Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

Chapter 628 Zhao Ci's Identity

Qin Jingru quickly waved her hand, the silver bracelet on her wrist swaying gently with the movement, making a soft tinkling sound. A gentle smile graced her face, her eyebrows curving like crescent moons: "Uncle, there's really no need to go to so much trouble. I'm perfectly fine. I was just a little stuffy from sitting inside for too long, but a walk here has made me feel better."

She paused for a moment, then added, "The work in the shift isn't heavy. It's just wiping the dust off the machines and keeping production records. It's all light work, and I can handle it. Besides, I get bored staying at home every day. At work, I can talk to my colleagues, which is actually more comfortable."

Seeing her insistence, He Feng's worry lessened, and he nodded, but still added with concern, "Alright, that's good. If you feel tired, don't push yourself. Just tell Zhu Zi and ask him to give you a few days off to rest. I'm going back to rest now."

“Hey, Uncle,” He Yuzhu quickly stepped forward and added with a smile, “I’ve prepared dinner for you. It’s keeping warm on the stove in your room, wrapped in a cotton cloth. You can just heat it up a bit when you get home, so you don’t have to bother cooking.”

Upon hearing this, a warmth flickered in He Feng's eyes, like a cotton quilt warmed by the setting sun, exuding genuine comfort. He nodded, his voice tinged with emotion, "Okay, I understand. You're always so thoughtful." Then, he looked at Qin Jingru, "You two should come back early too. The evening breeze is a bit damp and chilly. Wrap your scarves tighter so Jingru doesn't catch a cold."

"Okay, don't worry, we'll be back after a little while." He Yuzhu replied, steadying Qin Jingru's hand.

Watching He Feng's figure slowly disappear around the corner of the alley, gradually swallowed by the shadow of the wall, He Yuzhu helped Qin Jingru walk step by step towards the alley entrance. The setting sun hung obliquely on the distant rooftops, its golden-red light casting long shadows of the two of them, overlapping on the bluestone path like a blurred ink painting, exuding a sense of peaceful warmth. Qin Jingru leaned on He Yuzhu's arm, softly telling him about interesting things that happened at the factory, and He Yuzhu occasionally responded, his steps so slow as if afraid of disturbing the tranquility.

On the other side, He Feng returned to his small courtyard, pushed open the creaking wooden door, and the sound of the hinges turning was particularly clear in the quiet courtyard. As soon as he entered, a faint aroma of food wafted through the crack in the door, mixed with the lingering scent of firewood from the stove, filling his nostrils with a comforting fragrance.

He put down his tool bag, walked to the stove, and lifted the heavy cast-iron pot lid. Inside, sure enough, were two dishes and a soup—a plate of stir-fried greens, vibrant green and still glistening with dew, exuding freshness; a bowl of stewed tofu, tender white tofu cubes sprinkled with chopped scallions, the broth thick and creamy; and next to it, a small bowl of corn porridge, steaming gently, so thick that chopsticks could be stuck into it. All were the most ordinary home-cooked meals, yet they felt like a warm, comforting fire.

He picked up the spatula from the stove, quickly heated the dish, and placed it in the chipped, rough porcelain bowl. He sat down at the table and ate slowly. After a long day at work, dealing with factory matters, and then secretly checking out the coal mine area, he had traveled dozens of miles back and forth. His body was completely exhausted, feeling like it was falling apart. At this moment, a sip of hot soup warmed him, flowing smoothly down his throat and soothing his stomach. It felt as if most of his fatigue had been washed away by that hot soup.

The sky outside the window gradually darkened, and the sparrows on the eaves fluttered back to their nests. The light bulb inside the house clicked open, and a dim yellow light slowly filled the entire room, illuminating the food in the bowl and the rare relaxation on He Feng's face. He picked up a piece of green vegetable with his chopsticks, chewed slowly, and pondered the coal mine and the lives of the families in the courtyard. A smile unconsciously appeared on his lips—life was busy, but it was also fulfilling.

He Feng stood under the old locust tree at the street corner, gazing at the courtyard enclosed by high walls and electric fences in the distance. Sentinels paced back and forth on the walls, their bayonets gleaming coldly in the sunlight. The cigarette between his fingers burned to the end, numbing his fingertips before he came to his senses, yet a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips—he truly hadn't expected this game to unfold so smoothly. Zhao Ci and Zhang Chuan, now truly were like two precise keys, successfully infiltrating that impenetrable fortress.

According to scattered information from informants, Zhao Ci is highly valued inside, and the precision instrument calibration project he is in charge of is directly related to the stability of the core production line; while Zhang Chuan stays by Zhao Ci's side every step of the way. On the surface, he is an assistant who serves tea and water, but in reality, he is like a cheetah ready to pounce, always alert to the slightest movement around him.

Although he was unable to establish direct contact due to the tight surveillance, as long as he knew that they were safe and sound and were still proceeding according to plan, He Feng felt much more at ease – this was the most reassuring thing at the moment.

In reality, Zhao Ci and Zhang Chuan's smooth entry into that courtyard was far from as easy as it seemed. Initially, as planned, they first went to the provincial capital, 300 miles away. With the help of local comrades, they peeled away layers of their past identities, like an onion: Zhao Ci's file now included the title of professor in the physics department of a certain university, complete with papers, patents, and a list of collaborative projects, specializing in the research and development of precision instruments; Zhang Chuan became his "assistant and security personnel," the reason being that the professor's research project involved sensitive military data, requiring a veteran as a bodyguard.

At first, Jiang Hu, who was in charge of the review, didn't have many doubts. After all, for him, a workshop director eager to make political achievements, this was a golden opportunity—having a university professor overseeing things could solve a technical problem that had been stuck for half a year, and also earn him face in front of his superiors, which was exactly what he wanted. He immediately approved it and even had the rest room next to the laboratory cleaned up as accommodation for the two of them, showing them great concern and attention on the surface.

But when Zhao Ci put on his white coat and began "adjusting the experimental equipment," Jiang Hu's heart started pounding with anxiety. The situation was sensitive; who knew if the other party was a spy disguised as a professor? What if they were after the core parameters of that imported precision lathe? He, the director, might lose his head.

That afternoon, Jiang Hu, carrying a leather-bound notebook, deliberately strolled into the lab. The room reeked of machine oil and rosin. Zhao Ci was squatting beside the lathe, intently measuring the diameter of a hole in a component with calipers. Jiang Hu stood at the door for a moment before casually asking, "Professor Zhao, busy?"