Chapter 19
The light from the wellhead was ripped apart by several haphazard beams of flashlight, and two clearly menacing voices exploded above:
"Damn! Something was definitely wrong with that noise! How the hell did that manhole cover open by itself?!"
"There's breathing down there! You son of a bitch! Get your ass up here! Don't force us to go down and 'invite' you!"
Jin Zhaoxuan huddled in the cramped, cold cavity, his back pressed against the wall. One hand gripped the crowbar tightly (he desperately missed Uncle Hammer's wrench at that moment), while the other hand, like a mother hen protecting her chicks, fiercely protected the cold, rough metal box behind him. The box was heavier than he had expected; even through his cut-resistant gloves, he could feel its heavy "historical weight."
Those two above are definitely professional thugs hired by Zhao Xinguo. It's unwise to fight these desperate criminals head-on. Before the sledgehammer scholar even arrived, Yin Shaoqing's amazing "remotely smashing the tower crane" maneuver had clearly taken a huge toll, and now even communication was cut off (probably because the signal at the bottom of the well was swallowed by the concrete).
They can only resort to deception.
"There's no one down there! I'm from the provincial geological team! I accidentally slipped and fell!" Jin Zhaoxuan shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to make his voice sound disheveled, terrified, and full of the grievances of a corporate slave.
"Geological team? Who the hell are you trying to fool! Doing geology in the dark? Exploring graves?" One of the thugs sneered, clearly not believing him. "Stop talking nonsense! Hands behind your head, slowly crawl up here! If you try anything funny, I'll break your legs!"
Jin Zhaoxuan's brain was working at full speed, trying to come up with another outrageous story—"I'm a biology enthusiast who came to catch fireflies to make specimens"—to buy time, when suddenly a powerful, thunderous roar erupted from the other side of the well:
"What are you doing?! Staying up so late at night, are you trying to steal manhole covers or dig up ancestral graves?! Don't you have any sense of public decency?!"
It's Uncle Hammer! Our savior has arrived!
Then came the scholar's unhurried yet unabashedly sarcastic tone: "Oh, who do we have here? Aren't these Comrade Wang Ergou and Comrade Li Sanmao from the famous 'Night Construction Team' under 'Xin'an Industry'? What, has your General Manager Zhao sent you here again for 'voluntary labor' to conduct 'geological surveys' for the development in advance? Have you completed all the relevant approval procedures and filed with the Cultural Relics Bureau? Show them to us?"
The two thugs clearly recognized Big Hammer and Scholar, two "troublemakers" who were quite influential among the old workers in the factory area. Their arrogance immediately diminished, and their tone became weak: "Big, Big Hammer, Scholar, it's a misunderstanding! A huge misunderstanding! We just... we just couldn't sleep at night, so we came out for a stroll!"
"Taking a stroll? Taking professional demolition tools and a powerful flashlight, specifically 'shining' into maintenance wells abandoned for decades?" The sledgehammer's footsteps pounded as he approached. Jin Zhaoxuan could almost picture him speaking while ruthlessly weighing that gleaming wrench in his hand. "I think you guys are short on cash, trying to steal the factory's 'industrial heritage' scrap metal to exchange for alcohol, huh? Come on! Come with me to the police station, and have a good 'stroll' with the officers!"
"No! No, no, no! Big Hammer! Scholar! It's a misunderstanding! We'll leave right now! We'll disappear immediately! We won't be a nuisance!" The two thugs clearly knew that Big Hammer meant what he said, and were even more afraid of being taken to the police station and having a criminal record. They quickly put on smiles that were more like crying, and their footsteps hurriedly disappeared into the distance, like stray dogs.
The crisis has been temporarily averted.
"Mr. Jin? Mr. Jin, are you alright? Were you frightened?" The scholar leaned over the well, shining his flashlight down, his tone concerned.
"I'm alright! Uncle Xiucai! The box! I found the box!" Jin Zhaoxuan breathed a sigh of relief, his voice filled with the excitement of surviving a disaster.
Soon, the rope was lowered again. Jin Zhaoxuan first secured the precious tin box tightly and pulled it up, then climbed out of the well himself. As soon as he surfaced, he saw Da Chui and Xiu Cai excitedly rubbing their hands together, surrounding the rusty box. Da Chui was still holding that intimidating wrench, cautiously scanning the surrounding darkness.
"Good lad! You're really something! Old Liu's treasure-hiding technique is on par with tunnel warfare!" Big Hammer couldn't help but pat the lid of the box, making a dull "thump" sound, which startled Jin Zhaoxuan—hopefully he didn't break it!
