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

Yang Guangming stood in the somewhat empty lobby of the county guesthouse and said goodbye to He Jianjun.

"Guangming, are you really not going to eat anything before you leave?" He Jianjun's face still held the excitement he felt when he heard the news of "getting the money back," but his eyes were full of concern. "It's already noon, and it's over twenty miles away. I can't go on an empty stomach. I'll go to the canteen and see if I can find anything there..."

“Jianjun, really, there’s no need.” Yang Guangming interrupted him, his tone gentle but firm. “Your rations aren’t much either, so don’t bother. I know what I’m doing; you won’t go hungry.”

He patted He Jianjun's thin shoulder, feeling the bony bones under his uniform.

"I really owe you a lot this time. You gave me a place to stay and kept worrying about me. I will remember your kindness."

He Jianjun was a little embarrassed by what he said, and scratched the back of his head: "Why are we talking about this? We're like brothers. Getting the money back is the most important thing... But, what will happen to that bastard Qin Shengli in the end?"

"The police said the case will be transferred for handling according to law." Yang Guangming did not reveal more details, such as the extra 500 yuan compensation or the possible withdrawal of the case tomorrow. "He will suffer what he deserves. Let's just wait for the result."

He Jianjun nodded and sighed, "That's true. It's already quite an achievement to get this bastard to vomit up what he ate. Be careful on your way home and get home early. Your uncle and aunt must be worried sick."

"Okay, I know. You're busy, I'm leaving." Yang Guangming nodded to He Jianjun again, turned around and walked out of the guesthouse.

The midday sun was warmer than in the morning, dispelling some of the chill of early spring.

There were more pedestrians on the street than in the morning, and bicycle bells were ringing more frequently. Yang Guangming walked along the roadside, feeling the solid sense of security from the thick wad of banknotes in his arms, but his thoughts were already drifting to his next plans.

He definitely needed to eat something. Taking food from the space was the most convenient and safest option, but it required a relatively secluded place.

He avoided the main street and slowly walked along the alleyways he remembered.

Pingyang County is small; beyond a few main streets lie a network of narrow, winding alleyways. These areas are sparsely populated, with the occasional elderly person sunbathing against the walls, or thin, pale children chasing and playing.

He found a secluded corner, sheltered from the wind and littered with broken bricks and tiles, with low walls blocking his view from both sides. After confirming that no one was paying attention, he turned his back to the alley entrance and let his consciousness sink into the surrounding space.

This time, he chose two steamed buns, a piece of braised beef, and a piece of Harbin red sausage. After thinking for a moment, he took out a bottle of yogurt.

He ate slowly and deliberately with his yogurt. The steamed buns were soft, the braised beef was savory and flavorful, and the red sausage had a unique smoky taste. These foods, which seem ordinary to later generations, brought him an indescribable sense of satisfaction and peace when he enjoyed them alone in this quiet corner of the county town in the spring of 1961.

After eating and drinking his fill, he straightened his clothes and stepped back into the sunlight, looking like an ordinary young man who had just taken a casual stroll on the street.

It was still early, so he wasn't in a hurry to return to the village. He needed to use this time to get to know the small county town firsthand.

In the merged memories, the original owner was just a recent graduate from a rural area who didn't know much about the specific situation in Pingyang County. He needed to see for himself the details of Pingyang County, especially the location and general situation of various units.

He walked slowly along the street, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over the buildings and unit signs on both sides.

The county committee, the armed forces department, the public security bureau… these powerful institutions were concentrated in an area slightly north of the county center, mostly in single-story or two-story brick and tile buildings, exuding a solemnity and simplicity unique to that era. Armed guards stood watch at the entrances, and pedestrians unconsciously slowed their pace as they passed by.

He turned east, where factories, mines, and commercial areas were relatively concentrated. In the distance, he could see the tall walls of the lumber mill and the mountains of logs inside, with the faint smell of sawdust and the distinctive aroma of wood wafting in the air.

The agricultural machinery station has a small entrance and looks rather deserted.

