Twenty years of cold chain

Chapter 432 The Return Journey Under the Moon (The Finale)

The morning after the summit, Hu Shutong visited the cemetery to see Pang Shiyou once again.

The place looked like it had just been maintained; the lawn was covered with water droplets. If it weren't for a leaf suddenly falling onto your shoulder, you would forget that it was already early winter.

As always, he bought flowers and candy, and as always, he remained quiet from beginning to end. Every time he wanted to say something to his teacher Pang, he kept it to himself, so that he wouldn't feel empty, as if every word would be answered.

Old Pang has never left. This isn't hysteria; it's his mark on this road, always shining brightly. There's no need to deliberately think back; on stiff paper, in cold storage, you can find warm and cozy memories of the past everywhere.

However, this time his mindset was different from before. Although he still had to talk to Lao Pang about the past year and the year to come as usual, he no longer had so many "what to do" thoughts in his mind, and he could relax and chat with Lao Pang more easily.

The word "spirit" is indeed too grand, and saying it too often makes it seem cheap. Hu Shutong never talks about these things in public, but in his heart, these two words not only truly exist, but also have a great power to help people move forward.

Spirit gives rise to courage; for a person, this is something profound, like an awl piercing the ground, supporting one's insight, vision, and breadth of mind.

As for the mountains, who says they are high? They can be climbed step by step! Who says the rivers are wide? They can be crossed with a single reed!

Now, he can finally speak more comforting words to his teacher, see a world he had never seen before, and write poems he had never written before. He can now speak with great enthusiasm, welcoming the new and moving towards the new.

Many memories have become blurred because many of his deepest concerns were the driving forces he couldn't let go of. Now that he has let go, Lao Pang will no longer have any worries.

Time flew by, and more than an hour passed in the blink of an eye. Hu Shutong waved goodbye and walked to his car without looking back.

……

Time is a complex thing; it is filled with nostalgia for the past and anticipation for the future, always finding ways to linger in our minds. Fortunately, it will always move forward, allowing us to relinquish our grip on compromise and accept that we must always move forward.

However, on the other hand, every year has its own unique symbol for each person, and the external and the internal are always two separate categories. Your 2008, my 2003, his 2015, a coffee shop, a street corner, a movie theater, an old song, a glass of strong liquor, a heartfelt sentiment or sorrow that one is unwilling to express.

These are all moments in time, all things of the past, unrelated to years and unsolvable in the context of life.

……

Hu Shutong had many social engagements scheduled for today, but he declined them all and didn't want to linger here any longer. He just wanted to get home as soon as possible; it was a moment he couldn't miss.

Shortly after setting off, Hu Shutong suddenly received an electronic invitation, which was still the kind of dynamic page-by-page invitation, but it was not well made at all. All he could see were large clusters of red flowers, showing that they hadn't even bothered to use a template.

Yu Dajun said he didn't plan to hold a wedding, nor did he plan to notify anyone, and he didn't plan to have Hu Shutong attend, but he had to receive a gift.

Hu Shutong saw that there were only two names on the invitation. Besides money, who else could possibly attend? But he smiled broadly, exceptionally happy at that moment, all his worries gone.

On his way home, his mind was focused, no longer glancing at the signs to see if they had changed, nor noticing the passing refrigerated trucks. The grand vision, the expansive circulation—all of that was gone. He was single-mindedly heading north; it wasn't a welcome, but an embrace, a yearning.

Looking to the side, he felt the moon was rounder than usual, or perhaps it was because he hadn't really looked at the moonlight in a long time; it lay on the horizon as real as a washbasin. The radio played the prelude to bagpipes, a sound both distant and intimate, which drifted out the window, like dyeing the reeds along the roadside, causing them to sway.

As Hu Shutong approached Qingyan, he felt both expectant and anxious. He stopped his car by a flower bed after the service area and unconsciously lit a cigarette.

A close-up photo of a mother and son pressed together appeared on his phone. Hu Shutong first pursed his lips, then unconsciously burst into laughter. But as he laughed, his eyes welled up with tears.

Their son, Hu Ze, was born.

The car continued forward, getting farther and farther away, until it seemed to disappear from sight, but its flickering taillights were like a pair of eyes that would open and close intermittently. Every ray of light it emitted was exceptionally moving.

It lasts only a blink of an eye, but it never stops.

……

(End of the book)

I've loved cold chain logistics for twenty years.