Chapter 247: Repair School Expands Scale·Online Teaching Reaches the Nine Provinces

At six in the morning, the control room lights were still on.

Zhao Jianguo had just hung up the phone; He Yushui's voice still lingered in the earpiece: "All three lines to Xizhimen are fully connected, you can relax."

Sha Zhu's son handed over a hot towel, chalk dust on the back of his hand: "Zhao Uncle, the first batch of trainees has entered the classroom. Xinjiang side was stuck for two minutes, now it's through."

Zhao Jianguo wiped his face and sat back in the main seat. Before him were three screens: left showed a national map with dense dots; middle displayed the failure-rate curve, just dropped from red to yellow; right showed a live feed—someone was looking at a tablet by the stove, someone squatted beside a tractor holding a phone.

He clicked the mouse to enlarge the icon for Aksu, Xinjiang.

The dot blinked and turned green.

"It's through," said Sha Zhu's son.

Zhao Jianguo didn't respond, just stared at the right screen. The picture shook violently; in the frame a hand was turning a screw, its fingernails full of oil.

At ten o'clock sharp, the system prompt sounded: "All personnel have logged in; practical tasks are being issued."

No one spoke in the control room; only the clack of keyboards and the hum of fans could be heard.

Sha Zhu's son lowered his head to check his watch, then looked up at the screen: "Seven minutes."

As his words fell, a new video popped up on the right screen.

The title read: Aksu·Tuohuti·Maimaite.

Zhao Jianguo opened it.

The camera shook, wind rushed in. The background was a bare patch of land with a few poplar trees leaning their necks; distant mountains loomed. A hand covered in cracks tossed a wrench into the toolbox, then the camera turned to a sun‑reddened face.

"Teacher Zhao!" the man grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth, "It's fixed!"

He stepped aside; the Dongfanghong tractor behind him was puffing white steam, its exhaust pipe popping twice like a satisfied belch.

Zhao Jianguo raised his hand and projected this clip onto the exterior wall of the control room.

In the courtyard, San Daye, who was sweeping, looked up, paused his broom, and said: "Wow, it really moved?"

Next door, Wang Nainai passed by holding a dustpan, also looked up and said: "This machine is more spirited than my family's Tiedan."

Sha Zhu's son took off his glasses, wiped them on his sleeve, put them back on, and said: "Next stop, Nagqu, Tibet."

Zhao Jianguo lifted his teacup and took a sip. The jasmine tea had cooled, its flavor faint.

He set the cup back on the table, his gaze sweeping over the projection on the wall. Sunlight was climbing the new sign that read "Siheyuan Technology Repair School"; the gold paint flashed, reflecting onto his lenses.

"Zhao Uncle," Sha Zhu's son suddenly said, "Just now Gansu asked if we could slow down the gear animation a bit."

"Sure," Zhao Jianguo said, "Let He Yushui add a speed‑adjustment button."

"Also, Old Li from Northeast called three times, saying he'd taken apart the radio but the speaker wouldn't sound, fearing he'd welded wrong."

"Have him take a photo and send it to the group; I'll take a look."

"Okay," Sha Zhu's son noted, then added, "There's an older sister in Hebei, over sixty, who can't use the dial pad; she pressed wrong three times and got disconnected."

Zhao Jianguo nodded: "Have her find Old Zhang at the hutong‑mouth phone booth; he's on duty today."

"All right," Sha Zhu's son turned to write a notice, took chalk and drew a dial pad on the blackboard, labeling the numbers: "1—press once, 2—press twice…"

Zhao Jianguo turned back to the screen and opened the backend log.

Five thousand people, all online.

On the regional distribution map, the dots had merged into a band stretching west from Beijing, passing Lanzhou and Ürümqi, stopping at Aksu, with a small cluster popping up and lighting up Kashgar.

He opened that Kashgar point.

A text message popped up: "Teacher Zhao, we've fixed two of the three radios in our village; the third will be repaired tomorrow."

Zhao Jianguo replied with a single word: "Okay."

Just as he hit send, a new notification appeared in the lower‑right corner: "The access request from Nagqu, Tibet has been approved."

Instantly a window appeared on the screen showing a young man in a felt hat waving at the camera: "Teacher Zhao, I'm Ci Ren! Our signal is poor here, but I brought a battery that can last two hours."

