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

Chapter 131, Section 130: A cozy dinner, deep immersion, physical sensations, walking in the rain.

A gentle evening breeze swept by, carrying a subtle chill.

The atmosphere suddenly became subtle and quiet, as if they could hear each other's heartbeats.

Lin Jianyue lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously twisting the strap of her canvas satchel, her toes lightly brushing against the pebbles on the ground.

Having dinner alone with Yang Guangming? The thought made her heart pound like a drum, and she instinctively felt shy and a little flustered.

Lin Jianyue murmured softly, "I... I should go back too. Sister Xiang Hong must be so worried, waiting for me..."

"We need to eat when we get back."

Yang Guangming looked at her lowered eyelashes and slightly flushed ears, his tone natural and sincere, carrying his unique, irresistible gentleness and composure:
“Look, Shunan’s gone. You’ll have to find somewhere to eat dinner if you go back alone. Why don’t we go together? That restaurant is really good, clean and refreshing, and the side dishes are tidy. Besides…”

He changed the subject, his tone light and teasing, a smile playing on his lips:

"We just had a lot of 'sparks of ideas' discussed in writing at the conference. We need to find a place to digest them, right? If we're hungry, our inspiration will run away."

These humorous and considerate words immediately eased Lin Jianyue's awkwardness.

Thinking of the witty and insightful conversations in her notebook, and of Yang Guangming's novel and profound viewpoints and beautiful writing, the little bit of anticipation and excitement in her heart finally overwhelmed her shyness.

She looked up, a slightly embarrassed smile in her clear eyes, and nodded gently as if she had made a great decision: "Well... okay then. Thank you."

“It’s no trouble at all, let’s go!” Yang Guangming’s smile deepened, and with a guardian’s posture, he led Lin Jianyue toward where he had parked his car.

The restaurant that Yang Guangming mentioned is not far from the Cultural Palace; it's just a short walk down two quiet streets lined with tall plane trees.

The storefront was small, with a wooden sign hanging on the dusty wall, some of the paint peeling off.

The glass windows were fairly clean, and you could see several simple square tables inside.

It was lunchtime, but the restaurant wasn't crowded. Only a few people in work clothes were talking quietly at a corner table, making it very peaceful.

Several propaganda posters with the slogan "Learn from Daqing in industry, learn from Dazhai in agriculture" were pasted on the wall.

Pushing open the door, which was covered by a half-washed, faded blue cloth curtain, a fragrant aroma of food mixed with a faint smell of cooking oil wafted out.

A waitress, around forty years old, wearing a white apron and with a simple smile, came to greet us. She spoke with a strong local accent and was unusually enthusiastic.

"Comrades, both of you? Please come in."

Yang Guangming looked around and pointed to a corner against the inner wall, partially blocked by a square pillar painted green, where the overhead incandescent light was relatively softer: "Sit here, it's quieter."

"Ok."

The waitress led them to a small square table with slightly worn edges, and quickly wiped the table with a cloth draped over her shoulder. "Take a look and see what you'd like to eat? There's a menu on the wall."

She pointed to the small blackboard hanging on the wall, on which the names and prices of the dishes were written in chalk.

Yang Guangming gestured for Lin Jianyue to order food.

Lin Jianyue looked at the names and prices of the dishes on the blackboard, hesitated for a moment, and said softly, "You order, I'm fine with anything."

Yang Guangming didn't refuse and said directly to the waitress, "Ma'am, one serving of stir-fried shrimp, one serving of sweet and sour pork ribs, one serving of mushrooms and greens, one tomato and egg soup, and two bowls of rice."

He didn't order any drinks; these days, ordering drinks at a restaurant is a luxury and attracts attention.

"Okay, just a moment." The waitress quickly noted it down, turned around and called out to the back, then lifted the greasy curtain and went into the kitchen.

The location was indeed secluded; the pillars blocked most of the view, and the dim yellow light overhead acted like a spotlight, illuminating only their small world and creating a sense of privacy, isolated from the outside world.

Lin Jianyue's heart gradually calmed down, and she curiously looked around the small space:
Faded posters, peeling paint on pillars, worn-out tabletops, empty beer bottles piled in the corner... everything bears the unique mark of a small restaurant from that era.

