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

Chapter 101. Stepping Out of the Gloom, Making the Final Decision!
The cicadas in the trees seemed to sense this heavy outpouring of emotion and wisely lowered their chirping, leaving only the whispers of the leaves in the breeze.

Time passed by, second by second.

It was unclear how much time had passed; perhaps only a few minutes, but for Lin Shunan, it felt like an eternity.

His shrugging shoulders finally calmed down, and his rapid breathing gradually became heavy and slow.

He was still facing away from the bright sunlight, but his posture was no longer as tense and about to break as before; instead, it exuded a sense of utter exhaustion.

After a while, he finally managed to turn his head back slowly and painstakingly.

Her eyes were still red and swollen, and the tear stains on her face were still wet, but the deathly grayness in her eyes seemed to have faded somewhat.

He dared not look into Yang Guangming's eyes, his gaze fixed on the concrete floor between them. His voice was hoarse and dry, like sandpaper scraping, thick with nasal tone and a sob: "...Ming-ge..."

This long-unheard form of address was squeezed out with difficulty from his chapped lips, carrying a tremendous weight, "...Thank you..."

He sniffed, as if using all his strength, before finally managing to utter the last few words, "...I...I understand...I...I'll try..."

Every word seemed to have been dug out from the depths of his chest, stained with blood.

The heavy boulder in Yang Guangming's heart finally fell to the ground with a "thud".

A warm feeling welled up inside him, and a genuine, relieved smile appeared on his face. This smile dispelled the heaviness between his brows, making him appear exceptionally bright.

"That's right!" Yang Guangming's voice brightened, filled with encouragement. "There's a long road ahead, take it slow, you can't get fat in one bite. By the way..."

He naturally changed the subject, his tone concerned, "Aside from being tired at work, what other particular difficulties are you facing? Are you getting along well with your coworkers?"

He deliberately avoided using words like "bullying".

Lin Shunan lowered her head, wiped her face vigorously with her sleeve, took a few deep breaths, and tried to calm her turbulent emotions.

When he spoke again, his voice was still hoarse and low, but it seemed a little smoother: "Work... is tiring, carrying heavy bags, my back aches... but I'm used to it, it's alright."

He paused, as if organizing his thoughts, "My coworkers... actually, no one really... really bullied me. It's just... they just didn't talk to me much."

They were smoking and chatting... I... I didn't know what to say, so I just... listened. I... didn't really dare to go closer.

He licked his chapped lips, his voice lower and more bitter, "Mainly... it's about going home after work..."

"How's home?" Yang Guangming immediately followed up, his tone softening. "Are you getting used to the small room the street arranged for you?"

He learned from Wu Hongtao that the Lin family's original house had already been ordered to be vacated, and all their belongings had long since disappeared.

That tiny room in a crowded alley was the only place the street could provide for this child.

"...It's small, just one room...and there's no sunlight." Lin Shunan's voice was barely audible. "Just a bed and a cabinet, and it's full, but it's enough. It's just..."

He hesitated, as if the next words were difficult to utter, but finally he managed to say them with difficulty, "It was the neighbors... right after my mother passed away... some people... pointed fingers and gossiped about me, both to my face and behind my back..."

He didn't say anything more, but just sighed deeply, a sigh filled with helplessness and humiliation, "...Sigh, I won't say anymore."

Yang Guangming's heart sank. He could imagine that kind of environment.

The gossip in the alleyways is like an invisible knife, especially for a young person who has lost the protection of their parents and is burdened by the heavy baggage of their "origins," it is enough to slowly tear their heart apart.

What about in terms of daily life?

Yang Guangming asked more directly, his gaze sweeping over Lin Shunan's obviously oversized, loosely hanging work clothes and his sallow, thin face, "Is there any difficulty? Is your money... enough?"

Lin's mother had just passed away, and the expenses for her funeral were undoubtedly astronomical for an apprentice who had just started working and was earning a meager salary.

Lin Shunan shook her head vigorously almost immediately and instinctively, speaking quickly: "No! There are no difficulties! It's fine! I'm all alone... my expenses are low..."

But Yang Guangming clearly saw that when he spoke, the hand on his knee unconsciously and tightly gripped the empty pocket, his knuckles turning white from the force.

His sallow, unhealthy complexion, his emaciated body, and his work clothes that looked like they were hanging on a hanger—every detail silently screamed, puncturing his lie that he was "doing fine."

Yang Guangming didn't press the matter further. He simply took out a folded, thin envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket.

Upon opening the envelope, I found two brand-new five-yuan banknotes printed with worker, peasant, and soldier images. Ten yuan, in those days, was almost half a month's wages for an ordinary young worker.

