Chapter 93: Outwitting the New Power, Consolidating One

When the door opened, the young man in a blue work uniform almost dropped the screwdriver he was holding. He opened his mouth, swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and said, "I… really came to learn how to make tools."

Sha Zhu grinned, "Yo, that's pretty sincere." He turned back and shouted into the house, "Zhao Jianguo! Another point‑giver!"

Zhao Jianguo lifted his head from the stack of drawings, glanced at the person at the door, did not rush to speak, simply set his red pen on the notebook, stood up and brushed his trousers. He walked over, took the old screwdriver, flipped it over several times, nodded, "It's still usable, just worn down. Register first—name, address, affiliation, write it clearly."

The young man hurriedly pulled out a small notebook and wrote each stroke, his hand trembling a bit.

The matter spread through the Siheyuan like wildfire. The next morning, as Zhao Jianguo pushed open the workshop door, he heard a few old women muttering under a tree outside.

"Did you hear? The Wrench they made there isn't homemade at all; it's secretly imported goods from the factory."

"Of course not, Zhao Jianguo is close to the leaders; how could they not look after him?"

"If you ask me, if he really had skill, why don't we see him competing in the city? He only shows off in this little courtyard."

Sha Zhu, holding a bowl of porridge, squatted at the door, frowned as he listened, and when he went inside he relayed the words to Zhao Jianguo verbatim.

Zhao Jianguo was tightening the fixing bolt of a new Wrench, heard it and didn't look up, merely gave a "mm."

At noon, Jia Dongxu came over to deliver a Meal Ticket and casually remarked, "People in our workshop also say those bearings look too precise, not like they were made by crude methods; they're probably taken apart from abroad."

He Yushui immediately got angry, "Who said that? We logged every single part, even the scrap edges have numbers!"

Zhao Jianguo finally set the tool down, wiped his hands, "Check the records—every material receipt, exchange voucher, test log—compile them all into a booklet, title it 'How the Universal Wrench Was Forged.'"

Sha Zhu laughed, "That title sounds like a storytelling recital."

"That's right," Zhao Jianguo smiled, "Common folk love stories; we'll tell it plainly."

That afternoon, He Yushui returned carrying a stack of papers; the cover bore the title in bold strokes, and inside it detailed everything from the first steel plate cut to the final screw tightened, with photos, hand‑drawn diagrams, timestamps—clear as day.

"I even want to include the photo of you sneaking a snack at midnight that night," she joked.

"No way," Sha Zhu waved his hand, "It would affect the image."

On the third morning, two men in gray jackets entered the Siheyuan, carrying briefcases, claiming to be technicians from the neighboring Red Star Mechanical Lesson Factory, coming by reputation to "exchange and learn."

Zhao Jianguo invited them in, had them sit, and poured tea.

"Master Zhao, your multi‑head Wrench design is ingenious," one of them said, flipping through the booklet He Yushui compiled, "But I'd like to ask, what equipment did you use to test the precision of this ball bearing? Is there a record of the heat‑treatment temperature curve?"

Zhao Jianguo nodded, "The question is professional; the explanation shows real expertise."

The other continued, "Can you provide proof of the material source? This kind of high‑carbon steel is unavailable to ordinary units on the market."

Jia Dongxu, seated in the corner, frowned at this and whispered to Sha Zhu, "This isn't a consultation; it's an interrogation."

Zhao Jianguo remained calm, "I can explain the bearing issue."

He stood, opened the bottom layer of the Toolbox, took out a small iron box containing three spare bearings, the housings engraved with a string of numbers. He also pulled a thin slip of paper from a drawer and spread it on the table.

"This is the receipt I got from the factory's Materials Department, with date, quantity, batch number all listed. The bearing housing numbers match this sheet. As for the internal structure…" He paused, "We assembled it ourselves; the steel balls were reclaimed from old motors, the raceways hand‑polished, with error kept within half a hair's width."

The two leaned in to look, saying nothing.

Zhao Jianguo then turned on an old projector and played a video—the full recording of that day's conveyor‑belt repair site. In the footage, he, Sha Zhu, and He Yushui moved from fetching tools to removing protective plates, then re‑positioning and restarting, all in one smooth flow. The picture was clear, the timecode scrolling.

"If you don't believe it, you can dismantle it right now," Zhao Jianguo handed over the Wrench, "Anyone can take it apart; we'll re‑assemble it on the spot."

The two glanced at each other, then forced a laugh, "No need, no need, just curious."

"Curiosity is good." Zhao Jianguo smoothly pulled out several photocopied simple schematics, "These are the basic design drawings, unclassified; feel free to use them as reference. If you truly want to work on technology, we can learn from each other."

He paused, then added with a smile, "What I fear is that some people say they're here to exchange, but they actually come to step on the field."

The two flushed and hurriedly took their leave.

The news spread quickly through the Courtyard. At dinner that evening, several young workers gathered at the workshop entrance, chattering.

"Brother Zhao Jianguo, I also want to sign up! Can I add a shift?"

"My wife said, in these days whoever has a skill is tough, so she urged me to come learn right away."

Even the usually cautious Yanbugui shuffled over, leaning on a stick, stood at the door listening for a while, and only spoke after the crowd dispersed: "Zhao Jianguo, a big tree attracts wind. You're too conspicuous now."

Zhao Jianguo was clearing metal shavings from the bench vise when he looked up, "Uncle Yan, what do you mean by 'conspicuous'?"

"The protruding rafter rots first." The old man sighed, "If you do well, others will be jealous and gossip. If one day someone catches a mistake, it could implicate the whole workshop."

Zhao Jianguo folded the rag and set it aside, saying earnestly, "I know you mean well. But technology, if hidden, truly disappears; it must be shown to live."

He pointed to the trainee score board on the wall, "Look, among these people are temporary workers from the factory, unemployed street dwellers, and children sent back. They have no background, no connections; the only thing they can rely on is learning real skills."

"But your high‑profile approach will inevitably cause trouble."

"Then we'll make it low‑key." Zhao Jianguo's eyes lit up, "Tomorrow night we'll hold an 'Open Workshop Night,' invite the whole Courtyard to watch, from cutting steel plates to installing handles, the entire process transparent. Anyone who wants to try can do it on the spot. You can also be a judge and point out flaws."

Yanbugui paused, then hummed, "You really do dare to act."

"If you don't dare to act, you'll only be called a liar." Zhao Jianguo smiled, "We won't hide, nor argue; we'll let facts speak."

The next evening, two lanterns were hung at the workshop entrance, and over twenty people gathered in the Courtyard. Zhao Jianguo explained himself, Sha Zhu demonstrated cutting, He Yushui led a team to assemble sleeves, and Jia Dongxu handled the Q&A.

A teenage boy tried tightening a nut and shouted excitedly, "Whoa, this saves so much effort compared to the one at my home!"

Someone nearby laughed, "That's because we're a 'Technical High Ground!'"

Yanbugui lingered at the back of the crowd, watching silently. Only after the event ended did he walk up to Zhao Jianguo and pull a neatly folded paper from his pocket.

"These are my handwritten notes from when I took the technician exam at the ironworks," he handed over, "They're old, but some experience might still be useful."

Zhao Jianguo took them with both hands and nodded solemnly.

Late at night, people gradually left. The workshop was left with only Zhao Jianguo; he stored the newly drawn modular Toolbox schematics in a drawer and flicked on the wind‑proof lamp at the door.

The wind rattled the sign, "Technology Innovation Test Point" flashing on and off in the light.

He sat back on his stool, opened the trainee score book, and wrote on the newest page, "Trust, like tools, needs polishing."