In his memory, Qin Shengli boasted that the "Dongfang Pharmaceutical Factory" was the largest factory in Pingyang County and had a very high level of authority.

Dongfang Pharmaceutical Factory is a provincial-level enterprise with a total of four to five thousand employees. It was established shortly after liberation and is highly valued within the province.

The benefits at Dongfang Pharmaceutical Factory are excellent, second to none in the entire county. Young people in the county are all proud to work at the pharmaceutical factory.

Even at noon, the county supply and marketing cooperative was still bustling with activity, and there were still queues at the entrance, though shorter than in the morning.

The shop window displayed very few items; the most eye-catching were thermos flasks and enamel basins printed with the Double Happiness logo. The largest crowd was gathered in front of the grocery counter, and even through the glass, one could see how empty the shelves inside were.

He then turned south, where schools were more concentrated. Pingyang County No. 1 Middle School was his alma mater, and the familiar school gate made him pause slightly, but he had no intention of going in.

The bulletin board next to the school gate is covered with faded posters and the latest big-character posters, the contents of which are nothing more than those familiar slogans.

He walked around, stopping occasionally, and tried to strike up a conversation with the kind-looking elderly people squatting on the street sunbathing, or the middle-aged men sitting at the entrance of workplaces. The conversation naturally started with asking for directions, and then inadvertently veered towards information such as "job openings" and "where to find people."

The feedback received was largely the same.

"Recruiting workers? That's tough." An old man wrapped in an old cotton-padded coat with his hands in his sleeves clicked his tongue. "There are so many unemployed young people in the city that we can't even find enough jobs, let alone people with rural household registration."

"Our factory? We haven't really hired any workers properly for years. We've all been filling in. Occasionally we get one or two openings, but they're all filled internally." The lumber mill gatekeeper was a middle-aged man with a missing front tooth, but he was quite talkative. "Young man, you're from the countryside, right? Don't dream about this. Just focus on earning work points."

"I heard that there are occasional construction projects in the area that need temporary workers, but it's physically demanding and requires a certificate from the brigade," another bicycle repairman on the street said without looking up.

All of this information was within Yang Guangming's expectations.

In 1961, the national economy was in a period of adjustment, and urban employment was under great pressure. Formal recruitment channels were almost completely closed to rural youth.

He inquired about these things not because he really hoped to find a way out immediately, but simply to learn more about the relevant information so that he could have a basic understanding of this small county.

The details he observed pieced together to reveal the true picture of a small county town in the Central Plains region in 1961: scarcity and tension, yet orderly, with clear and stable divisions of social classes and resources.

Around 3 p.m., Yang Guangming felt it was about time.

He found a small supply and marketing cooperative branch on the roadside just before leaving the city.

The store was dimly lit, and the shelves weren't stocked much. He had a clear goal: he asked the salesperson directly if they had any carrying baskets.

The saleswoman, a woman in her forties, was knitting. Upon hearing this, she looked up at him, pointed to the corner of the wall, and said, "There are only a few kinds. Take a look yourself."

Several new baskets were piled up in the corner. Yang Guangming picked out a tightly woven and sturdy rattan basket with a lid tied with hemp rope. This kind of basket has a large capacity, and you can't see what's inside when the lid is on, which is perfect for him.

"Five cents," the salesperson quoted the price.

Yang Guangming took out the stack of banknotes from his pocket, carefully pulled out a bill, and paid the bill.

Carrying an empty basket, Yang Guangming walked out of the distribution store and officially embarked on his journey back to the village.

The roads leading from the county town to the various communes were rammed earth roads, which were fairly smooth, but dust would fly up whenever vehicles and pedestrians passed by.

On both sides of the road were empty fields, the wheat seedlings just beginning to turn green, sparse and weak, showing a barely struggling green. Further away, there were occasional bare villages and scattered trees dotting the yellowish earth.

Yang Guangming walked at a steady pace, maintaining a consistent speed. The twenty-odd miles were not a particularly arduous test for this young body that had just eaten and drunk its fill.

There weren't many pedestrians on the road. Occasionally, farmers would slowly pass by in oxcarts or donkey carts, and when they saw this lone young man carrying a basket on his back, they would give him a casual glance.

