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

Chapter 115, Section 114: Seeking Help and Reflection
These words were like a boulder thrown onto a noisy dinner table.

Everyone fell silent, their eyes all turning to Lang Tianrui. Even Chen Guoqiang, who had been somewhat drowsy, strained to open his eyes and look over.

"What's wrong, Lao Lang? Did something happen to your mother at home?" Zhang Weiqiang put down his wine glass, his brows furrowed slightly, his tone filled with genuine concern.

As Secretary Tian's chief secretary, he had some understanding of the family situations of the factory's middle-level cadres.

Lang Tianrui rubbed his temples hard, as if trying to crush the heavy sorrow within, then sighed heavily, his voice deepening:
"It was my mother... You all know about the major surgery she had last winter; it took a toll on her health."

Since the beginning of summer, I haven't been feeling well. I vomit everything I eat, and I can't sleep well. I'm getting thinner and thinner every day, just skin and bones... It's heartbreaking to see."

His eyes were slightly red.

"I secretly asked someone to invite a retired old doctor to take a look at me. The old doctor took my pulse and shook his head, saying that the surgery had damaged my foundation, my vital energy was severely depleted, and my body was completely weak."

"Relying solely on strong medicinal attacks won't work; a weak body cannot tolerate such tonics. We need gentle remedies to replenish vital energy slowly and gradually, like a gentle, persistent process."

Lang Tianrui looked around, his eyes filled with helplessness and longing, his tone becoming even heavier:

"The old gentleman said that medicinal supplements are ultimately too strong, while dietary supplements are gentler and more lasting."

Ordinary chicken, duck, fish, and meat are not warming and nourishing enough. The best choice is... dried sea cucumber.

That stuff, the essence of the sea, is incredibly nourishing, replenishing qi and blood, warming without being drying, and is perfect for my mother's deficiency.

"Dried sea cucumber?" Chen Guoqiang frowned, his voice still loud, but less fiery than before, filled with disbelief. "That stuff? It's as precious as gold! I've never even heard of anyone having it! Where are we supposed to get it? Isn't that like trying to pluck the moon from the sky?"

His straightforward personality spoke for everyone.

"It's definitely harder than plucking the moon from the sky!"

Lang Tianrui gave a bitter smile, a smile more painful than a cry: "I, Lang Tianrui, consider myself to have some influence in the factory and on the street, and I know all sorts of people."

To get this done, I really went all out, pulling every string I could! Food companies, grocery stores, seafood companies…

Which government office haven't I visited? Which cold-faced officials haven't I seen? My legs are practically broken from running around, and my lips are worn thin from talking so much!

As soon as they heard it was 'dried sea cucumber,' they shook their heads like rattles! They wouldn't even let them in the door!

He took a large gulp of liquor, the pungent liquid seemingly suppressing the lump in his throat, and continued:
"They said this is a 'top-grade seafood delicacy,' which is explicitly designated by the state as a 'special-needs commodity'!"

This is exclusively for foreign dignitaries, high-ranking officials, and special units! It's completely outside the daily supply plans of ordinary citizens like us! Don't even think about it!

He mimicked the cold, bureaucratic tone of those clerks, filled with a sense of powerlessness.

Liu Jinsheng, the finance department head who had been listening silently, also frowned and interjected to confirm:

"Everything Lao Lang said is true. In the past, this kind of thing was only available in small quantities every now and then in places like Friendship Stores and Overseas Chinese Stores, and was specially supplied to overseas Chinese and foreign guests with foreign exchange certificates, or high-ranking officials with special supply certificates."

And the price was outrageously high!

He paused, as if recalling an astronomical figure, "I remember it clearly, back in 1965, a first-class product, bought with overseas remittance coupons, cost seventy-eight yuan per jin! That was equivalent to two or three months' wages for an ordinary worker!"

"Seventy-eight yuan a pound?!" Li Tiemin clicked his tongue dramatically, his small eyes widening. "My goodness! Is it made of gold? Who can afford this?"

“It’s even harder to get than gold!” Lang Tianrui interjected, his tone full of bitterness and despair. “The key is that since last year, we haven’t even seen a counter in the Friendship Store! I asked someone I know there, and they secretly told me that the supply is extremely tight. If there is any, it’s directly allocated to designated special supply units and it’s never put on the shelves! It’s completely out of the question!”

