Chapter 154: The Opportunistic Leverage in the Recording

Sha Zhu just lifted the Meal Ticket spoon over his head, and before he could shout the new word, a burst of chaotic Footsteps came from the Courtyard Gate. Several silhouettes crowded the doorframe, led by Xu Da Mao, who was carrying an iron rod, his face stretched longer than a donkey.

"Alright, Zhao Jianguo, you're putting on a Western scene here?" he raised his voice, shaking the entire Courtyard three times, "You set a busted Speaker on the roof and dare to teach people to take the university entrance exam? Don't even look at your own background!"

Zhao Jianguo stood on the ladder unmoving, gently closing the handout in his hand and tucking it under his armpit. He glanced down at the few young men with crooked heads and slanted eyes behind Xu Da Mao, and his mind counted them. These people were neither factory workers nor the usual street thugs; their gait was slack, but their eyes were sharp, clearly hired thugs.

"Are you here to attend the lesson?" Zhao Jianguo smiled, "If you want to listen, that's fine—first line up for the word list, starting with ABANDON."

The onlooking children burst into giggles. A little girl hid behind a water tank, covering her mouth and shaking her shoulders.

Xu Da Mao's face darkened; he kicked the coal stove basket at the entrance, scattering sparks across the ground. "Stop your petty talk! Your Speaker disturbs the residents, undermines Siheyuan unity, and must be smashed today!"

Before the words finished, a bald youth behind him swung the iron rod toward the roof. With a "Clang!" the Speaker was smashed, tilting on the tiles; the Electric Wire snapped, and the plastic shell cracked open.

"Ow!" Sha Zhu jumped up, "I borrowed that Speaker from you just yesterday! Give it back!"

"Return it to you?" Xu Da Mao sneered, "That bourgeois gadget should have been confiscated long ago. Who let you teach foreign language to corrupt minds? Kids don't recite the Analects, yet they chant 'Abondun' every day—what a disgrace!"

Zhao Jianguo slowly descended from the ladder, patting the dust from his trousers. He didn't look at Xu Da Mao, but bent to pick up the broken half of the Speaker, gently blowing away the dust on it.

"You say I disturb the residents?" he raised his head, his voice low, "Then you now bring outsiders into the Courtyard, smash things, scare the children—are you maintaining order?"

"I'm standing up for everyone!" Xu Da Mao stuck out his neck, "Your crooked, heretical methods will bring trouble upon you sooner or later!"

"Crooked, heretical methods?" Zhao Jianguo pulled a small square box from his pocket, palm‑sized, its silver case slightly scuffed, "Listen and tell me if this is crooked, heretical."

He pressed the button; the device emitted a "Click!" and then the Courtyard suddenly filled with a recording—

"…Fifty yuan per set of Guangzhou exam papers, cash transaction, meet at the old place tomorrow."

"Don't worry, big brother, this time there will be no trace left."

"Remember, don't register with your real name; if anything goes wrong, I won't be responsible."

The voice was crystal clear, even the Dog Bark in the background could be heard. Most damning was that the speaker's voice was Xu Da Mao's.

The scene fell silent at once. Even the wind seemed to stand still.

A few thugs glanced at each other, their faces turning pale. One whispered, "Isn't this what we talked about last night…"

"Shut up!" another shoved him hard.

Xu Da Mao's face flushed to a pork‑liver hue, lunging to snatch the recorder. Zhao Jianguo sidestepped, lifting the device aloft. Xu Da Mao missed, stumbled, and nearly fell into a chicken coop.

"Where did you get this thing?" he panted, asking.

"Where did it come from?" Zhao Jianguo waved the recorder, "A couple of days ago I was wandering near the cotton mill, happened to overhear some people whispering about a deal. I thought, who still does this kind of trade these days? Then I heard—hey, a familiar voice."

Xu Da Mao's lips trembled, and he instinctively stepped back half a step.

"You're talking nonsense! This is forged! It must be edited by you!"

"Whether it's edited or not, anyone with technical know‑how can tell by listening." Zhao Jianguo turned off the recorder, slipped it back into his pocket, "But I think there's no need for that hassle. Since you brothers are here, why not sit down and listen to the whole thing? The transaction's location, time, and amount are all spelled out clearly—shall I replay it now?"

The thugs began to shrink back. The swagger they'd shown moments ago vanished. Someone quietly moved toward the Courtyard Gate, fearing their faces would be recognized.

