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

Chapter 119, Section 118: Life in Two Places and Deep Friendship

P.S.~ August is here! A fantastic start: a whopping 36000 words! Old Shi is practically bleeding profusely and desperately needs a "guaranteed monthly votes" emergency kit to recover! Please, help!
……

Yang Guangming picked up the heavy kraft paper envelope and weighed its thickness.

Then, in front of Lang Tianrui, he slowly opened the seal and counted out a stack of banknotes, totaling one hundred and fifty-six yuan.

Then, he deftly and clearly pushed the remaining money, along with the crucial grain coupons, oil coupons, and meat coupons, back to Lang Tianrui.

"Section Chief Lang, please listen to me."

Yang Guangming spoke calmly, yet with an undeniable force, his gaze fixed directly on the other person.

"The price of sea cucumbers will be based on what I mentioned before, the price of the Friendship Store in 1965 with the overseas remittance coupons, which is 78 yuan per catty, so two catties would be 156 yuan."

"Take the rest of the money back."

His voice was not loud, but every word was clear and resonant.

"This won't do! This won't do!" Lang Tianrui was anxious and immediately tried to push the money back. His face turned even redder, and the veins on his neck bulged slightly.

“What time is it now! Seventy-eight yuan is ancient history! And what about your friend…” he argued urgently, feeling that it was too unfair to the other party.

"Coupons." Yang Guangming interrupted him gently but firmly, pointing to the grain coupons, oil coupons, and meat coupons with an unyielding insistence.

“These are necessities for daily life. Keep them for Grandma Lang and for the house. As for my friend, I will find a way to make it up to him.”

As he spoke, he picked up the stack of wool coupons, shoe coupons, cotton coupons, cloth coupons, and industrial coupons.

"I'll accept these tickets on behalf of my friend. I also appreciate your kind gesture on his behalf."

"There's already quite a bit of stuff; we're even. If you keep refusing, you're disrespecting me and my friend."

When Yang Guangming spoke, his words were calm yet carried immense weight, his sincerity bearing an undeniable authority.

Lang Tianrui stared, mouth agape, at the young man's calm, resolute, and unwavering gaze. A surge of emotion welled up in his eyes, his throat bobbed violently, and his nose even felt a little sore.

He finally nodded forcefully, his voice hoarse and low, thick with nasal tone and deep emotion:
"Good! Good! Xiao Yang... I... I, Lang Tianrui, will remember this! I'll remember it for life! From now on... from now on, whenever..."

He choked up and couldn't finish his sentence, but the weight in his eyes was heavier than any vow, filled with unforgettable gratitude and promise.

"Section Chief Lang, you're too kind." Yang Guangming neatly put the stack of tickets and 156 yuan into his pocket, as if he were just accepting an ordinary item.

Then he firmly stuffed the remaining money and grain, oil and meat coupons back into Lang Tianrui's slightly trembling hand.

"That's settled then. You should put it away quickly so that Grandma Lang can use it." His tone was decisive, as if he wanted to end the conversation.

Lang Tianrui looked at the money and ration coupons he had regained, which were essential for his family's basic livelihood, and then at the bag of sea cucumbers on the table, which he considered as precious as life itself.

Looking again at Yang Guangming's young face, which exuded a maturity, kindness, and understanding beyond his years, his eyes were filled with complex emotions—gratitude, admiration, shame, and a deep sense of respect.

He silently and carefully put the money and banknotes into the inner pocket of his Zhongshan suit, placing it close to his chest as if he were carrying a ball of fire inside.

Then, with utmost care, as if holding a priceless treasure, he carefully rewrapped the bag of sea cucumbers in kraft paper, held it tightly in his arms, his arms trembling slightly, as if holding onto the hope that his elderly mother could live a long life.

The atmosphere became somewhat stagnant for a moment, filled with the lingering excitement and a heavy, unspoken affection.

Yang Guangming picked up his now lighter satchel at the opportune moment and stood up: "Section Chief Lang, I won't bother Aunt Su and the old lady any longer. Director Zhao also lives in the family compound here, I'll go and see him on my way."

"Huh? Why are you leaving now?"

