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

Chapter 148, Section 147: A Heartfelt Complaint, Second Sister's Comparison, and a Grand Welcome Feast

In the evening, the damp bluestone slabs of the Shikumen courtyard reflected the dim yellow light shining through the windows of each house. A few withered sycamore leaves clung to the cracks in the stones, rustling softly as the draft blew through the air.

The neighbors gathered in twos and threes, chatting quietly in the last light of day and the dim lamplight, or doing chores such as sewing and picking vegetables.

Zhang Xiuying and Yang Yongkang sat on small stools in front of their house, their eyes almost glued to the direction of the alley entrance.

Zhang Xiuying unconsciously rubbed a dusty old rag in her hand, her knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

Yang Yongkang silently smoked his hand-rolled cigarette. The pungent smell of cheap tobacco mingled with the damp air, and the embers of the cigarette flickered in the deepening twilight, reflecting his tightly furrowed brows.

An anxious wait filled the air.

Zhang Xiuying couldn't help but mutter again, "Trains are often delayed, and even if there are further delays on the way... they should have arrived by now..." Her voice carried a barely perceptible anxiety.

Just then, the clear sound of a bicycle bell came from the alley entrance, followed by the light, crisp sound of wheels rolling over the stone pavement.

A tall figure appeared pushing a brand-new "Forever" 28-inch bicycle, with a person on the back seat and two huge, bulging packages tied to the sides of the rear frame.

"They're here! They're back!" someone with sharp eyes shouted from the courtyard.

Zhang Xiuying sprang to her feet as if propelled by a spring, oblivious to the rag she dropped, and stumbled towards him. Yang Yongkang also stubbed out his cigarette, tossed the butt aside, and strode after her, his hunched back seemingly straightening a little.

All the neighbors' eyes turned to them. Granny Chen in the living room, Mrs. Feng in the kitchen, and He Caiyun, who was leaning against the door frame, all stopped what they were doing.

The bicycle came to a steady stop on the bluestone slab.

With a push of his long legs, Yang Guangming brought the car to a stop.

Yang Guangyao jumped off the back seat with somewhat stiff movements, carrying the huge gray canvas travel bag on his back and struggling to lift the equally heavy homespun cloth bag in his hands.

In the dim light, he looked as if he had shrunk considerably. The old military uniform that had once fit him when he left home now hung loosely on his body, further emphasizing his thin and bony frame.

His skin was a dark brown, worn down by the wind, frost, and scorching sun of the Great Northern Wilderness, so rough that it looked like it was covered with a layer of grime that couldn't be washed off.

His cheeks were deeply sunken, his cheekbones were prominent, his lips were chapped and peeling, and his hair was messy and covered in dust.

His eyes and brows bore the marks of a long journey, as well as a numbness and lingering resentment born from the weight of life's burdens.

His weathered appearance seems out of place in the bustling metropolis and the familiar Shikumen (stone gate) buildings.

"Yaoyao! My Yaoyao!"

Zhang Xiuying's cries shattered the silence of the courtyard, carrying a long-suppressed explosive force.

She rushed forward and hugged her son tightly. Her thin arms burst forth with astonishing strength, holding Yang Guangyao's frail body tightly, as if she wanted to knead all the longing, worry, and heartache of the past two years into her very bones.

Her rough hands caressed her son's thin, bony back and shoulder blades again and again, almost greedily, and hot tears welled up and dripped onto his dusty collar.

"Mom..."

Yang Guangyao was caught off guard by his mother's sudden, almost suffocating embrace. His throat felt like it was blocked by a hard object, and his voice was hoarse and dry.

He instinctively struggled slightly, only to be met with an even tighter embrace from his mother. A scent mixed with dust and the all-too-familiar smell of cheap soap emanating from his mother filled his nostrils—the smell of home, the unique warmth and comfort of life deep within the Shikumen (stone gate) neighborhood.

This aura instantly shattered his carefully constructed defenses, and his eyes uncontrollably reddened, his nostrils flaring.

The neighbors gathered around. Grandma Chen wiped her eyes, sighing, "Xiuying, it's alright, it's alright, it's good that he's back! His safe return is the greatest blessing! Let him breathe, look how thin he's become..."

