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

Chapter 85, Section 84: Wisdom and Action
The figures of the father and daughter were striking: one tall and silent, bearing an immense burden, each step causing a slight tremor in the ground; the other slender and frail, yet striving to straighten her back, as if using the last ounce of her life to maintain her dignity.

They were quickly swallowed up by the surging torrent of the bustling city outside the door on this early summer morning.

The dense foliage of the sycamore trees swayed in the morning breeze, casting dappled shadows. The rising summer heat, mixed with car exhaust and the smoky aroma of breakfast stalls, wafted through the air.

Their silhouettes grew smaller and smaller, more and more blurred, amidst the bustling crowds and traffic, like two insignificant drops of water, until they finally disappeared completely at the street corner into the unknown, clamorous space bathed in sunlight.

The heavy black lacquered gate of the Shikumen, under the long, silent gaze of the neighbors, slowly and heavily closed due to the inertia of Chen Le'an taking it with him when he left.

As the last crack in the door disappeared, it made a soft "click" sound, like a heavy sigh.

This door completely shut out the noisy, bustling world outside, a world that also meant wandering and hardship. It also forever closed off a heavy farewell, filled with helplessness and heartache.

Suddenly, only a desolate silence remained in the courtyard.

The atmosphere of the crowd that had just gathered and the sorrow of parting seemed to vanish in an instant, leaving only the damp bluestone slabs, the mottled walls, and a few wet clothes that had been forgotten to be put away, silently telling a story.

The lingering sorrow of parting, like an invisible mist, permeated every inch of air, weighing heavily on everyone's heart.

The neighbors looked at each other in silence, their eyes darting away, as if afraid to touch upon the shared vulnerability in each other's hearts.

Zhang Xiuying was the first to silently turn around, lower her head and quickly go upstairs, her back view carrying an indescribable desolation.

Mrs. Feng, Lin Fengjiao, also sighed silently, turned and left, her steps much heavier than usual.

As Zhang Chunfang carefully helped Granny Chen walk back, the old woman seemed to have lost all her energy. Her steps became even more unsteady, and her cane made a hollow "tap-tap" sound on the stone slab. She was also unconsciously muttering "Little girl... Little girl..."

Soon, only a few people remained in the courtyard.

The sounds of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen, the swishing of water while rinsing rice, and the scrubbing of pots and pans all echoed again, but they were all less lively than before, conveying a sense of perfunctoriness and dullness, like background noise that had lost its soul.

Yang Guangming remained leaning against the shadow of the door frame, not leaving immediately.

He stood like a frozen sculpture, his gaze piercing through the tightly closed black door that seemed to separate two worlds. He could almost still clearly see the slender figure in the floral shirt, pausing and making a resolute decision in the final moment before stepping out the threshold and merging into the crowd.

The morning light slanted across half of his face, outlining his strong features, while the other half remained hidden in deep shadows, creating a striking contrast between light and shadow.

Deep in the alley, an old woman, carrying a bamboo basket, called out in a long, drawn-out voice with a strong Wu dialect accent: "Gardenia... Magnolia..."

……

On Thursday afternoon, the sky over Shanghai was shrouded in a thin layer of gray.

As Yang Guangming followed the flow of people leaving get off work, he walked along the gravel-paved road. The blue-gray work clothes formed a stagnant sea, and the air was filled with the pungent, sticky smell of engine oil, the acrid smell of coal smoke, and the slightly astringent scent of sycamore leaves crushed by the wind.

He had just finished a long day of tedious work in the factory office, and the words on the documents and the echoes of the meeting minutes were still swirling in his mind. His body had been hunched over the desk for a long time, and he felt a deep weariness in his bones. His steps were unhurried, each step carrying the thought of returning home.

Just as he turned into the relatively quiet "Sanheli" alley, not far from his home, a figure silently emerged from the heavy shadows of the mottled brick wall, as if a shadow had suddenly become real, and blocked his path.

Yang Guangming paused in his steps. He looked up and saw Shen Meiyu.

She looks different today.

Those two signature, slicked-back braids were gone, replaced by a neatly cut, ear-length bob. The jet-black hair was neatly pinned behind the ears with a few simple black hair clips, revealing a smooth forehead and a section of fair neck without any concealment.

He was wearing a faded blue school uniform, almost so faded that the fabric was showing through. Every button on the collar was fastened meticulously, exuding a deliberate solemnity.

He had a worn-out canvas shoulder bag slung across his shoulder, bulging and clearly filled with heavy luggage.

Her face was devoid of its usual makeup and deliberate adornment, appearing so plain that she even seemed a little haggard, and the lines of her cheekbones seemed more defined. However, her eyes were much calmer than when they had argued in the park last time, like a pool of water rippled by the wind and then returning to stillness, no longer deliberately stirred up.

"Mingming," she said, her voice low, carrying a calm that came after everything had settled, as if even the last syllable had sunk into the ground, "I've been waiting for you for a while."

Yang Guangming stopped, his gaze calmly landing on her face. There was no surprise, no anger, and no warmth whatsoever; he simply nodded slightly, as if addressing an ordinary acquaintance, his tone flat and even: "Is there something you need?"

Shen Meiyu met his gaze.

Those eyes, which once tried so hard to exude boundless charm and capture his heart, now held a complex calmness, like crystal stripped of its glitter.

She took a deep breath, as if inhaling the surrounding noise, the stale air of the factory area, and her own past into her lungs, and then slowly and deeply exhaled, her voice becoming much clearer: "My departure date for the countryside is set. I'll leave tomorrow morning."

"Oh?" Yang Guangming's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. "So fast? Where did you cut in line?"

“Xinfeng Brigade, Jiangwan Commune,” Shen Meiyu announced the location, her tone devoid of emotion, as if stating something unrelated to herself. “It’s about seventy kilometers from Shanghai.”

"Jiangwan?" Yang Guangming was genuinely surprised this time.

Jiangwan Commune, a suburb of Shanghai!
In an era when the "Down to the Countryside Movement" swept the country and countless young people were sent to remote frontiers and impoverished rural areas, being assigned to a commune near Shanghai was a dream come true for many sent-down youth.

It goes without saying that being close to home means that the chances of being recruited and returning to the city in the future are much greater than those of their companions who have gone to the ends of the earth. It's almost like having half a ticket back home already in hand.

This energy, or rather this ability to scheme, forced Yang Guangming to re-examine the seemingly weak girl in front of him—her drive and resourcefulness were far stronger than he had previously anticipated.

(End of this chapter)