantly replaced by astonishment.

"It smells like meat! It smells like stewed fish! It smells so good!" Auntie's son, who was about ten years old, suddenly broke free from his mother's hand, pointed towards the kitchen, his mouth almost watering, and his voice was full of longing.

Chu Yuanjun looked toward the main house entrance with a puzzled expression, just in time to see his son, Yang Guangming, carrying a large pot of steaming, fragrant stewed fish, with a rag over his hands as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Mother, Jingwan, Jingyi, you're back." Yang Guangming carefully placed the basin in his hand on an unused stone millstone at the door, went to greet them, and naturally took the empty, light bamboo basket from his mother's hands.

"Guangming, this...this fish flavor is...is it from our family..." Chu Yuanjun asked incredulously, his gaze shifting between his son's calm face and the tempting stewed fish, his voice trembling with excitement.

"It was the fish I stewed."

Yang Guangming spoke calmly, as if stating a perfectly ordinary fact, "I went to the river this afternoon and, luckily, caught some fish. I sold some to make money, and brought the rest back to stew, just in time to nourish Dad and let everyone have some too."

He was concise and to the point, not going into the details in front of so many eager relatives, but the meaning behind his words was crystal clear—this fish belongs to the eldest son's family, but tonight, everyone can eat it together.

These words were like heavenly music to Chu Yuanjun and his two sisters, who had just experienced a day of futile travel, were starving, and were almost in despair!

Jingwan and Jingyi's eyes lit up instantly, like stars ignited in the darkness. They clung tightly to their mother's clothes, their pale little faces tilted up, their eyes filled with disbelief, longing, and pleading.

Upon hearing this, the second aunt, third aunt, and others immediately displayed extremely complex and indescribable expressions.

There was shock, disbelief, blatant envy that almost overflowed, and a hint of barely concealed sour jealousy.

These days, who can get so many fish without making a sound, and even stew them with lard? Did this family have some incredible luck?
At that moment, the old lady walked over, carrying her half-full basket of "spoils of war," a proud smile on her face, and said to her second and third aunts:

"Guangming is a lucky boy, and he's also very capable; he's caught quite a few fish."

Look, I've picked up quite a few fish heads and tails, all sorts of other things.

"You two families should take this home and make some soup, so the children can have a little meat and satisfy their cravings."

The eyes of the second and third aunts were immediately drawn to the half-basket of fish heads and tails, like hungry wolves.

Although it was just scraps, in their eyes it was still a rare delicacy! Something that could make a child's eyes light up!

Their faces instantly lit up with grateful smiles, and they thanked them repeatedly.

"Thank you, Mother! It's always you who thinks of us!"

"Oh my, this is a real gem! It's perfect for making soup!"

The two of them practically snatched the basket from the old lady's hands, and then huddled together, whispering and eagerly discussing how to divide these "treasures," afraid that their family would be at a disadvantage.

Seeing this scene, Chu Yuanjun understood most of it.

She felt a pang of reluctance, but more than that, she felt heartache for her son and immense relief at being able to eat fish and meat.

She didn't say anything, but pulled her two daughters' hands tightly and whispered to Yang Guangming, "Let's... go back inside first. Your father must be getting impatient."

Yang Guangming nodded and said to his grandmother, "Grandma, the pot has been cleared out. The two bowls of fish that were left for you and Grandpa are on the stove. The fire is still burning. If the two aunts want to use the stove, they can use it now."

The oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar I just bought are right here; both aunties can use them, so don't be shy with me.

In front of his two aunts, Yang Guangming asked again, "The food is ready now, Grandma, would you like to come back and eat with us?"

The old lady's mind was entirely focused on how to distribute the half-basket of uneaten goods. Upon hearing this, she waved her hands repeatedly, her tone even carrying a hint of urging:

"Take these back and eat them while they're hot!"

We're just an old couple... we won't go over there and cause you any trouble, just make us something to eat."

Having already let it pass, Yang Guangming will not say anything more.

He turned around, went back into the kitchen, and made two trips before carrying the two large pots of stewed fish back to his house.

The rich, alluring aroma wafted through the air, almost stealing the souls of everyone in the courtyard, leaving behind a chorus of swallowing sounds and complex, unspoken glances.

Back in his own house, Yang Huai-ren had already groped his way to light the oil lamp.

The tiny flame flickered in the lamp, barely dispelling a small patch of darkness.

Unlike the previous lifeless and dim atmosphere, the air was now filled with comforting aromas of food.

