Lin Jianguo didn't go to school.
He clutched the crumpled sheets of paper and headed toward the county seat.
It took over two hours to walk from the village to the town. The road was a dirt path, full of potholes, muddy and difficult to traverse after recent rain. He walked with uneven steps, mud splattering on his trousers, not bothering to wipe it off.
His mind was focused on one person.
Old Zhou, the technician at the county Agricultural Technology Station. He remembered him—hearing his father mention him a few times in later years—an educated man, knowledgeable in technology, willing to help. Villagers would go to him with questions. Later, when the station was shut down, Old Zhou returned to his hometown and disappeared without a trace.
If anyone in this world could understand the diagrams he drew, it would probably be Old Zhou.
After walking for over two hours, the county town finally appeared before his eyes.
Low brick houses, uneven streets, sparse pedestrians. Lin Jianguo stood at the intersection, looking around for a moment, then stopped a passerby and asked, "Comrade, where is the Agricultural Technology Station?"
The person pointed ahead: "Keep going straight, turn left at the third intersection. When you see a red brick building, that's it."
Lin Jianguo thanked him and followed the directions.
The station was a small red brick building, with a faded sign hanging outside—"Pugan County Agricultural Technology Extension Station." The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear voices inside.
He pushed the door open.
The interior was dimly lit, filled with all sorts of things—pesticide bottles, fertilizer bags, miscellaneous farming tools. Against the wall was a battered desk, piled with documents and diagrams. Behind it sat a man in his forties, wearing glasses, holding a cigarette, looking down at something.
Lin Jianguo stood at the doorway and called out, "Technician Zhou?"
The man looked up, took off his glasses, and examined him.
He was a thin man, with a sun-darkened face, but his eyes were bright—possessing the scholarly calm typical of educated people. He wore a faded blue Zhongshan suit, the cuffs worn and frayed, but the buttons neatly fastened.
"Who are you?" Old Zhou asked.
"I'm Lin Jianguo from Pugan Village," Lin replied, stepping forward and pulling out the crumpled sheets of paper. "I'd like you to take a look at this."
Old Zhou took the papers, unfolded them, and moved to the window to examine them in the light.
Lin Jianguo stood beside him, heart pounding, waiting for his response.
Old Zhou studied for a long time.
Frowning at times, tilting his head, occasionally pulling the papers closer or farther away. He kept the cigarette in his mouth but hadn't lit it; the butt was flattened from his teeth.
Lin Jianguo's palms were sweating.
Finally, Old Zhou looked up and fixed his gaze on him.
"What's this drawing?"
Lin pointed at the first sheet: "This shows that the wires are aging, which can cause a short circuit and start a fire that ignites the sacks nearby."
Old Zhou looked where he was pointing and nodded: "Hmm, I understand this. And this one?" He pointed to the second sheet.
"This is the forest station's warehouse. The electric meter box is here, with a crack—exposed wires inside, very dangerous."
Old Zhou nodded again, pointing to the third sheet: "And this is about fire fighting?"
"Yes, when there's a fire, you need to shout for help, use a fire extinguisher, and run away."
Old Zhou didn't say anything. He placed the three sheets side by side on the desk and looked at each one again. Then he raised his head, looking at Lin Jianguo with a somewhat complex expression.
"How old are you, kid?"
"Thirteen."
"Thirteen years old," Old Zhou repeated, taking the cigarette from his mouth and extinguishing it in the ashtray. "Why did you draw these?"
Lin hesitated, then said, "Because the wires at the forest station are old, and I'm worried they might catch fire."
"Worried about a fire?" Old Zhou stared into his eyes. "A thirteen-year-old kid, how do you know old wires can cause fires?"
Lin didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Old Zhou waited a moment, seeing he wouldn't reply, and didn't press further. He lowered his head again, looking at the papers, tapping lightly on their surface.
"Your idea is quite fresh," he said. "But your drawings lack proper conventions. Circuit diagrams aren't drawn like that."
He reached into a drawer, took out a sheet of paper, and picked up a pencil, starting to sketch.
"Look, this is the symbol for a resistor, draw it like this. This is a switch, like this. This is a wire, like this..." He explained as he drew, the pencil scratching softly on the paper.
Lin Jianguo leaned over, watching those lines carefully, trying to memorize.
After finishing, Old Zhou handed him the paper: "Here, you try drawing it yourself."
Lin took the pencil, leaned over the desk, and began to draw carefully. His hand trembled slightly, and his lines were crooked, but he was earnest—if he made a mistake, he erased and redrew.
Old Zhou watched quietly, a slight smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
"Not bad," he said. "Keep practicing, and you'll get better."
He returned the crumpled sheets to Lin and then took out a thin booklet from the drawer, handing it to him.
"Take this home and look at it. It shows the standard way to draw circuit diagrams."
Lin took it and flipped through it. It was a booklet titled "Common Electrical Safety Knowledge for Rural Areas." He looked up at Old Zhou, opening his mouth as if to say something, but hesitated.
Old Zhou waved his hand: "Alright, go back now. If you have questions, come ask again."
Lin nodded, pocketed the booklet, and turned to leave. At the doorway, he looked back.
"Old Zhou,"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
Old Zhou smiled and waved his hand.
Lin pushed the door open and stepped into the sunlight.