"Yes, Xiuying, please stop crying. The child must be exhausted from the journey. Come inside and rest, have some hot water," Mrs. Feng gently comforted her.

After much persuasion from the crowd, Zhang Xiuying finally loosened her grip slightly, but still clung tightly to Yang Guangyao's arm as if afraid he would run away.

She raised her tear-filled face, and in the dim light, carefully examined her son's features inch by inch. Her fingers trembled as she traced his rough, sunken cheeks and chapped lips, her voice choked with sobs.
"He's gotten so dark...he's lost so much weight...he's suffered...he's suffered terribly..."

Every word felt like it had been ripped from the very tip of my heart.

Yang Yongkang stood aside, silently watching his second son whom he hadn't seen for more than two years.

His deeply wrinkled face twitched almost imperceptibly, and his lips were pressed tightly together.

In the end, he simply reached out his equally rough, large-knuckled hand and patted Yang Guangyao's other shoulder firmly, squeezing out three heavy words: "It's good that you're back."

These words, so brief yet so powerful, struck him like a thunderbolt from the sunlight. His throat tightened, and he nearly wept again.

The neighbors quickly helped unload the two heavy packages from the bicycle rack and temporarily piled them on the cool stone slabs of the courtyard. The bulging canvas travel bag and the tightly bound tan cloth bag immediately became the new focus of attention.

Hearing the commotion, Li Guihua quickly came out of the house. She was surprised to see Yang Guangyao's appearance, but quickly put on a warm smile and greeted him.

"Yaoyao's back! Oh my, you've lost so much weight! These past two years have been so tough on you!"

His tone conveyed just the right amount of concern and heartache.

"Hello, sister-in-law." Yang Guangyao forced a smile, his voice still hoarse. "Life in the countryside is indeed... very hard, but there's nothing we can do about it."

He subconsciously tightened the empty old military uniform he was wearing.

Zhang Xiuying pulled her son to sit down on a small stool by the door, her heart aching with unbearable pain. She eagerly pressed him for answers:

“Yaoyao, tell Mom quickly, how are you doing over there? You always said it was tough in your letters, but this… this is too tough! A living person has to endure this much…”

Her gaze seemed glued to her son's face, unwilling to look away.

This topic, like a key, instantly unlocked the floodgates of bitterness that had been building up in Yang Guangyao's heart for so long. The shock and bitterness along the way, as well as the deep-seated grievances, resentment, and discontent with the environment accumulated over the past two years, finally found their most direct outlet.

He was already eloquent, and now he added even more embellishment, vividly depicting the hardships of Northeast China, with every detail imbued with strong personal emotion.

"Mom, you have no idea!"

His voice suddenly rose, thick with a nasal tone, as if to resonate with all the listeners, "That place is truly no place for humans to live! In winter, it's minus thirty or forty degrees Celsius! The wind blows like a knife, cutting painfully into your face!"

The dilapidated mud-brick house we lived in was drafty from all sides, and you could fit your fingers into the cracks in the walls! It was like an icebox inside!
The cotton quilts and cotton-padded coats I brought were utterly useless! At night, huddled on the kang (heated brick bed) under two layers of quilts, I was still so cold my bones ached, my teeth were chattering, and I couldn't sleep at all! My toes almost froze off!
Last winter, one of the educated youth in our room had a large frostbite on his ear!

As he spoke, he unconsciously rubbed his hands together, as if the biting cold was still there.

He picked up a chipped enamel mug from the table, not caring whose it was, and gulped down several mouthfuls of cold water to moisten his parched throat, then continued his accusations:

"Food? Let's not even talk about that! Every meal was cornmeal porridge and sorghum cakes! It was so tough! So tough that my throat was burning! It was all water and no oil at all!"

Vegetables? Just boiled potatoes and radish greens in salt water! That cornmeal porridge was so thin you could see your reflection in it, and after drinking it, my stomach rumbled and I felt like my chest was sticking to my back! Walking felt like walking on cotton, like I was floating!
All year round, the only time we got a tiny bit of fat—about the width of a finger—was around the New Year when the team slaughtered the pig. It wasn't even enough to fill a gap between our teeth; that was considered a taste of meat! Our mouths were practically bland!

He smacked his lips, as if still savoring the awful blandness.

"Farm work? Is that even work? That's deadly!"

