Chapter 90: New challenges loom, get ready to face them

Zhao Jianguo put down his spoon; there was still a ring of rice soup at the bottom of the porridge bowl. He didn't rush to finish it, but stared at the threshold by the workshop door, made shiny by rainwater. Just now Sha Zhu came running to ask if he could swap a radio part, and that was still turning over in his mind. These days, anyone who has a noisy gadget treasures it, let alone being able to listen to the news every day after fixing it.

But before he could open his mouth to call out to Sha Zhu again, He Yushui came over, holding a registration book, her brow furrowed.

"Jianguo, six more people signed up for the night class this morning," she said, flipping open the book. "Two are from the third shift of the Steel Rolling Factory, saying… they're afraid they won't pass the evaluation and will lose their jobs."

Zhao Jianguo blinked. "Evaluation? What evaluation?"

"It's just factory gossip, but in three months they'll conduct a technical re‑assessment, and those who fail will be transferred to another post." He Yushui lowered her voice. "They're asking whether studying what we do here could count as 'proof of practical operation'."

Zhao Jianguo slowly pushed the bowl aside and tapped his fingers twice on the edge of the table. A couple of days ago everyone was still cheerfully welding pot handles and fixing window hooks, doing it for usefulness and fun, but now this enthusiasm feels a bit off.

He looked up toward the workshop, and sure enough, where only a few people used to come at noon, now several young workers in overalls were squatting by the door, each with a cigarette, glancing over now and then, as if waiting for an answer—or just scouting.

"They're not here to learn a skill," he said quietly. "They're looking for a way out."

Su Qing came out of the room just then, holding a thermos, and topped up the hot water in the tea jar on the stone table. "Everyone's talking about it out there," she said, staying where she was. "They call it 'position optimization,' but it's really just layoffs. Old Jia almost came to blows this morning because someone said you're secure thanks to connections."

Zhao Jianguo frowned. "Jia Dongxu? Who was he arguing with?"

"It's Xu Da Mao's lackey, spitting barbs in the bathhouse: he says some people teach all day, then at night snuggle with their wives and kids on a warm kang, completely oblivious to how others lie awake worrying."

Zhao Jianguo stayed silent, but a string inside him snapped tight. He knew the factory's politics were always complicated, but he hadn't expected it to reach the Siheyuan's door so quickly.

He got up and went inside, then came out shortly after with a piece of paper—a leftover scrap from the last time he drew the greenhouse plans—on which a few crooked lines had been written: **"Capable hands stay; the incapable step aside."**

"Where did this come from?" he asked Su Qing.

"Li Auntie's son peeled it off the wall of the workshop toilet," she said. "He said it's been up for days and nobody's bothered."

Zhao Jianguo held the paper, stared at it for a while, then suddenly smirked. "Well, this isn't an evaluation—it's forcing people to prove their innocence."

In the afternoon, as the sun began to tilt west, Jia Dongxu returned, a sweat towel draped over his shoulder, his face not looking good.

"It's true," he said, plopping onto the stone bench. "The section chief mentioned it in a meeting—said it's in response to higher‑up directives, to boost production efficiency, that all frontline technicians must be re‑evaluated on practical skills. The focus is on those… who rose through 'irregular channels'."

Zhao Jianguo raised an eyebrow. "Do I count as one of them?"

"You're not just one—you're number one." Jia Dongxu locked eyes with him. "But I'll tell you, it's not that simple. Yesterday Xu Da Mao drank with the security office, slammed the table and said, 'Some people lack talent but have big egos; they'll eventually fall.' Once that got around, plenty of people started mulling it over."

Sha Zhu shuffled over at that moment, a wrench in his hand, as if he'd just come back from fixing someone's pipes. "What should we do?" he scratched his head. "We can't just watch you get pushed out, can we?"

"Nobody can push me out." Zhao Jianguo stood, patting his pants. "But I need them to know I'm standing here not because of luck, nor because someone's shielding me."

He turned and walked toward the workshop, his steps steady. The others exchanged a glance and hurried after him.

Inside the workshop the lights were on; yellowish light fell on the tool wall, where a row of newly welded racks held neat lines of pliers, hammers, and rulers. Zhao Jianguo walked to the middle, stopped, and glanced around.

