The train driver in the courtyard

Whoohoo!
The strong wind blew up sand, making the poplar forest rustle.

Next to the switch station of Zhouzhuang Commune, more than ten miles away from the capital, a dusty figure was stumbling forward.

His navy blue work clothes had three rips on them, his knees were soaked with dark red blood, and his left face was so swollen that his eye was almost invisible, as if he had been ravaged by a dozen strong men.

Professor Mitsuo Kawamura felt extremely regretful when thinking about what he had experienced along the way. He wished he would not have taken the initiative to conduct the field investigation.

This story begins when the train arrived in Beijing.

Mitsuo Kawamura knew very well that if he wanted to obtain (tamper with) first-hand information, he could only start from the nearby switch station.

He was also a railway worker. When he saw the train slowing down, he opened the door with the key he had prepared in advance and jumped down bravely.

Kawamura Mitsuo sneaked all the way to the outside of the Qianmen locomotive depot.

In order to avoid being noticed by the locals, I bought the blue and black work clothes commonly worn by the locals from a silly guy.

So far everything has been going well.

We are not far from exposing the true face of Dongda Iron’s fraud.

But as soon as he left the capital, Kawamura Mitsuo soon encountered a crisis.

When a member of the cooperative who was working on the roadside spotted a stranger, he actually came forward with a hoe in hand and questioned him.

Kawamura Mitsuo was worried that his accent would be discovered, so he pretended to be mute. It has to be said that he was very smart.

but.

The member actually wanted to see his letter of introduction.

There is no Mitsuo Kawamura.

What to do.

After pretending to be a fool and fooling those members, Kawamura Mitsuo could only take small paths to avoid passers-by.

Along the way, he fell into a ditch twice and was chased by wild wolves three times.

"It's all worth it. As long as I get the information, I will definitely be praised by my father-in-law when I return."

Seeing a dilapidated and whirring switch station ahead, Kawamura Mitsuo regained his spirits and limped over with the help of a wooden stick.

The wooden door of the switch room creaked, and a red cloth strip with the words "Safe Production" hung crookedly on the door frame.

Just as Kawamura Mitsuo was about to push the door open, he heard the dull sound of a hoe hitting the ground behind him.

“What are you doing?

I saw a strange man walking towards this side.

The reason why he was said to be strange was that he was wearing a faded railway uniform with a straw hat tilted on his head, a sickle in his left hand and a sheaf of wheat on his right shoulder, which made him look out of place.

He was more like a neighborhood commune member than a railway employee.

"Comrade member, is the person guarding the switchboard not here?" Kawamura Mitsuo deliberately slowed down his speech and tried hard to imitate the standard Mandarin pronunciation.

"I am the switchman."

"You? A railway switchman? Then why are you harvesting wheat? My God, you actually planted so much wheat."

It was only then that Kawamura Mitsuo discovered that there were a lot of wheat planted on both sides of the railway.

At this time, the wheat is ripe, and the golden ears of wheat sway in the wind.

"Don't you know that crops are not allowed to be planted along the railway?! Dongda Railway is really a makeshift team."

The old switchman narrowed his eyes and said, "From what you said, comrade, you are an expert?"

"I'm a railway expert, from the Harbin Railway Technical Institute." Kawamura Mitsuo's accent was tinged with a hint of northeastern dialect.

"Then I want to ask you," the old switchman tapped the ground with the tip of his sickle, "why can't we grow crops next to the railway?"

Kawamura Mitsuo felt that his profession was being mocked and could no longer hold back: "Planting requires turning the soil! It will destroy the stability of the roadbed! This is the most basic railway safety knowledge!"

The old switchman looked at him meaningfully and turned into the house.

After a while, he came out holding an enamel pot, gulped down a few mouthfuls of cold water, and then said slowly: "Didn't you see that we used strong tamping foundation? Pile foundation treatment? Farming is allowed only five meters outside the protection line?"

