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

Chapter 22. Shopping in Huai State

With a slight thought, Yang Guangming took out the drunken chicken and the pork knuckle.

The rich aroma of soy sauce mixed with the intoxicating fragrance of liquor instantly filled the air, and could be clearly smelled even through the thick packaging.

This exquisite, modern packaging is simply unusable!
Yang Guangming quickly used his mind to search through the space again, and the stack of oil paper, straw paper, kraft paper bags, and several brand-new nylon mesh bags that he had stuffed in during the previous purchase came in handy.

First, he took out the oil paper and wrapped the drunken chicken and pork knuckle separately. Then he took out a net bag.
I carefully placed the two oil paper packets inside, and carried the net bag in my hand. It felt heavy, but the aroma was even stronger.

Carrying this "generous gift," Yang Guangming turned around and returned to the vicinity of Jishetang.

In the pharmacy, Wu Hongtao was tiptoeing to retrieve medicine from a high shelf, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Hongtao!" Yang Guangming called softly from the doorway.

Wu Hongtao turned around upon hearing the sound and saw Yang Guangming returning with a net bag in his hand that emitted an enticing fragrance. He paused for a moment, then quickly put down the medicine scale and ran out.

"Guangming, why are you back again? Have you... finalized the deal?" Wu Hongtao asked, his gaze involuntarily drifting towards the net bag, his Adam's apple bobbing involuntarily. The aroma was too overpowering.

"It's all settled, went very smoothly, thanks to your help in making the connection." Yang Guangming smiled sincerely and handed over the net bag in his hand. "It's just a small token of my appreciation, you and Director Gu can take it, please don't be shy. The drunken chicken and braised pork knuckle are homemade, and they taste pretty good."

There's nowhere nearby that sells this kind of drunken chicken and braised pork knuckle, so he could only use this excuse to make up a story.

The rich aroma couldn't be contained by the oiled paper, and Wu Hongtao's eyes widened in amazement.

These days, glistening cooked meat is the ultimate temptation, let alone the drunken chicken and braised pork knuckle that smell extraordinary!

He waved his hands repeatedly, his face flushed red: "I can't accept it, I can't accept it! Guangming, you're too kind!"
I only helped with a small favor, how could I accept such an expensive gift? Take it home for your family to enjoy!

"Take it!"

Without a word, Yang Guangming shoved the net into Wu Hongtao's hand, using just the right amount of force, leaving no room for refusal.

“You’ve been a huge help! Without your help, how could we have found the person in need so quickly? This is just a small token of our appreciation.”

Please also convey my gratitude to Director Gu; his assessment was a great help, I know that.

The net bag felt heavy in my hand, and I could feel the rich, elastic meat inside even through the oil paper.

Unable to refuse, and unable to resist the undeniable temptation, Wu Hongtao reluctantly accepted, his face a mixture of gratitude and unease.
"This...this is too much...you've gone to so much trouble...thank you, thank you so much, Guangming!"

"No need for formalities, we're family." Yang Guangming smiled and patted his shoulder. "You go in now, I have something to do, I'll be going now. I'll contact you later!"

Watching Yang Guangming's carefree departure, and then looking down at the heavy, fragrant "thank you gift" in his hand, Wu Hongtao felt a mix of emotions.

Envy, gratitude, and a touch of bittersweetness that's hard to describe.

He carried the net bag and walked briskly back to the pharmacy, pondering how to tell his uncle later, but a smile involuntarily crept onto his face.

***
After saying goodbye to Wu Hongtao, Yang Guangming didn't go straight home. He had a more pressing need—a watch. He was to report to the Hongxing State-Owned Cotton Mill's administrative office next Monday for his secretarial work; time was of the essence, and without a watch, he couldn't move an inch.

Not only do new watches require difficult-to-obtain watch certificates, but they are also prohibitively expensive. For a young person like him who has just started working, a second-hand watch that keeps accurate time and is reasonably priced is the most practical choice.

When buying a second-hand watch, especially a reliable one, Yang Guangming immediately had a target in mind—the State-owned Trust Store on Huaihai Road.

The name might sound unfamiliar, but the famous Huai State is well-known throughout the country!

This is one of the best secondhand markets in the country, with an extremely wide variety of products. It is said that you can buy almost anything here except cannons and guns and ammunition.

While this description may be somewhat exaggerated, it is true that Huai Kingdom had a rich variety of old products.

He determined the direction and headed towards Huaihai Road.

As we got closer to our destination, the crowds became noticeably denser, and the air began to carry a unique, dusty scent of old things, mixed with faint smells of camphor, tung oil, old book pages, and a hint of engine oil.

Turning a corner, a three-story building with a wide facade, clearly in the style of the old Shanghai concessions, came into view. Above the entrance, a striking sign with white background and black lettering hung: "Huaihai Road State-Owned Trust Store".

Yang Guangming's heart stirred slightly. The original owner of this body clearly remembered that this once-famous secondhand store had been locked up for the past few years, its cabinets covered in dust, and its entrance deserted.

It wasn't until last winter—the end of 68—that it quietly put its sign back up and cautiously resumed business.

It's only been half a year since it reopened, so he's come at a good time.

As you approach, you can see that the glass display windows on both sides of the entrance are fairly clean, displaying a few pieces of decent-condition old furniture and a few woolen coats, silently showcasing the heritage of this old shop.

As Yang Guangming walked through the gate with the dense crowd, an even richer and more complex atmosphere rushed towards him.

It was the unique smell of old wooden furniture that had accumulated over the years, mixed with the scent of mothballs used to store old clothes, the slight fishy smell of old leather, the slightly greasy smell of anti-rust oil on metal parts, and the smell of ink and dust accumulated from countless old books and papers.

The scent wasn't unpleasant; instead, it carried a heavy sense of age, instantly drawing one into a world constructed from old objects.

The scene before me suddenly opened up. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the streets outside, the store was filled with people, but there was a buzzing feeling as if it had been absorbed by the tall space.

The floor was covered in slightly worn terrazzo mosaic tiles, with small cracks and signs of repair in many places. Several rows of incandescent light bulbs hung from the high ceiling, emitting a dim light that made the space feel somewhat deep.

The store's interior is divided into areas according to the categories of goods, roughly separated by counters and shelves, but with the flow of people, the boundaries are not so clear.

The secondhand furniture section on the first floor occupies a large area on the left side of the entrance.

Rows of carved beds, heavy chests of drawers, dressing tables inlaid with blurry mirrors, heavy eight-immortal tables, and chairs with backs... stand like silent soldiers in formation.

Most of these pieces of furniture have dull paint, worn carvings, loose drawer slides, and slightly wobbly chair legs, seemingly silently telling the story of their respective families' former prestige and subsequent changes.

(End of this chapter)