Lang Tianrui finally snapped out of his emotional turmoil, immediately put down the sea cucumber, and earnestly tried to persuade him to stay:
"How can this be? How can this be? We absolutely cannot let you leave on an empty stomach! Stay for a meal! You must stay for a meal! Shufen, hurry up and prepare it!"

He practically shouted it out, with an undeniable fervor.

Hearing the commotion, Su Shufen came out from the inner room, her eyes filled with sincere pleading:

"Yes, Xiaoyang, look how late it is, how can we let you go hungry? There may not be any fancy dishes in the house, but you still have to eat something." Her words were simple and sincere.

Yang Guangming smiled and declined, "There's really no need to trouble yourself, Aunt Su. I'll just go check on Director Zhao's house and then come back."

“That won’t work either!” Lang Tianrui’s mind raced, and he immediately came up with an idea, his tone filled with unwavering determination.

"Okay, you go to Director Zhao's house first, and I'll personally go over and invite him in a little while! I'd like Director Zhao to come in and have a simple meal with you!"

It's settled then! You have to wait for me, I'll pack up and be there right away!

His tone was resolute, filled with an unyielding passion and determination.

Seeing his resolute attitude, Yang Guangming knew that further refusal would seem distant and unfriendly, so he could only smile and agree.

"Okay then. But Section Chief Lang, please don't prepare anything special, just a simple home-cooked meal will do."

I need to go see if it's convenient for Director Zhao first. Whether he can come or not, I can't very well agree on his behalf.

"Okay, okay! Home-cooked meal! Home-cooked meal! You just go, I'll be there right away!"

When Lang Tianrui saw that Yang Guangming had finally agreed, he was overjoyed. He rubbed his hands together, unable to stop smiling, as if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

Yang Guangming then took his leave. Just before leaving, he seemed to remember something, took out the clean canning jar containing scallion oil sauce from his bag, and without taking his bag, simply held it in his hand and walked out with light steps.

As the deputy factory director in charge of production, Zhao Guodong was assigned a second-floor apartment in a red brick building, which Yang Guangming had inquired about in advance.

The apartment he was allocated was much larger than Lang Tianrui's, measuring over 70 square meters, and had three bedrooms and a living room.

In this day and age, living in such a house is considered a "luxury home," a symbol of status and prestige.

As he ascended the stairs, the space in the stairwell was somewhat dim. He stopped in front of a door painted a dark green with a clearly marked number and gently knocked.

The door opened quickly, revealing Zhao Guodong's tall and robust figure.

He was wearing a faded military green undershirt and a pair of equally worn blue military trousers, with plastic slippers on his feet, and a document in his hand, clearly looking at some materials.

Upon seeing the person who arrived, the lines on his serious face immediately softened.

"Uncle Zhao!" Yang Guangming's face immediately broke into a natural and friendly smile, as if he were seeing an elder in his family.

This was a private interaction, and Yang Guangming still addressed him as Uncle Zhao, just like when they first met, to make it seem more intimate and avoid bringing their work relationship into the conversation.

"Guangming? Come in quickly!" When Zhao Guodong saw him, his previously stern face instantly melted into a bright smile. He stepped aside to let him into the house and closed the door behind him. "Is it hot outside?"

The living room was spacious and bright, with white walls and a cement floor, making it appear much larger than the Lang family's house.

The furniture was sparse: a wooden sofa, a rattan chair, a square table, and a chest of drawers. It looked rather empty and desolate, reflecting the simplicity and pragmatism of a bachelor's dwelling.

Yang Guangming placed the jar he was holding on the clean coffee table:

"Uncle Zhao, this is some scallion oil sauce that my mom made herself. She knows you love noodles, so she specially asked me to bring you a bottle. It's especially delicious when mixed with noodles."

His tone carried the intimacy of a junior to an elder.

"Oh? Scallion oil sauce? That's good stuff!"

Zhao Guodong's eyes lit up. He immediately put down the documents, picked up the canned food jar, and unscrewed the lid. A rich, overpowering aroma, a blend of scallion and savory fat, burst out and filled the somewhat empty living room.

