Coming out of the deputy director's office, Song Shuang was in a daze. She remembered that when she came to the TV station to apply for a job, the deputy director asked her why she wanted to be a reporter. She said that when she was in high school, she saw Jiang Xueqing on TV wearing a helmet and a bulletproof vest in war-torn African countries.
From that moment on, I determined to be a war correspondent, so I applied for the Journalism Department of Jiangnan University. At that time, the deputy director praised her for her ambition, and she strived to surpass reporter Jiang and become the chief female reporter of Omi.
Now, all this has come to nothing. What future can journalists have if they are reduced to political tools? Any news they want to report must be subject to censorship. Anyone can get involved and take care of it. The beauty of ideals and the cruelty of reality are at odds with each other.
Song Shuang was extremely frustrated and even had doubts about his career choice.
While eating in the cafeteria at noon, Liu Handong called to inquire about the progress. Song Shuang was embarrassed to tell him that Xia Baishi had a very difficult relationship, the program could not be broadcast, the Weibo post was deleted, and he was criticized by the leader.
Liu Handong laughed heartily: "I can guess, thank you anyway."
In the evening, Song Shuang returned home. She was still living in the Provincial Family Home. Her mother, Lin Hong, worked in Jiangbei and her father was in Beijing. She and Coco were the only ones in the empty house. There was a photo of Robert Capa hanging on the wall of the study.
Song Shuang’s spiritual idol.
A real reporter will not be constrained by these villains. Song Shuang resolutely turned on the computer, went to major forums, continued to post, and continued to fight.
Song Shuang had a reputation as a talented woman in the Journalism Department of Jiangxi University. At this time, she was holding a breath of anger and a ball of fire in her heart. The article she wrote was even more hearty, laughing and cursing. As the post was published, her anger became more intense.
Gradually it calms down, turn off the computer, wash up, go to sleep, and do whatever you like.
In the early morning, Song Shuang woke up from his dream, picked up his bedside phone and checked it out habitually. He sat up in excitement and found that the post he posted at night was still there, not deleted, and had been forwarded by many people, and hundreds of people had @ him.
The official accounts of the Omi City Public Security Bureau and the Omi City Intermediate People's Court asked them to pay attention to the case of Xia Baishi's kidnapping of Shu Fan and the custody battle.
The devil is as high as the Taoism! Song Shuang pumped his fist excitedly. Public opinion had been formed. It was too late to delete the post at this time.
…
At the Suzaku Hotel, Liu Fei's think tanks were facing a formidable enemy. Public opinion was out of control last night. Xia Baishi had been pushed to the forefront. The deputy secretary-general in charge of network public relations was called into the office by Liu Fei to criticize him face to face.
"Don't you have anyone on duty at night?" Liu Fei said pleasantly.
"There are people on duty, but in emergencies, we can't do anything." The deputy secretary-general said with a look of self-blame, "Director Chen of the State Council Information Office was double-checked by the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection. No one helped us delete posts, and the on-duty staff of several major forums also
If you can’t get in touch, even if you get in touch, you may not be able to buy into our account.”
Liu Fei tapped the table with his fingertips: "Don't you have any other plans? The network supervision department and the publicity department must have strong relationships. Have I said this before?"
"Boss, it's my fault, please punish me." The deputy secretary-general lowered his head.
Liu Fei waved his hand: "I won't punish anyone. What I want is to regain the position of public opinion. You go back and think about what to do."
The deputy secretary-general returned to his seat, thought for a while and called Ruan Xiaochuan from Omi Daily.
"Xiaochuan, I need your help. Xia Baishi's case has become a big deal."
"I'll be there soon."
Fifteen minutes later, Ruan Xiaochuan rushed to the Suzaku Hotel and discussed countermeasures with the colleagues in charge of public relations in the think tank. By this time, public opinion had already been formed. Rushing to clear the ground would only make it worse. The best strategy was to deal with it coldly and then fight back.
Ruan Xiaochuan said: "I know the person who posted the message. She is a female reporter from Omi TV. We can put some appropriate pressure on her and ask her to take the initiative to delete or apologize. I'm afraid it's impossible. The most we can do is stop posting, and then we can organize some more
People fight back and use their numerical superiority to defeat the opponent.”
A secretary with a master's degree in the team pushed up his glasses and said coldly: "You're a female reporter at a TV station, right? Just ask their boss to fire her, and then find a few gangsters in society to try and kill her to see if she still dares.
Against us."
Ruan Xiaochuan looked at him with disdain: "Song Shuang's father is a deputy ministerial leader and the former director of the Jiangdong Public Security Department. If you are not afraid of causing trouble, then find some gangster to deal with her."
The Master immediately fell silent.
The deputy secretary-general said: "Xiaochuan, please don't report to the society these days. Just stay here and be responsible for following up on this case."
Ruan Xiaochuan nodded: "Okay."
…
At Omi TV, Song Shuang was once again interviewed by the deputy director. The leader was still friendly and friendly, and after some greetings, he mentioned last night's post in a roundabout way.
"Xiao Song, my phone number is almost buzzing with people complaining that we use public opinion to interfere with the judiciary. Can you please pay more attention to the impact?"
Song Shuang was well prepared. She plausibly said: "First of all, I did not use my official status at Omi TV to do this. Secondly, I posted in my spare time. Finally, I confiscated any black money. The whole matter has nothing to do with the unit. Of course,
Yes, if these black hands behind the scenes put pressure on you, I will not make it difficult for you. This is my resignation letter."
The deputy director looked at Song Shuang quietly and pushed back the resignation letter: "Girl, no one can force you to resign. Uncle can still withstand it."
Song Shuang's nose felt sour: "Thank you, leader."