He slumped back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. "I even asked someone to inquire with the leaders of the seafood company, thinking they had many connections."

The leader waved his hand, saying that he occasionally received a little bit of fish handed over by fishermen, but the quality was inconsistent and the quantity was extremely small, like winning the lottery!

Moreover, even if they were collected, they could only be supplied to special units; they couldn't be sold privately!

His voice grew softer and softer as he spoke, until it was almost a muttering to himself, filled with a desolate sense of despair.

He abruptly raised his glass, as if to drown his sorrows or to muster his courage, his eyes sweeping over every familiar face in the room with a desperate plea:
"Brothers! We're all on the same side behind closed doors today! I, Lang Tianrui, am begging you all today, even if it means losing face!"

His voice choked, “If anyone has connections, even if they only hear a little bit about it, knows which warehouse might still have stock, or which fisherman in some remote corner might have some hidden treasure, whether it’s public or private, no matter how much money or how many favors it takes! Please! Please tell me!”

He practically roared it out, the veins in his neck bulging:

"Money! I'll sell everything I own, even my house and belongings, to raise the money! Favors! I, Lang Tianrui, will repay them by working like a slave for the rest of my life!"
"As long as I can get it! Even just a few ounces or a few coins will do! This stuff is precious, it can be stored, it won't get old! I'll slowly mend it for my mother!"

He paused, his voice trembling with tears, almost pleading: "As long as you can save my mother... let her suffer less... let her live a few more years... whatever it takes to help her, whatever I, Lang Tianrui, need to do, we can discuss it! I, Lang Tianrui, will remember his kindness for the rest of my life! I'll repay him by being your servant in my next life!"

The private room was deathly silent.

Only the old ceiling fan overhead continued its tireless humming, stirring the stifling, suffocating air and the strong smell of food and drink, but it couldn't dispel the heavy despair.

Zhang Weiqiang frowned, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the greasy plastic tablecloth, making a monotonous tapping sound. His gaze behind his glasses was full of sympathy and helplessness.

Wei Hongyu silently took out a "Daqianmen" cigarette, lit it with a match, and amidst the swirling smoke, the worldly smile on his round face disappeared, leaving only a solemn expression.

Wang Weidong and Zhou Jiefang, a pair of partners with military backgrounds, exchanged a glance and both shook their heads heavily.

They are not afraid of tough battles, but the insurmountable barrier of this "special need" makes them feel powerless.

Chen Guoqiang opened his mouth, wanting to say something heroic, like "Leave it to me," but when he looked at Lang Tianrui's haggard and desperate face, he felt it was too pale and ridiculous. In the end, he just scratched his spiky short hair in frustration and sighed heavily.

Li Tiemin completely dropped his playful grin, his chubby face filled with worry. He sighed, picked up the bottle, poured himself a glass, and drank it down in silence.

Liu Jinsheng and Wen Yongze looked on with deep sympathy and helplessness, shaking their heads slightly, as if even words of comfort were superfluous.

“Old Lang…” Zhang Weiqiang finally broke the oppressive silence, his voice low and filled with deep apology, “This…this is really too difficult. The words ‘special needs’ are an insurmountable chasm. At our level, we can’t even reach it, we can’t even touch it.”

He spoke the harsh reality.

"Yes, I've never even heard of anyone having one. Even city leaders probably don't have any in stock."

"It's difficult, too difficult. Old Lang, it's not that I don't want to help, it's just that... I'm willing but unable to."

The faint glimmer of hope in Lang Tianrui's eyes, amidst the sighs of helplessness from the crowd, dimmed little by little, like a candle flickering in the wind, and was eventually extinguished.

He slumped back in his chair, his shoulders collapsing as if his spine had been removed, and he aged ten years in an instant. Weariness and despair covered his once shrewd face like a thick layer of dust.

Yang Guangming listened quietly, maintaining a proper, slightly sympathetic, solemn expression. Occasionally, he would nod slightly in response to the sighs of the crowd, as if he too was deeply immersed in this heavy sense of helplessness.