"Mmm! It smells good! It smells so good! That's great! Please thank your mom for me! Now it's all right, I don't have to try to recreate that flavor myself."

He leaned closer and took a deep breath of the aroma, his face showing genuine joy and satisfaction, like a child who had received a favorite toy.

He carefully closed the lid and placed it in a prominent position on the coffee table, as if it were some kind of treasure.

"Of course." Yang Guangming sat down on the wooden sofa, his posture relaxed and natural, as if he were at home.

"It's Sunday today, why are you in the family compound?" Zhao Guodong picked up the thermos, poured Yang Guangming a glass of cold water, and pulled over the rattan chair to sit down, making a slight creaking sound.

"I came here specifically to visit Section Chief Lang's elderly mother." Yang Guangming took the cup, answered naturally, and took a sip of water.

"They just helped my mom get a job transfer, so it's only right that I go and thank them."

The old lady's health is indeed not very good, it's heartbreaking to see her like this, so I brought some nutritional supplements that I had prepared at home to visit her." He casually brushed aside the value of the gift.

Zhao Guodong nodded, picked up the cigarette case on the table, took out a Pegasus brand cigarette, lit it, and struck the match with a "snap":
"Yes, we must be courteous. Lang Tianrui is a man of principle. The old lady's health is the most important thing."

He expressed his approval of Yang Guangming's thoughtful and meticulous handling of interpersonal relationships, and exhaled a smoke ring, the smoke rising in wisps.

"It's just that Section Chief Lang is too enthusiastic."

The sunlight revealed a hint of helplessness mixed with a touch of slyness, as if sharing a little secret.

"They insisted on inviting me to stay for a meal. I couldn't resist, and we didn't have much to talk about, so I made up an excuse to come see you and find some peace and quiet here. I feel much more comfortable here with you, Uncle Zhao."

His tone was relaxed, with the casualness of a junior.

"Hahaha!" Zhao Guodong was amused by his words and burst into laughter, pointing his finger at Yang Guangming, his laughter loud and clear.

"You little rascal! Using me as a shield! Fine, stay here with me. You can keep me company and keep me company so I don't get bored by myself."

His tone was full of an elder's indulgence toward a clever younger generation, and his eyes were kind.

Yang Guangming glanced around the somewhat empty and desolate room and asked:
"Uncle Zhao, have you made any progress on your aunt and brother's transfer? It must be inconvenient for you to live here alone."

His tone was filled with genuine concern.

When his wife and children were mentioned, Zhao Guodong's smile faded slightly. He took a deep drag on his cigarette, and through the swirling smoke, a hint of weariness and an overwhelming longing were visible between his brows.

He paused for a few seconds before speaking slowly, his voice lower and carrying the steady quality characteristic of a northern accent:
"Sigh, it's still being processed. The procedures in Kyoto are a bit complicated, and your aunt's workplace is also holding her back and unwilling to release her."

If things go smoothly... it might take another two or three months.

He flicked his cigarette ash, his gaze seemingly piercing through the smoke, looking towards the distant north, his eyes somewhat unfocused.

"Over the years, they've spent very little time together; it must have been tough on the mother and daughter."

His words were filled with the helplessness of a soldier and guilt towards his family.

"Yes," Yang Guangming said sincerely, his tone filled with understanding and respect.

"When I was in the army, I didn't hesitate to help when the country needed me." Zhao Guodong took another deep drag on his cigarette, as if trying to suppress the turmoil in his heart. The cigarette butt suddenly lit up.

"Now that I've changed careers, I'm still...sigh."

He let out a long sigh, a sigh filled with deep helplessness and the regret of a tough man with a tender heart.

“My son is ten years old, and he’s very distant from me, his father. We barely talk on the phone. Sometimes I think about it, and I really feel like I owe them both too much.”

His voice was somewhat deep, carrying a profound and irreparable regret.

"It'll be soon, soon. Once Auntie and my brother arrive, the whole family will be reunited," Yang Guangming said gently, trying to dispel the somber atmosphere, his tone filled with optimism.