Zhao Jianguo nodded: "First look at the basic circuit diagram; ask anytime if you have questions."

"All right!" Ci Ren clutched the tablet to his chest; from the background came a dog's bark and the jingle of bells.

Sha Zhu's son leaned in: "Zhao Uncle, do you really think they can learn this?"

"They will," Zhao Jianguo said. "As long as they're willing to get hands‑on, nothing is unlearnable."

"But some of them don't even recognize the characters."

"The diagrams have pictures." Zhao Jianguo pointed at the screen: "How to grip a wrench, how to turn a screw, how to add oil—the drawings are clearer than text."

Sha Zhu's son laughed: "That's true."

He turned to adjust the volume, and in passing cranked up the loudspeaker at the broadcast station a notch.

A clear female voice came from the courtyard: "All trainees, pay attention; now playing Lesson One: Multimeter Mnemonic—red probe into the V socket, black probe into the COM…"

Wang Nainai passed by carrying a vegetable basket, heard it, slowed her steps, stood by the wall base to listen a few sentences, then walked on.

As she walked she murmured: "Red probe into the V socket…"

Zhao Jianguo glanced at the clock: 9:58.

He reached out and switched the main screen to the national map view.

The dots grew more numerous and denser. Brightest on the North China Plain, scattered in the northwest, yet each one shone steadily.

He opened the Xinjiang window and replayed the tractor video.

Ci Ren shouted from the Tibet window: "Teacher Zhao, I also want to repair tractors!"

"First fix the radio," Zhao Jianguo said. "Once it's working, I'll send you a copy of *Common Faults Manual for Small Farm Machinery*."

"Really?" Ci Ren's eyes lit up.

"Really." Zhao Jianguo nodded. "I'll send it next week."

"Thank you, Teacher Zhao!" Ci Ren raised his hand and saluted the camera.

Zhao Jianguo also raised his hand and returned the salute.

Just then, the right screen flickered.

It is not a fault prompt, nor a disconnection warning.

It is a newly uploaded video, with no title, no annotation, automatically popping up in the upper‑right corner.

Zhao Jianguo reached to close it; his fingertip paused before touching the mouse.

He opened it.

The picture was very dark, the angle very low, as if taken from a bench armrest.

Two blurry figures sat there, close together.

The man wore work clothes; the woman had a blue headscarf tied.

The woman held a piece of paper, looking down at it.

The man turned his face to look at her, saying nothing.

Zhao Jianguo stared at it for three seconds.

He did not click pause, nor did he click close.

He merely dragged the video window to a corner, made it smaller, and let it sit there quietly.

Then he lifted the teacup and took a sip.

The tea had gone completely cold.

He set the cup down, raised his hand, and placed the Xinjiang tractor video at the top again.

On the outer wall, that East Is Red tractor was slowly exhaling a third plume of white vapor.

Sunlight climbed over the gray‑brick wall top and stopped on the four characters "Repair School".

The gold lacquer flashed a reflection.

Zhao Jianguo reached out and pressed the red button on the far right of the control console.

The button lit up, and a line of small text popped up in the lower‑left corner of the screen:

【Title of Distance Education Master conferred】

He didn't look, just stared out the window.

In the courtyard, San Daye swept the ground again.

Wang Nainai came back with an empty vegetable basket, passed the control room door, poked her head in and asked, "Master Zhao, will you still teach this afternoon? I want to learn how to change a light bulb."

Zhao Jianguo turned his head, smiled, and said, "Teach."

Wang Nainai nodded, turned and left.

Sha Zhu's son wiped the blackboard clean, turned and said, "Uncle Zhao, another photo has come from Gansu, the speaker is fixed."

Zhao Jianguo made an affirmative sound.

He reached out and muted the unnamed video in the upper‑right corner.

The picture was still playing.

The woman folded the paper neatly and slipped it into her chest pocket.

The man reached out and lightly touched her sleeve.

Zhao Jianguo stared at that hand for two seconds.

He lifted his left hand and felt his own left chest pocket.

There lay a half‑sheet of unopened stationery.

He did not take it out.

He simply put his hand back on the keyboard and typed three characters:

【Send Teaching Material】