Chapter 75: Yi Zhonghai Released from Prison, Final Counterattack

The morning sun had just crept onto the edge of the bulletin board when Zhao Jianguo was bent over checking the enrollment list for the Technical Night School, his finger running line by line over the paper, and he muttered the names softly: "Aunt Li, Aunt Wang, Er Lengzi, Old Zhou… Hey, even Jia Dongxu signed up?"

He was just about to laugh when someone hurried up behind him, the soles of their shoes scraping the blue bricks with a "chacha" sound.

"Jianguo! Jianguo!" Old Liu of the post office panted, clutching an envelope, "I just passed the police station and heard— Yi Zhonghai was released yesterday afternoon and returned to his hometown this morning."

Zhao Jianguo's finger paused on the paper, the pen tip lingering over the three characters "Jia Dongxu", the ink spreading into a small blot.

He didn't look up, only asking, "Who said that?"

"It was said by Officer Xiao Zhang himself at the police station; could it be false?" Old Liu lowered his voice, "I heard he said hardly a word, just lugged a bundle into the Courtyard without even knocking on the door."

Zhao Jianguo slowly closed the register, tucked it under his armpit, his face showing little expression, and only nodded, "Got it, thank you, Uncle Liu."

Old Liu still had something to say, but Zhao Jianguo had already turned and walked toward the electrician's room, his steps not fast but increasingly steady.

In the cafeteria back alley at noon, the smell of oil mingled with coal smoke; Sha Zhu was squatting at the Wall Base scrubbing a rag, and when he saw Zhao Jianguo approaching, he quickly wiped his hands on his apron.

"You looking for me?" Sha Zhu stood up, "Did the dough press break down again?"

"No," Zhao Jianguo leaned against the wall, his voice low, "Yi Zhonghai is back, did you know?"

Sha Zhu's face darkened, "He really did come back! He moved back last night at midnight, and this morning I even saw him talking to Jia Dongxu."

"What did they say?"

"They said something like 'A master and disciple, don't forget your roots,' and also 'If you listen to Zhao Jianguo now, you won't be afraid of being unclear later.'" Sha Zhu curled his lip, "Jia Dongxu left on the spot, his face turned black."

Zhao Jianguo remained silent, staring at a crushed cigarette butt on the ground.

"He also asked me," Sha Zhu leaned closer, "'Jianguo is being so lenient now, does he want to be the Courtyard head?' I said, the head position has long been gone; now it's called Coordination Team Leader, and it's chosen by everyone."

Zhao Jianguo's mouth twitched, but he didn't smile.

"Believe it or not, his smile is as fake as a painted one," Sha Zhu rubbed his hands, "His eyes don't carry any warmth at all."

Zhao Jianguo looked up, "Keep an eye on him, don't let him get near the children's play area."

"Why should I watch him? I'm not a neighborhood watch," Sha Zhu was taken aback.

"I'm not asking you to act, just to let him know someone's watching," Zhao Jianguo patted his shoulder, "When you speak in this Courtyard and someone hears, it's more effective than anyone's."

Sha Zhu clicked his tongue, "Fine, then tonight at Night School I'll raise my voice a couple more times, so he hears what 'mass foundation' means."

At dusk, the open space in the Courtyard grew crowded. Uncle Wang strolled with a child, Aunt Li passed by carrying a basket of vegetables, San Daye leaned on a cane sitting on a small horse stall basking in the sun, and Er Lengzi was tapping a cigarette pack in the corner.

Yi Zhonghai appeared.

He wore a faded Blue Cloth shirt, sleeves rolled up, both hands in his trouser pockets, strolling slowly out of the East Room, a smile on his face as if nothing mattered.

He stopped in front of the old items adjustment box, reached out to touch its edge, then looked down at the register.

"Hey, this thing looks pretty official?" His voice was neither loud nor soft, just enough for those nearby to hear, "Who's in charge? Jianguo?"

No one answered.

He flipped through the register page by page, "Hammers, pliers, old padded coats… all have names recorded? Where did they come from? Where are they going?"

Aunt Li was about to leave when he called her, "Aunt Li, did you donate that padded coat? I recall you only received relief funds last year; this coat is almost new—doesn't it hurt to donate it?"

Aunt Li was startled, "My… my son has grown, he can't fit into it anymore."

"Oh—" Yi Zhonghai drew out the sound, "Then this hammer—did Er Lengzi donate it? Does your father know? That hammer was passed down from his master."

Er Lengzi sprang out from the corner, "My dad said, if it's just sitting there, might as well let someone else use it!"

"Fine, fine." Yi Zhonghai closed the notebook, smiling, "But who will inspect the items in this box? What if someone, under the pretext of 'adjustment', moves public property into their own home?"

The crowd fell silent for a moment.

Uncle Wang, holding a child, muttered softly, "Exactly, where did the materials come from? How did Jianguo get so much cement, iron sheets, Electric Wire? They say he figured it out, but we never saw him get a bonus at work."

When that was said, many eyes drifted toward Zhao Jianguo.

Zhao Jianguo was just leaving the electrician's room, heard the commotion, and walked over.

He didn't look at Yi Zhonghai, directly opened the wooden box, spread the register on the table, "If you want an inspection, let's do it now."

