Chapter 61

At dawn, Zhao Jianguo pulled out the notebook he kept close to him, circled the four words "materials missing" in red pen, deliberately spread it open on the top shelf of the tool cabinet, even the half-pencil clipped inside lay askew on the page edge, as if he had forgotten to put it away in his hurry to leave.

He casually put the lunch box on the workbench, the aluminum lid clanking, Wang Defa from the next workstation looked up and said, "Zhao Jianguo, what did you bring today? It smells so good my nose twitches."

"Leek pockets," Zhao Jianguo flung open the lid, the oil-wrapped stuffed pancake showing a corner, "Su Qing made them yesterday, I brought you an extra one."

Wang Defa laughed, reaching to take one, but Zhao Jianguo pulled the lunch box back: "First, agree: if you take one, you have to pass along a message—just say I've recently been watched, accused of hiding military supplies in the cellar. Tell anyone you see; the more people who know, the better."

Wang Defa's hand froze midair: "Are you crazy? You'd actually spread talk like that?"

"That's exactly why I want it spread." Zhao Jianguo shoved the lunch box into his hand, "Real gold fears no fire, false words fear no gossip. Just say it; I'll handle the rest."

Wang Defa scratched his head, took a bite of the leek pocket, oil trickling down the corner of his mouth.

At the morning meeting, Zhao Jianguo Standing Up, voice neither loud nor soft, just enough for the whole workshop to hear: "Director, lately there's been some gossip outside, saying I'm hoarding scrap military materials. I'm innocent, but I can't let people gossip. Why not have the Security Department check my toolbox? That would clear my name."

The workshop director was sipping tea; hearing this, he nearly choked: "You, why would you voluntarily ask for an inspection? If there really were something, who'd do that?"

"Precisely because there's nothing, I dare to ask for a check." Zhao Jianguo laughed, "If I really had hidden anything, could I bring it up in front of everyone?"

The crowd burst into laughter, someone saying, "Zhao Jianguo's guts are steadier than a boiler pressure gauge."

The rumor spread faster than wind. Before noon, even the cafeteria master Sha Zhu had heard.

He came over holding his bowl, plopped down, and said, "Zhao Jianguo, did you really hide military copper wire? I heard it's the insulated kind that can carry high voltage."

"Who said that?" Zhao Jianguo picked up a bite of vegetables, not even lifting his eyelids.

"It's all over outside." Sha Zhu lowered his voice, "They say you got it from the Black Market, hidden in the new house's cellar, and even locked it up."

Zhao Jianguo slowly finished chewing the meal ticket in his mouth before saying, "Then why don't you report me? There's a reward for informing."

"Why would I report you?" Sha Zhu glared, "When you treated me to fried dough sticks, why didn't you say this then?"

Zhao Jianguo laughed: "Then help me spread one more line—just say that copper wire I hid is tightly secured, and only Su Qing has the key."

Sha Zhu blinked, then grinned: "Sure, I'll go say it right now—I guarantee the whole factory will know by this afternoon."

He really went and said it. After the meal ticket, resting, he squatted at the workshop gate smoking, chatting with anyone he met: "Hey, heard? Zhao Jianguo's cellar hides copper wire, and his mom holds the key!"

The words drifted out sentence by sentence, like dandelion fluff falling with the wind.

The next morning, Yi Zhonghai disappeared without a trace. Someone said they saw him carrying a paper bag, heading straight for the Security Department.

At ten a. m., Old Zhang from the Security Department brought two clerks into the workshop.

"Comrade Zhao Jianguo," Old Zhang said with a stern face, "We've received a report that you're suspected of privately hoarding strategic military materials; we now need to inspect your personal belongings—please cooperate."

Zhao Jianguo was tightening a screw, his hand not stopping: "What should we check? The toolbox? The lunch box? Or my pockets?"

"First check the toolbox," Old Zhang said.

Zhao Jianguo loosened the wrench, walked over and opened the toolbox, pulling out layer by layer: hammer, pliers, tape measure, spare screws… finally from the inner compartment he drew a leather notebook and handed it over: "These are my technical notes; you might want to have a look—perhaps you'll find 'criminal evidence'."

Old Zhang took the notebook, flipped two pages—full of dense numbers and sketches, even a gear set structure drawn.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Bearing wear records," Zhao Jianguo said, "I've been studying loss-reduction solutions lately."

Old Zhang closed the notebook, then checked the lunch box, pockets, and work uniform pockets—nothing found.

"What about the cellar?" the clerk asked.

"The cellar?" Zhao Jianguo laughed out loud, "You actually believe that? My cellar just holds two bags of sweet potatoes and a bundle of old electric wire; Su Qing said she's keeping it to remake a lamp cord."

"We have to check it too," Old Zhang said.

"Sure," Zhao Jianguo produced the key, "but let's agree first—if they find nothing, who's going to clear my name?"

"The organization will investigate thoroughly," Old Zhang said, his tone easing.

The group headed toward the Zhao Family residence, running into Dong Xu on the way.

"Zhao Jianguo, what's up?" he asked.

"Someone reported me," Zhao Jianguo shrugged, "they said I'm hiding military copper wire."

Dong Xu frowned: "Who did it?"

"Guess." Zhao Jianguo laughed.

In the courtyard, the Security Department opened the cellar door, went down and searched, and found a coil of electric wire, dull and grimy, its insulation even aged.

"Is this it?" Old Zhang lifted it.

"Exactly," Zhao Jianguo said, "leftover from when we repaired the courtyard wall recently; I was going to remake a doorbell."

