Chapter 94

At first light, the windproof lamp at the workshop gate still glowed; the wind swayed the sign, making the characters 'Technical Innovation Trial Point' flicker in the dawn. Zhao Jianguo squatted beside the vise, rag in hand, wiping dust from the tool rack. Though the evening's activities had just ended, he couldn't sleep soundly, so he rose early to tidy up.

The door was pushed open with a creak, startling him.

Two people in blue cloth cadre uniforms stood at the doorway, one holding a briefcase, the other cradling a red booklet with gold‑lettered characters on the cover.

"Comrade Zhao Jianguo?" the man holding the red booklet asked with a smile.

Zhao Jianguo stood up, brushed his pants, and said, "It's me."

"From the Street Office." He handed over the red booklet, "Congratulations! You've been named an 'Advanced Producer' by the district; the official document has arrived. This time you're the first in our area to receive a technical commendation."

The person beside him opened his bag and pulled out a stamped draft of a signboard: "And this—'Siheyuan Technical Innovation Trial Point'—can be put up today."

Zhao Jianguo stared for a moment, took the red booklet, flipped it open, glanced at it, said nothing, and just nodded.

"This is a big deal!" the man added, "The Street Office will hold a commendation meeting this afternoon; you have to give a speech."

"Just giving a speech is fine." Zhao Jianguo closed the booklet, gently set it on the workbench, and said, "Can I skip it? I'm teaching newcomers how to use the modular toolbox right now; the class can't be interrupted."

The two exchanged a glance and smiled: "Your attitude matches exactly what's written in the materials—down‑to‑earth."

After they left, Sha Zhu poked his head out from outside the door, a half‑fried dough stick in his mouth, and said, "Oh, you really got the award? I thought it was just for show."

Zhao Jianguo turned and glared at him: "You got oil from your mouth on my drawing."

Sha Zhu hastily shrank back, chewing while muttering, "Oh dear, even drawings are precious now—being an Advanced Individual really makes a difference."

Zhao Jianguo ignored him, turned, and pulled a stack of paper from the drawer—a photocopy of He Yushui's 'How the Universal Wrench Is Forged.' He flipped through the pages to check the numbering, then walked to the door and posted it on the bulletin board.

"It's not just an individual award; it's the whole workshop's," he said. "Whoever puts in the work gets a share."

The news spread like wildfire, and by before noon people were gathering in twos and threes in the courtyard.

Yanbugui hobbled past on his cane, glanced at the crowd around the bulletin board, stepped closer, and frowned: "Again with this?"

Beside him, Dashan whispered, "Old Yan, they're genuinely being honored—the Street Office even sent people."

"I know it's real," Yanbugui snorted, "but the more genuine the award, the more attention it draws. Have you ever seen an honest worker who hangs a sign every day?"

When this reached the workshop, Sha Zhu immediately objected: "Old Yan's just sour grapes because he can't get the grapes—Brother Zhao Jianguo earns his keep by skill, so how's he showing off?"

Zhao Jianguo was testing a new component, not looking up: "Don't make noise; the lever angle is off by two degrees, making it hard to turn."

Sha Zhu seethed but didn't dare raise his voice, only muttering low: "Anyway, I think if it's supposed to be hung, we should hang it; otherwise people'll think we're guilty."

Before lunch was finished, the Street Office people came again, this time bringing a carpenter who set up a ladder right at the workshop gate to hang the sign.

The carpenter held up the sign and gestured: "What about writing 'Zhao Jianguo Technical Innovation Point'? Sounds punchier."

Zhao Jianguo immediately waved him off: "No, it must say 'Siheyuan.'"

"But you're the one who got it started,"

"Being the initiator doesn't mean exclusive ownership." Zhao Jianguo set down his bowl, "Who built the shed? Dong Xu. Who ran back and forth hauling materials? He Yushui. Who was the first to step up and try the new tool? Sha Zhu. I merely thought two steps ahead; the credit doesn't belong to just one person."

The carpenter scratched his head: "Then what should it say?"

"Just write 'Siheyuan Technical Innovation Trial Point.'" Zhao Jianguo said, "Not a single character can be omitted."

When the final draft was settled, a Street Office clerk suggested that Zhao Jianguo alone unveil the plaque.

He shook his head again: "It has to be done together."

So Sha Zhu, He Yushui, and Dong Xu were called forward, each supporting a corner of the signboard, Zhao Jianguo stood in the middle, and the five of them lifted it up together.

As the hammer drove in the final nail, someone in the onlooking crowd clapped, a child shouted "Good!"—even Yanbugui stood far off, watching silently.

Zhao Jianguo turned, cleared his throat, and said, "Hanging this sign today isn't just for show."

Everyone fell silent.

"It's a reminder," he said, "reminding us that craftsmanship isn't something to hide or hoard, nor anyone's private property. Yesterday we could fix a conveyor belt; tomorrow we could overhaul a production line. The key is who's willing to roll up their sleeves and who's willing to teach."

