CHAPTER 113: CHAPTER 112: SO-CALLED DECEPTION IS MERELY WANTING TOO MUCH

"Those who keep saying,

that each generation is worse than the last, should look at you;

...

freely learning a combat technique, enjoying a romance, appreciating a novel, traveling to distant places.

...

You have obtained the rights we once dreamed of — the right to choose.

...

So,

surge ahead, young waves!

We flow in the same rushing river."

Mu Qingmei looked at this article, unable to put it down for a long time, greedily reading it several times as if savoring a delicacy, until the new applicant across from her wanted to borrow the test paper, she reluctantly let go of the article.

It was brilliant!

It was exhilarating!

She couldn’t wait to jot it down and show it to the people of White Night!

Just reading the words above, Mu Qingmei seemed to see a dignified and benevolent elder, with eyes full of hope for the younger generation, a heart brimming with envy for them, every word and sentence a sincere blessing and praise for the juniors.

Although there was no author’s name, Mu Qingmei believed it must have been written by an erudite old scholar!

She wondered where Zhengwei of the Jing Family had found it, Mu Qingmei had read many books but had never seen such a splendid article. Could it be a blessing from the Yanjing Royal Academy for the freshmen? Hmm, very likely, after all, there’s a gap in information between Xuanzhu County and Yanjing, so Zhengwei brought the article to show off to us in the exam... Ha, deliberately omitting the author’s name, do they think we would be foolish enough to believe that such a fine piece was written by someone from the Jing Family?

However, the exam question was so proper, it was beyond Mu Qingmei’s expectations. She thought the exam was to select bootlickers, but now it seemed to be looking for a group of conscientious literati who had deep hopes for the future, young people, and society.

Zhengwei of the Jing Family’s move, I can’t fathom it.

Wait a minute.

Mu Qingmei suddenly thought, perhaps this could be a reverse operation? The better, more heartfelt the writing in this exam, the less likely it is to be hired? Only those who praise and flatter subtly would become the backbone of this trashy newspaper?

Although she had no evidence, Mu Qingmei felt this was the truth: first use a splendid article to stir up the applicant’s passion, and then based on their answers, find those truly unscrupulous authors to rely on...

Indeed, Zhengwei the merchant, this reverse operation is so dirty!

To think I used to believe you might be a good person against the slave trade driven by clear grievances!

Even though she realized the truth, Mu Qingmei would still answer seriously. Although she would certainly enter the newspaper through connections, she needed to maintain her appearance.

Moreover, the passion stirred up by this article made Mu Qingmei eager to write something to express her feelings. To be honest, she usually writes little poems and essays, and everyone says her writing is as strong and powerful as her combat technique~

Just as Mu Qingmei was about to start writing, she suddenly heard a quarrel behind her:

"Don’t you have better clothes?"

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, this is already my cleanest clothing..."

Mu Qingmei turned around and saw a young man in coarse linen clothes apologizing repeatedly, bowing his head to the staff in front of him. His face was tanned very dark, his large hands were rough and calloused, showing he made his living through labor. Although there were many patches on his clothes, they were obviously prepared carefully, with not many wrinkles, and washed very clean.

But there was a strange odor from him, like a mix of sewage and garbage, which soon spread on the second floor. Mu Qingmei knew the source of the smell—the poorest slums outside the city, where Xuanzhu County’s garbage disposal site was located, and naturally, the people living there carried a stench.

The staff thought the smell came from the young man’s clothes, so they picked on him a bit, but they didn’t make it too difficult, handing him an application form and signaling him to answer at the long table.

When the young man walked over, the indistinct strange smell became more intense, causing the applicants to frown and glare. Those coming to the Jing Family newspaper looking for a job were indeed lacking money, but not to the point of living in the slums near the garbage dump. They had some education, possibly finished high school and didn’t make a living through labor, naturally difficult to tolerate such a smell.

