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

The courtyard fell silent for a moment, and everyone's eyes fell on Sun Jian's wife.

Sister Zhao broke the deadlock first: "This matter can be big or small. Why don't you apologize first, Sun Jian's wife? After all, we're neighbors..."

She hadn't finished speaking yet.

Sun Jian's wife suddenly stood up, grabbed a rag from the stool, and turned around to stuff it into the swill bucket next to her.

"You think you're right just because you talk?! You're framing me!"

She moved incredibly fast, shoving the rag into the swill bucket, where it mingled with the leftover vegetable scraps.

But before she could finish her movement, she leaned back and landed on her bottom on the concrete floor.

Then—she cried.

It wasn't just ordinary crying.

"Ah—you Zhang family are bullying us!!"

She slapped the ground with both hands, one of her slippers flew off, and her hair came down, covering half of her face.

"Just because you can fix cars doesn't mean you're so great! Just because your dad's a truck driver doesn't mean you're so great! You're bullying us honest people!"

"I've lived in this courtyard for eight years! Eight years! When have I ever done anything wrong! You're framing me! You're making baseless accusations!"

The sound was so loud it could be heard three alleyways away.

The windows upstairs were all pushed open with a bang.

Many households upstairs poked their heads out, and even early in the morning, a few families were carrying chopsticks and bowls.

The door to Old Zhou's house on the fifth floor opened, and Old Zhou's wife, wearing slippers, ran to the stairwell and looked down.

Grandpa Chen, who works at the gatehouse, stood at the door with Chen Yang in his arms, looking disgusted.

Sun Jian's wife cried harder and harder, straightened her legs, leaned her back against the ground, and lay down.

"Your motorcycle broke down! There are so many people in this compound! Why did they single me out? I think you're just jealous that I'm doing well!"

She was crying and sniffling, her voice so shrill it was ear-piercing.

"I'm innocent! Our Sun family is a respectable family! What if someone else picked up that piece of cloth? Who can I complain to? You be the judge!"

Zhang Yong stood there, coldly watching her.

He waited.

The more you try to refute this kind of person, the more enthusiastic they become.

really.

The building entrance door opened.

Sun Lei came out.

He dressed himself quite neatly, wearing a blue striped shirt and thin dress pants.

He walked slowly to his mother's side and bent down to help her up.

Then he turned his head and looked at Zhang Yong.

Comrade Zhang Yong.

His voice wasn't loud, but it had a slight accent.

"My mother is an ordinary housewife, not highly educated, and has a quick temper. But you need to provide evidence for what you say."

He pushed up his glasses, his tone as if he were scolding a primary school student.

"You said the wire was cut, there was something in the exhaust pipe, and that my mother did it, but those are all just your guesses. Who saw it? Who can prove it? Do you have any witnesses?"

He paused for a moment, then exhaled through his nostrils.

"There's a term in criminal law called defamation. Publicly accusing someone of a crime without direct evidence is a criminal offense."

"I'm a student at a teachers' college, so I have that kind of common sense."

The air in the courtyard became even more tense.

Sister Zhao muttered under her breath, "But if she hadn't done it, why was your mother in such a hurry to stuff the rag into the slop bucket? What good is being good with just words?"

Zhang Yong looked at Sun Lei, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"You're right."

Sun Lei was taken aback.

He didn't expect Zhang Yong to acknowledge this.

"A single rag is certainly not enough to prove who did it."

Zhang Yong nodded, his voice calm.

"Even though your family is the only one in the entire Jinsong community with items from the Education Bureau, what if someone else took your rag?

A hint of smugness flashed across Sun Lei's face.

"That's right. There's no irrefutable evidence—"

"Brother Yong!"

A crisp sound came from the direction of the carport.

It's Chen Yang.

The little guy had somehow gotten into the carport, and now he was bending over and crawling out of the tin shed, holding something in his hand.

"Brother Yong! Look at this!"

Chen Yang ran up to Zhang Yong and opened his palm.

A button lies in the palm of my hand.

Off-white, plastic, with four holes, and a small ring of wear around the edge.

Very ordinary buttons.

But Chen Yang's next words abruptly stopped Sun Jian's wife's crying.

"I found it on the ground next to Yong's motorcycle this morning when I was wiping it down! It was stuck in the crack between the bricks next to the rear wheel!"

"I didn't think much of it at first, I just put it in my pocket. I glanced at it again just now—"

He raised the button a little higher and turned towards Sun Jian's wife.

Sun Jian's wife subconsciously glanced down at herself.

She's wearing the same jacket she wore last night.

The pocket on the lower right hem is empty, where the button should be.

The thread was still there, like a small, curled-up gray worm, sticking out of the fabric.

Everyone in the courtyard saw it.

"This...this isn't mine!" Sun Jian's wife's voice changed, rising an octave. "Buttons are everywhere! Who knows where this came from!"

Zhang Yong ignored her.

He took the button from Chen Yang, walked up to Sun Jian's wife, and bowed slightly.

With his left hand holding the button, he used his right hand to unbutton the missing button on her lower right pocket.

The diameter of the button, the spacing of the holes—a perfect fit.

"Auntie," Zhang Yong held up the button a little higher, facing Sun Jian's wife. "Take a look for yourself and see if it suits you."

Sun Jian's wife turned pale.

It turned completely white.

Sun Lei opened his mouth, then closed it again.

His hand, which was pushing up his glasses, froze in mid-air, unsure whether to push them up or put them down, and his face visibly turned red.

The courtyard was completely silent.

The cicadas have stopped chirping.

"Do you want me to continue?" Zhang Yong stood up.

"For example, I can guess roughly what time I left last night, which staircase I took, and whether the streetlights at the gatehouse shone on the bike shed."

He paused.

"If you think that's not enough, let me mention another one. Motorcycle cables aren't easy to cut either; you must have used a lot of force when you did. Those scissors must be worn down a bit, right? How about I help you get your scissors downstairs so we can take a look?"

"You...how could you..."

Sun Jian's wife's voice broke.

At that moment, footsteps sounded at the courtyard gate.

Sun Jian is back.

He was wearing a white undershirt and had a net bag slung over his arm containing two cucumbers and a bag of pastries.

I came back from my morning exercise.

He saw this scene as soon as he entered the courtyard.

"Hey, what's everyone doing here?"

"Hey? Why are you sitting on the floor? Lei Zi! What happened to your mom?"

The daughter-in-law sat on the ground, her hair disheveled, tears streaming down her face.

The son stood beside him, his face ashen.

Across from them was Zhang Yong, surrounded by a circle of neighbors, and several heads were upstairs, all watching the Sun family.

Sun Jian realized something was wrong, and his voice turned somber.

"What's going on?!"

From upstairs, Aunt Liu yelled, "Old Sun! Ask your wife! Last night she went to the bike shed in the dark and cut the wires off someone's motorcycle, and even stuffed a rag from your Education Bureau into the exhaust pipe!"

Sister Zhao added insult to injury: "Yes! The buttons all fell off on the bike shed! They just matched up!"

Sun Jian's net fell to the ground.

He glanced at the button Zhang Yong was holding up, then at the hole in his wife's pocket.

His face turned purple.

"you--"

He walked up to his wife and raised his hand to slap her.

......