Old Zhang looked it over and asked again, "Really nothing else?"

"Why don't you dig up the wall then?" Zhao Jianguo spread his hands, "I've got a clear conscience anyway."

Old Zhang wore a stern face and led the team back to the factory.

Zhao Jianguo didn't follow, squatting at the Courtyard Gate smoking.

Before he finished his cigarette, the factory broadcast blared: "Attention all workers, an emergency meeting will be held in the workshop at eleven; please relevant personnel attend on time."

Zhao Jianguo stubbed out the cigarette, patted his pants, and stood up.

The meeting room was packed full. Yi Zhonghai sat in the front row, back ramrod straight, lips slightly curled, as if waiting for a show.

Old Zhang stood on the stage, cleared his throat: "Regarding the report against Comrade Zhao Jianguo, the Security Department has conducted a preliminary investigation and found no evidence of him privately hoarding military materials. The report lacks concrete proof, so no case will be filed."

A murmur rose from the crowd.

The smile on Yi Zhonghai's face froze for half a second.

Zhao Jianguo Standing Up, voice flat: "Old Zhang, I have something to add."

"Go ahead."

Zhao Jianguo pulled a stack of paper from his pocket: "This is a photocopy of the warehouse withdrawal records from three years ago, provided by a retired worker. I checked it and found seven abnormal withdrawals—materials being copper wire, aluminum plate, special screws, etc. —and the signatory was Comrade Yi Zhonghai."

The entire venue fell silent.

Yi Zhonghai jerked his head back, eyes glaring at Zhao Jianguo.

Zhao Jianguo continued: "Each time the withdrawal occurred, it happened to be just a few days before or after Dong Xu, Wang Jianguo and others submitted their Fourth-Class Worker evaluation materials. The materials went missing, the people were stalled, yet the warehouse's supplies vanished. Should the Security Department investigate this?"

Lao Zhang's face changed: "Where did you get these materials?"

"Old worker gave it." Zhao Jianguo said, "He didn't dare keep the original, copied a copy for me. Or, you could compare Master Yi's handwriting?"

Yi Zhonghai jumped up: "You're spitting blood! I've worked for decades, could I still embezzle this bit of material?"

"Then please explain," Zhao Jianguo said calmly, "Why is your signature on every withdrawal slip a bit skewed? Like it's signed with the left hand? You usually use your right hand; writing with the left hand—are you feeling guilty?"

Yi Zhonghai's lips trembled: "You... you're framing me!"

"Framing?" Zhao Jianguo laughed, "Then why are you rushing to report me? Are you afraid that if I investigate, I'll expose all your little tricks?"

Lao Zhang slammed the Desk: "Stop arguing! This must be investigated! Yi Zhonghai, you're suspended first, cooperate with the investigation!"

Yi Zhonghai's face turned deathly pale, he stood frozen in place.

Someone whispered: "No wonder Dong Xu couldn't get promoted—turns out the materials were long ago stolen and sold for money."

"Wang Jianguo too, he quit in anger—apparently he couldn't even get any materials."

The discussion surged like a tide.

Zhao Jianguo said nothing more, handed the stack of paper to Lao Zhang, turned and left.

On the way back to the workshop, Jia Dongxu caught up: "Jianguo, when did you get the evidence?"

"Just these two days." Zhao Jianguo said, "I put a notebook in the tool cabinet; he knows I'm investigating him, so he definitely can't sit still. Once he makes a move, he'll reveal the flaw."

"But that withdrawal slip..."

"The records from three years ago should have been destroyed long ago." Zhao Jianguo said softly, "But I had someone 'restore' them. The handwriting, time, and material numbers all match."

Jia Dongxu stared at him: "Aren't you afraid he'll bite back?"

"He can't bite." Zhao Jianguo laughed, "I'm the victim now, he's the informant. If he makes a move, I'll expose everything about the warehouse. Does he dare?"

Jia Dongxu fell silent for a moment, then suddenly said: "What's the next step?"

"Wait." Zhao Jianguo said, "Wait for him to panic. Wait for him to find someone to collude on testimony. Wait for him to reveal a second flaw."

At night, Zhao Jianguo took that coil of old electric wire from the cellar, cut a small segment, soaked it in the vinegar bottle, and attached a paper slip: "Yi Zhonghai-style teaching materials—only half a piece."

Su Qing saw it, smiling, asked: "Still keeping it?"

"Of course," Zhao Jianguo tightened the bottle cap, "When he someday asks me to teach his apprentice, I'll show him this."

Su Qing shook her head: "You're quite vengeful."

"I'm not taking revenge," Zhao Jianguo put the bottle into the cabinet, "I just—never suffer a loss for nothing."

The next morning, Zhao Jianguo went to the factory, passing the security department's door, saw Yi Zhonghai sitting on a small stool, clutching a piece of paper, head bowed, shoulders slumped, as if drained of strength.

Zhao Jianguo didn't stop, as he walked past, he softly said: "Master Yi, good morning."

Yi Zhonghai didn't lift his head, his finger twitched.

Zhao Jianguo entered the workshop, placed the lunch box on the table, opened the lid, inside were two steaming corn flour pancakes.

Wang Defa came over: "Why bring this today?"

"Su Qing said," Zhao Jianguo took a bite, "lately work's been tiring, need to nourish."

Wang Defa was about to take them, Zhao Jianguo blocked with his hand: "These two can't be taken, leave them."

What are we leaving them for?

"When Master Yi comes to borrow fire," Zhao Jianguo chewed the pancake, speaking unclearly, "I need to treat him to a pancake and talk about 'technical transmission'."