Chapter 177: Open‑style class in the central courtyard

Zhao Jianguo put the iron box back into his coat pocket, his fingers still touching the cold edge. He didn't linger in the laboratory, turned and headed for the central courtyard. The oil lamp had just been lit; the flame flickered twice, revealing Jia Dongxu crouched on the ground, fiddling with a bunch of electric wires.

"Is the signal still there?" Zhao Jianguo asked.

"Not broken." Jia Dongxu didn't look up, "The strength is steady; they haven't stopped."

"Then we won't stop either." Zhao Jianguo took off his coat and draped it over the chair back, "Class goes on as usual, people come as usual. Let them see—this place isn't a cold stove."

Jia Dongxu grinned, "Exactly what I was planning."

He held a piece of copper wire in his hand, one end attached to an old battery, with a small bulb in between. A light touch, and the bulb lit.

"How about the kids?"

"They've been waiting." Jia Dongxu jerked his chin toward the courtyard gate, "San Daye is here too, holding a radio, saying he's 'just coming to listen to some new learning.'"

Zhao Jianguo laughed out loud, "He's just afraid of missing out on something good, but won't admit it."

As his words fell, San Daye shuffled in, really cradling that old radio, its paint chipped in places, the antenna askew.

"This gadget of mine hasn't been working well lately." He set the radio on the table, "You lot who work with electricity, give it a look? And… I'd like to learn a bit too."

Jia Dongxu glanced at him, "What do you want to learn?"

"What are voltage, current, and… that… positive and negative poles?" San Daye said stubbornly, "I even looked at an electrician's manual when I was young, but I don't understand these new terms now."

"Then tell me, what does your manual call the electric wire?" Jia Dongxu asked deliberately.

"Positive wire, negative wire!" San Daye declared confidently.

A few kids nearby snorted with laughter.

"Fine." Jia Dongxu didn't argue, "Today we won't talk jargon, just get hands-on."

He pulled out a heap of junk from the box: a broken alarm clock, a disassembled electric fan, a few rusted batteries, plus motor copper wire he'd picked up at the steel rolling factory.

"Anyone who has a spare small appliance, bring it tomorrow." He said, "We won't buy components; we'll piece together a circuit from scrap."

A boy raised his hand: "My family has a broken flashlight!"

"Bring it!" Jia Dongxu slapped the table, "Tomorrow's first lesson, whoever can make the light shine will be the teaching assistant."

San Daye snorted, "What good is light? It can't cook rice."

"If it lights, it can conduct electricity." Zhao Jianguo took up the thread, "If it conducts electricity, it can transmit a signal, letting outsiders know—there are people here who understand this."

He glanced toward the laboratory, lowering his voice: "They're watching us; we also need to make it clear to them that we're not afraid to teach, nor afraid to learn."

San Daye said nothing more, fiddling with the radio's knob, ear pressed to it, hearing only static.

"Can't fix it?" Zhao Jianguo asked.

"Missing one thing." San Daye frowned, "Need a small capacitor, otherwise we can't filter the wave."

"We don't have a capacitor." Jia Dongxu said, "But we can try making one ourselves with foil and glass."

"Really?" San Daye's eyes lit up.

"That's makeshift innovation." Zhao Jianguo patted his shoulder, "If you really want to learn, start with wiring tomorrow."

San Daye pursed his lips, "I'm not a kid—do I still have to attend class?"

"If you don't come to class, who'll be blamed if it breaks tomorrow?" Jia Dongxu smiled, handing over a stripped wire, "Let's first identify the positive and negative."

San Daye hesitated a moment, then reached out and took it.

At that moment, He Yushui entered the courtyard gate with three teacher‑trainee classmates, holding several wooden boards covered in paper.

"The display boards are ready." She leaned the boards against the wall, "We want to summarize our teaching methods."

Zhao Jianguo walked over to look. The first board read "Class Schedule," the second "Discipline Rules," the third showed a table divided into "Age Group," "Baseline Level," and "Learning Progress."

"Too much like a school." He said.

He Yushui blinked: "Don't we need rules? Otherwise it'll descend into chaos."

"We're not a school." Zhao Jianguo shook his head, "We're a siheyuan. Kids come after school, adults after work, elders when they're idle. No one clocks in, no one gets made to stand as punishment."

"Then how do we manage?"

"Not by regulations, but by participation." Zhao Jianguo pointed at the pile of parts on the ground, "Whoever gets hands‑on improves; whoever slacks just watches others light the bulb."

He Yushui thought, then told her classmates, "Tear it up and start over."

Everyone stared at each other.