"Go back. I'll give you three days off. Do whatever you want. Remember, Taili will always be your strong backing."
Liu Fei's think tank didn't dare to go from behind the scenes to the front. After all, they had to take care of the popular ones, so they couldn't put pressure on the TV station in the form of official documents. They could only do it by saying hello. However, Song Shuang's status was special, and the TV station didn't accept this.
Because we can't replace the director for a trivial matter, we can only think of other ways.
Seeing that the public opinion situation is becoming more and more serious, Ruan Xiaochuan is very anxious. The success or failure of this matter is related to his career. However, he has been thinking hard and there is no good solution. After all, he has stayed in the newspaper office for a long time and has written too many stereotyped articles. His brain is not as good as it is.
I was more flexible before.
Suddenly Ruan Xiaochuan thought of a person and immediately took out his phone to call, but the number was already empty. After thinking about it, he turned on the computer and sent a private message to the person's Weibo.
…
Zhu Xiaoqiang felt that his body was warm and comfortable in the sun. He turned over and continued to sleep, but he heard an angry scolding: "The sun is shining on my butt, so I'm a lazy idiot and I haven't gotten up yet."
The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bedroom have been opened, warm sunlight shines in, and clothes are scattered on the light yellow solid wood floor. A night of passion is vividly visible.
Wang Hong walked in with fried eggs, bacon and milk: "Eat quickly and follow me back to my parents' house in the afternoon. I will drive."
Zhu Xiaoqiang looked at the wedding photos on the wall, yawned, turned over and went back to sleep. Wang Hong got angry and pushed him with a pout: "Still sleeping, it's already two o'clock in the afternoon. If you don't get up, the foreman will scold you."
"Let's sleep a little longer." Zhu Xiaoqiang muttered and opened his eyes. A dark face was only twenty centimeters away from him. The smell of smoke and rotting food came out of his mouth. It was his co-worker Lao Li Tou.
He was pushing Zhu Xiaoqiang hard: "Get up quickly, there are no bricks on the construction site."
The sweet dream was interrupted. Zhu Xiaoqiang smacked his lips and climbed up from the straw bed. The temporary work shed was filled with a sour smell. The pots and pans for lunch had not been washed yet. The leftovers were unappetizing. The sun was high outside.
Look, the workers have already started work.
Zhu Xiaoqiang previously worked as a tally clerk in a supermarket, and was later introduced by Ruan Xiaochuan to work in a public relations company. He used his own advantages to manage the official Weibo of a large company, with a monthly salary of 5,000, which was considered to be a white-collar class. However, the good times did not last long.
Xiaoqiang got into fights with people online, used his official WeChat identity to exchange insults, was complained by customers, and lost his hard-earned job. After living in a rental house for three months, he couldn't even afford noodles. He learned from the experience and kept his name anonymous.
I went to the construction site and found a job moving bricks. I worked at sunrise and rested at sunset. I was basically insulated from the Internet. Fortunately, the salary of migrant workers was not low. Even a small brick-moving worker could earn 3,000 to 4,000 yuan a month, and he still had to pay for food.
Live.
Zhu Xiaoqiang had been carrying bricks and cement mortar all afternoon, and he was as tired as a dog. During dinner in the evening, the workers squatted at the door of the work shed, holding a big bowl of porridge with three fingers, holding a steamed bun between two fingers, and holding a steamed bun between two fingers.
Holding the chopsticks, he picked up the soy sauce-roasted potato pieces from the stainless steel basin, and the sound of his mouth squeaked one after another, just like a pig pen.
Suddenly, a person hurried over and shouted: "Boss Zhang's ridiculous donation has gone away! All our hard-earned money is gone!"
Everyone was in an uproar, and the rumors that had been going on for many days became reality. This affordable housing supporting project, which was claimed to be funded by the government and benefited the people, turned into an unfinished building. Instead of receiving monthly wages, the migrant workers were deposited with the contractor.
, they were all paid at the end of the project. Now that the contractor has left, the wages have naturally been lost.
He even lost his job of moving bricks and didn't have a dime on him. Zhu Xiaoqiang was completely disillusioned. He walked to the top of the building and looked at the dark sky. He thought of his father who died tragically and his mother in the countryside. Tears came to his eyes. He was tired of living and had a good life.
It's boring, why not jump off the roof of this building and forget it.
You should always leave something behind before you die. Zhu Xiaoqiang took out his mobile phone and went to Weibo to write a farewell message. By the way, he @Wang Hong suddenly found an unread private message. When he opened it, his heartbeat suddenly accelerated.
It was a private message from Ruan Xiaochuan, asking him what he was busy with recently and whether he would like to do something for him.
God will not destroy me! Zhu Xiaoqiang raised his arms and shouted, thunder rumbled in the night sky, as if in response to him.
…
Zhu Xiaoqiang went to see Ruan Xiaochuan in dirty work clothes. The two had known each other for a long time. Ruan Xiaochuan did not look down upon Zhu Xiaoqiang, who was from a grassroots background, but respected him very much. In a Shaxian snack shop, the two carefully analyzed public opinion.
"The best defense is to attack. They fight theirs, and we fight ours." Zhu Xiaoqiang punched the table, his eyes shining brightly, "Start with the history of Xia Qingshi's fortune and give him a traitor hat.
Hat, as long as you have righteousness in hand, you can knead them as much as you want."
Ruan Xiaochuan slapped his thigh: "High! It's really high! Why didn't I expect it... However, I have studied the history of Xia Qingshi's fortune. It is very legendary and clean. There is nothing to dig into."
Zhu Xiaoqiang smiled: "A lie repeated a thousand times becomes the truth. These days, what is true and what is false?"