Yang Guangming walked steadily, sorting out his thoughts and planning what to say and do when he got home.

After walking for nearly two hours, the outline of Xiangyang Village came into view in the distance.

The low, mud-brick houses stand in a row, the old locust tree at the village entrance has bare branches pointing to the sky, and a few wisps of smoke rise from the chimneys, reminding everyone that it is dinnertime.

Yang Guangming didn't enter the village immediately. He stopped behind a small earthen mound not far outside the village.

It's secluded here; no one can see you.

He put down the basket, opened the lid, and his consciousness sank into the refrigerator space.

It's time to put the "thing" in.

The first thing he took out was the grain.

Five jin of Northeast rice, packed in a coarse cloth bag, were plump and full; five jin of Southern indica rice, also packed in a cloth bag, were crystal clear; and five jin of standard flour were snow-white and delicate.

These refined grains are now considered delicacies in rural areas, where even during the Lunar New Year they might not be a common treat.

Next came the mixed grains: a pound of golden cornmeal, a pound of red beans, a pound of mung beans, a pound of soybeans, and a pound of millet.

Then came the meats. One piece of cured pork, weighing about a pound, dark red and glossy; several pieces of cured sausage, also about a pound; one piece of fresh pork belly, with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, wrapped in oil paper; and a small piece of ham, about a pound, with an enticing color.

There were also plenty of cooked dishes: a thick slice of braised beef, rich in color; a piece of pork head meat, trembling and full of collagen; and a roast chicken wrapped in oil paper, its aroma subtly wafting out.

Finally, there were things I specially prepared for my niece, Miaomiao: a can of milk powder that's hard to find these days; a pound of milk candy; and a pound of regular fruit hard candy.

These things filled the basket to the brim, making it heavy. Yang Guangming weighed it in his hand; it was quite heavy, but still manageable for him.

He closed the basket lid again, straightened his clothes and expression, and let the ease and subtle joy of "getting the money back and solving a big problem" appear on his face, while also showing a hint of fatigue after a long journey.

Then, he shouldered the heavy basket, started walking, and headed towards the village entrance.

Around six o'clock in the afternoon, the sky began to darken slightly.

Most of the villagers who had worked all day had gone home, and the village was much quieter than during the day, but some noises began to come from the courtyards of each household, and the smoke from the chimneys grew thicker.

As Yang Guangming walked into the village carrying a bulging basket on his back, he immediately attracted the attention of some villagers.

"Hey, Guangming's back?" Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, several old men squatting down to eat with bowls in their hands looked up, and one of them greeted them.

"You're back, Uncle San. Eating?" Yang Guangming greeted him warmly with a smile. This old man was of high seniority and a good person; he had often sighed for his parents behind their backs in the past.

"Yeah, just finished work. You... came back from the county town? What are you carrying? It's so heavy." Another old man glanced curiously at the basket on his back.

"I bought some things for the house," Yang Guangming replied vaguely, without stopping. "Please enjoy your meal. I'm going home now; my parents must be getting impatient."

"Hey, go back now." The old men didn't ask any more questions and continued to shovel the thin rice in their bowls.

Along the way, he encountered several villagers, both men and women, hurrying home. Their reactions to seeing him varied.

Some simply nodded, some lingered on the basket on his back for a moment, while others wore complex expressions—sympathy? Regret? Or the lingering satisfaction of watching someone make a fool of themselves?

Yang Guangming responded with a natural smile and simple greetings. He noticed that those who had been the most vocal critics of him behind his back were now avoiding his gaze or simply pretending not to see him.

He understood immediately. The rumors about him being swindled out of 300 yuan and becoming mentally challenged were already common knowledge in the village.

Many people believe that his trip to the city to "collect debts" will likely be futile, and he may even suffer further humiliation. Although his basket is heavy, the villagers, with their preconceived notions, probably won't associate it with anything good.

He wasn't in a hurry to explain. Facts speak louder than words.

Once he pays back the money and shows what's in his basket, the news will spread like wildfire throughout the village. It's much more effective for others to say it than for him to explain himself.