Just as the young man was about to sit down, he was given a glare by the person beside him. Standing at a loss to the side, Mu Qingmei couldn’t bear it in her heart and beckoned to him, signaling him to sit in the empty seat next to her.

Everyone was answering questions, and the young man knew he couldn’t speak, bowing in gratitude to Mu Qingmei. Mu Qingmei happened to be sitting in the corner, he pulled the chair to the farthest distance from Mu Qingmei, laid the upper half of the paper on the table, and delicately picked up the test sheet with his thumb and forefinger, as if afraid to dirty the paper.

Mu Qingmei was about to start answering when she suddenly heard a faint, strange rumbling sound. She blinked, turned to see the young man’s flushed face, thought for a moment, pushed her chair over, and took a pack of dumplings from her handbag to offer to him.

The dumplings were what she bought on the way to the newspaper, intending to eat them as a late-night snack after practicing her combat technique tonight.

The young man waved his hands repeatedly, took one look at the dumplings, and swallowed hard. He said softly, "Thank you, thank you, but I don’t need to eat, thank you."

"You were so hungry you made noises... You must’ve been hungry for at least a day." Mu Qingmei had been hungry before, she naturally knew how long it took not eating for the stomach to contract from hunger: "Eat, it’s not expensive, being hungry makes it difficult to answer questions, doesn’t it?"

The young man shook his head still: "No, answering doesn’t require effort, and I’ll eat when I go back."

"So you haven’t eaten anything today?" Mu Qingmei was slightly stunned: "Why?"

"It’s nothing." The young man said softly: "Today I came to the newspaper for a job interview, I don’t have to work in the morning and noon, whether I eat or not doesn’t matter... I’m sorry, don’t laugh at me."

Mu Qingmei blinked, and since he said that, to protect his dignity, she could only retract the dumplings.

Sitting back in her seat, Mu Qingmei picked up the test paper to read it again, but perceived a new, indescribable taste.

The right to choose.

But do the young people on this land of silver and blood truly have the power to choose?

Learning knowledge, enjoying love, appreciating novels, traveling.

What do these things have to do with those who can only live at the bottom, carefully planning for survival? A person who has to save eating until before work, does he have the right to pursue these things?

Weak people are accustomed to ridicule and denial, strong-hearted people never hesitate to praise and encourage.

But ordinary people, who hasn’t grown up bearing countless mockeries and denials? Just because someone has borne much suffering, does that make them ’weak’? And those ’strong-hearted people’ who live under praise and encouragement, what kind of people are they anyway?

The more she pondered, the more different she found the taste to be. This inspiring and magnificent article gradually turned into a heart-devouring monster in her eyes.

After all, why was her first reaction upon seeing this article joy, excitement, and a sense of pride, a self-satisfied demeanor?

It was because she felt she was the ’later wave’ mentioned in the article—

The right to choose, the right to enjoy, the right to cultivate interests,

Youths envied, respected, and appreciated by the ’previous waves’,

A new generation of youth with an unlimited future.

Who doesn’t want to be such a ’later wave’?

But is she? Is she worthy?

She wasn’t, she was not worthy.

She, Mu Qingmei, was just one of thousands of ordinary young people. She had no control over her fate, no choice, whether for this land or for her elder brother Shui Xingzhou, she had to overthrow the tyrannical rule of the Silver Blood Association, shatter the fortress built by the ’previous waves’ for their brutal regime.

The ones who truly possess the future are not these young people like wild grass, but those future authorities who grew up with a silver spoon in their mouths, hidden in deep courtyards, the sons of governors, the daughters of mercantile leaders, the Jing Family’s Zhengwei.

Yet this article binds young people of different classes together, binds her to Jing Zhengwei, calling them ’later waves’, though she couldn’t see through it at first glance, deceived by the flowery words just like a child being coaxed.

It’s not her issue, Mu Qingmei believed. Most others, upon reading this article, would probably also think they were the ’later waves’ in it.