Yang Huai-ren sat leaning against the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), watching his son bring in two large basins of fragrant, steaming stewed fish. His eyes, which had been clouded by injury and sorrow, finally shone with genuine light, and his face showed the first heartfelt smile since the family division, a smile filled with relief and hope.

"They're all back? Great! Great! Quick, hurry up, eat it while it's hot!"

His voice was a little hoarse, but with a rare lightness as he busied himself greeting his exhausted wife and two eager daughters.

Chu Yuanjun and her two daughters could hardly believe their eyes as they looked at the fish meat in the basin, which had been cleaned and had its heads and tails removed, and was trembling slightly in the thick broth.

This scene was even better than their most extravagant imaginations along the way!

Not only do they eat fish, but they also "luxuriously" eat only the fattest, cleanest meat!
The tender white fish, the dark brown broth, and the floating oil all assaulted their hungry senses.

"This...this really was all...fished out by you, Guangming?"

Chu Yuanjun's voice trembled violently. She looked at her son, her eyes filled with disbelief, and then turned to her husband, seeking confirmation.

Yang Huai-ren nodded vigorously, his face beaming with pride. "Yes! It's all thanks to Guangming's capabilities! You didn't see that basket, it was overflowing!"

"Stop standing there, start eating! Jingwan, Jingyi, quick, get the bowls and chopsticks! Sit down and eat!"

Yang Guangming had already arranged the few chipped bowls and several pairs of wooden chopsticks of different lengths that were the only ones in the house.

He picked up a spoon and ladled a large bowl full of fish for everyone, the broth almost overflowing from the rim of the bowl.

The two little girls took the heavy bowl, feeling the warmth emanating from the rough earthenware bowl, looking at the tender and tempting white fish meat inside, and smelling the aroma that went straight to their souls. They could no longer resist.

Ignoring the heat, she carefully touched the food with her lips, then eagerly blew on it and ate it in small, quick bites.

The moment the fish touches your mouth, its fresh, fragrant, and tender flavor explodes on your taste buds.

The rich, savory flavor of lard coats the fish, soy sauce adds a savory base, and vinegar perfectly neutralizes any remaining fishy smell, leaving only a mouthful of fresh and delicious flavor.

This was an exquisite delicacy they had never tasted before!

A warm current of happiness slid down my esophagus into my stomach, which had been empty for a long time and was almost spasming, bringing an unprecedented and incredibly real sense of satisfaction and comfort.

The two little girls ate so much they couldn't lift their heads, their cheeks were stuffed full, and their little mouths were covered in dark brown soup. Finally, a healthy blush of childhood appeared on their pale faces.

Chu Yuanjun's hands trembled as she picked up a piece of fish and put it in her mouth. After chewing a couple of times, her eyes instantly reddened, and her nose stung with unbearable soreness.

She quickly lowered her head, pretending that the steam was stinging her eyes, and hurriedly wiped them with her sleeve, using the act of drinking soup to hide the tears that were about to well up in her eyes.

This is not just about the taste of food, but also about the hope in our hearts. It is proof that our son, with his still-tender shoulders, has single-handedly held up the sky for this family that is struggling through storms! It is the ecstasy and heartache of surviving against all odds!

Yang Huai-ren watched his wife and daughters eat so heartily and attentively, but he didn't touch his chopsticks for a long time.

He just watched quietly, his eyes a little moist.

He looked at his son, who sat calmly in the lamplight, his voice choked with emotion, filled with endless感慨 and a trace of guilt: "Guangming, you should eat too, don't just look. Today... you've really worked hard, Dad... Dad is useless..."

Yang Guangming smiled, picked up his own large bowl of fish, and said in a relaxed tone:

"Dad, why are you saying all this? We're family. Eat up, it'll smell fishy if it gets cold."

He picked up a large piece of fish belly meat without small bones and put it in his father's bowl. "Eat more, this meat is easy to digest and it's good for your leg injury recovery."

The family sat around the dim, flickering oil lamp, eating silently yet with utmost focus—a hard-won and incredibly sumptuous dinner in the present moment.

Inside the room, only the soft, satisfying sounds of chewing, slurping of soup, and the occasional hiss of gasping because the fish was too hot could be heard.

No one spoke; all language was expressed in reverence and enjoyment of the food.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of fish and meat, the savory scent of lard, and a warm and reassuring feeling called "hope," which gradually dispelled the lingering musty smell and despair of the past.

The outside world remained dark and desolate, with the occasional barking of stray dogs and the cries of some unknown child adding to the desolation.

But in this small, humble room, under the dim light of this tiny lamp, a warm and bright light seemed to stubbornly penetrate, illuminating everyone's face and lighting the way forward.

