Chapter 66: then translation of chapter title

Zhao Jianguo closed the ledger, placed it on the table, buckled the paper bag with its opening facing up, and packed the accompanying statements and copper‑wire samples inside. He gave Yi Zhonghai no further glance, turned, and said to the people in the house, "These matters aren't something we can just lock behind the Courtyard doors and talk over. Tomorrow morning I'll personally deliver them to the factory security department."

No one spoke, but no one stopped him either.

Sha Zhu stood in the corner, hand gripping a bottle, knuckles white, but this time it wasn't anger, it was ruthlessness. He stared at Yi Zhonghai as if looking at a pile of rotten wood. Jia Dongxu lowered his head, flipping through his own notes page by page, all the things Yi Zhonghai had said and done since his father's incident, each matching the black accounts uncovered today. He Yushui silently reorganized the papers on the table, clipped them with a paper clip, and handed them to Zhao Jianguo.

"You deliver it, I'll testify," she said, "On the day of the relief money, I went with Jia Zhangshi to collect it; the receipt was later added by her, the timing doesn't match."

"I'll go too," Jia Dongxu looked up, "My father is a martyr; in these ten years he hasn't even gotten a proper title. What needs to be investigated must be investigated to the end."

Sha Zhu slammed the bottle onto the table: "Count me in. Yi Zhonghai deceived me for ten years. I need to get a justification for myself."

Zhao Jianguo nodded, slipped the paper bag into the Toolbox compartment. He said little; saying too much would only make it seem hollow. With evidence in hand and witnesses present, the rest was to follow the proper path.

That night, the Siheyuan was unusually quiet. Yi Zhonghai dared not return to the house, squatting by the coal pile in the Courtyard corner, smoking all night. His wife wept inside, the child was so frightened that it wouldn't speak. No one offered counsel, and no one paid attention.

Early the next morning, Zhao Jianguo carried the Toolbox out, with Sha Zhu, Jia Dongxu, and He Yushui following behind. San Daye leaned on a cane at the gate, gave them a glance, pulled the joint defense post key from his pocket, and slipped it into Zhao Jianguo's hand.

"You take the post; I'm old, the gate‑watching and lock‑keeping work should be handed to you."

Zhao Jianguo didn't decline, took the key, and gave a slight nod.

The group headed straight for the factory security department. Old Wang was on duty; when he saw Zhao Jianguo entering with three others, still carrying a box, he understood about seventy‑percent of what was happening.

"Old Wang, we're filing a report," Zhao Jianguo opened the box, took out the paper bag, "All the material is here: theft of military‑industrial supplies, tampering with duty logs, embezzlement of martyr relief funds, illegal marriage trading—four charges, with both witness and physical evidence complete."

Old Wang flipped through the material, his complexion darkening. The copper‑wire serial numbers matched the factory register; the relief‑fund receipt date differed by one day from the day Yi Zhonghai paid the marriage dowry, the accounts didn't line up. More crucially, Jia Wu's accident report showed different handwriting between the original and the archived version, clearly altered.

"This matter… isn't small," Old Wang closed the notebook, "According to the Rules Sign, it must be reported to the sub‑bureau; the security department can't determine the nature on its own."

"We don't want you to make the determination," Jia Dongxu began, "We want to file a case. I'm a work‑injury martyr; the state has explicit regulations that relief funds must be paid in full, and the responsible parties must be held accountable. If you don't handle it, we'll sue the district."

Old Wang glanced at him, then at Zhao Jianguo: "What do you want to do?"

"Handle it according to law," Zhao Jianguo said, "No addition, no subtraction; not light, not heavy. He broke the law, so he should go to the place he belongs."

Old Wang was silent for a moment, picked up the telephone on the desk, and dialed.

An hour later, personnel from the sub‑bureau arrived. Two officers, carrying official documents, rushed straight to the Siheyuan.

Yi Zhonghai had just moved back from the coal pile to the house, sitting dazed on the edge of the kang, when the door swung open with a "clank". The officer brandished the arrest warrant and read the charges.

He snapped his head up: "You can't arrest me! I've worked for the factory thirty years! I've helped so many people! I…"

"When you help people, you use public property as a favor," Zhao Jianguo stood at the doorway, his voice low, "Now the state is settling accounts."

Yi Zhonghai's lips trembled, he tried to stand, but his legs gave way. His wife lunged forward to block, crying, "He's doing it for the family," but the officer gently pushed her aside.

"The case remains a case," the officer said, "Family members may make a separate statement."

San Daye stood in the Courtyard, still leaning on his cane, and stepped aside a half step as the person was hauled out. He Yushui cradled the child, standing at the doorway, silent. Sha Zhu leaned against the wall, watching with a cold gaze.

Yi Zhonghai, dragged to the Courtyard gate, suddenly turned, staring at Zhao Jianguo: "You win… you've been waiting for this day, haven't you? You weren't after Jia Wu at all, you wanted to step on me to rise!"

Zhao Jianguo didn't move, nor did he retort.

Instead, Sha Zhu stepped forward, blocking him, staring at Yi Zhonghai, each word deliberate: "If you truly were a master for even a day, you wouldn't ask such things. You haven't been worthy of standing here for a long time."

The police car stopped at the alley mouth, its door opened. Yi Zhonghai was helped inside, neither struggling nor shouting. The door closed, the engine started.

People from the Courtyard gradually emerged from the houses, stood in the Courtyard, watching the police car slowly start and drive out of the Hutong.

No one spoke.

Until the car's silhouette faded, He Yushui suddenly raised her hand and gently slapped once.

One slap, two slaps.

Then Jia Dongxu followed with a slap.

Sha Zhu grinned and also began slapping.

San Daye, leaning on his cane, stood on the steps, didn't clap, but his mouth corner twitched.

The applause wasn't loud nor orderly, but it continued intermittently, lasting until the police car completely vanished around the corner.

Zhao Jianguo stood in the Courtyard, still holding the Toolbox. He looked down, placed the box by the door, and turned toward his own house.

"Jianguo," San Daye called him.

He turned back.

"This Courtyard must no longer let villains be worshipped as good people," San Daye said, "What you did is right."

Zhao Jianguo said nothing, only nodded.

That night, the Courtyard was unusually lively. He Yushui boiled a pot of cabbage with vermicelli, adding extra meat, and served it to each household. Sha Zhu took two bowls of rice from the mess hall and delivered them door to door. Jia Dongxu wiped his brother's old photo, placed it on the table, and lit a cigarette.

No one mentioned Yi Zhonghai.

No one brought up the terms "old good man" or "old veteran" again.

Zhao Jianguo sat in the Courtyard, holding a small Wrench, turning a screw one turn at a time. He wasn't fixing anything, just fiddling with it.

Sha Zhu came over, squatted beside him: "What's the topic for the next Night School?"

"We'll discuss water‑pump sealing," Zhao Jianguo tightened the final turn, "Next Saturday, whoever comes learns."

"I'll definitely be there," Sha Zhu grinned, "This time it's proper technique, no longer needing to beg anyone."

Zhao Jianguo smiled, placed the wrench back into the Toolbox.

When the box lid closed, it made a "click".

He looked up at the sky.

The sky was clear, the stars shining like freshly polished copper wire.