Before the Social Gathering

The afterglow of the setting sun swept across Sha Zhu's profile, casting a hazy glow on his overly crisp blue clothes and dark red face.

Qin Huairu blinked, and a smile slowly bloomed on her face. That smile wasn't like the inquisitive and teasing smile of the third aunt, nor was it as serious as Yi Zhonghai's; instead, it carried a gentle appreciation unique to women, along with a hint of sincere encouragement.

"Zhu Zi?" Her voice was soft, tinged with surprise. "Dressed up like this... I almost didn't recognize you! This blue dress really suits you! You look... you look so energetic!" She took two steps closer, her gaze falling on Zhu Zi's faded shirt collar and neatly combed hair. Her smile deepened. "Are you going to the factory's social event tonight? That's great! Don't be nervous when you get there. Just be yourself, say whatever you normally would. With your looks, you're sure to attract some women. Good luck, Zhu Zi, try to bring back some good news for our department!"

Qin Huairu's smile and words were like a warm spring breeze, dispelling some of the gloom and stiffness in Sha Zhu's heart. Looking at her bright face and encouraging eyes, the taut string in his heart seemed to loosen a little, and a joy mixed with gratitude, shyness, and a little bit of recognition welled up, making his dark face even redder, almost burning.

He lowered his head somewhat embarrassedly, chuckled awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his hands and feet. His earlier nervousness and awkwardness were replaced by a slightly clumsy joy. "Th...thank you, Sister Qin," he stammered.

However, this brief moment of warmth was immediately interrupted by a sharp, sarcastic, and malicious curse.

Behind the cotton curtain at the Jia family's house, Madam Jia Zhang had been listening intently to the sounds outside. Through the gap in the curtain, she clearly saw Qin Huairu smiling at Sha Zhu, saw Sha Zhu's "carefully dressed" yet still undeniably crude and stupid appearance, and even more so, she saw the incredibly disgusting and irritating shy smile that Sha Zhu showed because of Qin Huairu's few words.

A surge of venomous anger, a mixture of jealousy, disdain, and resentment, suddenly welled up inside her. The whites of her triangular eyes almost outnumbered her pupils as she glared fiercely at the doorway. Lowering her voice, she cursed in a venomous tone barely audible to herself and Qin Huairu, who was close to the curtain: "Pah! Shameless slut! Smiling so sweetly at a cook with no heir! A lowlife! He's destined to be childless and still wants to climb the social ladder? Dressed like a respectable person, he thinks he's someone important? Deep down, he's still a lowlife cook! Just like his father who ran off with that whore! Rotten to the core!"

Not satisfied with just yelling, she suddenly raised her voice and shrieked towards the door, "Qin Huairu! You lazybones! Are you dead out there? Taking out the trash takes until dark? Hurry up and come in! Are you waiting for me to invite you? Aren't you going to cook? Are you going to let Banggeng and the others starve to death? You heartless wretch!"

The sudden, undisguised, and vicious insults were like a bucket of filthy water mixed with ice, poured over her head. The smile on Qin Huairu's face froze and shattered instantly, turning into a pale and embarrassed expression. Her fingers, holding the enamel basin, tightened, her knuckles turning white, and a trace of humiliation, helplessness, and deep weariness flashed in her eyes.

She glanced quickly at Sha Zhu, her eyes filled with apology and a sense of helplessness, as if to say, "You see, that's how it is." Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she only whispered hurriedly, "Zhu Zi, I wish you... all the best." Then, as if fleeing from something terrible, she quickly turned around, lowered her head, and walked back to the Jia family's house. The cotton curtain fell heavily behind her, separating the inside from the outside.

Sha Zhu stood there, the warmth and shyness that had just risen in his heart were instantly frozen by the cold water poured over his head, turning into an even stronger feeling of suffocation, humiliation and unvented anger!

Jia Zhangshi's curses were like a rusty, dull knife, not only cutting him but also tearing open the deepest, most untouchable scar in his heart about his father, leaving it raw and bleeding!

He clenched his teeth, the veins on his forehead throbbing, his fists clenched at his sides, then forced themselves to relax. He couldn't lash out, at least not in the courtyard, in front of the old man. He could only swallow all his anger and humiliation, a feeling worse than swallowing a fly.

He glanced at Yi Zhonghai, whose face remained expressionless, only nodding slightly. Sha Zhu didn't look anywhere else. He abruptly turned around, straightening his back, which was wrapped in a stiff blue cloth robe. With almost all his might, he strode out of the courtyard gate, head down, like a wounded but stubborn ox, disappearing into the deepening twilight. His back, straight yet stiff, hurried and lonely, seemed to bear a thousand-pound burden.