No one noticed that when Lang Tianrui repeatedly mentioned the keywords "dried sea cucumber," "great tonic," and "can be stored for a long time," his lowered eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly, and the fingers holding the rough porcelain teacup tightened slightly for a moment.

He then picked up his teacup, using the act of drinking water to subtly conceal the fleeting, calm contemplation in the depths of his eyes, a contemplation as calm as that of an actuary.

The dinner lasted for nearly three hours.

The cups and plates on the table were already a mess, with oil stains and food stains seeping onto the white plastic sheet.

Several empty wine bottles were scattered haphazardly, and the air was filled with a strong smell of alcohol, food, and tobacco.

The much-anticipated "sparring" between Yang Guangming and Chen Guoqiang ultimately did not turn into the fierce, bloody scene that everyone had expected.

Although Chen Guoqiang initially challenged others with great enthusiasm, after drinking several large cups of strong "Qibao Daqu" liquor, coupled with the toasts he had received from others, his initial drive to vent his anger and prove himself through alcohol was quickly overwhelmed by the surge of alcohol.

His tongue began to tie itself uncontrollably, his speech became slurred, his eyes became unfocused and unfocused, and the sound of him slamming the table and shouting weakened.

Yang Guangming has always maintained a level of clarity and restraint beyond his years.

When Chen Guoqiang was clearly intoxicated and swaying, he skillfully picked up his glass, turned to the whole table, and said in a clear voice:
"Dear seniors, I am honored to have the opportunity to attend this gathering today, thanks to the high regard that Director Zhang and other leaders have for me. I have benefited greatly from it."

I'd like to take this opportunity to offer another toast to everyone! Thank you all for your care and guidance! I'll drink this first as a sign of my respect!

After saying that, he drank it all in one gulp without hesitation.

He drank heartily, but with impeccable timing. Each toast was perfectly timed, responding to Chen Guoqiang's provocation without giving him a chance to continue the duel.

Everyone only saw him empty his glass and act with composure, but they didn't know that the burning, spicy liquid, the moment it entered his mouth, was subtly transferred by his will into the depths of the refrigerator space that no one else could see, leaving only a symbolic burning sensation that swirled around in his esophagus before disappearing without a trace.

The cheating was so seamless that no one could detect it.

Chen Guoqiang was only able to stand up with Wang Weidong and Zhou Jiefang supporting his arms on either side.

He was still mumbling incoherently, "It's...not over...Xiao Yang...next time...next time for sure..."

His steps were so unsteady, as if he were walking on cotton, that it drew laughter from the crowd.

This drinking contest, which he instigated and fueled by personal resentment, ended abruptly in this somewhat comical scene.

Zhang Weiqiang glanced at the slightly worn "Shanghai" brand watch on his wrist, then at the group of people slumped over, and stood up with a smile:

"Alright, alright, I think we should call it a day. Old Chen is already like this; if he keeps drinking, his wife will be blocking the door and yelling at me when we get home."

He called over the waiter in the white apron to settle the bill. As the organizer, Zhang Weiqiang usually paid the bill first, and then everyone would split the cost of the meal and food coupons afterward.

Everyone stood up, the sound of chair legs scraping the floor filling the air, and they helped each other, swaying as they walked out of the "Sunny Hall".

As they descended the stairs, Chen Guoqiang practically clung to Wang Weidong's strong, broad shoulders, humming off-key "Sailing the seas depends on the helmsman" incoherently, his steps unsteady.

Yang Guangming walked behind and naturally reached out to help Zhang Weiqiang support Liu Jinsheng, whose steps were unsteady and who was sweating.

Upon arriving at the restaurant entrance, the afternoon sun was still intense and dazzling, making the asphalt road surface scorching hot.

The group stood under the sparse shade of the sycamore trees by the entrance, saying goodbye to each other and discussing how to get home.

Zhang Weiqiang, Lang Tianrui, Wei Hongyu, and Liu Jinsheng, who lived in the same cadre building, naturally walked together.

Wang Weidong and Zhou Jiefang, as a pair, were duty-bound to get Chen Guoqiang, the drunkard, back to his dormitory.

Wen Yongze and Li Tiemin waved goodbye and pushed their bicycles away.

"Xiao Yang." Zhang Weiqiang turned around, walked up to Yang Guangming, patted him on the shoulder, and looked at him behind his glasses with sincere approval and a deeper, less noticeable consideration.

