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

Li Guilan handed over the envelope.

"The package contains dried persimmons and dried hawthorns. I've already opened it and put it in the kitchen. You can eat them later after you've digested a bit."

The envelope was clean, with a little stamp ink on one corner. The address was written with a ballpoint pen, and the handwriting was rather sloppy; it was obviously written by someone hired by the village.

Zhang Yong took the envelope back to his bedroom.

He turned on the desk lamp, sat down at his desk, and tore open the envelope with his fingers.

Two pages of letter paper. Yellowish rough draft paper with large grids.

Zhang Yong knew that his grandmother was illiterate. The words were written by the village substitute teacher, but the words must have been spoken by his grandmother, one sentence at a time.

It's the same tone of voice I remember from my grandmother; no one can imitate it.

"Hello, Yongzi."

"I received the letter."

"This year's wheat is good, it's solid. I've dried some persimmons, you can have some."

"Hawthorns are fine too, the kind you loved to eat when you were little. I sent you and your mom a few boxes, some sweet and some sour. Don't eat them all at once, eat them slowly. They stick to your teeth."

Zhang Yong smiled.

"A few people came to buy honeysuckle. Your grandfather picked it on the back hill and sold it for 20 yuan. The whole family was happy."

"You've made something of yourself. Your grandpa received the 120 yuan you sent and was overjoyed. He went to the market and bought a radio; the old one wasn't working anymore. Now he carries it around every day, walking around the village. He doesn't understand much of what's being said, he just carries the radio around to listen to the sound."

Zhang Yong's throat tightened.

The image of my grandfather carrying a radio and wandering around the village entrance flashed through my mind.

He also met his maternal grandfather in 2026.

Yellowed, blurry, huddled in the corner of the photo album.

His maternal grandfather had passed away many years ago.

Zhang Yong took a deep breath and continued reading.

"The tractor at home keeps emitting black smoke. Chuanhai called a mechanic, and he said it would cost at least 100 yuan to fix it. That's too much. Yongzi, you're more knowledgeable, could you ask around and see if there's any other way?"

"Grandma can't read, so she asks Teacher Liu to write down whatever comes to mind. If you're busy, don't reply; just knowing you're doing well is enough. Grandma is in good health, eating and sleeping well. Are your parents alright?"

"Grandma misses you."

That's where the letter ends.

Zhang Yong placed the letter on the table and looked at it over and over again for a long time.

The tractor was emitting black smoke.

The old-style hand-held tractor, which should have an S195 single-cylinder diesel engine, is most likely suffering from poor fuel injector atomization or a clogged air filter.

You can fix it yourself by taking it apart, cleaning the fuel injectors, and replacing the filter with a two-cent gauze filter.

It doesn't cost a hundred yuan at all.

But Grandma didn't know. Uncle Zhang Chuanhai didn't know. Nobody in the village knew.

If the mechanic says 100, then it's 100.

The situation was exactly the same as what Wei Dabiao encountered.

Zhang Yong's fingers unconsciously traced the edges of the letter. He stared at the line of text, and a series of images flashed through his mind.

My grandma's tractor, a task that could be solved for two cents, was priced at one hundred.

In the cotton mill canteen, Old Zhao shared his life's experience, but no one had ever written it down in a book.

The elderly people who have been ripped off too many times at the convenience store can't tell the difference when they buy fake parts.

People in this era aren't stupid; they just lack access to information.

In 1990, there was no internet, no short videos, and no Baidu search. Knowledge was passed down orally, and whoever had the technology was the one who built up the information.

Zhang Yong suddenly remembered those viral short videos he had come across in 2026.

"Bike tire blowout? Three tips to fix it yourself!"

"Snowy screen on your TV? Eighty percent of the time it's a problem with this component!"

Don't panic if your car makes strange noises! Check these five places first!

Those videos get millions of views each, and the comments section is full of things like "I wish I had seen this sooner" and "I got ripped off by the car repairman for 300 last time."

Even with all these things available in 2026, people are still getting scammed.

Moreover, in 1990.

Zhang Yong opened a stack of blank manuscript paper.

The light from the table lamp shone on the paper, emitting a warm yellow reflection.

He picked up his pen, intending to continue writing a sequel to "The Ingenuity of a Great Nation's Craftsmen." He was confident enough to write about grand themes such as the industrial development of a major nation, technological breakthroughs, and the tides of the times.

But at this moment, the pen tip hovered above the paper, hesitant to fall.

He glanced at the letter from his grandmother on the table.

Then he wrote four characters on the first line of the manuscript.

Whispers of the Machine

The pen tip drew a horizontal line under the word "whisper".

Zhang Yong began to quickly outline the points on the manuscript paper.

Part 1: Why is your tractor emitting black smoke? — A three-step troubleshooting method, from fuel injectors to air filters.

Part 2: What to do if your bicycle chain falls off? — You don't need a wrench in your toolbox.

Part 3: The TV suddenly lost sound? — Don't rush to call a technician, open the back cover and look at this place.

Part Four: Five Reasons for Car Coolant Temperature Gauge Rising – Which Can Be Handled at Home, and Which Require a Shop Visit.

Part 5: Afraid of being scammed when buying engine oil? Here are three tips to distinguish genuine from fake...

The more I write, the smoother it gets.

Zhang Yong's sense of structure, accumulated from watching tens of thousands of popular science short videos in his previous life, combined with his writing skills at level 4 and the professional knowledge gained from his auto repair skills, brought together these three elements, and his pen flowed like a floodgate had been opened.

He started by telling a story.

"Old Zhao drove a tractor at Shougang for twenty years. Last autumn harvest, the tractor suddenly started emitting black smoke..."

The story includes characters, scenes, specific operating steps, and the locations of parts with accompanying illustrations.

Each article addresses one of the most common problems. No jargon, no formulas, just plain language that everyone can understand.

He stopped writing when he got to the third piece. Looking at the densely packed words on the manuscript paper, a thought became clearer and clearer in his mind.

If "The Ingenuity of Great Craftsmen" is written for policymakers and intellectuals...

"The Whisper of the Machine" was written for my maternal grandparents, uncles, the cafeteria lady, and Uncle Chen, the gatekeeper.

This is written for all ordinary people who are being exploited by information asymmetry and have no way to escape it.

The panel flashed briefly at the edge of my field of vision.

Zhang Yong looked down and froze.

[System notification: A major shift in creative direction has been detected.]

[My current writing direction aligns with the underlying attribute of "educating people."]

[Boost writing efficiency by 10% when left running!]

[Current AFK speed: 33x.]

Zhang Yong's eyes lit up.

There are such things as hidden attributes?

He pondered for two seconds and immediately understood. The system's idle logic was based on simulated training, while "nurturing people" was an output-oriented skill. Output drove input, leading to faster learning and deeper practice.

Those who work in education often have a more solid grasp of knowledge than those who only learn but don't teach. This principle holds true in any era.

Zhang Yong put down his pen and glanced at the alarm clock.

It's 9:30 p.m.

It wasn't too late yet. Zhang Yong walked to the living room, picked up the phone book kept by the gatekeeper, and dialed Fang Qiming's number first.

I answered after it rang three times.

"Feed?"

"Teacher Fang, I am Zhang Yong."

"Hey! Zhang Yong!" Fang Qiming's voice was energetic. "Have you decided which major to choose?"

"I've made up my mind, I choose..."