"Listen to him." She said bluntly, "We're writing a method, not a document."

Several people sprang into action, tearing all the paper off. One girl grabbed a charcoal pencil and redrew: left side, a kid dismantling a radio; center, Jia Dongxu teaching wiring; right, San Daye holding a light bulb, grinning.

She wrote the title in six characters: "From scrap copper and iron to the first beam of light."

Zhao Jianguo nodded: "That's it."

"Where should we hang it?" the girl asked.

"On the central courtyard's main wall." Zhao Jianguo said, "So passersby can look up and see it."

Dusk deepened, the oil lamp's glow slowly spreading. A dozen‑odd children sat around tables pushed together, each with a pile of bits in front of them. Jia Dongxu stood in front, holding a length of copper wire.

"What are we teaching today?" a child asked.

"Circuit connection." Jia Dongxu said, "Whoever can make this bulb in my hand light up gets an extra snack tonight—Old Zhu will give half a bowl more of vermicelli."

The kids erupted in cheers, all fired up.

San Daye sat in the corner, furtively switched on the radio, ear to it—still just static. He glanced up at the blackboard, where a circuit diagram was drawn, marked with "+" and "-".

He whispered to Jia Dongxu beside him, "Is that '+' the live wire?"

Jia Dongxu chuckled, "You've got it."

"I told you so." San Daye straightened his back, "It's the positive wire!"

"All right, if you say it is, it is." Jia Dongxu handed him a piece of wire, "Come on, help this kid hook it up—don't reverse it, or the bulb won't light."

San Daye took it seriously, his hand trembling a bit, but his motion steady.

Zhao Jianguo stood to the side, watching the crowd bend over, busy. Wires tangled, copper strands knotted, batteries inserted backward then pulled out again. A little girl tried three times before the bulb lit, then jumped up shouting, "It's lit! It's lit!"

Others raised their heads one after another, following with applause.

San Daye grinned, suddenly feeling his face heat up; he quickly lowered his head, pretending to adjust the radio.

The rain started at this moment.

First a few drops hit the oil lamp shade, with a pop, the flame went out.

"Ouch!" someone shouted.

Immediately, the eaves began to drip; a gust of wind blew, and sparks flew from the electric wire junction.

"Cut the power!" Jia Dongxu grabbed and pulled out the battery.

In the darkness, the children felt a little panicked.

"Why not do it tomorrow?" a boy whispered.

Zhao Jianguo didn't move. He felt in his pocket for half a candle, found a glass jar, placed the candle inside, and lit it.

The light wasn't big, but it was enough.

He held up the copper wire in his hand: "You just saw the light come on because the wires were connected correctly. Now it's dark and rainy, the light's out, the wire's broken, but we're still here."

He handed the copper wire to the first child who had succeeded: "Do you want to make it light up again?"

The little girl nodded.

"Then let's continue."

She took the copper wire, squatted down to reconnect the wires. Others sat down one by one, working in the dark.

Jia Dongxu wrapped the junction with a cloth strip, then restored power.

One second, two seconds.

The bulb flickered once, then lit up.

The rain kept falling, drops from the eaves pattering into the jar. The light swayed, casting on each person's face.

He Yushui carried out the newly drawn display board, propped it against the wall. Moisture made the paper edges curl slightly, but the picture was clear: a child dismantling a machine, a teacher instructing on wiring, an old person holding a lamp and smiling.

"Should we change the title?" a classmate asked.

"No change." He Yushui said, "Just call it this."

Zhao Jianguo walked to the center of the courtyard, still holding that copper wire. He glanced at the laboratory window; the waveform line on the detector's screen was still jumping, frequency steady.

He knew someone outside was watching, listening, transmitting data.

But he also knew that here there were people learning, doing, lighting the lamp.

San Daye tidied up the radio, got up to leave. As he was about to go out, he turned back and asked Jia Dongxu: "What are you lecturing on tomorrow?"

"The principle of electric motors." Jia Dongxu said, "If you come, bring a pair of gloves, be careful not to get shocked."

"Hmph." San Daye walked out with his hands behind his back, "My electrician's handbook never says old people can't touch electricity."

The rain lessened a bit.

Zhao Jianguo moved the candle to another jar, the flame steadied.

He heard movement outside under the eaves.

Chen Xiao Jian squatted there, holding detector parts, using pliers to tighten screws. A strand of his hair was wet from the rain, stuck to his forehead, and he muttered something.

Zhao Jianguo said nothing.

Chen Xiao Jian lifted his head and glanced at the central courtyard.

The lights were bright.