He waved his arms excitedly, as if he were still holding a hoe. "Before dawn, as soon as the whistle blew, we had to get up and go to the fields! Facing the black soil and with our backs to the sky! We swung the hoe until our arms were too sore to lift! Our backs felt like they were broken, and we couldn't straighten them!"

The summer sun was scorching! It was so intense it made your skin peel off in layers! Sweat stung your eyes! How could my body withstand that?

He patted his thin chest, his voice full of grievance, "Captain? Humph! He's a snob too! He only knows how to bully us educated youth from outside, assigning us all the dirty and hard work!"
"They yell at you because you're a little slow, they don't give us any face at all, they don't treat us like human beings!"

He deliberately ignored his sister Yang Xiangmei's resilience and his own instinctive aversion to farm work, exaggerating the harshness of the environment and the tension in interpersonal relationships.

When he got emotional, his eyes reddened, his voice trembled with tears, and he was filled with self-pity:
"Those other educated youths in the same room were even worse!"

That local guy surnamed Li, he takes advantage of being a local resident and always tries to get away with things!

I went to great lengths to ask someone to buy me half a pound of biscuits from town. I couldn't bear to eat them myself, but he grabbed a whole handful without even asking!

His snoring at night is like thunder, so loud it makes dust fall from the rafters! I've argued with him a few times, but he's incredibly arrogant and almost hit me!

There's also Xiao Wang, who's so lazy he's practically crawling with maggots! When it's his turn to fetch water, chop firewood, or heat the kang (a traditional heated bed), he always makes excuses or does a terrible job, leaving the kang half-warm and freezing us so we have to get up in the middle of the night to fix it all over again!

I said a few words to him, and he rolled his eyes and scolded me for meddling! People like that are infuriating! Sharing a bed with them, smelling their sweat and foot odor, and listening to their snoring and teeth grinding, is practically a death sentence!
I can't stand this any longer! I don't know when this will ever end!

He sighed heavily, lowered his head dejectedly, as if completely crushed by that invisible burden.

This vivid and tearful accusation was amplified under the dim light and with neighbors watching.

Zhang Xiuying felt as if her heart was being torn apart. The tears she had just stopped flowing surged again. She gripped her son's hand tightly, her lips trembling, and could only repeat "What a tragedy... what a tragedy..." She could not say anything else.

Yang Yongkang squatted back in the corner, rolled another cigarette in silence, and the smoke from the cheap tobacco became even thicker, enveloping his tightly furrowed face and making his hunched back seem even more bent.

The neighbors' expressions also became complicated.

Chen's mother, who was in the living room, listened with particular focus, her eyes reddening as she secretly wiped away tears by lifting a corner of her blue apron.

She also has two children working in the countryside. Yang Guangyao's words were like a hook, precisely stirring up the deep-seated worries and concerns in her heart.

That shared sorrow made her sigh softly, "What a tragedy...it's all a tragedy...the children are suffering outside, and their parents' hearts are like they're being fried in oil..."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

Mrs. Feng frowned slightly. With her greater experience, she could hear the excessive resentment and self-centeredness in Yang Guangyao's words, as well as the possible exaggeration of certain details.

But seeing Zhang Xiuying's heartbroken state, and then looking at Yang Guangyao's appearance, worn down by life, she ultimately said nothing, only sighed softly and shook her head.

He Caiyun remained leaning against her doorframe, her gaze lingering on the two enormous packages on the stone slab of the courtyard. A hint of barely perceptible inquiry and curiosity crossed her face, and she seemed rather uninterested in Yang Guangyao's complaints.

Yang Guangming stood a little distance away, his back against the cold brick wall.

He watched his mother weep sadly, watched his father silently brooding, and listened to his second brother's exaggerated lament, which seemed to be an act. His heart felt like it was stuffed with a wet, rotten cotton ball, making him feel suffocated.

He understood his second brother's suffering, but felt even more sorry for his parents' grief. He also vaguely felt that something important was missing from his second brother's story.

He had to interrupt this conversation, which was immersing itself in an atmosphere of boundless suffering, and steer the conversation toward something more practical and reassuring to his parents.

He stepped forward, his voice not loud, but clearly cutting into his second brother's still-simmering rant:

"Second brother, how is second sister over there? Is she alright? She always says in her letters that she's fine and everything is fine, but we still can't feel at ease."