As he spoke, he pointed his hoe into the distance. The edge of the wheat field was indeed straight, as if it had been measured with a ruler.

Kawamura Mitsuo's pupils suddenly contracted.

This design not only ensures safety but also increases food production. His throat tightened and he asked, "Whose idea was this?"

"Who else could it be?" The old switchman's face suddenly lit up. "Our Li Da Che, Comrade Li Aiguo!"

The name "Li Aiguo" stabbed into Kawamura Man's heart like a blunt knife.

He resisted the urge to dizziness and changed the subject: "Old comrade, can you let me see the train records? I am studying dispatch optimization."

"What are you looking at that?" the old switchman suddenly became alert.

"Well, I'm studying train dispatching. With those records, we can improve the dispatching system and make our trains run faster."

Mitsuo Kawamura felt that he was extremely smart for being able to come up with such a brilliant excuse.

"According to the above regulations, train records can only be reviewed by comrades in the dispatching center." The old switchman was not fooled.

Kawamura Mannan took a deep breath and took out a large stack of banknotes from his pocket: "Fifty dollars, as long as you let me see the records, I'll give you all the fifty dollars."

The old switchman looked at the banknotes and seemed a little hesitant.

After a long while, he sighed and took the money: "I will pay you back later."

Kawamura Mitsuo didn't understand what was said. At this moment, all his attention was focused on the information that was about to be obtained.

The old switchman turned and went into the house. After a moment, he took out a stack of notebooks and threw them on the wooden table. "Look."

After saying that, he picked up his hoe and walked towards the wheat field in the distance.

Kawamura Mitsuo couldn't wait to open the notebook, and his pupils suddenly contracted.

The neat handwriting records the passing time of each train in detail, accurate to the minute.

What shocked him even more was that these data matched perfectly with the records of the Beijing Dispatching Room.

"Dongda Tie actually did it." Cold sweat slid down Kawamura Man's temple.

It has only been a few years since Dongda Railway has developed to this level. If it continues to develop, perhaps...
He shook his head, shaking this incredible thought out of his head, and a cold smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

The rhythmic sound of hoeing the ground came from afar, and the figure of the old switchman had become a small black dot in the wheat waves.

"Even the switchmen have to farm to feed themselves, huh." Kawamura Mitsuo shook his head contemptuously. He looked around and saw that there was no one else around, so he took out the mysterious brown glass bottle from his pocket.

His fingers smeared the liquid on the records and the ink quickly disappeared.

"The people of the Survivors' Association are really capable. They can actually get such good things."

A sneer appeared on Kawamura Mitsuo's lips, and his tense shoulders finally relaxed.

He took out a pen and scribbled carefully made-up numbers fluently on the blank page, then spread the notebook out in the hot sun.

In just a moment, the new ink blended perfectly with the yellowed pages, as if the record had been written by the old switchman from beginning to end.

He closed the book carefully, tiptoed into the house like a cat, and put the forged record back to its place.

"When we get back to the Friendship Hotel, notify Lao Maotie and the others to come over together. Then Dong Datie will be speechless."

"Hehehe, when it comes to doing this kind of bad things, our little Japanese iron is the most professional."

Kawamura Mitsuo turned around and walked out the door. Just as he was about to slip away, the sound of hoeing in the distance suddenly made his scalp tighten.

Turning around, I saw that the old switchman had dug a pit half a person deep without me noticing, and the dark soil was shining with a damp luster in the sun.

"Comrade, what are you going to plant when you dig this hole?"

"Bury the people." The old switchman didn't even raise his head. The hoe in his hand continued to rise and fall rhythmically, and each time he dug his hoe deeply into the soil.

"Bury someone. Bury whom?" Kawamura Mitsuo felt a piercing chill running up from the soles of his feet.

"you!"

The old switchman suddenly looked up, and his eyes filled with anger were like two sharp blades drawn from their sheaths, piercing straight at Kawamura Mitsuo.

(End of this chapter)