Chapter 170: Temporal Report of the Special Forces Personnel

Zhao Jianguo settled the twins, just pulled the curtain inside, and the system on his wrist trembled again. This time it wasn't an alarm but a brief notice: 【High‑energy signature approaching, identity confirmed—Temporal Management Bureau Field Unit 7】.

He stood at the doorway unmoving, his finger lightly tapped the badge in his coat pocket. The fragmented intel from before was still stuck in his throat, a bit gritty, but he couldn't worry about that now. He opened the door, stepped out, and half‑closed the Courtyard Gate as he went.

Under the streetlamp stood a man holding a metal plate, with six others behind him in a straight line, all in black, hatless, each hand tucked into the trench‑coat pockets, moving in unison as if one person.

The man looked up at him and said in a low voice, "Zhao Jianguo?"

"It's me."

"I am the Special Forces Captain, ordered to conduct a temporal conduct audit on you." He opened the document board, "According to Article 3 of the Cross‑Era Intervention Management Regulations, you are suspected of multiple violations of historical nodes, including but not limited to: using unconventional means to obtain Xu Da Mao's criminal evidence, causing his premature imprisonment; unilaterally altering the distribution of college‑entrance exam admission tickets; affecting the Steel Rolling Factory's technological reform pace, indirectly prompting a chain‑restaurant brand's early emergence."

Zhao Jianguo listened, smiled slightly, and said, "So you're here to investigate my rescuing people?"

"We only consider procedural justice," the Team Leader said, closing the board. "Your actions were neither reported nor authorized. According to the Rules Sign, you must be taken back for review."

"Wait." Zhao Jianguo stepped forward, standing under the light, "You say I had no authorization? Then I ask you, when Jia Zhangshi stuffed three hundred admission tickets into a pickle jar, was anyone in charge? She destroyed the futures of three hundred children, and you did nothing. I intervened to save them, and now I'm the criminal?"

The Team Leader furrowed his brow; before he could speak, Zhao Jianguo had already pressed the button in his coat pocket.

A beam of light flashed in the air, followed by a video—Jia Zhangshi bent over to shove papers into the jar, her hands shaking violently, with a freshly bottled soy sauce standing nearby. A voice‑over, Zhao Jianguo's own at the time, said, "Are you pickling admission tickets or aged vinegar in this jar?"

The footage was brief, ending after about ten seconds.

The scene fell silent instantly.

Zhao Jianguo folded away the Projection, looking at his counterpart, "I gathered evidence to make her admit her mistake, not to frame anyone. She later turned herself in, and the police station acted according to law. Xu Da Mao stole admission tickets, but that was his own greed. Of these incidents, which one did I fabricate from thin air?"

The Team Leader stared at the spot where the footage had vanished, and after a while said, "Procedural compliance cannot offset the risk of the outcome. You altered too many events that should have occurred naturally."

"Naturally occurring?" Zhao Jianguo retorted, "Then what is natural? An old woman, holding a grudge against a few educated‑youth parents, stews the futures of all the factory children in salty pickles—call that natural? Sha Zhu makes a living with his craft, yet is mocked all his life as a low‑rank cook—call that natural? Dong Xu has the talent to invent, but is confined to a workshop fixing machines, too afraid to draw blueprints—call that natural?"

He grew more blunt: "You call this the course of history; I see it as a bunch of honest people who've gotten used to being bullied. What I'm doing is letting these people live more clearly, more resolutely. We've opened three chain canteens, each with transparent ledgers, workers take turns on duty bookkeeping, and kids can write in essays, 'My uncle opened three shops.' This isn't rewriting history; it's patching a hole."

The Team Leader said nothing.

Zhao Jianguo asked again, "Your Management Bureau watches the timeline every day; have you ever calculated how much 'compliance' a ruined life is worth? Three hundred admission tickets, three hundred potential university students, gone, with no one caring. I intervened; now you come to investigate me?"

The air seemed to sink a notch.

The Team Leader finally looked up, "We can assess your motives, but crossing the line with methods is still crossing. Without approval process support, any goodwill may trigger cascading deviations."

"Then you have an approval process—why didn't you act sooner?" Zhao Jianguo sneered, "Where were you this time last year? The year before? Only after a problem surfaces do people show up to lecture about rules?"