He specifically emphasized "always saying good things" and "not being down-to-earth".

Mentioning his younger sister, Yang Xiangmei, Yang Guangyao's emotions seemed to be paused, calming down slightly.

He wiped his slightly flushed cheeks, his tone becoming more objective and less accusatory: "Xiangmei... she's better than me."

He readily admitted this, his tone tinged with a reluctant admiration, "The work assigned to the female educated youth was easier than that of us men. At first, she couldn't handle it either, she was exhausted, and she even cried secretly at night. But this girl..."

He paused for a moment, then said, "She can endure hardship and is resilient, unlike me... She got through it and got used to it."

A complex self-deprecating smile appeared on his face. "In this respect, I am not as good as her. I just can't get used to this kind of hard life. Xiangmei... is also very popular, unlike me, I can't get along with anyone."

His tone carried a hint of melancholy and an unspoken sense of distance.

"She got along well with the people at the educated youth settlement, and also with the older women in the village."

Yang Guangyao continued, his voice becoming calmer, "Like Aunt Wang, she's a very kind person. She taught her how to light the stove, heat the kang (a heated brick bed), and identify wild vegetables, and even taught her how to pickle vegetables."

She even cultivated a small vegetable garden behind the house, planting eggplants, green beans, and other vegetables, which grew quite well. This skill is something I can't learn, nor do I want to. If we don't get along, we don't get along; forcing it won't help.

His last sentence carried a hint of stubborn resentment.

Hearing this, the neighbors' expressions softened considerably. Mrs. Feng nodded approvingly: "Xiangmei has always been a quiet, sensible, kind-hearted, and hardworking girl. She's a good child."

She looked at Yang Yao and added, "Yao Yao, you're such a thoughtful child, bringing back so many things from so far away, thinking of your family. It wasn't easy carrying them all the way back!" Chen's mother chimed in, "Yes, yes, you brought back so many good mountain products! Even though your place is tough, the things are really good! Now your parents can give you a good boost!"

These words hit Yang Guangyao right where he needed it most right now—a sense of presence and accomplishment.

The dejection and resentment on his face were instantly replaced by an eagerness to show off.

He immediately straightened his back, pointed to the two large packages in the courtyard, and raised his voice, clearly showing his pride:

"That's right! No matter how hard or tiring it is, I can't forget my family! My parents raised me all these years, and when I was in that poor place, if I had anything good, the first thing I thought of was bringing it home! Look at that!"

He seemed to have been injected with new energy. He walked a few steps to the package, quickly untied the straps of the travel bag, and then forcefully tore open the hemp rope binding the homespun cloth bag.

A rich, earthy aroma, a blend of dried mushrooms, the oily scent of nuts, and the distinctive salty and fishy smell of dried fish instantly filled the air, dispelling the dampness in the courtyard.

"Here!"

He first pulled out a large bag from his canvas travel bag, wrapped in thick kraft paper and tightly bound. "Top-quality black fungus! Thick and meaty! Thoroughly dried! Add a little to soups and stir-fries, and it'll make you so delicious you'll lose your eyebrows!"

He pulled another bag from the pouch. "These are hazel mushrooms! Wild ones! They smell much better than the ones sold at the market!"

Next came the homespun cloth bag. He pulled out a heavy cloth bag. "Pine nuts! Wild walnuts! All good stuff! I went to great lengths to get them from the old workers at the forest farm! Good for the brain!"

Finally, he carefully pulled out two long, thin things wrapped in several layers of old newspaper from the bottom of his bag. He unwrapped one layer to reveal fish that were dried hard and had scales that shimmered faintly.

"Two dried fine-scaled fish! Caught in the Songhua River! A rare find! Let Mom and Dad try some fresh river delicacies from Northeast China! Make a soup, it'll be so delicious it'll make your tongue tingle!"

He added, "Oh, and also, the soybeans the team distributed, the melon seeds we roasted ourselves... all stuffed inside! Two huge bags! They were so heavy, I carried them all the way back, and my shoulders are covered in red marks from the weight!"

He recounted the details with great familiarity, his tone filled with a sense of self-satisfaction.