Yang Guangming's family lived at the western end of the village. The courtyard was surrounded by a low adobe wall, and the gate was made of two slightly mottled wooden doors, which were open at the moment.

He walked to the door and saw the scene in the yard.

Father Yang Xiuyuan was squatting in a corner of the yard, holding tools in his hand, repairing a broken wooden stool.

He wore a faded dark blue coarse cloth shirt and trousers, his back slightly hunched, his hands moving slowly and carefully. At only forty-five years old, he looked more like he was in his fifties due to years of hard work and recent worries, his face etched with deep wrinkles.

The eldest brother, Yang Ximing, was sitting on a small stool at the entrance of the main room, wiping a trowel with an old cloth.

He was half a head taller than his father, and a bit more robust. His eyebrows and eyes bore a resemblance to Yang Guangming's, but were more rugged. At this moment, his brows were slightly furrowed, and he seemed somewhat absent-minded, wiping slowly.

The third brother, Yang Yuming, was scooping water from the water vat into a wooden bucket, preparing to carry it to the kitchen.

He was eighteen years old this year, but he had already grown very tall, with broad shoulders and a thick waist, even more robust than his older brother. However, his face still carried a childish innocence and an uncontrollable restlessness.

He was strong, and his scooping motion had a venting quality to it, splashing water everywhere.

The yard was fairly clean, but a dull and oppressive atmosphere permeated the air. Even the chirping of sparrows returning to their nests at dusk under the eaves sounded weak and listless.

With a basket on his back, Yang Guangming stepped over the high wooden threshold and into the courtyard.

The footsteps startled the three people in the courtyard.

Yang Xiuyuan looked up and saw that it was his second son who had returned. His tightly furrowed brows relaxed almost imperceptibly, and a look of relief flashed in his eyes, but it was immediately covered by a deeper worry.

He put down his tools, said nothing, and just looked at Yang Guangming.

Yang Ximing also looked up and saw his younger brother. He forced a smile, but it was a strained smile, revealing his exhaustion and worry.

"Guangming, you're back? How are you? Are you alright?" He put down his trowel, stood up, and asked.

He didn't really believe his younger brother could achieve anything this time; he was more worried that his brother might have suffered some injustice or impulsively caused trouble in the city. Yang Yuming reacted the most. When he saw his second brother, his eyes lit up, then he threw the water ladle into the water vat with a loud clatter, and strode over in a few steps, his voice loud and reproachful:
"Second brother! You're finally back! Why did you stay in the city for two days? Do you know how worried everyone at home was? Mom and Dad didn't sleep a wink all night!"

His tone was forceful, but the concern in his eyes was genuine.

The third brother has a fiery temper and is easily angered, but he cares a lot about his family, especially his second brother, with whom he grew up and whom he finds a bit "silly" but doesn't dislike.

Yang Guangming unloaded the heavy basket from his shoulder and placed it on the muddy ground at his feet with a dull thud.

The sound startled all three of them, and their gazes involuntarily fell on the bulging, tightly covered basket.

"Something came up and I was held up." Yang Guangming answered Yang Yuming's question first, his tone calm, and then looked at his father and elder brother, "Dad, elder brother, I'm back."

Yang Xiuyuan hummed in agreement, his gaze shifting from his son's face to the basket on his back, then back again, without asking any further questions. He was always a man of few words, preferring to wait for his son to speak for himself.

Yang Ximing then asked directly, "Guangming, what's in your basket...? It looks quite heavy."

His doubts deepened. His younger brother went to the city empty-handed, but returned carrying such a large basket of things? Where did he get the money? Could it be…

A bad thought popped into his mind, and his expression changed slightly.

Yang Yuming could no longer contain his curiosity. He squatted down and reached out to lift the lid of the basket: "Second brother, what good stuff did you buy? Let me see!"

Yang Guangming didn't stop him, he just said, "Be careful, it's a bit heavy, don't spill it."

Yang Yuming lifted the lid and peered inside.

He was stunned at first glance, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide open, as if he had seen something unbelievable.