"You did a great job today! Relaxed, natural, and with all the proper etiquette, and you weren't hesitant when it came to being assertive. Excellent! We'll definitely come to these kinds of gatherings often!"

His use of the phrase "come often" conveyed a clear signal of acceptance.

"Thank you for the compliment, Director Zhang," Yang Guangming said with a humble smile and a slight bow. "I have learned a great deal about how to conduct myself and interact with others from all of you seniors today. I have benefited immensely."

"Okay, let's go first."

Zhang Weiqiang nodded, then turned to Lang Tianrui, whose face was still ashen but who was forcing himself to stay alert, and gently comforted him:

"Old man, don't worry too much. The old lady's matter can't be rushed. Everyone is keeping it in mind and will let you know as soon as there is any news. Relax."

Lang Tianrui forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, nodded, and said in a hoarse voice, "Oh, thank you, Director Zhang, thank you everyone for your trouble."

Despite saying that, the deep sorrow between his brows did not dissipate in the slightest because of this comfort.

Watching Zhang Weiqiang, Wei Hongyu, and Liu Jinsheng turn and walk slowly along the dappled shade of the road towards the residential area, Yang Guangming's gaze narrowed slightly. He quickly stepped forward and, though his voice was soft, it was exceptionally clear as he called out to Lang Tianrui, who was about to follow:

"Section Chief Lang, please wait a moment."

Lang Tianrui stopped and turned back with some confusion, his face showing the weariness of alcohol and lingering worry: "Xiao Yang? Is there something else?"

He thought Yang Guangming was just being polite and wanted to see them off again.

Yang Guangming walked up to him, getting a little closer than before.

His eyes scanned the surroundings quickly, like radar:
Zhang Weiqiang and his two companions walked a dozen steps and were talking in hushed tones without turning around.

Wang Weidong and Zhou Jiefang, supporting the grumbling Chen Guoqiang, had already turned into another side road and disappeared from sight;

Besides the two of them, there were only a few hurried passersby and the faint sound of a car bell coming from afar at the restaurant entrance.

The early summer breeze, carrying warmth, blew lazily by, rustling the leaves of the sycamore trees along the roadside, as if providing natural cover.

Yang Guangming turned slightly to the side, getting closer to Lang Tianrui, and lowered his voice so low that only the two of them could hear it.

His speech was slow and deliberate, yet carried a peculiar, convincing certainty:

"Section Chief Lang, about that dried sea cucumber you mentioned earlier... I might have some connections here."

"what?"

Lang Tianrui's whole body jolted violently! It was as if he had been struck hard by an invisible electric current!

His body, which had been numbed by both alcohol and despair, tensed up instantly. His eyes widened abruptly, and an unbelievable, almost blinding light burst forth from his pupils, staring intently at Yang Guangming's face!

His breathing suddenly became heavy and rapid, and his chest heaved violently.

He subconsciously, almost instinctively, grabbed Yang Guangming's forearm tightly! His fingers trembled violently from extreme excitement and force, his nails almost digging into Yang Guangming's flesh!
"Xiao Yang! You...you're serious? You really have connections? You can get it? You're not lying to me!" His voice was hoarse, filled with the ecstatic joy and disbelief of a drowning person grabbing onto a piece of driftwood, as a barrage of questions rained down on him.

Yang Guangming felt the immense force and uncontrollable trembling in his forearm.

His arm muscles tensed slightly as he absorbed the almost uncontrollable excitement, but he didn't break free, maintaining a calmness beyond his years on his face.

He met Lang Tianrui's gaze, which was almost consuming him yet burned with the flames of hope, and nodded slightly, his eyes remaining calm and steady.
"I can only say there is hope. I can't guarantee anything."

He deliberately slowed his speech, emphasizing the uncertainty, "I know someone whose ancestors had some savings, and maybe... they still have some of these things stored away as a memento, or... just in case."

He paused, observing Lang Tianrui's reaction, and continued in that low and cautious tone:
"But as you know, this kind of thing is too conspicuous and too risky. People keep it well hidden and are unwilling to reveal it easily."

I need to sound them out first, to see if they're willing to lend a hand, or... whether they actually have any left on hand.