The food was served very quickly.

The stir-fried shrimp are crystal clear and exude the fresh aroma of river seafood; the sweet and sour spare ribs are bright red and tempting, with a sweet and sour fragrance that fills the nostrils; the shiitake mushrooms and green vegetables are bright green and refreshing, glistening with oil; the tomato and egg soup is steaming hot, with golden egg flowers and emerald green scallions floating on top.

In an era when grain, oil, meat, and eggs were all rationed, these four dishes were considered a rather decent, even sumptuous, meal.

"Eat up, don't be shy," Yang Guangming said, picking up his chopsticks.

Lin Jianyue took a small bite of the shrimp. It was very fresh, stir-fried with lard, and had a unique meaty aroma. The taste was light and delicious.

She picked up another piece of pork rib, which was sweet and sour, with tender meat that fell off the bone, and the sweet and sour sauce was cooked just right.

Just as Yang Guangming said, the taste was indeed quite good, much better than the factory canteen.

"How does it taste?" Yang Guangming asked, picking up a piece of spare rib for himself.

"Mmm, it's so delicious!" Lin Jianyue nodded sincerely, her eyes crinkling with satisfaction.

The two ate quietly for a while.

Lin Jianyue recalled Yang Guangming's mention of Pushkin and Gorky in his notebook, along with his effortless use of beautiful phrases, and couldn't help but ask curiously:

"Comrade Yang Guangming, you seem to have read a lot of books? You also told a lot of interesting stories at the last gathering."

Yang Guangming put down his chopsticks, looked into her bright, clear eyes full of curiosity, and smiled:
"I just enjoy reading. In the past, resources were limited, and there weren't many books available, but I would always try to find something to read whenever I had the chance."

He paused for a moment, then naturally continued the conversation, "Speaking of literature, what's your favorite book?"

“I love reading novels the most.” Lin Jianyue’s eyes lit up, as if a small lamp had been lit. “Like ‘Song of Youth’, and… um, Gorky’s ‘Childhood’ and ‘My Apprenticeship’.”

She listed books that were relatively "safe" and common in this era, her tone revealing her appreciation for the stories themselves.

"Gorky."

Yang Guangming nodded, his tone carrying a quiet appreciation:

"His depiction of a difficult childhood is indeed quite shocking. However, what is even more moving is his unwavering pursuit of light and dignity even in darkness."

Just like Alyosha's grandmother, whose simple kindness warmed Alyosha's entire life.

He spoke in a gentle, calm tone, yet with a power that seemed to transcend time.

Lin Jianyue listened intently, nodding vigorously: "Yes, yes! Grandma is so kind! And that kind tenant's 'good deed'..."

Seeing her interest, Yang Guangming followed the topic and started talking about Gorky's life and anecdotes, about his wanderings on the banks of the Volga River, how he absorbed nourishment from the lives of the lower classes like a sponge, and how he observed all kinds of people.

His narration was vivid and interesting, rich in detail. For example, the shouts of the Volga boatmen and the drunkards in the tavern were things that Lin Jianyue had never heard in textbooks or public commentaries. It was as if he had taken her into that distant era and country full of suffering and vitality.

Then he talked about Lu Xun.

He spoke of the profound compassion and determination behind Lu Xun's choice to abandon medicine for literature, how the characters in his works who evoked both pity and anger at their lack of resistance pierced the nerves of the Chinese people, the warm childhood memories in "Dawn Blossoms Plucked at Dusk," and the obscure yet powerful lonely cry in "Wild Grass."

He cleverly quoted Lu Xun: "There was originally no road on the ground, but as more people walked on it, it became a road."

He added his own understanding: "This path requires the courage to face loneliness and a clear mind."

“Lu Xun is like a sharp dagger.” Yang Guangming’s voice was deep and clear, echoing in the small space. “He not only pierced through the dark reality, but also ruthlessly dissected himself. His loneliness and resilience came precisely from his deepest love. He loved this nation and loved the silent majority.”

Lin Jianyue was completely captivated and deeply immersed in the mental landscape he described.