"Our intervention criteria are…"

"Don't talk to me about criteria," Zhao Jianguo interrupted, "Your standard is to act only after a disaster, and then only seize the perpetrators. I don't deny I used some special methods, but I didn't commit any heinous wrongdoing, didn't rob or kill, didn't cause anyone's wrongful death. On the contrary, I made many people live with clarity."

He pointed to the Courtyard behind him: "San Daye now practices 'Welcome' whenever he meets someone, just because he wants to invest in Sha Zhu's canteen. He Yushui brings classmates to eat, and the girls' looks at Dong Xu's modified delivery cart have changed. These people have begun to believe one thing—effort matters. Isn't that more important than rigidly clinging to a cold timeline?"

The Team Leader was silent for a moment, then lowered his head and turned a page of the file.

"We will reassess the impact of your actions," he said, "but for now we must carry out an on‑site hearing procedure. Please cooperate by proceeding to the temporary command point for further questioning."

"I won't go," Zhao Jianguo stood his ground, "I'm right here. If you want a trial, we'll talk at this Courtyard Gate. The children have just gone to sleep, and I don't want to disturb them."

The Team Leader gave him a look, "You know the consequences of resisting investigation."

"I also know the price of abusing authority," Zhao Jianguo stared at him, "You are an inspector, not a judge. You have the right to investigate me; I have no right to block you. But I also have the right to speak, the chance to defend myself in person. If you want to take me away, fine, first produce the central bureau's compulsory detention order. Without it, I'll stay right here; you say a line, I'll answer."

The two locked eyes, neither stepping back.

Wind gusted from the alley, lifting a scrap of paper on the ground, which spun and struck the doorstep.

After a few seconds, the Team Leader closed the file board, turned to the nearby Team Member and said, "Standby on the spot, adjust the plan."

Then he turned back, "We can set up a temporary hearing point inside the Courtyard, but you must cooperate fully and not impede the investigation."

"Fine," Zhao Jianguo nodded, "The side room is empty, and there's a desk. I can brew a pot of tea, and we can talk at leisure. But let me make this clear—every action I've taken is recorded. If you want to see them, I'll show you everything. Yet if you intend to convict me, you'd have to sentence the human heart as well."

The Team Leader gave no reply, merely raised his hand to the Team Member.

Several people began moving equipment into the Courtyard; a Team Member carrying a black box stepped onto the threshold, and Zhao Jianguo suddenly called out, "That box, don't place it in the center of the Main Hall."

The Team Member halted.

"There's a water pipe beneath that spot," Zhao Jianguo said, "The dampness is heavy; I'm afraid of an electric leak."

The Team Member glanced at the floor, then moved the box to another corner.

Zhao Jianguo watched them run cables and set up equipment, his finger still feeling the badge in his pocket. He knew this hurdle wouldn't be easy, but he wasn't afraid.

These people recite the Rules Sign, and he smashes the rules with facts.

They demand procedure, and he lays out every ledger entry.

He turned to the wall, pulled a thin wire from a brick crevice, bent it, slipped it into a lock and twisted twice. *Clack! * The small storage locker swung open; he retrieved a Cloth Bundle containing several handwritten journals and a few photographs.

All of them documented what he had done during this period.

Who ate the first free meal, who learned to keep accounts, who first said, "Thank you for coming."

He also kept a tape of Sha Zhu shouting "Meal's ready!" on the opening day of the third branch.

These items aren't meant to thwart any investigation, but to let future generations know—some changes start with a bowl of hot rice.

He cradled the Cloth Bundle and walked toward the side room, pausing as he passed the Team Leader, "You can investigate me, I won't block you. But one condition—don't touch the children. They know nothing and have done nothing."

The Team Leader looked at him, "We won't target uninvolved personnel."

"I hope so," Zhao Jianguo nodded, pushed the door open and entered the room.

The lamp on the table flickered on, he set the Cloth Bundle aside, pulled out a chair and sat down.

The Team Leader entered afterward, sitting opposite.

"Let's begin," he said.

Zhao Jianguo didn't rush to speak; instead, he took a small notebook from the Cloth Bundle, opened to the first page, and slid it over.

It bore a line of text: **"October 12, 1977, the announcement of the college‑entrance exam restoration was released; that night, three families in the Siheyuan lit lamps and talked until dawn."**

The Team Leader glanced at it, then looked up, "What is this?"

"Starting Point," Zhao Jianguo said, "All events began that night."