Chapter 99

Zhao Jianguo hung up the phone, his fingers still resting on the receiver. The bell didn't ring, but he knew in his heart this call was louder than anything. The sky had already brightened; the workshop's window paper was whitened by sunlight, the edges of the drawings on the table curled up, as if no one had bothered to tidy them up last night.

He had just steadied himself when Old Li from the factory office pedaled his bicycle into the courtyard, still not stopped, shouting: "Old Zhao! The provincial notice has come down—you've been named a model worker! The commendation meeting opens at two this afternoon, the leaders themselves will come!"

Zhao Jianguo stared for a moment, then laughed: "So fast?"

"That's right!" Old Li wiped his sweat, "The security office reviewed the materials overnight, and Yi Zhonghai also confessed—everything matches. The higher-ups say you're not only technically advanced but also a merit in anti-infiltration! The plaque is already made, reading 'Model Worker of the New Era'!"

He nodded, said nothing more, turned and took the iron box from the cabinet, opened the lock, and took out its contents one by one to check—maintenance slips, ledgers, statements, decoded telegraph drafts… all neatly stacked, then repacked into a kraft paper bag, on which he wrote the four words "Transfer Files".

"Let's go," he said, "first to the security office."

At one-thirty in the afternoon, the front courtyard of the siheyuan was already packed with people. Children climbed onto the walls, elderly women brought little stools to sit under the locust tree, even Old Master Wang, who usually doesn't like going out, came leaning on his cane. Su Qing sat in the back row holding the twins, bundled up tightly, smiling, her eyes fixed on the gate.

Dong Xu stood at the edge of the crowd, seeing Zhao Jianguo approach in his washed‑pale blue work uniform, collar pressed sharp, a newly issued medal pinned to his chest.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"A little," Zhao Jianguo said, rubbing the medal, "mainly I'm afraid of standing too long and the kids acting up."

The two exchanged a smile and walked together toward the stage.

The factory leaders stood on the makeshift podium, finished reading the commendation decision, and applause thundered. Zhao Jianguo received the certificate and red flower, then stepped up to the microphone.

"This honor isn't mine alone," he said, "it's the result of all of us in the siheyuan pitching in. During the machine‑tool repair period, whoever had spare screws and nails sent them here; during the training period, the aunts took turns bringing hot meals to the trainees. If we talk about merit, the first award should go to Old Master Wang."

Upon hearing that, the old man almost stood up from the bench, waving his hands: "Oh no, I don't deserve that! I just stewed a chicken soup!"

The crowd burst into laughter.

Zhao Jianguo also laughed, then said: "Next, I want to do something more practical—turn our courtyard into a place that can truly be of help."

The audience fell silent.

"We'll free up three side rooms in the front courtyard for a 'material exchange station'—anyone with surplus daily goods or coupons can register to trade; the old warehouse in the Central Courtyard will become a 'technical training center', holding two classes a week to teach young people how to read drawings and use tools; the rear courtyard will be designated a mutual‑aid zone where the elderly with mobility issues and mothers with children can help each other."

Someone muttered: "If I free up my house, where will I live?"

Zhao Jianguo had already prepared: "Volunteer to sign up, priority for swapping vacant rooms. The system just upgraded; I exchanged fifty jin of coal tickets and twenty jin of grain tickets as startup reserves—whoever participates gets a share."

As his words fell, Old Master Wang leaned on his cane and stood: "I support! My side room is idle anyway—why not put it to use first?"

That shout was like lighting a firecracker. Immediately after, Aunt Zhang said her stove could be shared, Uncle Liu said his ladder was public property, and even the usually stingy Aunt Sun raised her hand: "My old sewing machine can also be used for teaching!"

The atmosphere heated up instantly.

That evening, Zhao Jianguo held a small meeting at home. Su Qing leaned against the headboard, the children asleep, while Dong Xu and Old Master Wang sat side by side on a long bench, with a thermos bottle between them.

Zhao Jianguo pulled out a notebook, flipped to a page covered in dense sketches, and said: "Look, this is the 'resource‑sharing network' model the system just rolled out. The whole courtyard is divided into three zones, with people flow, material flow, and information flow separated, which can boost efficiency by nearly half."

"Sounds like warfare," Old Master Wang muttered.

"Pretty much," Zhao Jianguo laughed, "this is also a battlefield without gunpowder."

Dong Xu pointed at the diagram and asked: "What about Yi Zhonghai? He's still lying in the hospital, and many say he doesn't deserve death."

Zhao Jianguo wiped the smile from his face, his tone sinking: "Death is easy; living to atone is hard."

The next morning, he carried a medicine bag to the hospital. Yi Zhonghai's face was ashen yellow, lying in bed; seeing him enter, he turned his head away.

"You're not worthy to see me," he said in a hoarse voice.

"I didn't come today to hear you confess," Zhao Jianguo said, placing the medicine on the bedside table, "I'm here to give you a way to live."