She rested her chin on her hand, elbows propped on the table, her eyes fixed on Yang Guangming, her long eyelashes casting soft shadows.

She felt as if she had opened a long-sealed window leading to a vast world.

The literature that Yang Guangming talks about is no longer the dry preaching or simple storylines in textbooks, but is full of vivid flesh and blood, profound thoughts, complex humanity and the power to move people's hearts.

He knew so much, and he explained it so clearly, so vividly, and so captivatingly.

He was not just telling a story; he was lighting a lamp for her, illuminating the vast spiritual world behind the text.

In his clear eyes, the simple appreciation and closeness were gradually replaced by a deeper, radiant worship and a burning sense of identification.

She felt an indescribable spiritual resonance between herself and Yang Guangming, a kind of ecstatic joy like finding an oasis in a desert of thought.

She even felt that being able to listen to him talk like this was a great pleasure in itself.

"Comrade Yang Guangming, you know so much... You spoke so well." She praised sincerely, her voice trembling slightly with excitement, her cheeks flushed with focus and excitement.

Looking at the undisguised admiration in her eyes and that pure, burning thirst for knowledge, Yang Guangming felt a surge of warmth and a flutter in his heart.

In an era where thought is highly disciplined and expression is strictly limited, it is truly a miracle to encounter a girl who possesses a natural love for literature and thought itself, a keen sense of perception, and a childlike heart.

He smiled, his tone gentle and sincere: "I've just read a few more books and thought about a few more questions. You're very intelligent, you understand things quickly, and you have excellent comprehension." This praise came from the heart.

The two were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't realize they had already eaten most of the food on the table.

The sky outside the window gradually darkened during this in-depth conversation about literature, humanity, and thought.

Just then, without warning, the dark night sky outside the window was torn apart by a blinding flash of lightning, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that seemed to resound right on the roof!

Large raindrops then pounded violently against the windowpane, making a dense "pitter-patter" sound, instantly forming a torrential curtain of water.

Summer thunderstorms always come so swiftly and violently.

"Oh dear, it's raining! And it's raining so hard!" Lin Jianyue was startled by the thunder. Looking at the street outside the window, which was instantly swallowed by the rain and turned into a white expanse, she was extremely anxious. "What should I do? If I get back too late, Sister Xiang Hong will be worried sick!" The rain poured down like a waterfall, and soon formed a muddy stream in the low-lying area in front of the restaurant.

The wind, carrying the cool scent of rain and the earthy smell, rushed in fiercely through the gap in the curtain, bringing a refreshing dampness.

The two waited for more than half an hour, hoping that the rain would come and go quickly, as it usually does.

However, the rain showed no sign of stopping.

The thunder faded into the distance, but the rain changed from a downpour to a continuous, fine, and persistent drizzle, weaving an endless, damp, and cold net in the dim glow of the streetlights outside the door.

It was completely dark, with only the streetlights casting blurry patches of light through the rain.

Lin Jianyue grew increasingly uneasy, frequently checking her watch: "It's so late, and the rain just won't stop... I'm afraid there really won't be any more buses."

She stood up, her voice filled with determination and anxiety, "No, I have to go. I can't stay any longer!"

"If you go out now, even if you happen to catch a car, you'll get soaked while waiting for it."

Yang Guangming frowned as he looked at the wet, dimly lit streets and the still-drizzling rain outside. "And this rain isn't going to stop anytime soon."

He hesitated for a moment, then decisively said, "How about this, you ride on my bicycle, and I'll take you home. Holding an umbrella is always better than standing in the rain waiting for a ride."

"Ah? This... this is too much trouble for you! It's not a short distance!" Lin Jianyue quickly waved her hand, but her heart was pounding because of his suggestion, and a warm feeling mixed with shyness welled up in her heart.

"No trouble at all. We can't let a woman like you go back in the rain."

Yang Guangming's tone was unquestionable, conveying a sense of reassurance and reliance: "Let's go, the rain has lessened a bit, that's perfect."

He pointed out the window, and the rain had indeed lessened compared to before, turning from a downpour into a moderate rain.