Without saying a word, he stuffed two banknotes directly into Lin Shunan's hand, which was tightly clutching his pocket and hadn't had time to pull it back!
"Take it!" Yang Guangming's tone was resolute, carrying an elder brother's authority and an unquestionable force.

Lin Shunan recoiled as if burned by a red-hot iron, jerking his hand back as if the money were something terrifying: "Ming-ge! No! I...I don't want it!"

His voice was filled with fear and strong resistance, and his face turned bright red.

“Take it!” Yang Guangming repeated, his tone even more resolute.

He grabbed Lin Shunan's wrist as he tried to pull it back, with considerable force, and pressed the two brand-new banknotes, still warm from his body, into Lin Shunan's rough, cold palm. Then he held his hand tightly, preventing him from breaking free.

"Listen to me! It's not free!"

Yang Guangming stared intently into Lin Shunan's flustered and evasive eyes, speaking each word clearly and distinctly, "It's a loan! You can pay me back next month after you get your salary! Not a penny less, you have to pay me back!"

He deliberately emphasized "borrowing" and "returning," giving this help a veneer that wouldn't hurt his self-esteem.

"You're all alone now, you've just finished running errands, and everything costs money, you still need to eat, right? Look at yourself."

Yang Guangming's tone was filled with regret, his gaze lingering on Yang Guangming's thin face.

"You're so thin you're unrecognizable! Your cheekbones are practically protruding! Health is your most valuable asset! It's your most valuable asset, Shu Nan! If your health collapses, how will you carry heavy loads? How will you work? How will you change your life? How will you wait for a chance to transfer to a different position in the future?"

His rapid-fire questions struck Lin Shunan's heart like a hammer blow.

"Take it!" Yang Guangming repeated for the third time, tightening his grip on his wrist and the money, as if to transfer his strength and determination along with it. "Go buy some food! Buy some eggs! Buy some meat! Give yourself some nutrition! Do you hear me?"

Lin Shunan's hand was tightly gripped by Yang Guangming, her palm feeling the hard edges and brand-new texture of the two banknotes.

He was forced to raise his head and meet Yang Guangming's eyes, which were full of concern, unquestionable authority, and deep sorrow.

The tears that had been swirling in his eyes for so long could no longer be controlled. Like beads from a broken string, they rolled down his dusty cheeks and silently fell onto the rough, cold cement slab beneath his feet, leaving small, dark, and quickly disappearing marks.

His lips trembled violently, and a suppressed sob escaped his throat.

Finally, the hand that Yang Guangming was holding stopped resisting and instead used all its strength to tightly grip the two banknotes, along with Yang Guangming's fingers.

It was as if he were the only piece of driftwood with warmth that he could grab onto when he was drowning, a fire that suddenly appeared in his cold world.

"I'll...I'll pay you back..." he choked, his words incoherent, "I'll pay you back...I'll pay you back as soon as I get...I get my salary..."

"Okay! I'll keep track of it!"

Yang Guangming then released his grip, a relieved smile on his face, and gently patted Lin Shunan's still trembling shoulder, "There's more."

His tone became more relaxed, with a hint of planning in it, "I'm off this Sunday, so I'll go check out your little room. I'll familiarize myself with the place so it'll be easier to find you later. I'll also bring some things over, and we can have a meal together. I'll also see how your little place is doing."

"Ming-ge, no...no need to spend money..." Lin Shunan hurriedly shook his head, still clutching the ten yuan tightly in his hand, as if it were burning charcoal, or his only treasure.

"What's the big deal?" Yang Guangming interrupted him, deliberately putting on a stern face. "When friends visit, isn't it only right to bring some food? When your mother was alive, I often went to your house for meals, didn't I? It's settled then!"

He made the final decision, giving Lin Shunan no chance to refuse, and his tone immediately took on a protective edge, "Let your neighbors see that you, Lin Shunan, are not uncared for! With me, Yang Guangming, as your friend, they'll have to think twice before they speak or act!"

Lin Shunan stared blankly at Yang Guangming.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the paulownia leaves, casting dappled golden rays that fell on Yangming's young, determined, and vibrant face.

In Lin Shunan's eyes, the long-standing, thick, and impenetrable gray haze was finally torn open by this ray of light and these words, letting in a faint but incredibly real and warm ray of light.

Although the light was faint, it was enough for him to see a glimmer of direction in this cold, muddy swamp.

He stopped speaking, but nodded forcefully and deeply. His hand, still clutching the money, remained firmly in his grasp.

Not far from those tall paulownia trees, behind a clump of neatly trimmed, dark green, glossy holly trees.

