Elm stump
Fengyue overheard Zhang Chenglin and Xinjie talking and noticed out of the corner of her eye that Zhang Chenglin's teacup was almost empty. She took the initiative to pick up the teapot and refill it for him.
"No need," Zhang Chenglin said abruptly as he watched Feng Yue pick up the teapot.
Feng Yue lowered her eyes, slowly withdrew her hand from the teapot, and asked in a low voice, "Is the master leaving?"
Because of matters of love and romance, Zhang Chenglin's shallow gaze fell upon Feng Yue.
He retorted, "Do you want me to leave?"
Feng Yue didn't answer immediately, and Zhang Chenglin's eyes darkened.
Even Xin Jie, who had been by his side for years and considered himself to know him best, thought that he would stand up and leave at any moment.
But Zhang Chenglin said, "I'll be here tonight."
The words were spoken to Xin Jie, but her gaze fell upon someone else.
Xin Jie was puzzled, thinking that he had made an appointment with Mr. Wang for dinner tonight.
But upon seeing Zhang Chenglin's gaze, he instantly realized he had to "politely" refuse and reschedule.
The meeting with Wang Hongsheng was arranged directly by Sheng Dongsheng, which shows how important it was to Zhang Chenglin.
Originally, Zhang Chenglin hadn't planned to agree to Ji Yuxing's request to come to Huayuelou today.
So Xin Jie thought about it for a long time, but still couldn't figure out why Zhang Chenglin would suddenly cancel his meeting with Mr. Wang.
And he never knew in his entire life what Feng Yue looked like in Zhang Chenglin's eyes today, at this moment.
Zhang Chenglin didn't know how to describe it.
If you really can't describe it, then just leave it to your likes and hobbies.
As night falls, most places fall into quiet and stillness, but the hustle and bustle of Huayue Tower is even louder than during the day.
Zhang Chenglin disliked the noisy environment, so he frowned and gently rubbed his temples.
"Would you like to rest, sir?"
Seeing Zhang Chenglin's actions, Fengyue leaned down and spoke softly.
Zhang Chenglin looked up at her, didn't answer, but had already stood up.
Fengyue prepared herself to follow him upstairs, went to see him, took the large fur coat, and walked out.
"gentlemen?"
Fengyue called his name softly, her voice filled with doubt and confusion.
"Come out for a walk with me."
After saying this, Zhang Chenglin continued walking out.
Fengyue hurriedly followed, not having time to think about anything else.
A gust of wind blew in the instant Zhang Chenglin pushed open the door of Huayuelou.
He paused in his steps and turned to look at Fengyue.
"Go change your clothes."
Fengyue, wearing only a thin dance dress, felt nothing in the warm, spring-like Huayue Tower.
But in December, the outdoor temperature in Shandong is nearly minus 20 degrees Celsius, and she would freeze to death if she went out dressed like that.
Feng Yue glanced down at her clothes, then looked up at him, hesitated for two seconds, and began to speak with difficulty: "You..."
"I'm waiting for you."
Zhang Chenglin smiled as he said those three words, perhaps without even realizing it himself.
Like a spring breeze blowing from the distant south, it easily melts away the chill of winter in the north.
For some reason, Fengyue once again saw a familiar resemblance in his features...
——
Zaozhuang is not a particularly prosperous or advanced city in Shandong, but its people are simple and honest. The locals live in peace and contentment, and the smoke from cooking fires rises from every household for miles around. During the day, the streets and alleys are filled with laughter.
Zhang Chenglin and Ji Yuxing had stood outside this "peaceful and prosperous era" countless times, looking at the people living in it, as if they too had experienced the peace and prosperity of this era.
He, and countless others like him, all they ask for is this.
Perhaps because it was cold in winter, there weren't many people on the streets at night. Only a few lanterns were lit on that small commercial street, and a sparse amount of smoke from roasted sweet potatoes drifted gently through the air.
Feng Yue lagged half a step behind Zhang Chenglin, and followed him aimlessly along the snow-covered blue brick road.
Feng Yue would occasionally glance up at Zhang Chenglin in front of her, noticing his slightly thin shoulders beneath his large fur coat.
These people, in their early twenties, plunged headlong into the dark vortex called "revolution" with a heart full of passion, shouldering responsibilities that seemed beyond their capabilities in order to save the country, the people, and countless families living on this land.
These people seem to have been born for revolution.
"What are you thinking about?"
While Feng Yue was lost in thought, Zhang Chenglin suddenly asked her a question.
Zhang Chenglin didn't even turn his head when he asked her that question.
Fengyue looked up at him, and after making sure he wasn't looking at her, she said softly, "Sir, this fur coat is very beautiful."
"For you?"
Zhang Chenglin glanced at her sideways, his tone clearly mocking and teasing.
Feng Yue choked and remained silent for a moment.
"Don't even think about it. The color of this fur coat I'm wearing doesn't suit you." Zhang Chenglin took a half step back and glanced at her. "A young lady in her twenties should wear bright colors to look good and younger."
"You..." Feng Yue swallowed the words of rebuttal that were on the tip of her tongue. When she met the doubt in his eyes, she gently shook her head and said, "It's nothing."
Feng Yue suddenly realized that, despite knowing him for so long, he had always been wearing a dark green military uniform, with a black or dark green trench coat or fur coat over it.