He got up, paid at the counter, and pushed open the door with the wet blue curtain hanging on it. A cool breeze blew in through the fine rain.

The streetlights cast hazy, fragmented halos of light on the wet ground, like scattered pieces of gold.

Yang Guangming pushed the bicycle over from under the eaves and set it up. The seat and handlebars were soaked with rainwater.

"Get in the car, be careful it's slippery." He handed the heavy oilcloth umbrella to Lin Jianyue.

Lin Jianyue took the umbrella, holding the cold bamboo handle in her hand.

She looked at the wet back seat of the bicycle in front of her, and then at Yang Guangming, who stood calmly and resolutely in the misty rain. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of her throat.

She took a deep breath, carefully turned sideways, and sat on the back of the bicycle. The cool, damp sensation immediately seeped through the thin fabric.

With one hand, she forcefully opened the heavy oilcloth umbrella and tried to raise it high. With the other hand, she hesitated for a moment, and finally gently and tentatively grabbed the "Dacron" shirt on the side of Yang Guangming's waist, which was wet with rain.

Through the thin, damp, cool fabric, I could clearly feel the warmth emanating from his body and the firmness of his waist.

Lin Jianyue's heart pounded even faster, her cheeks burning under the cover of night and rain. The umbrella was large, like a moving yellow mushroom, barely enough to shield the two of them.

"Hold on tight? Hold the umbrella firmly." Yang Guangming's voice came from ahead, deep and clear, piercing through the sound of rain.

"Mmm," Lin Jianyue replied softly, her voice a little strained.

The bicycle started moving, the chain making a soft clicking sound as it rolled over the asphalt road, which was wet with rain and reflected the light like scattered gold.

An oilcloth umbrella created a small, movable, dry space above their heads.

Fine raindrops tapped against the taut oilcloth umbrella, making a soft, rhythmic patter, like a gentle whisper, accompanied by the splashing sound of wheels rolling over puddles.

The night breeze, carrying the coolness of the rain, constantly caressed their faces and exposed skin.

The bicycle travels along the sparsely populated streets, the halo of the streetlights blurred by the dense rain, forming hazy patches of light.

The space under the umbrella was small, and the two were very close. Lin Jianyue could clearly smell the faint scent of soap on Yang Guangming, the crisp smell of rain, and a refreshing, vibrant scent that belonged to a young man.

The sounds of wind, rain, and wheels rolling over the wet road intertwined to create a quiet and monotonous background sound.

The intellectual turmoil of the earlier lively conversation at the dinner table has subsided, replaced by a silent sense of intimacy and a wonderful tranquility flowing gently.

This small world under the umbrella is isolated from the wind and rain, and also from the noise, leaving only each other's existence and the rhythm of the rolling wheels.

Lin Jianyue's fingers, which were gripping the hem of Yang Guangming's shirt, gradually relaxed from their initial stiffness and caution.

She tilted her head slightly, the wisps of hair on her forehead fluttering in the wind, her gaze fixed on his broad and straight back in front of her.

In the dim light, his pedaling motion was steady and powerful, and the lines of his shoulders and back exuded a reassuring reliability.

Rainwater occasionally slid down the edge of the umbrella, dripping onto his strong shoulder with a "plop," quickly spreading into a small, dark wet patch.

A strange peace and warmth, unlike anything she had ever felt before, welled up inside her, as if a drifting boat had found a harbor, and all her tension and unease were dispelled by that figure and the small space around her.

Yang Guangming gripped the cool handlebars firmly, feeling the girl behind him gently leaning on him and the subtle yet firm strength emanating from her hand clutching the hem of his clothes.

The rain was cool, and a gentle night breeze carried the scent of damp sycamore leaves, yet his heart was unusually calm, even tinged with an indescribable joy.

The simple, beautiful girl behind him, who was full of thirst for knowledge and whose heart was as clear as crystal, allowed him to touch a rare purity and tranquility in the turbulent torrent of this special era.

No words are needed; this tacit understanding of weathering the storm together, this silent companionship under the umbrella, speaks louder than a thousand words.

"Are you cold?" After riding for a while, as we passed a particularly bright street lamp, Yang Guangming turned his head slightly and asked, his voice sounding especially clear in the sound of rain.