Xu Da Mao grew frantic, reaching into his coat pocket for something to bolster his courage, but his motion was too rough; a pocket watch slipped out with a "Snap!", landing on the bluestone slab and ringing sharply.

Zhao Jianguo's eyes were sharp; he bent and picked it up.

Xu Da Mao instantly panicked, "Give it back! It was left to me by my father!"

"Your father left it?" Zhao Jianguo opened the watch's cover, gently pried the inner side, revealing a black‑and‑white photo inside—Xu Da Mao standing with a bespectacled man in front of an office building; the plaque behind was blurry, but the four characters "Shanghai Education Bureau" were still legible.

He squinted, said nothing, and slowly slipped the watch back into his own coat pocket.

"How dare you steal from me!" Xu Da Mao lunged to grab his wrist.

Zhao Jianguo stepped back, his tone calm, "The watch fell from you; I picked it up. If you're accusing me of theft, tell me—who is the person in this photo? You two stand together, even took a group photo; your relationship seems unusual, doesn't it?"

Xu Da Mao opened his mouth, but couldn't get a word out for a long moment.

"How about this," Zhao Jianguo surveyed the circle, eyeing the thugs already ready to flee, "If you don't believe the recording, we can go to the police station right now and play it in front of the officials. We could even invite that bureau chief friend of yours to chat. What do you think?"

No one replied.

After a few seconds, one thug turned and ran, the second leapt out the door, and the third hesitated briefly before also bolted away.

Xu Da Mao stood alone, his face flashing white then red, finally clenching his teeth and pointing at Zhao Jianguo, "You wait for me… this isn't over!"

"I never intended to let it end," Zhao Jianguo patted his trousers, "You can leave now. But if you come back next time, I won't be so courteous with the recording."

Xu Da Mao glared at him fiercely, turned to rush out, but stumbled on the doorstep, staggering and grabbing the doorframe to avoid falling. He spat backward, muttering curses as he walked away.

The Courtyard fell quiet.

Sha Zhu crouched, picking up the broken half of the Speaker, sighing, "It's over, this really is ABANDON now."

"A little repair and it'll work," Zhao Jianguo rummaged the Toolbox for a soldering iron and solder, "Tomorrow morning we'll shout FUTURE as usual."

"You still dare to place it up there?" Sha Zhu's eyes widened, "What if they come back to smash it again?"

"Then we record it again," Zhao Jianguo twisted the screwdriver, "I've saved a few more clips, like him saying 'These exam papers will turn my life around,' and 'If handled properly, we can know next year's college‑entrance questions in advance'—shall I play them all?"

Sha Zhu clicked his tongue, "When did you record these?"

"The night before last," Zhao Jianguo smiled, "I was on my way to the warehouse to fetch some documents and took a detour. He still thought he was invisible to gods and ghosts then."

Just then, several children gathered around, still clutching sticks, spatulas, bamboo poles—each like a little soldier armed with a weapon.

"Teacher Zhao, we'll protect the Speaker!" a little boy raised a broom handle, "Whoever dares to smash it, we'll sweep them away with 'sweepthefloor'!"

The crowd was startled, then burst into laughter.

San Daye peeked his head out of the house, heard the laughter and retreated, muttering, "Crazy, completely crazy…"

But not long after, his grandson lugged a small stool over, placed it by the door, and looked up, "Teacher Zhao, when is the next class? I want to memorize all ten words from yesterday."

Zhao Jianguo nodded, "Once I fix the Speaker, we'll continue learning."

He sat beside the stone table, took out the pocket watch and opened it again. The man in the photo had a shrewd glint in his eyes, and the watch style exposed at his cuff was not something ordinary people could have. The back bore a line of small characters—"Given to Da Mao, plotting a future together, 1977.10".

He stared at that line for a long time, his fingers slowly tracing the metal edge.

In the distance, the setting sun pressed against the eaves, dyeing half the Courtyard orange‑red. The wind brushed the drying‑clothes line, making a few garments sway gently. A sparrow landed on the roof, hopped a few steps, perched beside the broken Speaker, tilted its head, then fluttered its wings and flew away.

Zhao Jianguo slipped the pocket watch into his inner pocket, picked up the soldering gun, and said to Sha Zhu:

"Hand me an Electric Wire."