Zhao Guodong stood there with his hands behind his back, like a silent statue. A nearly burnt-out cigarette was between his fingers, and wisps of bluish-gray smoke rose and swirled in front of his sharply defined face before slowly dissipating into the afternoon air.

This is a habit he has developed over many years. After lunch, he likes to take a walk alone in a quiet spot in the factory area, letting his chaotic thoughts settle down and ponder some thorny issues.

I had just strolled here today when I saw Yang Guangming and a tall, thin young man in dark blue loader's overalls walking one after the other toward the cement slab under the paulownia trees.

He had no intention of prying into other people's privacy and was about to turn away when his gaze inadvertently swept over the unusually familiar yet strikingly different profile of the stevedore—Lin Shunan? He stopped in his tracks.

He recognized the young man.

He remembered the young man who had taken his mother's place at the factory but was assigned to the loading and unloading team due to family misfortunes.

The issue of Lin Shunan's work arrangements was also discussed at a meeting.

Unexpectedly, Yang Guangming and he were old acquaintances, and judging from their familiar manner, their relationship seemed to be quite close.

The dense foliage of the holly bushes, intertwined and crisscrossing, formed a natural barrier, obscuring Zhao Guodong's tall figure.

He didn't listen attentively, but the space at the back of the factory was too quiet in the afternoon. Although the two people under the paulownia tree tried to lower their voices, their words, full of intense emotions, still drifted over intermittently.

He heard Yang Guangming's straightforward words, "Shunan, I know you're suffering inside," and heard those simple yet weighty words of advice—"No job is superior or inferior," "Achieve results and stand tall," "Achievements don't necessarily mean no opportunities," and "We are friends, we were before, and we still are now."

And then I heard the final, powerful, and undeniable command: "Take this! Buy some food and give yourself some extra nutrition!"

And then there was that protective remark: "Let them see that you, Lin Shunan, aren't nobody who cares about you! You still have me, Yang Guangming, as your friend!"

Zhao Guodong stood there quietly, like a rock that had weathered many storms.

The cigarette between his fingers burned silently, the long ash piling up until it finally gave way and fell silently beside his gleaming black leather shoes, shattering into pieces.

His expression remained calm as always, almost without any ripples.

But when those eyes, which had seen countless people and were as sharp as a hawk's, heard Yang Guangming's resolute words, "We are friends, we were before, and we are now," a very subtle, almost imperceptible ripple seemed to pass through the depths of his pupils, like a tiny pebble thrown into a calm lake.

But when he heard that the man was pressing money on his friend, arranging a visit, and even going so far as to use his own "status" to stand up for his friend in the neighborhood, his eyes became exceptionally deep, like an ancient well with a cold pool, containing complex thoughts.

He has wanted Yang Guangming to be his full-time secretary for some time now.

Han Mingqian praised the young man's ability and down-to-earth attitude; Zhou Bingsheng also subtly deferred some important opportunities to showcase his abilities to Yang Guangming on several occasions.

In particular, the speech he delivered at the city-wide textile system technology innovation experience exchange meeting, which brought great honor to Hongxing Factory and even received praise from the city bureau leaders, fully demonstrated that this young man had excellent writing skills, clear thinking, and was a promising talent worthy of further refinement.

But who is Zhao Guodong?

He is a veteran cadre who has survived countless battles!
He knew that the position of secretary was no small matter; it meant being too close to the leader, having too much contact with the core leadership, and possessing too much sensitive information.

While ability is certainly a stepping stone, character and moral integrity are the true foundation!
It is also the key to determining how far a person can go and how much responsibility they can bear.

Loyalty, steadiness, reliability, principle, and bottom line are all indispensable.

Yang Guangming's past experience and performance after joining the factory demonstrate his enthusiasm and ability, which are strengths. However, character is not something that can be judged by appearances alone; it can only be truly seen in specific situations, especially when facing tests and choices.

Today's chance encounter with a conversation was like a ray of light piercing through the fog, suddenly illuminating a crucial, perhaps even the most central, aspect of Yang Guangming's character.

He did not distance himself from Lin Shunan because of the major changes in Lin Shunan's family and the resulting "status" of being almost at the bottom of the factory. On the contrary, he took the initiative to get closer to him, went to great lengths to break down the barriers, and gave him sincere guidance and practical help.

That guidance wasn't lofty, empty preaching, but rather a practical approach that put itself in the factory's shoes, pointed out a way out, ignited hope, and was full of pragmatic power.

That help revealed a genuine concern and sense of responsibility deep within—emphasizing that the money was a "loan" when giving it to someone, carefully protecting the other person's most sensitive self-esteem; arranging a visit was not only about caring about their life, but also about using their "identity" working in the factory office to provide a small but crucial barrier for their friend who was isolated and helpless in a hostile neighborhood environment.

