Chapter 150

Zhao Jianguo handed the Shuang Baotai to Su Qing; the two kids were still dazedly clutching her collar. He patted one's head: "Dad's going to take care of some business; you go home with Mom first."

The younger one hummed, "I want meat buns."

"Remembered." He smiled and answered, "Steam a pot; if not enough, add more."

After his words fell, he turned and walked away without stopping. The rainbow on the horizon had faded, leaving only a faint tint on the cloud edge, as if someone had casually brushed it with a watercolor pen. He stared for two seconds, then the Terminal on his wrist suddenly vibrated.

The Screen lit up, green characters line by line jumped out:

【Detected activation of a historical key node】

【Task update: Collect original 1977 national college entrance exam papers from all provinces within 30 days】

【Hint: A knowledge barrier is forming; those who break through first will grasp the initiative of the era】

He stood still, flicked his finger on the Screen, and tapped "Confirm."

The system fell silent. He knew this task wasn't simple—thirty days, nationwide, and it had to be the original papers. Now even teaching materials are hard to find, let alone the real exams. But this couldn't wait.

He lifted his head to look at the sky; sunlight was squeezing through the clouds, warming people's foreheads and hair.

We need to act.

He walked all the way to the Steel Rolling Factory, his steps quick and steady. Just as he entered the Siheyuan gate, the Speaker overhead crackled "hiss", then a booming voice announced: "The Central Committee has decided to restore the college entrance examination for higher education! Aspiring youths may volunteer to register and take the nationwide unified college entrance exam!"

As soon as the voice fell, the Courtyard exploded.

The three aunties hanging laundry shook their hands, the bamboo pole almost dropping; the second uncle squatting at the door peeling garlic ended up crushing the cloves into garlic paste; Sha Zhu came back from the canteen holding his meal box, stepped straight onto the threshold, his spoon hanging in midair.

Zhao Jianguo said nothing, took a few steps onto the blue stone platform in the middle of the Courtyard, looked around, and said: "Whoever has someone who wants to go to college, gather at my place tonight at seven. We'll set up a Mutual Aid Group, free tutoring, providing materials and answering questions, studying right up until the last moment before the exam."

Below, silence lasted two seconds, then laughter broke out.

"Jianguo, did you choke on a bun yesterday?" Xu Da Mao poked his head out of the house, waving a fan, "The college entrance exam? That's something from before liberation!"

"Exactly," Liu Guangtian grabbed the door frame and continued, "Can studying feed you? You'd even earn fewer work points!"

Zhao Jianguo stood still, his gaze sweeping over, looking at each person one by one.

"Who won first place in last year's technical skills competition?" he asked.

Everyone was stunned.

"Me," he said. "What did I rely on? Working during the day and studying at night. I was the only one in the workshop who understood the manual for the new Soviet equipment. Why? Because I'd studied physics, math, and foreign languages."

He paused, then said: "Now the state recruits based on merit, not connections or background—only scores matter. If you know it, you can get in; if you don't, no family influence will help."

The crowd grew quieter.

Sha Zhu scratched his head, "Can you really get into college without using the back door?"

Zhao Jianguo looked at him, "I can guarantee it—as long as you're willing to study."

His words hit home; several families' expressions changed. Some lowered their heads in thought, some exchanged glances, and others had already started calculating which of their children could give it a try.

Before half past seven, seven or eight people stood at Zhao Jianguo's door. Qin Huairu came with Dong Xu, still carrying an old schoolbag; Liu Haizhong held a thermos, saying he was afraid of getting thirsty from talking too long; even the usually aloof deaf old lady had her grandson help her come, her ears may be turned away but her attitude was resolute.

The coal stove inside burned brightly, a few cups of hot water sat on the table, yet the atmosphere was hotter than the fire.

Zhao Jianguo was just about to speak when the door was flung open with a bang.

Dong Xu rushed in, his face ashen, clutching several photos, which he slapped onto the table.

"Xu Da Mao is reselling mock exams!" his voice cracked, "A set costs fifty yuan! Shanghai's, Guangzhou's—all internal test papers from key schools elsewhere! He's stashed them in the miscellaneous storage room behind the warehouse, cardboard boxes piled half a room!"

The photos scattered on the table; as everyone gathered to look, an uproar erupted.

The cover bore the words "Shanghai Key Schools Joint Mock Exam" and a red seal—obviously not ordinary printing.

"My brother bought a set two days ago for twenty yuan," Dong Xu gritted his teeth, "but when we opened it, the multiple-choice questions had no answers! They said the follow‑up materials cost extra—this isn't a scam, what is?"

The room instantly erupted in noise.

"No wonder he's been running out all the time lately!"

"Fifty yuan? Is that human work? It's outright robbery!"

"How much do we earn after a month of hard work?"

