Chapter 143

The exhibition hall ceiling light flickered, and Zhao Jianguo's finger froze midair. He didn't retract it, nor did he continue pushing forward; he just drew Shuang Baotai closer into his arms. The two children pressed against his chest, one tilted his head and yawned, the other's little hand still pointed at the screen that had just lit up.

"Dad, bright!" the child mumbled.

Zhao Jianguo lowered his head to glance at the baby in his arms, then lifted his eyes to stare at the line of new words on the screen: 【Civilization Witness Permission·Stage Update】. He twitched the corner of his mouth, "How does this system upgrade feel like squeezing toothpaste, a little at a time?"

Just as his voice fell, the Terminal suddenly shuddered, as if something had struck its core. He hurriedly pulled it out, discovering that the interface had automatically switched to a module he had never seen before—'Spacetime Coordinates Analyzer'—with a line of small text flashing below: 'Detected unparsed relic, initiate deep reading?'

He froze for a moment, then immediately reacted.

The note!

He quickly opened his chest pocket; the thin, almost translucent paper was still there, its edge faintly glowing blue, like the imprint left after soaking Xuan paper in water and letting it dry. This was the last thing Chen Jianguo had left behind; back in the Siheyuan, the wind pillar had ceased, the Special Forces had surrounded him, and this note had simply fallen into his hand out of nowhere, bearing three words: 'Be careful 1978'.

Now thinking back, even the wind had stilled then, no one spoke, and this paper drifted down lightly, quite ceremonial.

"You two don't move around." He set Shuang Baotai on the ground, one hand on each shoulder, squatted to be eye‑level with them, and said, "If you later feel dizzy or hear strange noises, just pinch my finger, okay?"

The two children blinked, one nodded, the other reached straight out to touch his ear.

Zhao Jianguo chuckled, placed the note lightly in his palm, and with his other hand tapped the 'Confirm' button on the Terminal.

Hum—

A weak ripple of light spread from the edge of the note, like a pebble tossed into a shallow pool, rings rising upward. Immediately, a three‑dimensional map slowly appeared in the air, lines clear, streets distinct, labeled '1978·Beijing urban area'.

He held his breath.

On the map, several spots in East City and West City glowed red, the densest cluster being the old gates of Peking University Affiliated High School, Beijing No. 4 High School, and Beijing Normal University Girls' Affiliated High School. Each red dot pulsed faintly, its frequency matching the heartbeat curve on the Terminal.

"College entrance exam?" Zhao Jianguo murmured, "So 'Be careful 1978' isn't because of political winds, but because of this?"

Just then, the hologram behind him suddenly moved on its own—the previously finished Night School clip replayed—under an Oil Lamp, the Blackboard read 'Basics of Mechanical Lesson drafting', a group of neighbors sat below, a woman raised her hand to ask a question.

The image stuttered, the sound distorted, but it clearly uttered two words: 'College entrance exam…'

Zhao Jianguo jerked his head around.

The picture then returned to normal speed, showing him debugging a sorting machine in the factory, workers laughing.

"What the hell…" he frowned, glanced again at the Terminal, and the system popped up a tip: '【Educational spacetime disturbance source identified, recommended to deploy cognitive guidance resources】'.

He stared at that sentence for two seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Turns out it's not about letting me make a technical breakthrough, but about letting our kids get into school fair and square?" He slapped his thigh, "Old Chen, old Chen, if you'd spelled it out earlier, I wouldn't have been guessing wildly."

As he spoke, light, brisk footsteps came from the exhibition hall entrance.

Su Qing walked in carrying a Cloth Bundle, saying as she went, "Oh dear, this place is really hard to find—I went around in circles before asking how to get here. The kids need to change clothes, and the bottles need washing."

She stepped forward, set the Cloth Bundle down, and reached out to hug the child: "Come on, come on, let Mom see if you're sweaty."

The Shuang Baotai refused to budge—one tugged at Zhao Jianguo's sleeve, the other pointed at the map still on the wall: "Mom, bright! There's a red dot there!"

Su Qing looked up and exclaimed, "What is this drawn? Does it resemble what we saw back when we took the exam?"