……

The steel mill workers' club, a Soviet-style building made of red bricks with tall windows and a wooden stage, lit up all its lights in the twilight.

On ordinary days, this place is where the whole factory holds meetings, studies, movies, and cultural competitions, always carrying a serious or lively collective atmosphere. Tonight, for this small-scale social gathering of young employees with a clear "matchmaking" element, the club has made corresponding, albeit simple, but thoughtful arrangements.

A dozen or so long wooden tables, usually used for meetings, were pieced together and arranged into several loose squares in the center of the auditorium, covered with old green tablecloths that were washed white and even worn in some places.

On the tablecloth were several large enamel trays, filled with "snacks" purchased with a small amount of funds allocated by the factory's union: mainly the cheapest fruit hard candies, some dark-roasted plain sunflower seeds, and a small amount of roasted peanuts in their shells.

In addition, there were several bamboo-shelled thermos flasks and a stack of upside-down glass cups with the words "Steel Mill Union" printed in red. On the roof, several 200-watt light bulbs were all lit, emitting a glaring and unwarm white light that illuminated every corner of the auditorium, revealing the stains on the tablecloths, the mottled walls, and the scratches on the floor.

On the stage directly in front, a red banner hangs with neatly cut white lettering that reads: "Warmly welcome young employees from brother units to join in the exchange."

In the corner, an old, peeling "Dongfanghong" brand phonograph was playing the cheerful but distorted "Youth Friendship Waltz" on a badly worn vinyl record. This monotonous and repetitive music added a touch of liveliness to the somewhat empty and stiff meeting room, a touch that belonged to the "social gathering".

After 6:30, the young men and women attending the social gathering began to arrive one after another, with various feelings. The first to arrive were mostly employees of the steel rolling mill, mainly young clerks from various departments (such as the factory office, production department, technical department, and finance department), drafters and technicians from the technical department, cultural and artistic backbone members from the labor union and publicity department, and some "cultured people" from the logistics department.

Most of the men were dressed in clean and tidy Zhongshan suits, military uniforms, or washed and ironed work clothes. Their hair was neatly combed, and they wore smiles that were both reserved and expectant. They gathered in twos and threes, talking in hushed tones. The topics might revolve around the latest production tasks, a new regulation in the factory, or a rare novel. Their eyes, however, would occasionally and keenly scan the doorway, sizing up each newcomer.

The women were clearly dressed more carefully. Although the times limited their clothing choices, their attention to detail was still evident: faded but neatly ironed blue or gray Lenin suits, perhaps with a small Chairman badge or Communist Youth League emblem pinned to the collar; their braids were slicked back and tied with brightly colored rubber bands or hair ties.

A thin layer of Friendship face cream was applied, gleaming softly under the light, and a faint, inexpensive fragrance, symbolizing "cleanliness" and "attention," gradually filled the air.

Most of them came in groups, forming small circles, chatting and laughing in hushed tones, occasionally letting out a clear laugh, their eyes also curiously and subtly sweeping over the men present.

At approximately 6:45, a slightly noisy chatter and laughter came from the doorway. It was a woman from the textile factory's union, leading about twenty female textile workers, who arrived right on time.

Their arrival was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, instantly stirring up a noticeable, excited commotion and drawing even more attention in the venue.

Textile workers were an enviable profession in this era—the working environment was relatively clean, the physical exertion was low, female workers were concentrated in one area, and the reputation was good.

These girls certainly gave people a different impression: most of them had fair skin (perhaps because they were in the humid spinning workshop all year round), had a well-proportioned figure, and their movements carried a lightness and flexibility formed by long-term repetitive and meticulous labor.

They were wearing uniform, light blue textile worker's work clothes. Although the style was simple, it was clean and neat, making them look energetic.

Led by the union leaders, they walked into the auditorium with a mixture of shyness and undisguised curiosity, curiously observing the unfamiliar environment filled with the atmosphere of steel, as well as the young men from the steel mill with their burning gazes. They whispered among themselves and chuckled softly.

Sha Zhu appeared like an untimely shadow outside the club's gate at the very last moment, just before the social gathering was about to officially begin, at five minutes to seven.

He wandered aimlessly around the factory area several times, his remaining courage gradually fading as the night deepened and the club lights drew closer. He kept trying to encourage himself, only to be repeatedly crushed by the imagined embarrassment.

Only when he saw the female workers from the textile factory go in and heard the faint commotion coming from inside did he know he couldn't delay any longer. He took a deep breath of the cool, rusty air, steeled himself, and with stiff legs, stepped through the door that felt like the maw of a giant beast to him.