The scholar squatted down and carefully cleaned the rust around the lock of the box with a small brush he carried with him, his eyes focused as if he were doing archaeology: "The lock is rusted to death. We need to find a suitable place and carefully open it with professional tools. We can't stay here any longer, let's go."
The three of them worked together to lift the heavy box into the trunk of Jin Zhaoxuan's car and covered it with an old blanket. Just as they got into the car, Liu Jianjun and Lao Nian arrived, panting heavily. It turned out to be a false alarm at point B; Zhao Xinguo's men were running around like headless flies.
"Retreat first! Back to my home!" Liu Jianjun made a decisive decision.
Under the cover of night, the group, like underground workers transferring important supplies, quietly returned to Liu Jianjun's home.
The metal box was solemnly placed on the weathered dining table in Liu Jianjun's living room, and all the lights were turned on, making it as bright as day. Everyone gathered around it, their emotions a mix of tension, anticipation, curiosity, and a touch of excitement at opening a blind box.
The box wasn't large, about half a meter long and about thirty centimeters wide and high. The sheet metal was thick, and the red "Liu" character on the side was so faded it looked like an abstract painting. The latch was an old-fashioned metal clasp, so rusted it looked like it had grown into the metal.
“I’ll do it, I’m an expert at this.” Uncle Hammer, completely different from his previous rough and tough self, magically produced a set of delicate rust removal tools and lubricant. His professional demeanor made everyone instantly forget that he had just been carrying a wrench, ready to fight. He carefully worked around the latch, and the only sound in the living room was the faint “shush” of the tools rubbing against the rusty iron, the atmosphere as solemn as an operating room.
Jin Zhaoxuan stood to the side, clutching the tablet computer whose signal had finally been restored somewhat. On the screen, Yin Shaoqing's virtual image reappeared, but his figure was noticeably fainter than before, his outline somewhat blurred, and his face (if data had a face) appeared pale and translucent. He was quietly and intently "staring" at the box on the table.
"Teacher Yin, just now... I owe you so much." Jin Zhaoxuan said in a low voice to the tablet, his heart filled with a mixture of lingering fear and gratitude.
Yin Shaoqing shook his head slightly, his virtual hair swaying gently with the movement, and his voice was lighter than usual: "It's alright. As long as the box... was found safely."
Something was wrong with him. Jin Zhaoxuan frowned, a sense of unease creeping into his heart. But right now, opening the box and checking its contents was the top priority.
Crack.
With a soft but incredibly clear snap, the rusted lock was finally released by the sledgehammer.
Everyone held their breath instantly, craning their necks like giraffes.
Big Hammer took a deep breath and, as if opening a time capsule, slowly and solemnly lifted the lid.
There was no dazzling gold or the dust of years that I had imagined. Inside, several items were neatly arranged and categorized, all tightly wrapped in moisture-proof oil paper, clearly having been carefully preserved.
At the top was a yellowed envelope with the words "To Brother Liu Fusheng" written in calligraphy on it, and signed "Takahashi Shinsuke".
Liu Jianjun's hands trembled slightly as he picked up the letter, unfolding it carefully as if holding a fragile piece of glass. The letter was on rough paper from that era, the brushstrokes neat and clear, interspersed with a few Japanese technical terms, but mostly in Chinese characters:
"Brother Fusheng's guide:
"The situation has changed drastically, and the future is uncertain. I am in dire straits and may not be able to survive. The contents of this box are a summary of some of the improvement plans, experimental data, and key technical parameters that my brother, my Chinese colleagues, and I have painstakingly compiled over more than a decade. These are all essential for improving civilian production and have nothing to do with military affairs. Such technological efforts should have benefited the people, but unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, they may be destroyed or end up in foreign lands."
"My life is nearing its end. My only concern is the safety of my son, Shaoqing, and that the efforts of everyone here will not be forgotten. Brother, you have always been loyal, honest, and exceptionally skilled. I firmly believe that only by entrusting him to you can I ensure his safety. If I meet with misfortune, I hope you will assess the situation and either conceal him until the time is right or present him to the nation and its people when the situation becomes clear. Enclosed at the bottom of this box are some meager funds and forged identity documents. If Shaoqing is fortunate enough to survive, I earnestly hope that you will remember our past friendship and help him travel far away to live out his remaining days in anonymity. This kindness and virtue can never be repaid in this life; I will repay it in the next."
I bow my head and pay my respects.
"My younger brother Shinsuke Takahashi's masterpiece"
"The night of August 13, 20th year of Showa"
After the letter was read, a long silence fell over the living room, broken only by suppressed breathing. The despair, unreserved trust, deep love for his adopted son, unwavering dedication to technology, and absolute reliance on Liu Fusheng's character and abilities that Takahashi Shinsuke conveyed in his words unfolded slowly before everyone like a heavy yet vivid painting.