Maybe it's already gone, maybe...they never wanted to sell it in the first place.

"It's good that there's hope! It's good that there's hope, Xiaoyang!"

Lang Tianrui's voice trembled with suppressed sobs, and he gripped the forearm even tighter, as if he were entrusting his life to that arm.
"As long as there's a sliver of hope! You...you must ask for me! Please! I beg you!"

He spoke hastily and incoherently, spitting as he spoke, "Price, price is absolutely not a problem! Whatever price they ask for, as long as I, Lang Tianrui, can afford it, I will sell everything I own, even my house and other possessions, and I will never haggle!"
"I'd do him a favor, I'd be his slave for the rest of my life! Anything, even a few taels or a few coins, I won't mind! Just to save my mother..."

By the end, his voice choked with emotion, and he was almost sobbing uncontrollably.

Yang Guangming gently raised his other hand and patted Lang Tianrui's hand, which was gripping his forearm tightly with prominent veins, in a reassuring but firm way, signaling him to relax.

At the same time, his gaze swept around warily, like that of a hawk, to make sure no one was paying attention to their whispers in this corner.

His voice was even lower, carrying an unquestionable, almost icy seriousness, each word striking Lang Tianrui's heart clearly:

"Section Chief Lang, please calm down. Let me finish."

He paused, making sure Lang Tianrui's attention was fully drawn to what he was about to say, "Whether this matter will succeed or not is still uncertain, and the hope is slim. The most important thing is that, regardless of the outcome, you must remember two things."

His gaze was sharp as a knife, locking onto Lang Tianrui's flustered and agitated eyes:

"First, this matter must absolutely not be mentioned to anyone! Nobody!"

He emphasized, "Not a single word can be omitted, including Director Zhang, Section Chief Wei, Section Chief Liu, and anyone else at the table today!"

Let's pretend we never mentioned sea cucumbers to you at today's gathering, so let's just pretend it never happened. Understand?

Lang Tianrui nodded frantically, his eyes urgent and solemn, even with a hint of a vow.

"Understood! Understood! I get it! Don't worry, Xiaoyang, I, Lang Tianrui, have a tight tongue! I won't tell anyone, not even if you beat me to death. I'll keep it to myself. I swear on my mother's name!"

He instinctively raised his right hand.

"Secondly," Yang Guangming ignored his oath, his tone becoming even more serious, filled with caution and warning, "Even if... I mean, even if we're incredibly lucky and manage to get our hands on something, you absolutely cannot mention anything about me, Yang Guangming, not even a single word!"

He leaned forward slightly, an invisible pressure enveloping Lang Tianrui:
"You need to come up with a flawless story about how the item ended up in your hands."

Found it? Old stock? Through a distant relative you have no connection with? Make it up however you like!
But whatever you do, please don't involve me! There can't be even the slightest connection!

Of course, you'd better not mention this to anyone. As long as you don't say anything, others may not care what your old lady ate.

After all, this thing is too expensive and easily attracts attention. Regardless of any potential risks, it's always safest to avoid them beforehand. Don't you agree?

His tone carried a wisdom and composure beyond his years, like ice, instantly extinguishing Lang Tianrui's flames of ecstasy.

This gave him a jolt, and he quickly regained his usual shrewdness and caution.

"I understand! I understand! Xiaoyang!"

Lang Tianrui nodded vigorously, his eyes becoming extremely serious, and his voice lowered to a whisper, "Don't worry! I, Lang Tianrui, have spent half my life in factories and in society, I can tell the difference between what's important and what's not!"
Even if... even if God opens his eyes and it really happens! It would be my Lang Tianrui's incredible luck, he must have stumbled upon it from some unknown corner!

Or perhaps, it's thanks to some distant relative from out of town with whom we've long lost contact!
It has absolutely nothing to do with you, Comrade Yang Guangming!

I swear! If I utter a single word of this, may I be struck by lightning and die a horrible death!

He raised his right hand again, his expression agitated and resolute.

"There's no need to make such a solemn oath."

A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on Yang Guangming's face, slightly easing the overly tense atmosphere.

"I'm just reminding you that this matter is somewhat risky, so you must be very careful and not rush into it."