He wanted everyone, especially his neighbors, to see clearly that he, Yang Guangyao, hadn't come back empty-handed to freeload; he had brought a substantial and genuine "gift" to his family, enough to silence any possible gossip.

Yang Guangming stood aside, calmly watching his second brother's slightly excited presentation.

After Yang Guangyao had displayed his main mountain products for a while, laying them out on the stone slab to attract the curious glances of his neighbors, Yang Guangming finally spoke, asking in a steady voice:
"Second brother, with so many things, which ones did Second Sister ask you to bring back? Which ones did you prepare yourself? I remember Second Sister said in her last letter that she also prepared some local specialties and wanted you to bring them back as well."

He remembered that his second sister, Yang Xiangmei, had explicitly mentioned in her letter that she wanted to bring back local specialties, and her tone was full of anticipation.

Yang Guangyao paused noticeably, his hand hovering in mid-air as he rummaged through the objects, his eyes flickering as he avoided Yang Guangming's calm gaze.

He waved his hand vaguely, his tone deliberately relaxed: "Oh, why be so particular! It's all from the hearts of my brother and me! Why should we, as family, distinguish between yours and mine? Xiangmei's share... uh, it must be in there too! The things are all mixed together, and I can't remember exactly which one belongs to whom."

He quickly changed the subject, bent down to pick up the bag of black fungus, and stuffed it into Zhang Xiuying's hand. "Mom, keep this safe. Store it in a dry place and make sure it doesn't get damp! Add a handful to your old hen soup; it's the most nourishing!"

Yang Guangming didn't press further, but his gaze lingered on his second brother's face for a moment, and he understood. His second sister's feelings had probably been silently swallowed up by his second brother's "record of achievements."

Holding the heavy bag of black fungus that exuded a rich aroma, Zhang Xiuying looked at the various mountain products spread out on the ground, and then at her son's tired but proud face, which carried a hint of "returning home in glory." Finally, the first truly gratified smile appeared on her face since her son entered the door.

Although the smile still clearly showed traces of wet tears, the corners of her mouth were still trying to curve upwards.

“Good, good, these are all good things! Yaoyao is so thoughtful…” she murmured, her fingers unconsciously stroking the rough kraft paper packaging.

As darkness fell completely, the lights in each household in the alleyway shone even brighter, and the aroma of food began to permeate the narrow space, making people's stomachs rumble with hunger.

"Alright, alright, it's good that he's back, and he brought his things back too. They're all good children!" Grandma Chen spoke up at the right moment, breaking the slightly tense atmosphere caused by Yang Yao's display. "Xiuying, stop talking. Yao Yao must have had a long journey. He probably didn't eat well on the train. Quickly get him something hot to eat! Let him warm up his stomach!"

"Yeah!"

Zhang Xiuying seemed to snap out of a daze, quickly and carefully placing the black fungus on the stool beside her, her face regaining a look of "a formidable enemy at hand."
"Look at me, I've been so busy talking! Are you starving, Yao Yao? Mom will make your favorite braised pork! The meat is all ready, just waiting for you to come back and cook it!"

Her face was still wet with tears, but her eyes were already full of energy.

Zhang Xiuying truly spared no effort in preparing this welcome banquet, and even used the family's precious "reserves".

Inside the kitchen, Li Guihua had already deftly lit the coal stove, the blue flames licking the black bottom of the pot.

Zhang Xiuying put on her faded blue apron and took charge of cooking herself.

Under the dim light, on the cutting board, a piece of high-quality pork belly, with a good balance of fat and lean meat and weighing more than a pound, had been cut into square pieces the size of mahjong tiles.

The deep red lean meat was interspersed with tempting milky white fat—she had gotten up early yesterday, queued in a long line at the grocery store, and managed to buy it with a ticket and some "good talk." It had been hanging in a cool, ventilated place, waiting to be cooked for her son today.

Heat the pot, pour in a small spoonful of precious rapeseed oil, and once the oil is hot, add a small handful of yellow rock sugar.

Rock sugar slowly melts in hot oil, bubbling up fine, golden bubbles and releasing the unique sweet aroma of caramel.

Zhang Xiuying carefully stirred the sugar with a spatula until it turned a beautiful dark reddish-brown color, then quickly poured in the drained meat chunks.

"Zi la——!"

