Chapter 160: Sha Zhuzi's ABANDON Counterattack

The bell rang, and the exam hall doors slowly opened.

Examinees walked out one after another; some lowered their heads silently, some discussed answers with the person next to them, and some were surrounded by family asking questions as soon as they stepped out the door. Zhao Jianguo sat on the cement bench outside, his palm still sticking to the card he had just signed in with, still warm. He didn't rush to leave, nor did he pull out any book to read; he just sat there, eyelids slightly closed, as if nurturing his spirit, or as if waiting for someone.

Actually, he was listening.

Listening to the rustling of test papers inside, to the invigilator's footsteps collecting answer sheets, to the stifled discussion leaking through the door gap. He knew that for many, this exam was a hurdle; crossing it meant dawn, stumbling might mean having to spend another year.

Suddenly, a roar exploded from inside the exam hall.

"I chose C! I knew it was C!"

Before his words faded, a tall teenager rushed out, holding up his test sheet, face flushed crimson, eyes shining like freshly wiped glass. He ran while waving his arms, nearly knocking over the ice‑cream cart of the old lady at the gate.

Zhao Jianguo opened his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

It was Sha Zhuzi.

This child usually doesn't talk much, works honestly, studies diligently, but gets easily excited. Zhao Jianguo remembered one evening when he was teaching English; everyone treated it as lively listening, someone laughed out loud, saying the foreign words sounded like cursing. As a result, Sha Zhuzi sat alone on the edge of the roof, notebook in hand, filling a page, one word circled—ABANDON.

Back then Zhao Jianguo casually said, "This word often appears on tests, first letter, easy to remember."

And the child really remembered it.

Looking at him now, Zhao Jianguo understood partly: most likely a math question had the word ABANDON among the options; seeing it familiar, he slapped the desk and chose C without even reading the question carefully.

Those around had already been stunned by his outburst.

"What's wrong with this kid? Possessed?"

"Did the exam addle him, shouting while holding a blank paper?"

"I heard his father Sha Zhu isn't too bright either; could it be hereditary?"

Discussion buzzed. Several parents frowned and stepped back, fearing bad luck would rub off on their own children. Even the invigilator hurried to the door, notebook in hand, ready to record the violation.

Only then did Zhao Jianguo stand, brush off the dust on his pants, and walk over leisurely.

He didn't first attend to Sha Zhuzi, but instead stopped the invigilator.

"Teacher Li, please don't record it yet."

"This kid didn't mean to cause a disturbance; he's just overly nervous, normally like this—when excited he can't control himself."

The teacher lifted his gaze, brows still furrowed: "Just now he slapped the desk inside, nearly startling the front‑row examinees; that's no small matter."

Zhao Jianguo smiled: "I know, nobody would like that. But think—if he were really causing trouble, could he finish the exam and then act up? He'd have jumped up in his seat already."

The teacher snorted: "Then you must make it clear to his parents; if it happens again, handle it according to the rules."

"Sure, sure." Zhao Jianguo nodded and bowed, gently leading him a few steps away: "You go about your business; I'll take care of this."

After the teacher walked away, he turned and looked at Sha Zhuzi still hopping in place.

"Hey, what are you shouting about?"

Sha Zhuzi turned, saw him, and immediately grinned: "Brother Zhao! I guessed right! That word appeared—ABANDON! I knew at once to pick C!"

Zhao Jianguo raised an eyebrow: "You decided the answer just because of one word?"

"Exactly!" Sha Zhuzi nodded vigorously, "You said it often shows up as the first question, starting with A, fixed position! When I saw it in the options I thought, uh‑oh, another trap, but the trickier the trap the more you must pick it—you taught us the pattern is the opposite!"

Zhao Jianguo listened, laughing outright.

His logic was twisted beyond reason, yet he spoke with great conviction.

Zhao Jianguo didn't expose it, just patted his shoulder twice: "Not bad, your memory beats anyone's."

"Of course!" Sha Zhuzi puffed his chest, "I've noted every sentence you taught, not missing a single punctuation mark!"

Someone nearby heard and snorted: "Oh, memorizing a foreign word will get you into college? We workers' kids rely on real work, not blind guessing!"

The speaker was a woman in a blue‑cloth dress, holding her son's hand, face full of disdain.

Zhao Jianguo ignored her, lowered his head to rummage in his bag, and pulled out a ruler—plastic casing, thirty centimeters, clear edge markings, with the words "College Entrance Exam Dedicated" printed in small letters on the back.

He slipped it into the side pocket of Sha Zhuzi's bag, the motion as natural as handing over a candy.

"Take it; you'll have use for it next time."

Sha Zhuzi looked down, stunned: "This… this is for me?"

"What else?" Zhao Jianguo glared at him, "Do you think I'd keep it for myself? I've already finished the exam."

"But… I… haven't finished answering…"

"Whether you finished or not I don't know," Zhao Jianguo interrupted, "but I saw you raise your paper. As long as you dared to lift it, it shows you haven't admitted defeat. That's enough."

Sha Zhuzi moved his lips, finally managing only: "Thank you, Brother Zhao."

His voice was soft, yet especially earnest.

Zhao Jianguo nodded, turned to leave, then suddenly stopped.

He turned back to face the murmuring parents and said, voice neither loud nor low: "You think he just guessed blindly, but you forget—guessing presupposes he knows there's a word called ABANDON. Meanwhile, your children haven't even heard of it."

The crowd fell silent at once.

Someone wanted to retort, opened his mouth, then closed it.

Zhao Jianguo said no more, waved his hand, and left.

Sha Zhuzi stood where he was, gripping his bag strap, head lowered, looking at the ruler half‑visible, motionless for a long time.

The sun had shifted a little westward; wind blew in from the alley, lifting a few scraps of paper that spun twice in the air.

Zhao Jianguo walked to the intersection, his steps slowing.

He lifted his eyes to the sky; the cloud layer had thinned, sunlight slanting across the opposite wall, casting a long shadow.

Just then, his right index finger twitched ever so slightly.

It wasn't pain or itch, as if an invisible thread beneath the skin gave a gentle tug.

He lowered his gaze to the finger, then felt his chest.

The system made no sound, the sign‑in interface didn't pop up; everything remained as usual.

Yet that feeling was like when, as a child, he lay on the roof gazing at stars—though the sky was clear, he always sensed that one star had suddenly dimmed.

He stood in place, not moving forward any further.

A bicycle bell rang from the street corner, an old tofu seller slowly pushed his cart past, his call drawn out long.

Zhao Jianguo slowly slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingertips touching the sign-in card he hadn't had time to put away.

The card's surface was smooth, its temperature having dropped.

But he knew that some things were becoming different.

He had just taken a step when suddenly a hurried Footsteps came from behind.

"Brother Zhao! Wait!"

It was Sha Zhuzi catching up.

Zhao Jianguo turned around, seeing the child panting as he stopped in front of him, his face red again—not from excitement this time, but as if he had made some decision.

"I... I want to ask you something."

"Speak."

"Tomorrow afternoon's English exam..." he gritted his teeth, "Could we... go to the roof half an hour early and go over ABANDON again?"