Zhao Jianguo startled: "You also took the college entrance exam?"

"Eh, never got my turn." She waved her hand with a smile, "When it was restored in '77 I was already married, my household registration held me back, and the work unit wouldn't release me. Later I heard you could still apply in '80, but then I got pregnant with the eldest, so I had to give it up."

She said it lightly, but her tone still hinted at a bit of regret.

Zhao Jianguo remained silent, his gaze falling on her face. All these years he'd known she was smart, quick to read, able to summarize seven or eight tenths of a book after one read, yet he'd never asked whether she'd wanted to take the exam back then.

"Then… do you regret it?" he asked.

"Regret?" Su Qing gave him a glare, "I'd still regret it if you didn't cook for me! Now life's great—the kids have books to read, you're respected at the factory, I'm not constantly worrying about food and clothing; it's just that sometimes I dream I'm sitting in the exam hall, the test paper is handed out, I can't even write my name, and I wake up in a panic."

After she finished, she laughed first.

Zhao Jianguo, however, did not laugh.

He gazed at the 1978 map on the wall, the red dots still flashing, their frequency growing steadier, as if responding to some summons. Meanwhile, the Terminal interface quietly flashed a new message: '【Education anchor activated, civilization transmission chain loading progress +5%】'.

He suddenly understood.

The 1978 college entrance exam restart wasn't just changing a few people's fates—it gave the whole nation a new path. Those who never made it into the exam hall had their wishes, regrets, and unwillingness settle down, becoming the stepping stones for later generations to rise.

And now, this note's reminder to him is not danger, but responsibility.

"You're right." Zhao Jianguo stood up, stowed the Terminal, and absentmindedly ruffled a child's head, "It's time to teach them to recognize characters."

Su Qing blinked: "Ah? What did I say that was right?"

"You said we should teach them to write their names." He bent over to pick up the Cloth Bundle, "Starting today, we'll hold a little class at home—I'll teach pinyin, you'll teach stroke order, how about that?"

"Wow, the sun rising in the west?" She gave him a sideways glance, "You always say 'literacy doesn't depend on parents, it's about personal grit,' don't you?"

"That's for outsiders." He grinned, "With family, of course we need a two‑pronged approach."

Su Qing chuckled: "Fine, fine, fine—then you start with the character Zhao, many strokes, good for practicing patience."

"No problem." He lifted a child, "But we need to set a Rules Sign—whenever someone writes well, we'll take them to the zoo on weekends."

"Dad's going!" the two children shouted together.

"Okay, all of you go." He agreed with a smile, his peripheral vision sweeping over the map still open on the wall.

The red dots continued to blink, their rhythm steady, as if waiting for something.

He didn't look any longer, turned and walked a few steps toward the exit, then stopped again.

"Right," he said, turning to Su Qing, "Before you leave, could you tidy up the old lesson plans in that cabinet over there? I recall there's a blue‑bound volume titled 'First Lesson of Night School'."

"What for?"

"Hang it on the wall." He said, "So when the kids grow up, they'll know where this generation's starting point lies."

Su Qing nodded, didn't ask further, bent over, opened the Cloth Bundle, and began sorting the clothes.

Zhao Jianguo stood in place holding a child, the Terminal warm against his chest. He knew the note's secret wasn't fully unlocked, the wind of 1978 hadn't ceased. But right now, he didn't want to carry it alone.

He lowered his head to look at the sleeping child in his arms, the little face pressed against his shirt, breathing even.

"Don't be afraid." He whispered, "This time, Dad isn't just building machines for you—he's also paving a road."

Just as he finished speaking, the Terminal suddenly shuddered.

He pulled it out to see—the interface automatically switched to: '【Partial timeline preview function unlocked, initiate?】'

He stared at the "yes" character, his finger hovering above it.

One of the Shuang Baotai rolled over, his small hand resting on his wrist, mumbling indistinctly: "... writing."

Zhao Jianguo withdrew his hand, stuffing the Terminal back into his pocket.

"Not in a hurry." he said softly, "Learn the names first."