I need to wait for the right opportunity and explore it slowly. You shouldn't have too high hopes, lest you be even more disappointed in the end.

In a few days, whether it works out or not, I will give you a definite answer.

"Alright, alright! No rush, no rush! Xiaoyang, take your time, being cautious is the most important thing! It's good to have news! It's good to have news!"

Lang Tianrui readily agreed, his expression a mixture of gratitude, immense anticipation, and lingering anxiety.

He gripped Yang Guangming's hand tightly and shook it a few times with all his might.

Yang Guangming could clearly feel the cold, damp sweat on his palms and the uncontrollable trembling in them.

Lang Tianrui's voice was heavy with sobs and contained an almost humble plea:

"Xiao Yang...this kindness...this immense favor...I...I, Lang Tianrui, will remember it in my heart! It's etched into my very bones!"
As long as you can save my mother... you... you are the greatest benefactor of the Lang family! My second parents!

From now on, in the factory or in Shanghai, if you ever need my help, Lang Tianrui, just ask!
"Even if it means facing mountains of knives and seas of fire, if I even flinch, I'm not a child of my parents!"

These words were spoken with heartfelt sincerity, carrying a strong sense of brotherhood and a promise to take a desperate gamble.

"Section Chief Lang, you flatter me." Yang Guangming withdrew his hand calmly but firmly, his tone returning to its usual gentleness and distance. "The old lady's health is the most important thing. You should go back and rest, sober up. Wait for news."

He deliberately emphasized the words "sober up".

"Okay! Okay! I'll be right back! I'll be right back!"

Lang Tianrui gave Yang Guangming another deep look, his gaze incredibly complex, filled with gratitude, expectation, and a barely perceptible scrutiny, as if he wanted to etch the image of this young secretary into the depths of his soul.

He staggered along, looking back every few steps, with a mixture of dejection and hope, chasing after Zhang Weiqiang and the others in the direction they had gone.

The figure swayed in the afternoon shade of the trees, quickly disappearing around the corner hidden by the sycamore leaves.

The area in front of the restaurant fell silent again.

The noise subsided, leaving only Yang Guangming standing alone under the thin, swaying shade of the sycamore trees.

The humble, gentle, and impeccable secretary-like smile on his face had long since vanished, leaving only a deep, unfathomable calm.

He slightly raised his right hand and unconsciously rubbed his fingers, which had been tightly gripped by Lang Tianrui and almost left fingerprints.

The slight trembling, the damp, cold sweat, and the burning despair seemed still clearly imprinted on the skin.

A 500-gram box of dried sea cucumbers is automatically refreshed in the refrigerator every day.

In an era of extreme scarcity and strict planning, it became a powerful tool, more valuable than gold, capable of unlocking a crucial door!

It became a bargaining chip that could change her mother's fate!

Lang Tianrui's final, weighty promise, "Through mountains of knives and seas of fire, speak up," still echoes in my ears, carrying the burning passion of chivalry and an undeniable weight.

Sunlight streamed across the bustling streets, landing on the towering chimneys of the Red Star State-Owned Cotton Mill in the distance.

A thin, grayish-black plume of smoke was continuously billowing from the chimneys, merging into the grayish-blue sky.

My mother's slender figure in the weaving workshop, always slightly hunched over, her hands constantly moving among the spinning spindles, her temples whitened by cotton fibers, appeared vividly before my eyes.

The weaving workshop... the roar of the machines, the ever-present smell of cotton, the back-bending labor that requires constant bending...

He slowly and deeply exhaled a long breath.

It was as if he wanted to expel all the stuffy, sticky air of the afternoon, all the clinking of glasses, the pretense, the probing and observation at the dinner table, all the resentment of Chen Guoqiang, the crude remarks of Li Tiemin, the sighs of the crowd, the despair and ecstasy of Lang Tianrui... all this noise and probing was completely expelled from his chest.

His fingers tapped very lightly, almost unconsciously, along the side seam of his khaki trousers.

despair.

Like a chess player placing a decisive piece on a complex chessboard.

The wind rustles through the treetops, the sound still lingering, like countless tiny, ancient whispers.

These whispers seem to tell of secret exchanges, silent power struggles, and petty schemes hidden beneath the surface of everyday life.

(End of this chapter)