"Well, I hope so." Zhao Guodong nodded, trying to cheer himself up, and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

"You rascal, stop talking about me. How's everything at home? Is your mother settling into her new job? Is your father still in good health?" He changed the subject, his tone becoming cheerful again. The two chatted casually about everyday things. From anecdotes from the factory to trivial matters in the alley, Zhao Guodong would occasionally mention some non-classified stories from his time in the army, his tone sometimes passionate and sometimes somber.

Yang Guangming would share his observations from his reading days and current events in a light and cheerful tone.

Time slipped by unnoticed as the relaxed conversation flowed into eleven o'clock.

The sunlight outside the window was even more intense, shining brightly, and the cicadas' chirping grew louder and louder, like a never-ending concerto.

Just then, a clear knock sounded at the door.

"Who is it?" Zhao Guodong asked, standing up in a loud voice.

"Director Zhao, it's me, Lang Tianrui from the Labor and Wages Department!" Lang Tianrui's respectful yet eager voice came from outside the door.

Zhao Guodong and Yang Guangming exchanged a glance and smiled knowingly. Zhao Guodong got up and went to open the door.

"Director Zhao!" Lang Tianrui stood at the door, his face beaming with a warm smile, holding a small bag of tea wrapped in newspaper, which looked like the best stock he had at home.

"I'm sorry to disturb your rest! Um... Comrade Xiao Yang is at my house. I was thinking that since you're home alone and it's lunchtime, I'd like to invite you and Xiao Yang to my house for a simple meal. I wonder if it would be convenient for you to come?"

His tone was respectful, tinged with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

Zhao Guodong glanced at Yang Guangming standing behind him, then at Lang Tianrui, whose face was earnest and filled with expectation, and laughed heartily:
“Alright! It just so happens that Guangming is here too. Then I’ll trouble you! But Lao Lang, let’s make it clear that it’s just a simple home-cooked meal, nothing special, nothing extravagant.” He agreed readily, but also made a request.

"That's right! Absolutely nothing! Director Zhao, your presence is a huge honor for me, Lang Tianrui!" Lang Tianrui was overjoyed, nodding repeatedly, his smile growing even brighter.

Zhao Guodong turned and went back into the house: "Wait for me."

He went into the inner room and quickly brought out two bottles of wine carefully wrapped in old newspapers, the shape of the bottles vaguely visible.

“I live alone at home, so it’s just sitting there. Let’s have a lively chat today and have a drink together. Guangming, here you go.” He handed the wine to Yang Guangming without further ado.

Yang Guangming took the newspaper and saw the familiar words "Guizhou Maotai Liquor" peeking out from between the pages.

Lang Tianrui's eyes widened instantly, his breath caught in his throat, and he exclaimed repeatedly:
"Oh dear! Director Zhao! This...this is too extravagant! This is unacceptable, unacceptable!"

In those days, Moutai liquor was practically a legendary treasure! Even if you had ration coupons, each bottle cost 2.97 yuan, which was very expensive.

When Zhao Guodong brought two bottles of wine to visit, Lang Tianrui, the one who was hosting, actually benefited greatly.

“Take it! It’s a gift from a friend. It’s just sitting there anyway.” Zhao Guodong waved his hand dismissively, his tone decisive and unquestionable, typical of a soldier. “Let’s go!” He stepped out the door first.

"Oh! Good! Good!" Lang Tianrui was so excited that he didn't know what to say. He felt ashamed, but also proud. He straightened his back and quickly led the way, his steps becoming lighter, as if he were walking on cotton.

With Yang Guangming carrying two heavy bottles of Moutai, Zhao Guodong casually closed and locked the door.

The three of them chatted and laughed as they went downstairs towards Lang Tianrui's house. Their hearty laughter and footsteps echoed in the stairwell, dispelling the afternoon's gloom.

The small square table in the Lang family's house was now completely filled with food, a veritable feast.

Su Shufen clearly brought out her best skills and the most valuable things she had in store.

A plate of glistening, reddish-brown braised pork belly, with its perfect balance of lean and fat, trembled with an enticing aroma, clearly made with high-quality soy sauce and sugar.