Young people who are doing well might feel the article is speaking to them; those not doing well might feel the same.

Who, at a young age, wants to admit they are like dried bones in a tomb with no choices and a bleak future?

Being deceived is simply wanting too much.

Understanding this, Mu Qingmei couldn’t help but take a sharp intake of breath, feeling a chill penetrate to her bones.

Is this Jing Zhengwei’s true intention?

This article is not a hymn of praise, nor a sincere blessing from seniors to juniors, but a composition that stirs the blood and grants hope, a delusion. It fills one with hope but subconsciously makes someone overlook the heavy barriers of reality; it sets one’s blood boiling but makes them willingly follow the erroneous values of this era.

Such ruthless people.

Such a venomous article.

At this moment, Mu Qingmei finally realized that Jing Zhengwei’s level was on a completely different level than other newspapers—when other newspapers were still making up stories no one believes, Jing Zhengwei had reached a higher level.

A level that mocks people’s hearts while standing righteously.

He is completely right, you can’t refute him, you are even willing to believe him.

Mu Qingmei, for the first time, felt glad to have come to this newspaper. Otherwise, the people of White Night might also be bewitched by the articles of this newspaper.

Thinking up to this point, Mu Qingmei began to think of how she would respond.

Although she would undoubtedly be hired, she still hoped to come up with an ingenious article to counter this test topic. She didn’t know who wrote it, but whoever it was represented someone under Jing Zhengwei who could gain insight into people’s hearts and stir their emotions.

Public opinion can only be countered with public opinion. Although there are literary figures in White Night, Mu Qingmei subconsciously felt that it should be her responsibility.

Furthermore, she also wanted to avenge being fooled.

In her eyes, the question in this test paper—’Based on the central idea expressed, compose a similar short essay’—was nothing short of Jing Zhengwei’s mockery—’Hahaha look at you bunch of fools getting all blood-boiled, how amusing it is.’

With this thought, she spent a full hour. Others had finished and submitted their work, yet she was still stuck, looking like she had writer’s block.

"Um...thank you, goodbye."

Mu Qingmei turned her head and saw the young man was also finished writing, so she smiled and waved goodbye to him.

Looking at his thin back and the washed-out clothes, Mu Qingmei suddenly had a revelation—she knew what she should write.

...

...

At night, Leyu sat in the study, with Qing Lan opposite him, wearing glasses, carefully reading and grading the test papers.

After reading for a while, Qing Lan couldn’t help but take off her glasses, rub her eyes, take a sip of coconut milk, and complain, "Sir, the task of hiring editors is so important, you’d better do it, I really can’t bear this responsibility."

"Don’t worry, just hire anyone you like, I trust your judgment."

But I’m nearsighted...Qing Lan asked, "But what if my judgment is poor? You should do it, sir..."

"Don’t worry, if anything goes wrong, I’ll be your strongest backer, I’ll take responsibility!" Leyu said curiously.

If it were a few days ago, Qing Lan might have been touched by these words, but she now clearly understood—her master was just trying to avoid work by pushing it all onto her!

How could there be someone who buys a literate woman from Xiangxue Sea and then lets her work? Has the world become better or worse...Qing Lan kept complaining in her mind, but after resting for a while, she obediently continued to read the applicants’ papers.

Meanwhile, Leyu was also reading the papers.

He wanted to see if anyone could grasp the truth of the test question.

"To Those Four Thousand Years Later...ugh, a hymn of praise, not gonna do."

"Soul of Flaming Steel...ugh, such a strong whiff of blood-boiling chicken soup, not gonna do."

"For a Blue and Clear World...ugh, what trash, denied."

Until Leyu pulled out a paper, his eyebrows lifted, revealing a peculiar expression.

The title of the essay on this test paper was:

"How Can We, Who Have Worked Diligently for Decades, Possibly Compare to Your Generations of Accumulation?"