He opened the notebook and read page by page: "March 2nd, Er Lengzi donated a hammer, registrar San Daye, borrower Jia Dongxu, purpose repairing a window frame, return date March 5th. March 8th, Aunt Li donated a padded coat, recipient Old Zhou, for her grandson's winter. March 10th, Aunt Wang donated an old radio, parts dismantled for water pump modification…"

He read each line steadily, his voice neither fast nor slow.

San Daye leaned on his cane and walked over, standing by the table, "I testify, every item was recorded, I've seen every loan slip. Jianguo never slipped a nail into his own pocket."

The crowd fell silent again.

Yi Zhonghai stood still, his smile gradually fading.

"Hey, the Rules Sign is pretty complete," he snorted coldly, "But even the most complete rules can't stop a crooked heart. What are you after? Want everyone to praise you with a 'good'? Want to become an official later?"

Zhao Jianguo looked up, staring straight at him, "I aim for this Courtyard to stop leaking, stop people falling, stop children doing homework in the mud. In the future, when anyone mentions this place, they'll say—'This place is livable.'"

When he said that, Aunt Li's eyes were a bit red, Aunt Wang lowered her head in silence, and Er Lengzi puffed out his chest.

Yi Zhonghai said nothing more, turned and prepared to leave.

Before leaving, he paused, turned his head toward the Jia Zhangshi window.

Jia Zhangshi was holding a basin at the doorway; their gazes met, she gave a slight nod, and turned back inside.

Zhao Jianguo saw it.

He didn't move or shout, just closed the register, tucked it back under his armpit, and stood where he was.

The setting sun stretched his shadow long across the empty space, like a line dividing the two sides.

Sha Zhu came out of the cafeteria, a bowl of hot soup in hand, and walked to his side, "Want a sip?"

Zhao Jianguo shook his head.

"Yi Zhonghai is just being stubborn," Sha Zhu whispered, "He can't win people over; even Jia Dongxu ignores him."

"He's not here to win people over," Zhao Jianguo stared at the closed door of the East Room, "He's here to stir trouble."

"Then what? Hold a meeting, and we all criticize him together?"

"Criticizing him won't work," Zhao Jianguo lowered his voice, "He's not afraid of criticism; he's afraid of being ignored. Now that he's back, he speaks up, picks fights, showing he's in a hurry."

"Then we…"

"We proceed as usual." Zhao Jianguo turned and walked to the notice board, "Night School stays open, the wooden boxes stay put, the wall stays repaired. The more he causes trouble, the steadier we become."

Sha Zhu followed behind: "What if he uses dirty tricks?"

"Dirty tricks also need to see the light." Zhao Jianguo stopped, turned his head and glanced, "As long as our accounts are clear and we are upright, he can't stir up any waves."

At seven in the evening, the technical night school started on time.

Zhao Jianguo stood on the small table in the middle of the courtyard, holding a disassembled electric fan motor.

"What are we teaching today?" Aunt Li raised her hand.

"Why does this thing turn slowly?" Zhao Jianguo held up the motor, "The coils are loose, the bearings lack oil, it's not hard to fix, the key is to dare to take it apart."

The people below gathered close to listen; Second Simpleton squatted in front, his eyes shining.

San Daye sat in the back row, leaning on his cane, a smile on his face.

The classroom was a makeshift storage room cleared out temporarily, the desks and chairs were pieced together from various homes, the light was wired from old electric wires, but it was bright.

Halfway through the lesson, footsteps sounded from outside.

Yi Zhonghai stood at the doorway, not coming in, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

Nobody paid him any attention.

Zhao Jianguo continued: "... So, fixing things isn't about strength, it's about brains. Anyone can learn, anyone can do it."

Aunt Li raised her hand: "My sewing machine keeps jamming the thread; can it be fixed?"

"Yes." Zhao Jianguo smiled, "Next week we'll specifically lecture on household appliances—sewing machines, radios, irons—all will be taught."

Second Simpleton shouted: "My dad's radio has blown up twice; can it still be saved?"

"Even if it's blown up, it can be repaired." Zhao Jianguo nodded, "As long as the person isn't blown up, the machine can be saved."

The crowd burst into laughter.

Yi Zhonghai stood at the doorway for a moment, then turned and left.

The lesson went on until nine o'clock, then dispersed.

People went home in twos and threes; San Daye, leaning on his cane, walked last, and as he passed Zhao Jianguo he said quietly: "He came today just to see if everyone still listens to you."

"I know." Zhao Jianguo packed up his tools.

"But look, nobody's following him." San Daye chuckled, "Everyone's gathering around you."

Zhao Jianguo didn't smile, only said: "He won't just let it go like that."

"Then are you still going to keep at it?"

"Of course." Zhao Jianguo raised his head, "Next week the night school will lecture on pump controllers, and the week after that on modifying stoves for energy savings."

San Daye nodded, leaned on his cane, and walked away.

Zhao Jianguo stood in the middle of the open space, clutching the register, his gaze falling on the blacked‑out window of the east room.

The window had no light on, but he knew someone inside was watching.

He didn't move, didn't leave, just stood there.

In the distance came a dog's bark; Second Simpleton's dog ran circles by the courtyard wall, howling wildly toward the east room.

Zhao Jianguo slowly opened the register, found the latest page, and wrote a line: "March 15, the old‑items adjustment box shows no abnormality, night school attendance thirty‑two."

He closed the book and tucked it under his arm.

Then he turned and walked toward the electrician's room.

Just as his hand reached the door handle, a sound of a door opening came from behind.

He didn't turn back.