Chapter 183: The Commercial Disguise of the Temporal Virus

Zhao Jianguo folds the twins' doodle paper, stuffs it into his jacket pocket. Sunlight shines on the blank workbook's cover on the podium, reflecting a glint. He just turned to go back to the house when a shout came from the Hutongkou.

"Latest model calculator, only twenty bucks! Student edition, future tech!"

The voice is sharp and bright, like something broadcast over the radio. Zhao Jianguo's steps halted, his brows furrowed. This tone feels off, too neat, as if memorized many times.

He walks slowly toward the Courtyard Gate, casually touches the sign‑in system button in his trouser pocket. Looking up, a man in a suit stands behind a small wooden desk in the middle of the Alley, with five or six black little machines laid out before him. The man's tie is knotted tight, his leather shoes polished to a shine, leaving two white tracks in the mud. He occasionally glances toward the Siheyuan, his gaze drifting.

Zhao Jianguo doesn't rush forward; his finger lightly taps the system interface. Instantly a translucent data overlay pops up in his view, the internal structures of those "calculators" become clearly visible—circuit board layers hide a Metal Sheet, connected by fine wires to the battery compartment, continuously emitting a weak signal, the waveform distorted, exactly matching the frequency of the Virus he previously captured.

He now knows what to do, and strolls leisurely toward the stall.

"Does this thing really calculate?" he picks up one and flips it over; the shell is hard plastic, feeling light.

The stall owner immediately bursts into laughter: "Of course it can! Trigonometric functions, square roots, all work, and it can even store answers."

Zhao Jianguo's mouth twitches. Such a function can't be made now; even factory labs aren't at that level. He looks down at the bottom of the device, finds the latch, and pulls hard.

With a "Click", the shell cracks open.

The onlookers freeze. Inside there is no Crystal, only a Metal Sheet etched with patterns, the wiring coiled into a loop, attached beside the battery. Zhao Jianguo lifts it and shines it in the sun.

"This isn't a calculator," he says, "it's a tool for stealing. It can record your kids' homework thought process, exam answers, everything, and transmit it outward."

The crowd erupts with a buzz.

"What? Steal brains?"

"I told you there's no such cheap miracle!"

"Refund!"

Some step back, some push forward to get a clearer look. The stall owner's face changes, he reaches out to pack up. Zhao Jianguo places the dismantled device on the Desk and presses the system alert button.

Two people in plain clothes rush out from the street corner, a few steps later they pounce, pinning the stall owner to the ground. Their movements are swift, saying nothing.

"Take it away," one of them reports briefly.

The stall owner struggles a few times, his mouth covered, and is quickly dragged out of the Hutong. The Desk topples, the remaining "calculators" roll across the ground. Zhao Jianguo bends down, picks up an intact one, intending to take it back to the Siheyuan for study.

Jia Dongxu only then runs from the Laboratory, hair a mess, holding a screwdriver. Panting, he asks, "Heard someone's selling equipment with a Virus?"

Zhao Jianguo nods, hands over the device in his hand: "Take a look at this Metal Sheet."

Jia Dongxu takes it, flips it over repeatedly, then stops. He crouches, picks up a shattered fragment from the ground, stares at the engravings, his fingers trembling slightly.

"This…" his voice lowers, "has the same coding as the Metal Sheet my dad left."

Zhao Jianguo whirls his head: "What did you say?"

"The pattern direction, groove depth, and the positions of these tiny dots." Jia Dongxu points to the fragment's edge, "My dad made a signal recorder back then, using this coding scheme. Outsiders couldn't know it unless… they got the actual piece."

The air suddenly grows heavy.

Zhao Jianguo stares at the fragment in his hand, his mind racing. The things Jia Wu left have always been the key to averting crises, now they're being forged into a Virus carrier, masquerading as a "learning tool" shoved into kids' hands.

This isn't mere sabotage.

It's an attempt to fundamentally alter the next generation's mindset—making them rely on a false "shortcut", stop thinking, stop questioning, just wait to be fed answers.