With a loud bang, the rich aroma of meat mixed with the sweet scent of caramel burst forth, instantly overwhelming the other smells in the courtyard and forcefully penetrating everyone's nostrils.

Zhang Xiuying's wrists flew as she skillfully stir-fried the meat, coating each piece evenly with an enticing brown sauce.

Add Shaoxing wine, and a strong aroma of wine rises; pour in soy sauce, and the deep color of soy sauce quickly permeates the meat; add a few slices of ginger and a knotted scallion... The kitchen is filled with heat and smoke, and the sounds of spatulas clattering and grease sizzling create a symphony full of the warmth of home cooking.

Besides the main dish, braised pork belly, the table was set with a variety of other dishes:
Two cold dishes bought from the grocery store: a plate of thinly sliced ​​pork head meat garnished with a few sprigs of cilantro, and a plate of spiced vegetarian chicken drizzled with sesame oil.

A plate of bright green, glistening, freshly stir-fried cabbage; a large bowl of steaming hot winter melon and dried shrimp soup, dotted with oil and pale pink dried shrimp.

Of course, there was also an extra pot of white rice that I specially steamed at noon, which was now steaming hot.

In this era of scarcity, this was an exceptionally lavish meal, a rare treat for the Yang family.

The small, old wooden table was filled to the brim, and the original color of the tabletop was almost invisible.

Today, Yang Yongkang also took out a bottle of "Qibao Daqu" for the first time ever. He unscrewed the tin bottle cap and poured a little clear, slightly yellow liquid into the small wine cup in front of each person.

Even Zhang Xiuying, who rarely drinks, was symbolically poured half a glass.

Under the dim light, the wine swayed slightly, reflecting the steaming, tempting dishes on the table, as well as the faces of the family members sitting together—tired, distressed, expectant, satisfied, and Zhuangzhuang's bewildered and curious eyes.

"Come on, Yaoyao, we're home. Don't be shy, eat more! Make sure you have some nourishing food!"

Zhang Xiuying picked up her chopsticks and kept piling food into Yang Guangyao's bowl, especially the glistening, reddish-brown, trembling, and irresistibly tempting braised pork. She piled it up into a small mountain in her bowl, piece after piece.

Looking at the sumptuous, steaming meal before him, and smelling the rich aroma of meat—the kind of flavorful cooking his mother had longed for—Yang Guangyao's throat bobbed violently, and his mouth uncontrollably produced a large amount of saliva.

He didn't bother with formalities or even take a sip of wine first. He almost impatiently picked up the bowl piled high with white rice and started eating it voraciously.

The first bite of braised pork belly was an instant sensation. The fatty part practically melted on the tongue, and the rich oil, combined with the intense aroma of the sauce and just the right amount of sweetness, filled the entire mouth. The lean meat was stewed until tender and flavorful, without getting stuck in your teeth at all.

This long-lost, exquisite meaty flavor, like a surging warm current, instantly soothed his nearly numb stomach, which had been tormented by coarse food for so long.

He shoveled his food into his mouth, chewing with unusual force and focus, his cheeks bulging out as he swallowed with a satisfied, almost greedy sound.

It was as if they wanted to make up for all the missed food and cravings of the past two years by eating it all back in this one moment.

He ate so intently, so absorbed in his food, that fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Eat slowly, eat slowly, don't choke! There's more in the pot!" Zhang Xiuying felt both sorry for him and satisfied as she watched him wolf down his food as if he hadn't eaten in ages. She kept adding food and rice to his bowl, her eyes never leaving it.

Yang Yongkang silently took a sip of the spicy Qibao Daqu liquor; the strong liquor burned his throat.

He watched his second son devour his food, as if the world consisted only of food, and his tightly furrowed brows finally relaxed a little, and his deep wrinkles seemed to smooth out somewhat.

He picked up a piece of braised pork, put it in his mouth, and slowly chewed it, savoring the long-lost rich flavor.

Yang Guanghui didn't talk much, he ate in silence, but he ate quite quickly, clearly this sumptuous dinner was a rare treat for him. Every now and then he would pick up a piece of tender pork skin, blow on it to cool it down, and feed it to Zhuangzhuang, who was watching eagerly.