The phrase "We are friends, we were before, and we still are now" was especially precious to Zhao Guodong.

In this era, this friendship that remains unchanged by the passage of time and the shift in social status, this unwavering commitment to friends in distress, is a quality as precious as gold.

They are not opportunistic, do not shy away from "trouble," and are courageous, resourceful, responsible, and compassionate.

This is the kind of character that Zhao Guodong has always wanted to confirm in Yang Guangming.

The cigarette finally burned to the end, and the hot cigarette butt burned the tip of Zhao Guodong's index finger.

He seemed oblivious, simply and naturally tossing the cigarette butt on the ground and gently crushing it with the thick sole of his black leather shoe, extinguishing the tiny spark completely.

He took one last look at the two young people under the paulownia tree—Lin Shunan was wiping away tears with the back of his hand, his shoulders still trembling slightly, while Yang Guangming patted his back with a gentle yet firm smile, his eyes full of encouragement and the tolerance of an older brother.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dancing on them.

Then, Zhao Guodong turned around silently and left quietly along the gravel path he had come from.

That tall figure appeared exceptionally solid on the dappled path.

The last lingering doubt in my mind about Yang Guangming's character vanished completely and silently, like the last wisp of smoke from a cigarette.

That settles the matter once and for all!
Beneath the paulownia tree, the leaping golden light still shimmered on Lin Shunan's face, which was stained with tears and dust.

He clutched the two five-yuan bills, still warm from the sunlight and almost damp with sweat, tightly in his hand. The edges of the brand-new bills hurt his palms, yet they also provided a strange, real sense of support.

He raised his red and swollen eyes and looked once more at his friend beside him, whose gaze remained gentle yet firm as he had grown up with him.

The huge rock that had been weighing on his heart for so long, almost suffocating him, seemed to have been pried open with a deep crack by Yang Guangming's words and actions.

A cool, slightly damp breeze, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees, finally managed to seep into his chest, which had been feeling stuffy for so long.

He took a deep, greedy breath, feeling as if the air truly carried a faint warmth and a long-lost, almost forgotten, faint sweetness called "hope."

Just then, a familiar and melodious prelude to the song "Sailing the Seas Depends on the Helmsman" came from the factory's towering loudspeakers in the distance.

This loud voice announced the end of the short lunch break and the start of the busy afternoon work.

Yang Guangming stood up, dusted off his pants, and then, with remarkable ease and composure, extended his hand to Lin Shunan, who was still sitting on the cement slab.

His hands were broad and thick, with distinct knuckles, and possessed the cleanliness characteristic of a scholar.

"Let's go back to work." His voice wasn't loud, but it was full of power, like the prelude to a broadcast, carrying an uplifting rhythm. "Remember, hold your head high!" He emphasized, his gaze fixed intently on Lin Shunan. "Do a good job!"

Lin Shunan looked at the clean hand that was being extended to her, then looked down at her own hand, which was covered in dust, grease, with large, deformed knuckles, calluses, and old and new scars.

The stark difference made him hesitate instinctively, and his fingers curled up involuntarily.

But Yang Guangming's encouraging and firm gaze was like a ray of light, dispelling his hesitation and self-reproach.

Finally, slowly, with a do-or-die determination, he extended his rough hand.

Two young hands, one dark and one white, one rough and one clean, paused briefly in the air on a sweltering summer afternoon, under the dappled sunlight of the paulownia trees, before clasping together tightly and forcefully!
Lin Shunan's hand was cold and trembling, while Yang Guangming's hand was warm and strong. This handshake conveyed not only warmth, but also strength, a promise, and a ray of light piercing through the gloom.

Yang Guangming shook himself vigorously up and down, grinned, revealing a set of neat white teeth: "That's right! Let's go!"

He pulled Lin Shunan to her feet.

Lin Shunan's body was still somewhat stiff, and his steps were a little unsteady, but this time, he did not deliberately lower his head.

He worked hard, little by little, to straighten his spine, which had been bent for so long by the heavy gauze bundle.

Although the movements were still a bit clumsy and unnatural, the head that had been hanging down for so long was finally raised, and although the gaze was still somewhat evasive, it was no longer lifeless.

The two walked side by side along the path they had come from, heading towards their respective workplaces.

The powerful singing from the radio grew louder and louder, drowning out the cicadas' chirping and the brief silence behind them.

In the distance, the massive factory buildings of the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill stood silently in the afternoon sun, their countless tiny windows reflecting the light.

Inside the workshop, the roar of spinning machines blended together like an endless tide.

Their long and uncertain afternoon had only just begun.

(End of this chapter)