Inside the basket, on top of everything was a roast chicken wrapped in oil paper. Although it was wrapped, the unique aroma of the meat was already faintly wafting out.

Next to it were braised beef and pig's head meat wrapped in oil paper, their dark brown color quite appealing.

Further down are cured pork, sausages, ham, pork belly... Although they are all wrapped up, their shape and color clearly indicate that they are meat!

Then there were large and small, bulging cloth bags and paper packages, clearly indicating grain.

"This...this..." Yang Yuming pointed at the basket on his back, his tongue seemingly tied in knots. He looked up at his second brother, then down at the basket, his face full of shock and bewilderment. "Second brother, did you...you buy all of these? Where did you get the money? And the ration coupons?"

Yang Ximing also quickly came over, and when he saw what was in the basket, he also gasped, his expression changing from confusion to horror in an instant.

He was a married man, and he understood even better how precious and rare these things were in the present day. So much refined grains, meat, and clearly cooked food… how much money did this cost? How many tickets? Wasn't his brother supposed to be collecting debts? How come…

Even Yang Xiuyuan, who had been silent all along, stood up, walked closer, and looked at the contents of the basket. The deep wrinkles on his dark face seemed to freeze, and his eyes were filled with shock and disbelief, as well as a hint of barely perceptible tension.

He looked at Yang Guangming, his voice a little hoarse: "Guangming, where...where did these things come from?"

Seeing the identical shock and disbelief on the faces of his father, eldest brother, and third brother, Yang Guangming sighed inwardly, knowing that he had no choice but to explain.

Just as he was about to speak, the curtain of the main room was lifted, and his mother, Feng Guifang, and sister-in-law, Cheng Shulan, heard the commotion in the courtyard and quickly came out.

Feng Guifang is short and thin, and years of hard work have made her look much older than her actual age.

She wore a patched dark gray jacket, her apron still on, and her face bore the lingering sorrow and weariness of many years.

When she saw her youngest son return, her eyes lit up with joy at first, but then her gaze fell on the open basket full of "goodies" on the ground, and she froze, not even noticing the rag in her hand fall to the ground.

Cheng Shulan followed behind her mother-in-law, who was two years older than Yang Guangming. She had a decent appearance, but her complexion was somewhat sallow, a sign of malnutrition.

She held her daughter, Miaomiao, who had just turned one year old, in her arms. Miaomiao was very well-behaved, looking at the adults in the yard with her big, bright eyes.

When Cheng Shulan saw what was in the basket, she was so shocked that she covered her mouth and almost cried out.

“Guangming, you…you are…” Feng Guifang’s voice trembled as she pointed at the basket on her back, unable to speak coherently.

Her first thought wasn't joy, but fear. She feared her son had gone astray or gotten into serious trouble. These days, where do so many good things come from out of nowhere?
For a moment, the yard was so quiet that only the sound of the wind and Miao Miao's occasional babbling could be heard. The whole family's eyes were focused on Yang Guangming, filled with surprise, worry, and anxiety.

Yang Guangming knew he had to give everyone a reasonable explanation immediately, otherwise the misunderstanding would be huge.

He took a deep breath, a relieved yet slightly tired smile appearing on his face, and said, "Father, Mother, Eldest Brother, Sister-in-law, Yuming, don't panic, let me explain slowly."

He bent down and took out a small cloth bag carefully wrapped in a handkerchief from the bottom of the basket—it contained the two hundred yuan compensation Qin Dewang had given him that day, plus the three hundred yuan he had already repaid, totaling five hundred yuan. He handed the bag to his mother, Feng Guifang.

Feng Guifang instinctively took it; it felt heavy in her hand.

With trembling hands, she unfolded the handkerchief layer by layer. When she saw the thick stack of bills inside, mainly ten-yuan notes and a few five-yuan notes, she froze, her eyes fixed on the money, her breathing becoming rapid.

Yang Ximing and Yang Yuming also went over to take a look, and when they saw the thick stack of money, the brothers' eyes widened instantly.