He took out a piece of paper and pushed it over: "Your embezzlement of the martyrs' pension funds—every entry is recorded. I can hand it over to the organization, and you'll be sentenced to eight or ten years. But I can also let you stay in the Courtyard, once a month, publicly read your self-criticism in the Central Courtyard, openly confess your faults. As long as you cooperate, medical care will continue, and your children's school enrollment will be prioritized."

Yi Zhonghai's hand trembled slightly.

"You…… aren't afraid I'll bite back?"

"You dare?" Zhao Jianguo looked at him, "If you still want to save what little face you have left, choose the latter."

Three days later, a Desk and several Chairs were set up in the open space of the Central Courtyard. Yi Zhonghai sat in a wheelchair, pushed by his son to the scene. He wore old work clothes, his hair neatly combed, and held a piece of paper in his hand.

No one spoke in the whole venue.

When he spoke, his voice trembled: "I, Yi Zhonghai, former member of the Siheyuan Management Committee…… during my term in office, I colluded with outsiders, tampered with equipment records, causing worker Jia Wu to die on duty…… and I embezzled a total of 372 yuan and 6 jiao of the martyrs' pension funds…… I have betrayed the organization's trust and harmed neighborhood relations…… Here, I offer a deep apology to all residents."

After finishing, he lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Zhao Jianguo walked over, held the wheelchair handles: "From now on, you are the Siheyuan's warning monument. Not an enemy, not a benefactor, but a reminder to everyone not to go down the wrong path."

No one clapped, nor did anyone jeer. People watched silently, some bowing their heads, some sighing, some quietly wiping their eyes.

Old Man Wang walked up to Zhao Jianguo and said softly: "This method is better than locking him up."

"People need to be convinced; punishment alone isn't enough." Zhao Jianguo looked at the Courtyard, "We need an explanation, and we also need to leave a way out."

Over the next half month, things changed day by day.

The three side rooms in the front courtyard were freshly painted, a wooden sign reading "Material Exchange Station" was hung, a registration book was placed at the entrance, and on the first day they collected seventeen items, exchanging them for eight cloth coupons and five catties of white sugar.

The partition in the Central Courtyard warehouse was torn down, the invited old master began teaching the basics of fitting, and over a dozen young people squatted on the ground practicing marking lines, the sound of sawing iron ringing ding-dang.

Two rooms were freed up in the rear courtyard for mothers with children to take turns watching the kids; Aunt Li voluntarily became the duty auntie, boiling red-date tea every day for everyone to drink.

Zhao Jianguo made a round every day to check progress and note problems. That evening he stood at the gate of the Central Courtyard, holding the newly drawn Lesson Plan, pondering whether to add a session on Electrical Engineering Introduction for the coming week.

Dong Xu came running over: "Old Zhao! People from the municipal technical school have come, saying they want to jointly run a 'Community Technical Class' with us, providing the teaching materials and instructors!"

"That's great." Zhao Jianguo grinned, "Let them come tomorrow for a meeting."

"Besides," Dong Xu lowered his voice, "Yi Zhonghai's son came to see you, saying his father wants to apply to join the training, learn a skill, so he can support himself in the future."

Zhao Jianguo nodded: "Let him come register, follow the Rules Sign."

The sun slanted onto the renewed courtyard wall, a new wooden plaque was nailed beside the tool cabinet, reading "Siheyuan Joint Construction Committee". Below it was posted the member list, the first name being Zhao Jianguo, followed by Su Qing, Dong Xu, Old Man Wang, and several veteran workers.

He stood there, clutching the Lesson Plan in his hand, the wind making the pages rustle.

In the distance, children queued at the exchange station's entrance to receive candy, laughter coming in waves. Su Qing walked out of the house holding a child, waving her lunchbox at him.

He walked over, took the lunchbox, lifted the lid, and inside was steaming hot braised cabbage with glass noodles.

"Eat up," she said, "you've been busy all day."

He had just picked up a bite with his chopsticks when Old Man Wang came again, leaning on his cane, followed by a young man in Blue Cloth.

"Old Zhao, this is a reporter from the newspaper, saying they want to interview you and write an article titled 'Siheyuan in the New Era'."

Zhao Jianguo was still chewing the vermicelli in his mouth, swallowed it, and said with a smile: "Let me finish this bite of meal ticket, okay?"

The reporter quickly nodded: "You eat first, I'm not in a hurry."

Zhao Jianguo lowered his head and continued to eat the meal ticket; Su Qing gently patted the child's back and looked up at the busy crowd in the courtyard.

Zhao Jianguo took two bites, then suddenly stopped, looked up and asked the reporter: "What did you just say you were going to write?"

""The New Era Siheyuan"."

He chuckled, picked up a clump of vermicelli with his chopsticks, and said: "You should write about Wang Daye's chicken soup and Li Shen's red date soup."