A steamed sea bass about a foot long, topped with shredded ginger and scallions, and drizzled with a thin layer of cooked oil and soy sauce, has snow-white and delicate flesh, cooked to perfection.

A plate of bright green water spinach with garlic sauce is refreshing, crisp, and has a wonderfully fragrant garlic aroma.

A bowl of seaweed and egg drop soup, with golden egg flowers and dark purple seaweed shreds floating on top, is clear and delicious.

There was also a small dish of homemade pickled cucumbers, crisp and savory, garnished with a few red chilies.

Under the circumstances, this was already a lavish family feast brimming with sincerity, almost emptying the family's coffers.

Seeing that Deputy Factory Director Zhao Guodong had actually come in person, Su Shufen seemed a little flustered, but she was even more attentive and meticulous in her greetings, quickly adding bowls and chopsticks and arranging them neatly.

Grandma Lang was also carefully helped out and sat in a rattan chair with extra cushions. Although she was still not in good spirits, she had a gentle smile on her face and tried her best to straighten her back.

Zhao Guodong placed the two bottles of Moutai wrapped in newspaper on the table, and the atmosphere immediately became even more lively.

Lang Tianrui held his breath and carefully unfolded the newspaper.

When the two classic white porcelain bottles, with red ribbons and red silk strings tied to the bottle necks, bearing the inscription "Guizhou Maotai Liquor," were fully revealed, his voice still couldn't hide his excitement: "Director Zhao, this... is too precious!"

"Liquor is meant to be drunk. I'm happy today!" Zhao Guodong waved his hand and sat down in the main seat, exuding an aura of both affability and authority.

"Old man, don't bother. Sit down! Comrade Shufen, thank you for your hard work. Sit down with us! Old lady, please sit down too!" He greeted everyone.

During the meal, Zhao Guodong completely abandoned his airs as a factory leader and appeared easygoing and talkative.

He first inquired about Mrs. Lang's health with concern, urging her to rest and recuperate, his attitude gentle. He then gently asked about Su Shufen's work as a teacher at the local primary school, and whether the students were easy to manage.

Then he started chatting with Lang Tianrui and Yang Guangming about all sorts of things.

From the old town stories and anecdotes of Shanghai to the unique customs and traditions of the North, he even shared a few interesting stories from the military that were not classified, eliciting bursts of laughter from the audience.

He had a high alcohol tolerance and was in high spirits, frequently raising his glass.

Lang Tianrui went to great lengths to accompany him in drinking, his gratitude overflowing. His toasts were sincere and heartfelt, one cup after another, until his face quickly turned as red as Guan Yu's.

Yang Guangming doesn't talk much, but he always knows how to respond appropriately, add wine, and serve food, subtly creating a warm and harmonious atmosphere at the table and taking care of everyone's feelings.

Su Shufen quietly took care of the old lady's meal, occasionally asking her in a soft voice what she wanted to eat, carefully removing the bones from the fish and chopping the vegetables into small pieces.

Even when interjecting a word or two, it is done with propriety and grace, revealing the teacher's professionalism.

No one mentioned work at the factory; the conversation always revolved around life, family, experiences, and local customs.

Two bottles of Moutai were emptied without anyone noticing as they clinked glasses and exchanged toasts.

Lang Tianrui's face was flushed, his forehead was sweating, and he was slurring his words, but the excitement, gratitude, and hope for his future mother's recovery in his eyes remained undiminished.

Zhao Guodong also drank to his heart's content, with a relaxed and happy smile on his face. He talked more than usual and laughed heartily.

Yang Guangming drank the least and remained sober throughout.

The meal was a great success, with both hosts and guests enjoying themselves in a warm and harmonious atmosphere.

The song didn't end until after 1 p.m., when the sun was high in the sky and the cicadas were still chirping.

Yang Guangming helped Su Shufen tidy up the dishes.

Zhao Guodong sat down and drank another cup of strong tea. He asked the old lady a few more questions and told her to rest well before getting up to take his leave.

Lang Tianrui and Su Shufen escorted Zhao Guodong and Yang Guangming downstairs. They watched Yang Guangming walk out of the iron gate of the residential compound and disappear at the end of the tree-lined path before turning back upstairs with gratitude.