He paused, looking toward Yanbugui in the crowd: "I need to thank Uncle Yanbugui—he recently handed over the militia duties and voluntarily produced his old handwritten notes. Those aren't just a few sheets; they're decades of experience."

Yanbugui didn't move, turned his face aside, but the corners of his mouth relaxed slightly.

"Also thanks to Sha Zhu," Zhao Jianguo continued, "who stayed up late with me testing torque, his hands rubbed raw without a word; and He Yushui, whose bookkeeping is more meticulous than an accountant's—he can trace the fate of every single screw."

He Yushui lowered his head, gave a faint smile, and didn't look up.

"Most of all, we must mention Dong Xu," Zhao Jianguo said, looking at him, "Back when the factory doubted this approach, you were the first to use the new wrench to replace parts in the workshop, and you even submitted an improvement report under pressure. Without your lead, even the best tools couldn't gain traction."

Dong Xu stood at the back of the crowd, clutching his notebook, his knuckles whitening slightly, and merely nodded.

"So I say, this honor isn't mine alone," Zhao Jianguo spoke softly but clearly, "It's something we built together. From now on, when outsiders ask, you'll tell them—'The people of Siheyuan fear no difficulty, keep nothing private; whoever wants to learn, we'll teach.'"

As his words fell, the applause grew louder than before.

Sha Zhu grinned, turned, and dashed toward the kitchen: "Today I'm treating everyone! Plenty of sugar water! Double the brown sugar!"

He Yushui hurried to stop him: "Where do you get that much money?"

"Saved up!" Sha Zhu stuck out his neck, "It's collective honor spending! Get it?"

As evening wore on, people drifted away one by one. Lamps lit up again in the workshop; Zhao Jianguo sat on a stool, a fresh sheet of paper spread before him. He took a pencil and sketched a rough outline in the corner—clean, crisp lines—of a combined bracket with sliding rails.

He Yushui came in with a cup of water: "Tinkering with something new again?"

"Hmm," Zhao Jianguo replied, "The Steel Rolling Factory's been reporting constant breakdowns lately; I want to make a quick‑release bracket so changing bearings saves ten minutes."

"Aren't you taking a couple days off? Today's your moment in the spotlight."

"Being in the spotlight doesn't mean taking a holiday," he smiled, "Besides, if I really rested, people would say, 'He's gotten a big head after the award.'"

He Yushui shook his head, set the cup down, and said, "Dong Xu just left, leaving a note: next week the workshop will do an equipment survey, and he wants to try using our record template."

"Good," Zhao Jianguo noted in his notebook, "Let him pick three work teams as pilot points; the data must be solidly recorded."

Footsteps sounded outside; Sha Zhu poked his head out and said, "Jianguo, people from the Street Office broadcast station have come, saying they want to interview you and record an 'advanced deeds' segment for the speaker."

"No thanks," Zhao Jianguo said without looking up, "Let them film the workshop's night class and record the trainees' operations instead."

"They specifically asked for you."

"Then you go in my place," he finally looked up, "Just say I'm a behind‑the‑scenes hero who doesn't like to show his face."

Sha Zhu snorted, "If I say you're the behind‑the‑scenes guy, they'll insist I'm an impostor."

The two were talking, Yanbugui walked in slowly, holding a small Cloth Bundle. He didn't look at Zhao Jianguo, went straight to the wall, opened the Cloth Bundle, inside were a set of old engraving knives and a vernier caliper.

"Used to be used in the iron factory." He placed the items on the workbench, "Although old, it can still teach people to draw lines and measure dimensions without misleading students."

Zhao Jianguo stood up, solemnly nodded: "Thank you, Uncle Yan."

The old man waved his hand, turned to leave, upon reaching the door he paused a moment: "Tonight's lecture, I'll make a round. So that no one says you're using the trial point's banner to conduct underground teaching."

Having said that, he left.

Zhao Jianguo looked at the set of tools, reached out and touched the edge of the vernier caliper, smooth and warm, as if it had been handled for many years.

He lowered his head and continued drawing, the pen tip making a rustling sound.

Under the lamp light, the award hanging on the wall hung still, on the scoreboard beside it, several new lines of names were added. Sha Zhu's name had a crooked red star drawn after it, He Yushui's column read "File Management +3 points", and Jia Dongxu's was "Technical Guidance +5 points".

Outside, the wind made the signboard sway lightly, as if beating a rhythm.

Zhao Jianguo stopped his pen, took out a thin sheet of paper from the drawer, placing it under the drawing—this was the meeting notice sent by the City Machinery Bureau Training Center, still unopened.

He didn't look at that letter, but instead picked up a red pen, circled a name on the newcomer list, and wrote an annotation:

"Trainable, steady hands, recommended for the advanced class."

Then he closed the notebook and tightened the desk lamp.