Zhao Jianguo said nothing, picking up the photos and flipping through them one by one. The paper was fresh, the ink smell not yet dissipated—obviously recently printed. More importantly, a small code—"TJ-078"—was printed in the lower‑right corner of the cover, like some internal marker.

He suddenly smiled and said softly, "Well… since he's delivered himself as a negative example, I won't stand on ceremony."

"Jianguo, what's your plan?" Qin Huairu asked.

He put the photos down, looked at everyone in the room, and said: "We'll set up the Mutual Aid Group; the first rule is resource sharing, no hoarding. Whoever has any material—even a single page—must bring it to be copied and shared with all."

"But where would we get that much paper?" Liu Haizhong muttered.

"The factory has a mimeograph machine," Zhao Jianguo said. "I've already spoken with the leader and got approval for three reams of paper, specifically for printing review materials. We'll start tomorrow."

"What about Xu Da Mao's side, then?" someone asked.

Zhao Jianguo stood up, walked to the stove, pulled a notebook from the drawer, opened to the first page—already a list was written there:

Dong Xu, Qin Huairu's little son, Sha Zhu, Liu Haizhong's nephew, the second uncle's daughter… twelve in total.

"He sells his, we do ours," he said. "But there's one condition: whoever dares to trade these materials for work points, grain tickets, or any favor will be kicked out of the Mutual Aid Group immediately and never re‑admitted."

Everyone listened seriously, nodding repeatedly.

"Also," he turned to Dong Xu, "make several more copies of these photos, keep it quiet, and quietly give them to those who bought the exams. Let them know that what they paid fifty yuan for is actually being given away for free."

Dong Xu grinned, "Got it—hit the snake at the seventh inch."

As they were speaking, a sound of Footsteps came from outside, followed by Xu Da Mao's voice: "Hey, what's all this commotion? Holding a meeting?"

He poked half his body in, smiling broadly, "Brother Jianguo, I heard you're setting up a tutoring class? Great! But… materials aren't easy to find. How about we cooperate? I've got wide connections—I can get the real stuff. Price… well, we're neighbors, we can negotiate."

The room fell silent all at once.

Zhao Jianguo lifted his eyes to him, expression unchanging, "Oh? Then how much do you plan to charge per set?"

"Hehe," Xu Da Mao rubbed his hands, "the original price is fifty; I'll give you a friend's price—forty, with free postage."

"Free postage?" Zhao Jianguo laughed, "You've even picked up the trendy term."

He slowly closed the notebook, walked to the table, and pushed the photos toward Xu Da Mao, "Take a look—aren't these your warehouse stock?"

The smile on Xu Da Mao's face froze.

"Not just this." Zhao Jianguo continued, "That batch you had printed in Broad Province, serial number TJ-078, thirty sets per box, five boxes total. How long have you been selling it? Three months, right? How much money have you collected? Figure it out, it must be over ten thousand yuan."

Xu Da Mao's forehead began to sweat, "You... you're talking nonsense! I don't understand what you're saying!"

"Don't understand?" Zhao Jianguo spoke softly but commanded the room, "Then do you dare to take out those 'internal materials' and let our Mimeograph Group copy them uniformly and distribute them for free?"

"This... this won't do!" Xu Da Mao stepped back half a pace, "This is something I obtained at great expense!"

"That's that." Zhao Jianguo turned away, not looking at him, "Everyone listen up—our Mutual Aid Group doesn't welcome those who profit from knowledge. Whoever wants to learn, we teach; whoever wants to scheme, we expose."

A burst of applause rose from the room.

Xu Da Mao stood at the doorway, his face alternating between green and white, finally throwing down the words 'Just you wait!' and walked away.

After he left, the atmosphere in the room became even more lively.

Someone took out a cherished old textbook, someone mentioned a relative working at the Education Bureau who might help gather information, and someone suggested taking turns on duty to copy questions, print test papers, and distribute them.

Zhao Jianguo sat beside the coal stove, holding that list, and added two names to it one stroke at a time.

Outside the window, the night breeze gently blew over the courtyard; the empty patch at the corner was clean and tidy, and come morning we'd have to set up the blackboard.

He looked down at his watch: 8:47.

Time was running short.

He stood up, folded the list and slipped it into his pocket, and told those in the room, "Tomorrow morning at six, the Mimeograph Group will assemble. The first material—One Hundred Basic Math Exercises, five copies each, must be handed out to everyone."

"Jianguo," Jia Dongxu suddenly asked, "Do you think… anyone will pass?"

Zhao Jianguo glanced at him and smiled.

"Not just one." he said, "There will be a group."

He walked to the door and pulled it open.

The night breeze swept over his face, carrying a hint of early summer's warmth.

No one in the courtyard doubted anymore.

Their eyes shone.