Stepping out of the somewhat dilapidated gate of the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill residential compound, the afternoon sun was blazing, shining brightly on the cement road and sending up a scorching heat wave.

The incessant chirping of cicadas added to the oppressive heat of midsummer.

Yang Guangming walked to a secluded corner of the wall, shaded by tall sycamore trees, whose dense canopies cast large patches of cool shade.

He paused briefly, taking advantage of the shadows cast by the trees.

Two more items had quietly appeared in the shoulder bag: two packets of brown sugar, each weighing one pound, wrapped in rough yellow paper; and two packets of plump, golden raisins, packaged in kraft paper bags.

He carefully stuffed them deep into his satchel, covered it with the cloth, and then stepped back into the scorching sun.

The contents of the refrigerator are refreshed every day, but it's not easy to find a reason to bring them home, so he can only look for opportunities whenever he can.

When I returned to the familiar Shikumen alleyway, it was the quietest and most languid time of the afternoon.

My parents and brother and sister-in-law had just woken up from their afternoon nap, and the air still retained a bit of the tranquility of their nap.

Zhang Xiuying was standing on the drying platform, hanging up the clothes she had just washed. Various clothes hung on the bamboo poles, swaying gently in the breeze, and water droplets dripped onto the bluestone slabs, making a soft, crisp "drip-drip" sound.

"Mingming's back? How is he? Is Section Chief Lang's family alright?" Zhang Xiuying stopped shaking out a shirt as she saw her son and asked with concern.

She then wiped her wet hands on the faded apron, her face filled with anticipation.

"It's all good. Section Chief Lang and his wife are very polite. The old lady seems to be in good spirits too."

The two returned to their home in the front building. Yang Guangming put down his bag, took out the two packets of brown sugar and two packets of raisins, and handed them to his mother.

"Here, Mom, this is what Section Chief Lang and the others insisted I bring back."

"Huh? This..." Zhang Xiuying stared blankly at the heavy object in her hand, the sweet and fruity aroma of which could be smelled even through the paper bag. Her smile froze.

"Brown sugar? Raisins? This...this won't do! We went there to thank them, why are we taking things back?"

Her face was filled with surprise and unease; she felt this was against the rules.

Yang Guangming explained, "I brought some nutritional supplements with me, but they thought they were too expensive and absolutely refused to let me come back empty-handed."

Section Chief Lang's wife, Aunt Su, said it was only right to reciprocate, and insisted on giving me these things.

They felt bad if they refused, but if they accepted the gift, people would gossip.

After much back and forth, I couldn't get rid of it, so I had no choice but to bring it back.

His tone was somewhat helpless, but his eyes were calm.

"Wow, the Lang family is really quite particular!"

Looking at the brown sugar and raisins in her hand, Zhang Xiuying's unease gradually gave way to understanding and appreciation, and the corners of her mouth curved up again. "Knowing manners means you come from a good family."

Yang Yongkang strolled over with his hands behind his back, picked up a bag of raisins, examined the golden raisins against the light, then weighed the bag of brown sugar in his hand, nodded, and said slowly:

"Yes, he's a person who pays attention to things. Guangming, you did the right thing. It's only proper etiquette for them to return the gift. Forcing them to give it back would be inappropriate and would make them seem distant."

His tone carried a sense of worldly wisdom and acceptance.

Li Guihua and Yang Guanghui also curiously gathered around.

Li Guihua picked up a small raisin and stuffed it into Zhuangzhuang's curiously open mouth.

The little one immediately tasted the sweetness, clapped his hands happily, and mumbled, "Sweet!"

Looking at the golden raisins, Yang Guanghui couldn't help but swallow hard.

The family's impression of Lang Tianrui's family improved somewhat because of this well-timed "reciprocal gift-giving".

This friendship becomes even purer, warmer, and more humane through give and take.

The air seemed to be filled with the simple sweet aroma of brown sugar and the subtle fruity scent of sun-dried raisins.

These two flavors intertwine, creating a warm and comforting atmosphere in ordinary days, thanks to the warmth of human interaction, which permeates everyone's heart.

(End of this chapter)