"This place was originally just for patching things up and saving a bit on daily life," he said. "But now it looks like it has another job—keeping our livelihoods."

No one replied, but the atmosphere had clearly shifted.

"I don't want to play the good guy, nor do I want to be a savior." He went on. "But I need to be clear: if you think I'm teaching you out of charity, feel free to leave; if you want to use this place as a stepping stone to trample others, don't blame me for being unsentimental."

Yanbugui leaned on his bamboo pole at the doorway and gave a cold snort. "You're talking big, but the factory's rules are set in stone—no matter how well you teach, what if they don't recognize it?"

"Then let them recognize it." Zhao Jianguo pulled a form from his pocket. "Starting tomorrow, the workshop will run a pilot night class, focusing on maintenance procedures and safety standards—all required by the factory in writing. Each session we'll sign in and score points; upon completion we'll issue a certificate—it's not an official qualification, but at least it shows you've practiced, been tested, and have someone vouch for you."

"Who's going to teach?" Sha Zhu asked.

"Jia Dongxu will handle the main lectures, you'll be the assistant and help bring people in." Zhao Jianguo looked at him. "You game?"

Sha Zhu grinned. "What's there to fear? I've touched machines before!"

"Also," Zhao Jianguo turned to He Yushui, "revise the points system so that attending training counts as work hours, and add two points upon completion. Plus, set up a 'mutual supervisor' role—people take turns on night watch to stop anyone from sneaking in at midnight to steal tools or sabotage equipment."

"Would anyone really do that?" He Yushui exclaimed.

"I'm not afraid of ten thousand things; I'm afraid of the one chance." Zhao Jianguo said calmly. "When people's hearts unite, anything can happen."

Yanbugui was still loitering by the door, muttering, "All this fuss—better just get down to work. When the factory says a word, all this effort will be for nothing."

"Old Yan," Zhao Jianguo said, looking at him, "why did you keep getting rated advanced year after year?"

"Because I'm careful and don't make mistakes."

"Have you ever taken on an apprentice?"

"I've taught a few, but none of them turned out worthwhile."

"Why not?"

The old man choked.

"It's not that they're stupid; it's that you only teach half of what you know." Zhao Jianguo spoke evenly. "This courtyard used to be just like that—nobody trusted anybody, everybody was on guard. The result? When the wall fell, everyone pushed."

He paused, then raised his voice a bit: "Now it's different. We have the workshop, we have records, we have points, we have a process everyone can witness. I'm not afraid of the evaluation; I'm afraid we'll fall back into the old ways—each going our own route, suspicious of each other."

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

Jia Dongxu was the first to speak: "I support it. I'll get the lesson plans ready tomorrow."

"Me too!" Sha Zhu raised his hand. "I may not be great at lecturing, but I can demonstrate!"

He Yushui lowered her head to write in the notebook: "I'll copy out the new rules tonight and post them on the bulletin board tomorrow morning."

Zhao Jianguo nodded, his gaze finally settling on Yanbugui.

The old man planted his bamboo pole, stood still for a while, then sighed: "... I'll sign up for night patrol too. After all, idle is idle."

"Thanks." Zhao Jianguo didn't add more, just tore the paper bearing the slogan and tossed it into the nearby metal bin.

When it grew completely dark, the workshop lights stayed on. A few people gathered around the vise, discussing the course schedule in low voices, one sentence after another. Zhao Jianguo sat on a small stool in the corner, holding the newly added sign‑up sheet, flipping through it page by page.

The list had names, work units, and a remarks column marked "afraid of being transferred" or "wanting to keep the main post." He went through them one by one, lightly tracing the paper with his pen tip to highlight the important bits.

Footsteps sounded outside; Su Qing brought in a bowl of noodles, set it beside him, said nothing, and turned away.

He took two bites, put down his chopsticks, picked up his pen again, and wrote on the back of the sign‑up sheet: **"Skill establishes the self; trust gathers the people."**

At that moment Sha Zhu was holding a piece of chalk, trying to write the course title on the blackboard; his hand shook, the first stroke went awry, so he quickly erased it and tried again.

Zhao Jianguo lifted his eyes to the copper plaque above the doorway; the light caught it, and the two characters "Number One" glowed faintly.

The workshop door stood open; the wind blew in, lifting a small scrap of waste iron from the ground, spinning it until it slid to the edge of the threshold.