After dinner, Chu Yuanjun and her two daughters quickly cleaned up the dishes.

The two little girls still wore a dreamlike joy and satisfaction on their faces, occasionally licking their lips, savoring the unprecedented deliciousness they had just tasted.

Jingyi even secretly let out a burp, quickly covered her mouth with her hand, and looked at her mother and brother shyly, but her eyes were full of bright smiles.

Chu Yuanjun's face also carried a long-lost gentle glow as he began to carefully tidy up the wild vegetables he had dug up that day by the dim light of the oil lamp.

She straightened each of the withered, yellowed wild vegetable leaves, shook off the soil from the roots, and prepared to cook them into a paste the next morning.

Although tonight's hearty fish and meat meal provided a solid foundation, tomorrow's food remains a problem, and we dare not waste a single drop.

As she tidied up, she couldn't help but look up at her son again, and asked softly once more:

"Guangming, tell your mother again what exactly happened this afternoon? I still feel like I'm dreaming."

Yang Guangming sat down next to his mother and recited his carefully prepared speech in a more detailed and organized manner, all the way to the pharmacy to get medicine for his father.

He spoke clearly and logically, with vivid details and a steady tone, making it impossible not to believe him.

When her son told her that after listening to his detailed description of the injury, the doctor determined that her husband's leg bone was not injured, but his muscles were severely damaged and there was blood stasis, and that after using the appropriate plaster and medicated oil, he should be able to recover in about a month and walk slowly.

Chu Yuanjun's tense nerves finally relaxed completely with a "buzz".

In a single day, she went from being destitute and on the verge of homelessness, with her husband potentially facing disability, to having enough food to eat and a clear and optimistic hope for her husband's recovery...

This huge, dramatic turn of events caused her carefully maintained strength and composure to crumble instantly.

She stopped picking wild vegetables, and tears streamed down her face like a burst dam, unstoppable.

Those weren't tears of sadness, but rather a complex mix of emotions—joy, relief, lingering fear—that had been released suddenly after a long period of intense tension and immense pressure. Like a flood that had been released from its dam, the emotions surged and needed an outlet.

She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling violently, and she let out suppressed, low sobs.

"Mother, don't cry. This is a good thing. Father's leg is getting better, and we'll have food to eat again. Everything is getting better." Yang Guangming gently comforted her when he saw this.

When Jingwan and Jingyi saw their mother suddenly crying so sadly, they immediately put down the wild vegetables they were holding and hurriedly gathered around her, one on each side, clinging to her clothes tightly with their little hands, their faces filled with worry and helplessness.

Leaning against the kang (a heated brick bed), Yang Huai-ren looked at his weeping wife, his heart filled with mixed emotions, a bittersweet feeling that was hard to describe.

He understood his wife's feelings at that moment; it was a huge emotional upheaval from surviving a disaster.

He reached out and gently patted his wife's shoulder, his voice hoarse yet carrying an unprecedented gentleness and strength:

"Yuanjun, stop crying, huh? Look at you, you've frightened the children."

Guangming is right, this is a great thing, it's our ancestors' blessing!

Our family has overcome a major hurdle...we should be happy and smiling!

Chu Yuanjun nodded vigorously, wiping away her seemingly endless tears with the back of her hand, trying to force a smile to respond to her husband and son. But the smile, mixed with tears, looked more heartbreaking and moving than pure weeping.

"I...I know...I'm happy...I'm happy in my heart..."

She choked back tears, saying haltingly, "I just... I just feel... it's all so unreal... like a dream... I'm afraid that when I wake up, everything will be gone..."

After a while, with the gentle words of comfort from her husband and son, and with her two daughters nestled close to her, Chu Yuanjun's agitated emotions gradually calmed down.

She wiped away her tears thoroughly with her sleeve and let out a long sigh of relief.

The tears seemed to wash away much of the sorrow and weariness on her face, replacing it with a calm and gentle glow, and her eyes became much clearer.

Looking at her son, whose face was calm and whose eyes were firm, she felt an indescribable pride and an unprecedented sense of dependence.

"Guangming," she said softly, her voice still hoarse from crying, yet unusually clear, "Mother knows. From now on, this family will rely on you more. You... you've grown up, and you're more capable than your father and mother."

This sentence contains a mother's complete trust and entrustment.

Yang Guangming met his mother's gaze, nodded solemnly and without hesitation, and said in a steady and strong voice, "Mother, don't worry, I'm here."

Those few simple words carried a tremendous weight, landing heavily in the air of the small house and in the hearts of every family member. (End of Chapter)