Chapter 96: Secret Support, Lou Xiaoe

Zhao Jianguo's pen lingered over the drawing for a moment; the drive‑shaft ratio was still off. He pushed the sketch aside, rubbed his forehead, and glanced at the wall clock—almost eleven o'clock. Outside the workshop it was dead quiet, even old Wang at the Hutongkou night‑snack stall had closed up.

He had just gotten up to pour a cup of hot water when the door gave a soft sound.

No one knocked; a crack opened, wind rushed in, making the edge of the paper on the table tremble. Then Lou Xiaoe entered, head down, carrying a Blue Cloth bundle, her shoes scraping the threshold as if afraid to disturb someone.

"Not asleep yet?" Zhao Jianguo was startled.

She nodded, then shook her head, "Seeing your light on, I came over."

Zhao Jianguo pulled a stool for her to sit, moved the thermos aside to free some desk space. "It's so late, what's up?"

Lou Xiaoe didn't sit, stood where she was, untied the cloth bundle, pulled out a folded cardboard card and handed it over.

Zhao Jianguo took it, looked, and his eyebrows slowly rose.

The front bore the Municipal Industry and Commerce Federation's steel seal, dark red; the back read "Industrial Expo Auditing Representative Certificate", with a clear number and a date for next week.

"This thing… where did you get it?" he asked.

"Someone arranged it." Her voice was low but steady. "I know you're entering the competition; the factory's data alone isn't enough. The Expo has new machine‑tool displays and a Technical Observation session; you can see and take notes."

Zhao Jianguo stared at the card for a while before looking up at her: "This kind of qualification isn't granted lightly. Who did you ask?"

Lou Xiaoe lowered her eyes, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of the cloth bundle. "My father worked in Shanghai early on, then went to Germany. A relative still runs a factory there, exporting mechanical parts. Over the years they occasionally sent magazines back; customs is strict, most were seized, but some eventually made it to me."

Zhao Jianguo felt a sudden thump in his chest.

He had only known Lou Xiaoe as a quiet neighbor; after Xu Da Mao moved out she lived alone in the West Wing Room, buying groceries, cooking, drying blankets, collecting laundry—just like any ordinary woman. Yet now, hearing her speak, her tone calm, the content was anything but ordinary.

"So your dad… is he still abroad?"

"He died of illness during the 1957 repatriation." She paused, "but the connections he left remain. My aunt married a German engineer; their company attends these expos every year. This time my aunt asked someone to help, and I went through the foreign‑guest auxiliary attendant channel."

Zhao Jianguo was silent for a few seconds, then laughed, "You say all this, aren't you afraid I'd tell others?"

"I am," she said, looking up, "but I also know you don't speak recklessly. And…" She pointed to the pile of drawings on the table, "what you're doing is similar to their technical direction. I don't know the specifics, but I can see you're trying to make the machine more efficient and durable. That's the same approach as the German factories' recent 'Modular Maintenance' push."

Zhao Jianguo felt a jolt in his mind.

He hadn't expected this woman, who rarely took part in workshop affairs, to instantly spot the source of the design concept.

"So you came looking for me on purpose?"

"Not on purpose." She shook her head, "I waited a few days, saw you hadn't moved, then decided to come. The Street Office won't proactively register you for this, and the factory people won't fight for you. But if you don't go in and see, how would you know what it's like outside?"

Zhao Jianguo lowered his head, looking at the pass, his fingers lightly tracing the steel seal's edge. He knew what that paper meant—not just a matter of perspective, but a gap in resources and information. They toiled calculating parameters and testing structures, while others already had mature solutions, even publicly discussing improvement details.

"You got this for me; what do you want in return?" he stared into her eyes.

Lou Xiaoe didn't dodge, but smiled, "All I want is that after you succeed, you remember there's someone willing to slip you a key secretly."

Zhao Jianguo didn't smile, but felt a piece of tension ease inside.