This letter, far more complete and profound than the farewell letter to Yin Shaoqing written under the water tower, reveals the true state of mind and tragic entrustment of Japanese engineer Shinsuke Takahashi in the final moments of his life.
Liu Jianjun's eyes reddened, his Adam's apple bobbed a few times, and finally he just muttered under his breath, "That little devil... he's really something else."
Jin Zhaoxuan immediately looked at the tablet screen. On the screen, Yin Shaoqing stared blankly at the image of the letter, his virtual figure trembling slightly uncontrollably, as if enduring a tremendous impact. After a long while, he finally exhaled very slightly, as if using all his strength, and even that breath seemed to carry ripples of data.
He shed no tears, but the silent, deep-seated grief and relief intertwined in his emotions struck Kim So-hyun's heart through the screen, making him gasp for breath.
"Let's see what else is below," the scholar whispered, breaking the heavy atmosphere.
Da Chui continued to carefully take the oil paper wrapping out of the box.
Several large rolls of drawings were unfurled, revealing densely packed yet exceptionally clear and neat mechanical drawings, process flow diagrams, and data tables, all annotated in Chinese. They were clearly compiled, copied, or even improved by Liu Fusheng or other Chinese technicians. The content covered topics such as blast furnace hot blast system optimization, friction reduction design for key rolling mill components, and experiments on special refractory material formulations—all cutting-edge civilian industrial technologies of that era aimed at improving production efficiency and quality while reducing consumption.
Several thick, hardcover notebooks contain the work experiences, experimental records, failure analyses, and improvement ideas of Liu Fusheng and other Chinese technicians over the years. The handwriting is neat, the logic is rigorous, and they are full of simple wisdom and an unyielding spirit of exploration.
A small canvas bag contained more than a dozen metal samples of varying sizes and shapes, each carefully labeled with its composition, smelting batch, and preliminary performance test data. One particularly eye-catching piece was a thin metal sheet with a distinctive silvery-gray luster and a smooth surface, labeled "Low-nickel, high-strength, corrosion-resistant experimental steel sample, tested in autumn of Showa 18 (1943) with Takahashi."
Finally, at the bottom of the box, there was indeed a sturdy oil paper package containing several stacks of old currency that had long been withdrawn from circulation but were definitely a "huge sum" back then, as well as several crudely made but convincingly forged identity documents and travel permits. The name column was neatly written as "Yin Shaoqing," while the photo space was blank, as if waiting for the owner to return and fill it in.
All the objects silently and powerfully point to the same fact: in the darkest moments of his life, Shinsuke Takahashi desperately tried to protect only two things—the glimmer of hope for his adopted Chinese son, Yin Shaoqing, whom he regarded as his own, and the technological wisdom he and his Chinese colleagues had created together, which rightfully belonged to this land and its people.
Liu Fusheng, an ordinary Chinese technician, faithfully carried out this weighty entrustment with silence and forty years of perseverance, until he took the secret to his grave, but he was unable to personally complete the second half of the letter's instruction to "dedicate it to the country and the people when the time is right."
“These things… are too precious.” The scholar’s fingertips gently brushed over the yellowed blueprints, his voice trembling with excitement. “These are not only artifacts of great historical value, but many of the technical ideas and experimental data contained within still have important reference value for today’s industrial technology transformation and industrial history research! We must not let them fall into the hands of people like Zhao Xinguo, or… people with ulterior motives!”
"That's right!" Uncle Hammer slapped his thigh, making the enamel mug on the table jump. "This is the hard work of the older generation of technicians at Ansteel! It's our own! Everyone should know!"
Jin Zhaoxuan took a deep breath, suppressing the turbulent emotions churning in his chest, and forced himself to regain his composure and think calmly: "These things must be immediately moved to a place with absolutely safe and professional protection conditions for systematic cleaning, protection, and digital archiving. Then, we must choose the most appropriate time and method to make them public. This is not only to fulfill the last wishes of Takahashi Nobusuke and Technician Liu, but also the most direct and powerful counterattack against Zhao Xinguo and the Takeda family behind him—the more they try so hard to cover up, monopolize, or even destroy them, the more we must present them openly and honestly in the sunlight, making them a witness to history."
"I agree!" Liu Jianjun nodded emphatically, his gaze resolute. "I'll find a way right away and contact the absolutely trustworthy leaders in the museum and the municipal archives! We must ensure that everything goes smoothly!"
Just then, the tablet in Jin Zhaoxuan's hand suddenly emitted two piercing low battery warning beeps, the screen flickered violently a few times, and the image displayed a snowy pattern!