"It's not cold," Lin Jianyue quickly replied, her voice sounding especially gentle in the rainy night. "The umbrella is held very well; I won't get wet." She subconsciously tilted the umbrella further towards him.

"That's good."

I rode in silence for a while longer.

Lin Jianyue recognized the familiar building outlines along the roadside and the distinctive, dimly lit street lamp at the alley entrance, and said softly, "We're almost there. Turn right at the next intersection, and it'll be just a little further."

"Okay," Yang Guangming replied, pedaling steadily and making a neat turn at the slippery intersection.

A few minutes later, the bicycle stopped in front of an ordinary Shikumen residential building.

A dim, yellowish incandescent light shone from the entrance, its glow appearing especially warm in the rain. Rainwater streamed down the eaves, forming a small curtain of water.

"We've arrived." Yang Guangming braced himself with one foot, steadying the car, the brakes making a slight scraping sound.

Lin Jianyue released her grip on his clothes, the fabric of which was slightly damp from the sweat on her palms.

She carefully slid off the back seat, her feet landing on the wet ground.

She folded her heavy oilcloth umbrella, and raindrops immediately dripped from the tip of the umbrella onto the ground. She stood under the dim yellow light at the entrance of the stairwell, looking up slightly at Yang Guangming, who was still straddling the car.

Rainwater dampened the black hair on his forehead and temples, with a few strands clinging to his full forehead and cheeks, and glistening water droplets dripping from the ends. His eyes appeared exceptionally deep and bright under the lamplight, as if they contained stars.

"Thank you, Comrade Yang Guangming." Lin Jianyue's voice was filled with sincere, overwhelming gratitude and a strong sense of reluctance. "Thank you for treating me to dinner and for driving me back in the rain. I really... thank you so much."

"Don't mention it, it's my pleasure."

Yang Guangming smiled, his smile appearing especially gentle and touching in the wet glow of the rainy night. "Hurry up and go up, don't keep Comrade Feng Xianghong worried sick."

He gestured with his chin towards the doorway behind her.

"Mmm!" Lin Jianyue nodded vigorously, the scent of rain mixed with his refreshing smell lingering in the air.

She hesitated for a moment, twisting her fingers around the umbrella handle, but then mustered her courage and, with a blush on her cheeks, invited, "The rain is still falling, and the sky is so dark... Would you... would you like to come up for a cup of tea and dry your hair before you leave?"

Her voice trailed off, filled with anticipation.

Yang Guangming glanced at the still-drifting drizzle and the pitch-black night, then at the girl's blushing cheeks under the lamplight and her clear eyes brimming with expectation and shyness. His heart warmed like spring, but he still gently but firmly shook his head.

"No, thank you. It's too late, I wouldn't want to bother you. This little bit of rain is nothing. You should go up now."

His refusal was very tactful and full of consideration for her, which made Lin Jianyue unable to insist any longer, but she felt even more touched and fond of him.

She could only thank him again, her voice slightly nasal: "Then... then you must be careful on your way!"

"Don't worry." Yang Guangming nodded, his gaze gently enveloping her. "Go inside."

Lin Jianyue looked at him deeply, as if she wanted to etch the image of him carrying her home in the rainy night, his hair dripping with water, his eyes filled with warmth and determination, along with the moment under the dim light, into the deepest part of her heart.

Then he turned around and strode into the dry but slightly dim stairwell.

Only after watching her figure disappear and hearing the faint sound of a door opening, Feng Xianghong's surprised question, and Lin Jianyue's indistinct response did Yang Guangming turn his bicycle around.

He glanced one last time at the window on the second floor, where a warm light shone, and saw blurry, swaying figures reflected in the glass. Then he slammed his foot on the pedal.

The bicycle carried him, gliding lightly into the fine, cool rain and the deep darkness of the night.

The wheels rolled over the wet road surface, splashing up tiny droplets of water.

A cool evening breeze, carrying a drizzle, brushed against his face, causing his slightly damp shirt to cling to his body, but it couldn't dispel the gentle smile on his face, nor could it dispel the warmth in his heart.

(End of this chapter)