In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

"Bang—bang bang bang!"

The engine roared, the sound crisp and powerful.

A plume of black smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe, causing both Engineer Wang and Xiao Shen to take a step back.

After the smoke dissipated, the engine speed stabilized, one revving after another.

Old Zhao, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, clapped his hands, stood up from the stool, and walked to the engine.

He tilted his head and listened for more than ten seconds.

Laughed.

Old Zhao rarely smiles. Everyone who knows him knows that his old face is expressionless 359 out of 360 days a year.

"This machine has been scrapped for more than three years. I disassembled it before, but I'm getting old and my eyesight isn't good anymore, so I couldn't fix it properly."

Old Zhao rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

"You've got some skill to get it moving."

He turned his head and began calling out names.

"He's better than that guy surnamed Wang in the technical department who's all talk and no action."

Old Zhao is a retired worker who was rehired. He gets an extra thirty yuan a month to stay here. Even the factory manager doesn't bother to give him a friendly look, let alone a worker in the technical department.

They never hold back when it comes to criticizing others.

Engineer Wang's face turned pale and then red, and he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

Xiao Shen shrank his head down, like a turtle.

The two pushed and shoved each other as they slipped out through the open side of the shed.

Zhang Yong glanced down at the panel.

[Auto Repair Lv.1: Progress 1% (AFK...equivalent to 720 hours of experience gain per day)]

It's up.

From this moment on, every hour that passes, his auto repair experience becomes equivalent to someone else's thirty hours of practice.

You'll definitely become a grandmaster before you even enroll.

Old Zhao bent down and turned off the engine, then patted Zhang Yong on the shoulder.

"Alright, that's enough for today."

"Are you coming again tomorrow?"

"Here you go." Zhang Yong hung the tools back on the shelf one by one. "But I might have to go to the school next week."

"Going to school is good." Old Zhao nodded and patted the big yellow dog's head, which was covered in engine oil.

"It's better than squatting here."

……

Zhang Yong originally didn't want to go to Chuiyangliu Middle School.

But Zhou Guoqiang made three phone calls.

The first time, I received the message at the reception desk. Grandpa Chen relayed it, saying, "The district has a task for Comrade Zhang Yong. Please make sure to return to the school to give a report."

The second time, Zhou Guoqiang called the cotton mill and had Zhang Defa answer the call.

Zhang Defa put down the phone, clicked his tongue, and stared at Zhang Yong for a long time.

"It's that Director Zhou again. He said the district education bureau specifically requested that you go back and give a speech. If he can't handle it, he's finished."

He also said that you don't need to put in any effort, he has already written the script, you just need to read it.

Zhang Yong remained silent.

The third time, Zhou Guoqiang asked Aunt Liu to relay a message, saying that the commendation materials from the district had been written, and only Zhang Yong's personal attendance was needed.

Li Guilan did say something fair.

"Go ahead. You've been at Weeping Willow for three years, just show your face and come back. Don't let people say we're arrogant."

Zhang Yong gritted his teeth.

"Okay, I'll go."

……

a few days later.

A red banner was hung at the entrance of Chuiyangliu Middle School.

The large white characters on top—

"A warm welcome to outstanding graduate Zhang Yong to return to the school and deliver an inspirational speech!"

A row of people stood under the banner.

Zhou Guoqiang stood in the middle of the front row, wearing a gray Zhongshan suit and with his hair neatly combed.

Standing next to him were several teachers from the Academic Affairs Office, and further out were the grade leaders and several homeroom teachers.

Zhang Yong, riding his Forever brand 28-inch motorcycle, saw the scene from afar.

His gaze swept across the crowd and stopped at the far left.

Ms. Liu, the math teacher.

He was the one who, after the college entrance exam results came out, stood in front of a group of students at the office door and said, "Students like Zhang Yong are typical examples of those who lack self-awareness and will only achieve nothing in society."

At this moment, Teacher Liu's face was full of wrinkles, and she was smiling so broadly it was almost a flower in her hand.

Zhang Yong parked his car at the door, and before he even got close, Zhou Guoqiang had already jogged over.

"Here he comes! Zhang Yong! Oh, welcome back to our alma mater!"

Zhou Guoqiang stretched out his hands, as if welcoming a superior leader.

Zhang Yong looked at that face and felt a wave of nausea.

What was that mouth saying a few months ago?

"Zhang Yong, how dare you stay in school with grades like that? You've taken up a spot and dragged down the school's average!"

"I have no idea what's going on in your head!"

"It's better if you don't repeat a year, so you won't embarrass yourself again next year."

Zhang Yong looked away and nodded.

"Let's go."

……

The auditorium is very large.

Thousands of students sat there, a sea of ​​black, with many more standing in the back. The windows were all open, and the fans were whirring, but they couldn't block out the smell of sweat.

Zhang Yong was invited to the stage. To the left of the stage sat school leaders and an official from the district education bureau, while to the right was a long table covered with a red velvet cloth, with a microphone and a cup of tea.

Zhou Guoqiang was the first to take the stage and deliver a speech.

He stood in front of the microphone, cleared his throat, and spoke in a loud voice.

"Students! Today is a day to remember for our Chuiyangliu Middle School!"

"Zhang Yong, an outstanding graduate of our school, has published a short story of 10,000 words entitled 'The Ingenuity of a Great Nation' in the national literary journal 'October', which has garnered widespread attention from all sectors of society, thanks to his exceptional literary talent!"

He turned around and reached out his hand to Zhang Yong.

"Comrade Zhang Yong's success is inseparable from his own hard work—and even more so from the painstaking cultivation he received from his alma mater over the years!"

The applause from the audience was sparse.

Zhang Yong sat in the chair, expressionless.

It requires painstaking cultivation.

The four words entered my ears, and I couldn't quite describe the feeling.

Zhou Guoqiang spoke for ten minutes, covering topics ranging from "quality education" to "literary cultivation," and from "campus culture construction" to "cultivating successors to socialism."

Every word implies that Zhang Yong's achievements are inseparable from the education he received at school.

After finishing his speech, Zhou Guoqiang, beaming with pride, invited Zhang Yong to the stage.

"Next, please welcome Comrade Zhang Yong to share his growth story!"

Zhang Yong stood up and walked to the microphone.

He glanced at the prepared manuscript beside him and smiled inexplicably. The first sentence was: "Respected leaders, distinguished guests, good afternoon."

It's like giving a speech at a gala.

He pushed the manuscript aside and looked up ahead.

The auditorium had fallen silent.

More than a thousand pairs of eyes were fixed on him, mostly from first- and second-year high school students, some of whom Zhang Yong even recognized.

Zhang Yong grasped the microphone.

"A few months ago, when I walked out of this school gate..."

He paused.

"I didn't know I'd be asked to come back today."

The atmosphere in the auditorium paused slightly.

Zhou Guoqiang sat on the side of the stage, still forcing a smile.

"Back then, I failed my college entrance exam," Zhang Yong's voice came through the microphone clearly. "From the school gate to the bus stop, a distance of two hundred meters, not a single teacher said a word to me."

Students in the back row started whispering among themselves.

"Standing here today, I can't say things like 'thank you for nurturing me, my alma mater'."