Jin Zhaoxuan's heart sank suddenly, and an ominous premonition gripped his heart.
He looked down at the screen, where Yin Shaoqing's virtual image had become extremely faint and transparent, like an overexposed old photograph, its outline constantly blurring and fading away. His eyes were tightly closed, his delicate brows furrowed in pain, as if he were enduring some kind of immense drain or tearing sensation.
"Yin Shaoqing?!" Jin Zhaoxuan called out urgently, his voice trembling.
Yin Shaoqing opened his eyes with great difficulty and slowness. His virtual eyes had lost their usual bright luster, appearing somewhat unfocused and scattered. His voice was so weak it was like a whisper, broken and intermittent: "...The letter...I saw it...That's good...The box...was found too..."
With each word he spoke, his figure seemed to fade further, like a candle flickering in the wind, about to go out.
"Mr. Jin... I... might... need... to... sleep for a while..."
Before the words were even finished, the virtual image shattered into countless tiny specks of light, like a pencil sketch being gently erased, before completely disappearing into the black background of the screen. The tablet screen went dark, completely losing all signal and image, becoming a cold, black piece of glass.
"Yin Shaoqing!!!" Jin Zhaoxuan slammed and shook the tablet, his fingertips turning white from the force, but there was no response. He frantically pulled up the dedicated app that monitored Yin Shaoqing's core status, and a glaring red alert flashed on the screen: "Signal connection interrupted! Core consciousness activity has dropped to its lowest historical threshold! On the verge of dissipation!"
Oh no! That's it! The continuous, high-intensity consumption—the previous water tower adventure to materialize and open the door, the forced support of the system during the demonstration day crisis, the remote control of the abandoned tower crane circuit to create a huge commotion to attract the enemy in order to save him, plus the intense emotional shock of seeing his adoptive father's last letter and finding the relics, which is enough to impact the data logic... Yin Shaoqing's "data existence" which was not yet fully stable has probably been severely overdrawn and reached the critical point of collapse!
"What's wrong with him? What happened to Teacher Yin?" Liu Jianjun and the others gathered around, looking at Jin Zhaoxuan's pale face and unresponsive blank expression, and asked anxiously.
“Excessive consumption…may…lead to deep hibernation, or even…worse.” Jin Zhaoxuan’s face was pale, his voice hoarse, and he gripped the cold tablet tightly. A wave of panic and piercing self-reproach overwhelmed him like ice water. He had been so focused on tracking clues, dealing with enemies, and finding the box that he had overlooked the immense pressure and energy depletion Yin Shaoqing had endured! He had treated him like an omnipotent “cheat code,” forgetting that Yin Shaoqing was essentially a special being dependent on energy and a stable environment for survival!
"We have to get back to the old house immediately! His 'roots' are there! Hurry!" Jin Zhaoxuan grabbed his car keys, his eyes reddening. "Brother Liu! Please keep the suitcase safe for now! Contact reliable people as planned! I have to go back right away!"
"Go quickly! We're here! Don't worry!" Liu Jianjun pushed him without hesitation.
Jin Zhaoxuan practically crashed out of Liu Jianjun's house, driving so fast he was practically flying, running countless yellow lights, and sped back to the old house.
He burst through the door, not even bothering to change his shoes, and rushed straight to the full-length mirror.
The mirror's surface was smooth and calm, clearly reflecting his own face, etched with anxiety, panic, and pallor. There were no ripples, no glimmer of light, and certainly no familiar figure.
He rushed to the dedicated server like a madman. On the monitoring screen, almost all the data curves representing Yin Shaoqing's core state had fallen below the red alert line, and the glaring alarm lights were flashing wildly. The most crucial "consciousness activity" curve had become a nearly flat line close to the bottom of the screen, with only a faint, almost invisible, brief pulse appearing every long interval—indicating that the most basic existence signal had not been completely severed, but it was only slightly better than "brain death."
Like a person in a vegetative state in the ICU who is kept alive by machines.
Jin Zhaoxuan's legs went weak, and he slumped heavily into the chair in front of the server, covering his face with his hands, dampness seeping through his fingers.
The room was deathly silent, save for the monotonous, cold hum of the server's cooling fan and his own heart, pounding wildly in fear and regret, on the verge of shattering.
He uncovered the truth spanning eighty years, found the iron box containing blood, tears, and entrustments, and thwarted yet another enemy plot.
But it seems he's about to lose forever that person who stepped out of the cold mirror, who stayed with him through countless long, silent nights, who would bicker and tease him, who would silently care about his health, and who would unhesitatingly stand in front of him in every crisis, protecting him in her own special way...
Yin Shaoqing.
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