40: Chapter 40 Su Rui's Paper Scanner

The afternoon in the Old neighborhood was warmed by the autumn sun. Wild chrysanthemums at the base of the wall held their heads high, their petals still dotted with morning dew, shimmering with fine light in the sunshine. Chen Jie had just finished putting the canvas chair cover that Grandma Zhang had washed back onto the bench when he heard hurried footsteps coming from the third floor, followed immediately by Su Rui's tearful shout: "Brother Jie! Come help me, quickly!"

He looked up and saw Su Rui leaning over the balcony railing, holding a half-open scanner. There were several obvious scratches on its black casing, and half a sheet of white A4 paper was jammed in the paper feed slot, looking like a bird with its wings caught. "The client needs this contract scanned for archiving urgently, but this machine suddenly jammed completely. I've been taking it apart for ages, and not only did I not get it out, but I also lost two screws from the side!"

Chen Jie, carrying his slightly worn canvas backpack, walked slowly up the stairs. Each step seemed somewhat heavy, as if he were carrying not just a backpack, but also the pressures and exhaustion of life.

When he pushed open the familiar door, air mixed with the scent of paper and electronic components rushed to meet him. He looked closely and saw a pile of parts scattered across the living room floor, as if a mischievous kitten had overturned a toy box. The scanner's lid had been tossed aside, lying there all alone, revealing the intricate circuits and gears inside, as if it were recounting its unfortunate encounter to him.

And that jammed paper was even more eye-catching. It looked like a stubborn stone, half jammed inside the machine and half drooping listlessly outside. Its edges were crumpled, like a withered paper flower that had lost its original vitality and vigor.

Seeing this, Chen Jie couldn't help but frown. He walked quickly to the scanner, crouched down, and carefully observed the condition of the paper feed slot. His fingertips gently rubbed the edge of the feed slot, feeling its rough texture. Suddenly, he touched something sticky, and a sense of foreboding immediately rose in his heart.

He brought the object to his nose and sniffed; the scent of long-dried coffee stains entered his nasal cavity. The smell was somewhat pungent, and it was as hard as a thin shell, clearly having been there for some time.

Chen Jie looked up at Su Rui, who was standing to the side looking somewhat embarrassed, and asked: "Did you spill coffee in here?"

Su Rui's face turned red in a flash. He scratched his head sheepishly, then handed over a bottle of iced orange soda and explained: "I was working overtime on a report yesterday and accidentally knocked over my cup... I thought it would be fine if I wiped it clean, but who knew it would jam like this as soon as I turned it on today. This machine has been with me for three years; it would be a pity to throw it away, but if it can't be fixed..." His words revealed a hint of helplessness and anxiety.

Chen Jie didn't speak. He took a set of precision screwdrivers out of his backpack, picked the thinnest flat-head screwdriver, and carefully inserted it into the gap between the jammed paper and the gears. His movements were very slow, his fingertips pausing occasionally, as if he were sensing something. Suddenly, a familiar tingling sensation arose in the web of his hand—the jade stone in his backpack was slightly warm, and an extremely faint green light crawled out along the fabric, quietly traveling along the inside of his wrist to his fingertips, condensing into a nearly invisible point of light.

He held his breath, and the point of light at his fingertip landed gently on the spot where the gear was jammed. The green light, like a nimble little fish, drilled into the gear along its grooves. Wherever it passed, the originally rusty metal shaft suddenly took on a layer of warm, gentle luster. Chen Jie applied a little pressure with his thumb, and he heard a soft "click," like a thin needle falling into cotton.

"It moved!" Su Rui pointed at the paper feed slot in surprise. The paper, which had been firmly jammed, actually began to loosen slowly, and the creases at the edges smoothed out at a speed visible to the naked eye, as if someone had quietly ironed them with an iron.

Chen Jie pulled it out, and the entire roll of jammed paper slid out smoothly, the surface as flat as if it had never been jammed. He picked up the screws from the floor; the green light on his fingertips had faded, leaving only a faint warmth. "A paper ball jammed the gear," he explained casually while using the screwdriver to secure the parts, "The coffee stain caused the plastic parts to expand. Don't put cups next to the machine in the future."

Su Rui hurriedly plugged in the power, and the scanner started up with a "hum." The feed slot smoothly ingested and ejected blank paper, and the error indicator light on the screen extinguished in response. "That's amazing!" He looked at the clear scanned file, then looked at Chen Jie's temples, which were soaked with sweat, and suddenly remembered what Grandma Zhang had said, "Brother Jie, do you have some secret? The last time with Brother Li's broken fan, it was the same; after you fixed it, it ran more steadily than a new one."

Chen Jie put the screwdriver back into his tool bag; the jade stone in his backpack had returned to its icy coolness. He grabbed the unopened bottle of orange soda, twisted off the cap, and took a big gulp; the cold bubbles exploded in his throat. "There's no secret," he said, wiping his mouth as he walked toward the door, "Fixing things is like coaxing a child; you have to go along with its temperament. I'm off; the screws on the bench downstairs still need to be tightened."

When he reached the top of the stairs, he heard Su Rui calling from behind: "I'll treat you to Wang Lei's braised pig trotters tonight! I just bought half a portion!" Chen Jie waved his hand without stopping. Sunlight fell on the back of his hand through the stairwell window, and he suddenly recalled the sensation of the spiritual energy flowing through his fingertips just now—it felt exactly the same as when he was grinding steel bars; a fraction too loose and the strength was insufficient, a fraction too tight and it was easy to damage, it had to be like finding the right thread angle when tightening a screw, relying entirely on the feel of one's hands.

It was just like life in this Old neighborhood; it looked bumpy and stumbling, but it actually hid its own method. He stepped down the creaky stairs, hearing the clinking sound of Brother Li hammering a bicycle chain downstairs, and suddenly felt very steady in his heart.