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

Chapter 62. Ironing out wrinkles
The five members of the secretariat sat around the Zhou family's slightly crowded, old table with its peeling paint.

Amidst the clinking of glasses and the gentle intoxication of Shaoxing wine, an unprecedented, warm bond—called "colleagues" yet almost "family"—is quietly taking root.

Those past grudges, differences in status, and invisible barriers were temporarily dissolved by a stronger sense of empathy amidst the aroma of food, sincere gratitude, and shared sighs.

Time slipped away quietly amidst laughter and clinking glasses; as night deepened, the meal was complete.

It was time to say goodbye. Zhang Yuqin skillfully helped Mrs. Zhou clear the dishes, her movements swift and efficient; Li Weidong also eagerly helped carry plates and wipe the table, working extra hard.

Han Mingqian and Zhou Bingsheng stood at the door of the living room, talking in hushed tones, occasionally patting each other on the shoulder.

Just then, Han Mingqian pulled a small, neatly folded paper packet from the pocket of his slightly worn but still crisp Zhongshan suit jacket.

He gently took Zhou Bingsheng's hand and placed the paper package firmly and unequivocally in his palm.

The voice wasn't loud, but it carried an organizational solemnity that brooked no refusal, and a deeper concern:

"Old Zhou, take this. It's a small token of our appreciation from a few colleagues. Don't refuse it. Give Xiao Bao more nutrition, and the adults should also take care of their health. Health is the foundation of everything."

He specifically emphasized "heartfelt intentions" and "capital," cleverly blending personal relationships with responsibilities.

Zhou Bingsheng was taken aback. He felt the familiar hardness and weight of the paper package in his palm and instantly understood what was inside.

He instinctively tried to refuse, pulling his hand back: "Director Han, this...this won't do! You've already brought so much stuff, it's too much of a waste..."

He could clearly feel that inside the paper package were several folded, tough pieces of cardboard—grain coupons!
In this day and age, this is more precious than money; it's the key to survival!

Han Mingqian pressed down on his withdrawing hand with his strong hand, his gaze gentle yet firm, carrying the authority of an elder:

"Don't refuse anymore. We know what's going on in your room. This little bit of grain coupons is what we pooled together privately, one jin each. It's not much, but it should be enough to tide us over."

Xiao Yang, Yu Qin, and Wei Dong's feelings are all in it.

He paused deliberately, his gaze sweeping over Yang Guangming and the others who were tidying up. "I'm the head of the secretariat team. It's most appropriate for me to hand this over to you. Take it!"

He reiterated "one jin per person" and "transfer in a unified manner," which not only saved face for the Zhou family and avoided the embarrassment of direct charity, but also clearly demonstrated that this was a collective act of care, not a personal favor.

Zhou Bingsheng's fingers touched the thick stack of grain coupons, as if struck by a weak electric current.

One jin of grain coupons per person was equivalent to a basic daily food ration for an adult.

This weight pressed heavily on his hands, and even more heavily on his heart.

His throat bobbed violently, his lips trembled a few times, and he looked at the undeniable deep concern in Han Mingqian's eyes, then at Yang Guangming, Zhang Yuqin, and Li Weidong, who were tidying up with their wives not far away, casting gentle glances at him—Li Weidong even gave him a stern nod. A huge surge of warmth mixed with an indescribable bitterness rushed to the tip of his nose and straight to his eyes.

He knew that this was his colleagues' most sincere and considerate gesture, a way to preserve the last shred of his self-respect.

"...Thank you...Thank you, Director Han...Thank you everyone..."

Zhou Bingsheng gripped the small paper package tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. His voice was choked and hoarse, unable to say anything more. He could only nod vigorously and deeply, as if trying to etch this sentiment into his heart.

Mrs. Zhou also witnessed this scene. She hurriedly wiped her hands on her faded apron, rushed over, and tears finally welled up in her eyes. She repeatedly thanked Han Mingqian and the others, her voice trembling.
"Thank you... thank you all... it's really... it's really..."

I can't form a coherent sentence, but I am filled with gratitude!

This sentiment was more genuine than any expensive gift, and it made the Zhou couple feel the profound and timely friendship of their colleague.

Yang Guangming, Zhang Yuqin, and Li Weidong, having finished packing, also came over.

Seeing Zhou Bingsheng clutching the paper package tightly and his eyes reddening, they all smiled knowingly and understandingly.

Li Weidong's smile contained not only a sense of relief but also a feeling of accomplishment and belonging from being a part of it.

Han Mingqian patted Zhou Bingsheng's slightly hunched shoulder forcefully: "Alright, no need to thank us anymore. We're leaving now. You and your wife should get some rest; you've had a busy day. If Xiaobao needs anything, just let us know. Don't shoulder everything alone anymore." His words were filled with parental concern.

Everyone stood up and said goodbye.

Zhou Bingsheng and his wife escorted them all the way to the entrance of the alley, thanking them repeatedly. Their voices were particularly clear in the quiet alley.

The moonlight, clear and bright as water, gently spilled onto the wet bluestone path, and also reflected in Zhou Bingsheng's eyes, which seemed much clearer, as if a great burden had been lifted.

He gripped Han Mingqian's hand tightly, shaking it repeatedly; then he shook hands firmly with Yang Guangming, Zhang Yuqin, and Li Weidong one by one. The force he used when shaking Li Weidong's hand was no different.

"Goodbye! Goodbye!" Zhou Bingsheng's voice was exceptionally clear and loud in the quiet night, carrying a long-lost, almost reborn vitality.

On the way back, the alley was deep and narrow, with the high walls of the Shikumen gates on both sides casting heavy shadows.

The moonlight, like cool mercury, flowed quietly through the cracks in the stone path.

The lingering scheming in Li Weidong's heart, the all-knowing calm in Yang Guangming's eyes, the fragile trust in Zhou Bingsheng that was forcibly pried open, and the responsibility of balancing the overall situation on Han Mingqian's shoulders...

These concerns have not disappeared, but tonight they have been temporarily soothed by a force called "mutual assistance" and "compassion," and covered with a thin layer of comforting warmth.

(End of this chapter)