Yang Ximing remained relatively composed, though his Adam's apple bobbed slightly. Yang Yuming, however, exclaimed in shock, "Money! So much money! Second brother, what... what's going on?"

Yang Xiuyuan stared intently at the stack of money, his facial muscles twitching slightly, and his gaze toward Yang Guangming became even more serious.

Yang Guangming gestured for his mother to put the money away before he began his story. His tone was calm and clear, starting with his decision to go to the police station to report the case yesterday morning.

"...I figured it out then and there. It was no use going to Qin Shengli privately. Without any evidence, he definitely wouldn't admit it. Three hundred yuan is not a small amount. The police station should be able to handle it. So I went there."

He recounted the process of reporting the case at the police station, how the police questioned, recorded, and filed a case. He also explained how he provided clues suggesting Qin Shengli might be gambling and squandering money.

"The police were very efficient. They found Qin Shengli that afternoon and took him to the police station. That guy was a paper tiger. Once the police intimidated him, he confessed everything and admitted to cheating me out of 300 yuan."

Upon hearing this, Yang Yuming slapped his thigh and shouted excitedly, "Serves him right! He deserves it! That bastard! Why didn't the police beat him up!"

Yang Ximing breathed a sigh of relief, a look of satisfaction on his face, but then asked worriedly, "What about the money? He admitted it, is there any way to get it back?"

Yang Guangming nodded and continued, "He lost most of the money, and only less than fifty yuan is left."

However, his father, Qin Dewang, the old worker who worked as a fourth-level worker in the lumber mill, had a very clear attitude after learning about this.

He berated his son severely, then went to the police station himself and, in front of the officers, returned the three hundred yuan to me, not a penny less.

"Really? You got all three hundred yuan back?" Feng Guifang finally snapped out of her shock, clutching the money pouch tightly in her hand, her voice trembling with tears as she asked in disbelief.

"Really, Mom, we brought them all back. What I just gave you was part of it," Yang Guangming said confidently.

"That's wonderful! That's wonderful! Thank God! Heaven has opened its eyes!" Feng Guifang's tears welled up instantly. They were tears that had been suppressed for too long and were suddenly released, mixed with great joy and relief.

Cheng Shulan's eyes also reddened, and she gently patted her mother-in-law's back.

Yang Xiuyuan gave a heavy "hmm," turned his back, and vigorously wiped his face. This taciturn man's shoulders trembled slightly, clearly indicating that he was also extremely unsettled.

Yang Ximing grinned, and as he smiled, his eyes became a little moist.

He patted Yang Guangming's shoulder hard: "Guangming, well done! I didn't expect you to do such a great job this time!"

Yang Yuming jumped up excitedly: "Second brother! You're amazing! I knew you weren't really stupid! That bastard Qin Shengli is finished now, isn't he? Have the police arrested him?"

Yang Guangming gestured for everyone to remain calm and continued, "The case is still under investigation. Qin Shengli's fraud is clear, and he will definitely be punished. However, his father, Qin Dewang, later contacted me privately."

The whole family immediately fell silent and looked at him.

Qin Dewang said that his son was young and ignorant, and begged me to forgive him and give him a chance to reform.

He said he was willing to return the 300 yuan and give us additional compensation as an apology to make up for the losses and grievances we suffered.

"Compensation?" Yang Ximing keenly caught the word.

“Yes, compensation.” Yang Guangming nodded. “He initially offered two hundred. I didn’t agree. Three hundred yuan almost drove our family to the brink of despair. My parents couldn’t hold their heads up in the village. This isn’t something that can be compensated for with two hundred yuan. Later, I gave him a number.”

He paused, looking at his family members' expectant yet nervous eyes, and slowly said, "Five hundred. I'll make him pay an extra five hundred. Adding the three hundred he already paid, it'll be eight hundred in total."

“Eight…eight hundred?!” Yang Yuming exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers.

The others were also speechless, stunned by the figure. Eight hundred yuan! This was an unimaginable sum of money!
"He...he agreed?" Yang Ximing's voice was a little dry.