It's all because he's so good-looking and has such fair skin that people overlook the fact that he's wearing clothes that are extremely selective in terms of looks, figure, and skin tone.
Therefore, apart from middle-aged leaders who only care about fame and fortune and want to prove their status, no young people like to wear the outfit he's wearing.
But he's only in his early twenties.
As if knowing what she was thinking, Zhang Chenglin stood there looking down at her, a hint of mockery in his eyes.
"Brother," Zhang Chenglin was waiting for Feng Yue to speak when a very unfamiliar child's voice suddenly came from beside him.
This prompted Zhang Chenglin and Feng Yue to look down at it together.
It was a child of about eleven or twelve years old, holding two not-so-big roasted sweet potatoes in his hands.
He held one out to Zhang Chenglin and said, "This is for you."
"For me?" Zhang Chenglin raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat puzzled.
The child nodded, then stretched out his little hands holding the roasted sweet potato again: "Mmm!"
Zhang Chenglin glanced at Fengyue, took the roasted sweet potato from the child's hand, and asked with a smile, "And then?"
The child's gaze lingered on Zhang Chenglin for a moment, then shifted to Feng Yue for a moment, without saying a word.
Zhang Chenglin hesitated for a moment, then looked at the remaining roasted sweet potato in the child's hand and tentatively said, "Give this roasted sweet potato to this lady, and I'll consider both of them as a gift from you, okay?"
"A blockhead."
After hearing Zhang Chenglin's words, the child's face turned all sorts of colors, and he muttered a complaint under his breath, more like talking to himself.
Zhang Chenglin, who had never been spoken to like this before, was stunned for a few seconds, only to hear Feng Yue chuckle softly beside him.
Zhang Chenglin turned to look at her, his eyes filled with doubt and confusion.
Upon meeting Zhang Chenglin's gaze, Feng Yue immediately coughed lightly and stopped laughing.
"Why didn't you just hand that roasted sweet potato to your sister?" The child's innocent face held a speechless expression beyond his years: "Brother, you're so serious, you'll have a hard time finding a wife."
Zhang Chenglin: "..."
"Even though you've already found such a beautiful older sister to be your wife."
Upon hearing the child's words, Feng Yue's brow twitched, and she quickly waved her hands, saying, "No, I won't..."
The child didn't care what she was going to say; he just kept pulling Zhang Chenglin's hand and trying to pass the roasted sweet potato from his hand to Fengyue.
The child took Zhang Chenglin's hand and placed the roasted sweet potato in Fengyue's hand before putting the roasted sweet potato back into Zhang Chenglin's hand.
After glancing at the roasted sweet potatoes in the two people's hands, she laughed and ran away.
As Zhang Chenglin turned around, he happened to see the child run to a roasted sweet potato stall not far away. The old woman selling roasted sweet potatoes smiled kindly and patted the child's head.
Zhang Chenglin and Feng Yue exchanged a glance and then walked in that direction.
"Grandma," Zhang Chenglin called out to the old woman selling sweet potatoes.
"Sir." The old woman's gaze fell on Zhang Chenglin and Feng Yue, still smiling.
"How much are these two roasted sweet potatoes?" Zhang Chenglin asked, reaching into his pocket to take out the money.
The old woman smiled and shook her head: "No money needed."
“In the dead of winter, there aren’t many people outside, and these sweet potatoes were going to go unsold anyway,” the old woman said, her words heartbreaking. But she seemed unconcerned, her wrinkled face beaming with a smile: “My grandson likes you all, so consider these sweet potatoes a gift from him.”
Fengyue's gaze followed the old woman's words to the child, and a smile unconsciously crept onto her lips.
“You…” Zhang Chenglin began to speak, but was interrupted by the old woman: “His parents are just like you, people who work for the country, and they often wear the same clothes as you.”
Zhang Chenglin and Feng Yue suddenly realized that the child was thinking of his parents.
The child stood obediently beside the old woman, his eyes full of smiles as he looked at Zhang Chenglin and Feng Yue.
Before leaving, Zhang Chenglin still slipped a few banknotes to the old woman. Fengyue didn't understand the look in his eyes at the end, but she didn't ask.
The two continued walking along the blue brick road until the roasted sweet potatoes in their hands were no longer so warm. They stopped by a small river outside Zaozhuang city.
The wind by the river on a winter night was biting cold, and Fengyue quietly reached out and tightened the collar of her coat.
“Too many people have given up everything for the revolution,” Zhang Chenglin suddenly said, his voice low and frustrated, unlike anything Feng Yue had ever heard before: “Some died in the revolution, never seeing the light of day; some endured to the very end, but could neither see where they came from nor where they were going.”
"The victors are written into history books, remembered forever, and their glory will last for eternity."
"Losers are buried in the stigmabook, forever despised and infamous."
Feng Yue's heart skipped a beat, and when she looked up again, she saw the melancholy on Zhang Chenglin's face that even the cold wind couldn't dispel.
There are always people struggling in the darkness from which there is no end. Zhang Deyue was one, as was Sheng Dongsheng, and later Zhang Chenglin, Ji Yuxing, and Yan Jiangshang were also among them.
The wheels of history roll ever onward, blurring the lines between success and failure, and obscuring the future.
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