Just as he's about to speak, a System Prompt pops up: 【Detected similar Signal Source spreading toward the city area, target zones include schools, bookstores, stationery shops surroundings】

"Not just this batch," he looks up at Jia Dongxu, "they're already stocking up."

Jia Dongxu grits his teeth: "We need to notify the Education Division immediately, have all teaching sites halt receiving external devices."

"Too late." Zhao Jianguo shakes his head, "These things have already mixed into the market; manual sweeps will miss too many. We must counter with technology."

He looks down at the Metal Sheet, then thinks of something: "Why did your dad use this coding? Did he leave a decryption method?"

Jia Dongxu stays silent for a few seconds: "Yes. But he set three‑layer verification; time, location, and operation sequence must all match to trigger the decryption program. I've never tried, fearing unknown reactions."

"We can't wait now." Zhao Jianguo hands the fragment back, "You start tonight. I need to know how this was duplicated and how to neutralize it."

Jia Dongxu takes the piece, clenches his fist: "Understood."

As they speak, a Speaker blares from a distant street. An inconspicuous gray van slowly drives by, its windows plastered with advertisement paper reading "Student Smart Assistant, Limited Time Offer".

Zhao Jianguo's eyes harden.

"That vehicle wasn't on the surveillance list."

He strides a few steps forward, eyes the rear of the van. Beside the exhaust pipe is an unobtrusive little box, flashing red.

"Same model signal transmitter," he whispers, "they're not just vending, they're mobile pitching."

Jia Dongxu also sees it: "Should we intercept?"

"Can't catch it." Zhao Jianguo shakes his head, "These vans run all over the city; catching one swaps for ten. What we need now isn't blocking, it's digging a root."

He pulls up the system interface, quickly opens the signal tracking module: "Contact He Yushui, have her convene the core of the teaching group. I want every teaching device in everyone's hands scanned thoroughly by 8 a. m. tomorrow."

"What about you?"

"I'm heading to the Youju." Zhao Jianguo folds the system away, "The last package paperwork is still here; I need to check whether these 'calculators' came through official channels."

Jia Dongxu pauses: "You still remember where the slip is?"

"In the third compartment of the office drawer, tucked inside the lesson plan book." Zhao Jianguo, already two steps ahead, turns back, "By the way, tell the kids not to accept any new stationery these days, no matter how fancy."

Jia Dongxu replies, turns and runs toward the Laboratory.

Zhao Jianguo walks out along the Hutong, passes a grocery store and sees the owner placing a "calculator" on the counter's prominent spot, with a small sign beside it: **Special Price 25 yuan, Student Discount**.

He stops, pushes the door open and goes inside.

"Boss, where did this thing come from?"

The owner looks up: "A friend recommended it, said it's from a new factory, high profit."

"Purchase order?"

"None needed, all acquaintances."

Zhao Jianguo says nothing more, picks up the device to inspect the interface. The battery compartment cover is loose; he gently pries it, seeing a line of tiny text inside: **TY-**

He notes the code, puts down the device, and walks out.

The sky begins to darken, wind whirls paper scraps across the street. He stands at the alley mouth, clutching the torn advertisement sheet, which bears large characters: **Let the child win at the starting line**.

He gave a cold snort, lifted his foot, and walked toward the Youju.

Just as he turned the corner, he saw a tricycle coming toward him, its cargo bed stacked with several cardboard boxes, the seals bearing the label: **Teaching aid equipment, urgent delivery**.

The driver was talking to someone: "This shipment must be delivered overnight to the entrance of five elementary schools in Xicheng District, and it must be in place by six o'clock tomorrow morning."

Zhao Jianguo stopped, staring at the printed number on the corner of the box.

The format matched the code on the "calculator" he had just seen.

He stepped forward and placed his hand on the edge of the cargo bed.

"Who sent this shipment?"

The driver looked up, bewildered: "It was ordered by the trading company; we just handle the delivery."