“I agreed,” Yang Guangming said calmly. “He gave me two hundred today, which is part of the money Mom has. He will give me the remaining three hundred tomorrow. The condition is that I accept mediation, will not pursue the matter further, and will try to resolve this matter internally at the police station, without going through the court process.”

He looked at his father, Yang Xiuyuan: "Dad, I've thought about it. Now that the money is back, we can pay off our debts."

The Qin family has suffered a significant loss by paying another 500 yuan; they've learned a harsh lesson. Our family has benefited, the matter is settled, and we can finally hold our heads high in the village again.

So I agreed.

Silence fell over the courtyard again. Everyone was processing this shocking news.

Yang Xiuyuan turned around and looked at his youngest son.

He noticed that his son's face no longer held the resentment, bitterness, or bewilderment of the past; instead, it displayed composure and certainty. His eyes were clear and bright, his speech was logical and articulate, and he handled matters with reason and evidence, even giving the impression of... deep foresight.

Is this still his second son, who was "unreliable," "ambitious," and "foolish when he was cheated"?

But the tangible money before him, and the tangible items in the basket on the ground, all told him that his son had not only not been cheated, but had handled the matter exceptionally well, recovering his losses and even receiving excessive compensation.

After a long pause, Yang Xiuyuan nodded heavily and said only one word: "Good."

The word "good" carries so many meanings. It signifies approval of the son's approach, affirmation of his abilities, and the relief of having a huge weight lifted from one's heart.

Feng Guifang wiped away her tears and nodded repeatedly: "Good, good, Guangming did the right thing. It's good that the money is back, and we're satisfied with the compensation... We're satisfied."

She finally let out the pent-up anger that had been building up inside her for half a year.

Yang Ximing's smile widened completely as he forcefully put his arm around Guangming's shoulder: "Great job, Guangming! You've really done us a great service this time! Eight hundred yuan! My goodness, five hundred yuan for nothing in just six months! I've never seen so much money in my life... Our family's life..."

He was so excited that he became somewhat incoherent.

As the eldest son, he has been under just as much pressure as his parents during this period.

She had to comfort her parents and deal with the pity or mockery from the villagers; she had been on edge for a long time. Now, she could finally relax.

"Then...the things in that basket..." Yang Yuming pointed to the basket on the ground and asked impatiently.

Yang Guangming smiled and explained, "To show his sincerity, Qin Dewang not only gave money but also used his connections to get some scarce items from the city as an extra token of his appreciation. I thought about how my family was short of food and oil, so I accepted it. Anyway, they were in the wrong, so we took whatever they offered."

This explanation is perfectly reasonable. To quickly quell the situation, the Qin family offered not only money but also some gifts as "apology," which makes perfect sense. Moreover, while the gifts were nice, they seemed less conspicuous compared to the 500 yuan in cash compensation.

“Yes, yes, we should take it! We shouldn’t refuse it! They should compensate us!” Yang Yuming immediately agreed, squatted down, and began to carefully examine the contents of the basket. He exclaimed in surprise with each item he took out.

"Rice! Pure white rice! And two kinds at that!"

"White flour! Such fine white flour!"

"Cured pork! Sausage! My goodness, and ham! This is...this is fresh pork belly?"

"Braised beef! Pig's head meat! Roast chicken! Haha, we're in for a treat tonight!"

"This is... milk powder? For Miaomiao? And candy! Milk candy! Hard candy!"

Every time he reported something, the eyes of the other family members lit up a little more.

Especially when she heard that there was milk powder and candy for Miaomiao, Cheng Shulan hugged her daughter and her eyes reddened again.

Looking at the pile of "goodies" on the ground, Feng Guifang was both delighted and distressed: "So many... they must be worth a lot of money and tickets, right? The Qin family really..."

"Mom, don't think too much about it. They're just paying for peace of mind, so we should accept it without any guilt," Yang Guangming comforted her. "We're happy today, so let's cook a nice meal tonight to celebrate! Let's heat up this roast chicken, slice some braised beef and pig's head meat, and cook some rice! Let the whole family have a good meal!"

The suggestion was immediately and unanimously approved by the whole family. (End of Chapter)