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

Chapter 44: The editor defectes to become an undercover agent late at night.

The light bulb in the guardhouse was 25 watts, with a tungsten filament that had turned yellow from burning, casting a shimmering yellow light over the entire room.

Grandpa Chen went outside for some fresh air, leaving Zhang Yong alone with the receiver pressed to his ear.

The breathing on the other end was very soft, but he could hear it clearly.

Liu Jianguo asked again.

"Zhang Yong...are you Zhang Wengong?"

Zhang Yong did not answer the question.

His first words were—

"Editor Liu, what made you think of making this call so late?"

Liu Jianguo's voice was silent for a moment, then came through again.

"I compared the two articles."

"The section on engine fuel injectors in the documentary 'The Ingenuity of Great Powers' uses the phrase 'the fuel mist breaks up and spreads along the cylinder wall.'"

"The Workers' Life Weekly article about diesel engine fuel supply also used the exact same sentence structure."

"Break...spread...most people wouldn't write it like that. A literary person couldn't describe it spreading along the tank wall, and a mechanical person couldn't describe the oil mist breaking apart."

Liu Jianguo paused.

"I compared the two articles line by line."

"The sentence structure, the angle of the technical description, and even the rhythm of the punctuation marks—all match up."

"I really thought about it for a long time before I mustered up the courage to make this call."

Zhang Yong leaned against the window frame, his hand holding the receiver still.

"Editor Liu, if you don't have anything else, I'll hang up now. It's too late, I need to go to sleep."

"Zhang Yong! Don't hang up! You don't know! That overseas returnee Chen Ping has his eye on you!"

Zhang Yong raised an eyebrow slightly: "Chen Ping?"

"Yes. After his article was published on the front page, the publishing house received more than a dozen unsubscribe letters. The readers were very harsh, saying that what he wrote was garbage."

Liu Jianguo's voice held barely suppressed smugness, but it quickly turned to worry. "Chen Ping has lost face; he has people from the head office backing him up. To get revenge, he's now looking for trouble with you all over the world!"

"Do you think I'm the only one comparing word by word? I heard he's already asked someone to inquire about Zhang Wengong's background at the Workers' Life Weekly."

Zhang Yong squinted his eyes.

In 1990, exclusive content agreements were a red line.

If the October magazine insists that he breached the contract by submitting the same article to a local publication, not only will he have to pay back the 500 yuan fee, but his reputation in the literary circle will also be completely ruined, and it may even affect his entry into Peking University for reporting in September.

"So, Editor Liu came to remind me?"

The shadows of the trees outside the window remained motionless, while the streetlights at the entrance of the gatehouse shone through the window, casting a small patch of yellow light on the ground.

The whole night was so quiet you could hear each other breathing.

After a moment of silence, Zhang Yong suddenly changed the subject.

"Editor Liu, how have you been doing at the magazine lately?"

This problem was clearly not within Liu Jianguo's expectations.

Liu Jianguo could only let out a very soft, bitter laugh.

"It's not very good. I'm only concerned with reader feedback now."

"So, how's the reader feedback for this latest issue?"

Liu Jianguo let out a long sigh and spoke.

"Unsubscription emails were opened one after another."

"Editor-in-Chief Zhou smoked a whole ashtray of cigarette butts in his office on the third floor and didn't even eat lunch."

Zhang Yong closed his eyes.

Editor-in-Chief Zhou had read his manuscript and knew that Zhang Wengong was Zhang Yong.

But that's beyond his control; he still needs to manage the things at hand.

Zhang Yong's mind raced.

First of all, Liu Jianguo came here to surrender.

Someone trying to extract information won't admit their own difficult situation first, as that would be tantamount to revealing their own weaknesses.

But he was also a person without much ability.

The fact that he threw "The Ingenuity of a Great Nation" into the trash can proves that his work was inadequate and his judgment was mediocre.

Once the pressure comes, he may not be able to keep the secret.

Just as Zhang Yong was wondering how to hang up this inexplicable phone call, Liu Jianguo suddenly said something unrelated.

"Comrade Zhang Yong, my son is taking the college entrance exam this year, and I guess his chances are slim too."

Zhang Yong's finger paused on the receiver for a moment.

He said he wanted to learn welding.

Liu Jianguo's voice changed; it was no longer the tone of an editor addressing an author, but the tone of a father.

"I was initially against it. My son and I haven't spoken to each other for a month because of this."

"I think I have to retake the exam no matter what. Getting into a second-tier university and becoming a clerk would be more respectable than being a welder."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"but……"

Liu Jianguo took a deep breath.

"I brought home a sample copy of your article, 'The Ingenuity of a Great Nation'."

"My son saw it."

"The next morning, he took the initiative to come and talk to me."

Zhang Yong held the receiver without making a sound.

He asked me, "Dad, you often say that people are divided into different classes, and that all other professions are inferior, only studying is noble, but Dad... I still want to learn welding."

He pointed to that passage in your article and read it to me sentence by sentence.

"The first CNC machine tool with completely independent technology completed its first piece processing in that workshop in the mountain valley."

Liu Jianguo's voice trembled slightly.

"My son looked up at me, his eyes sparkling."

He said, "Dad, what if that machine tool is only missing one welder like me?"

"well......"

He took a breath on the other end of the phone and let out a bitter laugh.

"At that point, I couldn't say anything against it anymore."

"My son has grown up and is old enough to make his own decisions."

"It was your article that woke him up."

"It also enlightened me."

Zhang Yong's throat moved slightly.

Many images flashed through his mind.

Grandpa wandering around the village with his radio on his back, Old Zhao tucking a cigarette behind his ear and looking at "Fundamentals of Automobile Structure" with his greasy hands, and the night I sat under the lamp and wrote my first word.

This is the power of words.

This power lies in the fact that someone read it and therefore stood up.

Zhang Yong took a long breath.

He made a decision.

"Editor Liu."

"Um."

Do you think Zhang Wengong's writing is good or not?

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"it is good."

Liu Jianguo spoke very quickly.

"Much better than Chen Ping's."

Zhang Yong's lips curved into a smile.

"That's enough."

Zhang Yong's tone was calm, but every word was clear.

"Don't worry about the rest."

"Thank you anyway, Editor Liu."

Another silence.

"But—" Zhang Yong spoke again, his voice slow and deliberate.

"Comrade Liu Jianguo, if one day in the future Zhang Wengong has any manuscripts he wants to publish through the 'October' magazine, would you be willing to help promote them?"

The person on the other end of the line clearly took a quick breath.

Liu Jianguo seemed to realize something.

He did not hesitate.

"willing."

"Then you didn't make this call."

Zhang Yong switched the receiver to his other hand.

"I didn't receive it."

"Is this okay?"

silence.

A long silence followed.

"OK."

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