He stood, took an old envelope from the drawer, placed the pass inside, then slipped it into the bottom pocket. He opened his notebook and on the latest page wrote a few words: **Overseas Relations Pending Investigation**.

After writing, he closed the notebook, looked at her and said, "If something like this comes up again, tell me in advance. I'm not afraid to help; I'm afraid of helping ambiguously."

"I know the rules." She nodded, "All materials from now on will be submitted to the Street Office for filing first; I won't keep the originals."

"Also," Zhao Jianguo added, "any item from abroad, even a manual, must be reviewed by the Public Translation Group. We're doing legitimate technological innovation; we can't let anyone use this as a pretext."

Lou Xiaoe gave a soft hum, lifted the cloth bundle and prepared to leave.

At the doorway she stopped, didn't look back, and said, "My father once said before he left—'Technology knows no borders, but people must have a stance.' I've always remembered that."

The door closed.

Zhao Jianguo sat on the stool unmoving, the room only the faint crackle of the oil lamp. He stared at the newly shut door for a few seconds, then gathered the drawings on the table one by one, pressed them into a folder. He then opened a drawer and slipped the envelope inside.

He stood, blew out the lamp, and left the workshop.

The night wind was a bit cool; in the Courtyard each house's windows were dark, only the East Room still glowed with a faint amber light. He lingered at the doorway, then turned toward his own small room.

On the other side, Lou Xiaoe returned to the West Wing Room, lit the oil lamp, dragged a small wooden box from under the bed. She unlocked it, flipped to the bottom, and pulled out an old photo album.

The photos were yellowed, showing a man in a suit standing on a ship's deck, with a blurred harbor and European‑style buildings behind. She gently brushed the glass cover with her fingertip and whispered, "Dad, I did as you said."

After speaking, she put the album back, closed the box, and blew out the lamp.

The Siheyuan fell completely silent.

The next morning, Sha Zhu entered the workshop carrying a bowl of soy milk, and saw Zhao Jianguo adjusting a Gear Set.

"Yo, starting work this early?" he set the bowl on the table, "Last night I got up to pee, saw someone heading your way, thought the place was haunted!"

Zhao Jianguo didn't look up, "Who saw whom?"

"Me!" Sha Zhu pounded his chest, "wearing a Blue Cloth shirt, tall and thin, moving silently—if it's not Lou Xiaoe, who is it?"

Zhao Jianguo tightened the last screw, picked up the nearby wrench and tested its tension.

"She came with a matter." he said.

"What did she ask?"

"She asked whether I'd lend her the thermos."

Sha Zhu stared, "Borrow a thermos in the middle of the night? Is she boiling water to perform a two‑person opera?"

Zhao Jianguo grinned, "Maybe she wants to warm her feet."

As they talked, He Yushui entered carrying a register, followed by Jia Dongxu.

"I've restructured the schedule," He Yushui handed the notebook over, "If we can get into the factory for testing next week, we'll have at most five days for final adjustments."

Jia Dongxu rubbed his hands, "The key is whether we can get in. The factory hasn't given us clearance yet."

Zhao Jianguo set the wrench down, pulled a note from his pocket, "I've already found a way."

"What method?" Sha Zhu leaned in.

Zhao Jianguo gave no answer, just handed the note to Jia Dongxu: "Go to the Street Office, give this to Section Chief Li, saying we're applying to attend the Industrial Expo Technical Observation, with the reason 'collecting reference material for the competition project.'"

Jia Dongxu unfolded the note; it read: **Siheyuan Technology Innovation Test Site plans to send a representative to the Municipal Industry and Commerce Federation Industrial Expo to learn advanced experience; support is hoped for. **

The signature was "Person in charge Zhao Jianguo".

"Can this… work?" Jia Dongxu hesitated.

"Give it a try." Zhao Jianguo took a sip of soy milk, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly, "Anyway, it doesn't cost money."