Li Guihua, on the other hand, was much more attentive, busy serving food to her parents-in-law and taking care of Zhuangzhuang's meal. She herself didn't eat much, but she wore a proper smile like a daughter-in-law, though her eyes kept glancing at the plate of braised pork on the table that was rapidly disappearing and at Yang Guangyao's ravenous eating.

The family sat around the warm lamplight, the sounds of chewing, the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks, Zhang Xiuying's occasional caring words, and Zhuangzhuang's occasional babbling all mingled together.

The rich aroma of braised pork, the fresh scent of stir-fried cabbage, the umami of winter melon soup, and the subtle hint of alcohol blend together to create a comforting flavor.

At this moment, the small Shikumen-style building is filled with the pure warmth and satisfaction of returning home under the bright sunlight.

The welcoming banquet was exceptionally enjoyable and quick.

Yang Guangyao devoured almost half a plate of braised pork and two large bowls of rice all by himself.

He only put down his chopsticks with satisfaction when he was so full he couldn't eat anymore. He let out a long, deep breath, leaned back in his chair, and showed the first truly relaxed, oily, tired, and satisfied smile he had seen since returning home.

He subconsciously rubbed his bloated stomach with his hand.

"Are you full?" Zhang Xiuying looked at him lovingly, her eyes so tender they could melt your heart.

"I'm full, Mom! It was so delicious!"

Yang Guangyao patted his belly, his voice tinged with the languor of a full meal and genuine admiration, "It's been so long...so long since I've had such delicious meat."

This familiar yet unfamiliar taste of home acted like a powerful soothing agent, temporarily calming his resentment and providing a warm harbor where his wandering, helpless, and resentful heart could find temporary refuge.

After the meal, Li Guihua quickly and efficiently cleared away the dishes, the clanging and banging of the washing dishes echoing in the kitchen.

Yang Guanghui held Zhuangzhuang, who was full and yawning, and paced gently in the small space, humming an off-key lullaby.

Zhang Xiuying held Yang Guangyao's hand and sat on the edge of the bed. She asked him in detail about life in Northeast China, especially about Yang Xiangmei. She told him not to think about anything, to get a good night's sleep, and to recover his energy.

As night deepened, the noise in the alleyway completely subsided, leaving only the occasional bark of a dog in the distance.

The lights in every household were gradually turned off.

Yang Yongkang had already quietly made the bed and taken out the thickest and cleanest bedding in the house.

Yang Guangming glanced at the slightly worn Shanghai brand watch on his wrist; the hands on the dial pointed to nine o'clock.

He stood up: "Dad, Mom, Second Brother, it's getting late, I have to go home to the family building. I have things to do at the factory tomorrow."

Zhang Xiuying then suddenly remembered that her youngest son still needed to go back, and hurriedly said, "Right, right, Mingming, you have to go to work tomorrow, you can't be late. It's not a short distance, go back and rest early. Be careful on the road, it's getting dark." She looked at Yang Guangming, her eyes filled with a mother's concern for each of her children.

"I won't ride the bicycle." Yang Guangming took the bicycle key off the hook behind the door and handed it to Zhang Xiuying. "There's no rush tonight, I can walk back, it'll help me digest my food. You'll need to ride it to work tomorrow morning, Mom."

Since he moved to the factory's staff housing, he only needs to walk a few minutes to get to work every day. This brand-new "Forever" has become Zhang Xiuying's exclusive vehicle, greatly facilitating her commute to the factory and grocery shopping.

“Okay, I’ll ride it tomorrow.” Zhang Xiuying took the keys and held them in her hand.

Yang Guangming then looked at Yang Guangyao, who was leaning back in his chair, looking somewhat languid from the warmth of his meal: "Second brother, you should rest well. We can talk about it tomorrow."

The sunlight was so bright that my eyelids were drooping. I mumbled an "uh-huh" in response, barely lifting my head.

Yang Yongkang also hummed in acknowledgment, his voice low, as a farewell.

Yang Guangming put on his faded navy blue "Dika" Zhongshan suit jacket, buttoned it up, and picked up his canvas shoulder bag.

He pushed open the heavy, black lacquered wooden door, and a rush of crisp, cool air, typical of a late autumn night, rushed in, carrying the damp chill of the alleyway.

He took a deep breath of the cold air, tightened his collar, and strode alone into the deep darkness of the alley.

(End of this chapter)