Chapter 50: Running for Governor

The sound of conversation inside the door appeared and disappeared from time to time, just like the faint scent of tea in the tea dregs bucket in the corridor. If Wang Zixu's name had not been called, he would not have heard it so clearly.

The person who spoke just now was Song Yinglian, a boy who joined the unit at the same time as Diao Yiwen and Guo Ranran. He has slightly dark skin and is thin. Some people have seen him watching movies with Diao Yiwen on weekends.

The corridor is empty, everyone is in their own office, and each office has its door closed. The corridor connects more than a dozen offices, which are like eighth notes, short and compact, forming all the sections of the entire unit. And this corridor is the five-line score.

Wang Zixu stood on the musical score, feeling like an untimely rest.

He blinked, and the wood grain on the red-painted door became clearer, then suddenly opened up. His amazing imagination penetrated the thin door.

Guo Ranran was half leaning against her desk, the sun shining on her hairpin, reflecting light slightly, Diao Yiwen was sitting on the wooden sofa with her knees together, Song Yinglian was standing in the room, waving his hands, speaking passionately. In addition, there were several colleagues, some sitting and some standing, everything was vivid in my mind.

Song Yinglian said, "Xiao Diao, you don't have to feel stressed. I think you have a better chance than Wang Zixu. Yes, he was in the limelight some time ago, but Shen Qingfeng almost criticized him by name. The leaders really value people like you who write solidly."

Diao Yiwen said: "But I have only published in Xihe Literature and Art. I have never written any material."

Guo Ranran said: "What happened to Xihe Literature and Art? Some people want to publish in Xihe Literature and Art but can't. Let me tell you a secret. The doorman told me before that Wang Zixu submitted manuscripts to Xihe Literature and Art many times before, but he never saw a single result."

"Is this true? No wonder Shen Qingfeng looked down on him. It's nothing to be able to memorize the title of a book but not be able to write it..."

"Don't worry, Xiao Diao. Behind closed doors, everyone in this office will definitely vote for you."

His imagination faded, the scene in the office disappeared, and Wang Zixu's gaze returned to the tightly closed door, staring at the red-painted wooden door in a daze.

Suddenly, it dawned on him: Zhang Cangnian had been reminding him to "be prepared", but he had never known what "preparation" meant. Hearing the conversation in the room, he finally realized that this was what preparation was.

He understood why he was still in such a mess at his age. In the first few years after he came to the company, he only knew how to work hard, doing whatever the leader asked him to do and whatever work his colleagues pushed on him. He only knew how to do but not how to talk, so he always offended people for no reason, and people always gave him low scores in the year-end evaluation.

Song Yinglian and Guo Ranran were equivalent to Diao Yiwen's electoral college. Through speeches, lobbying, canvassing for votes, office social activities and other activities, they quickly gained the support of one office after another.

The Red Office, the Blue Office, and the Swing Office will go to lobby and work one by one. The activities of this pocket electoral college only bypassed Wang Zixu's office.

He understood why Zhang Cangnian came to remind him. He must be well aware of these activities, but from his point of view, it was not easy to say it clearly. He could only hint at it and urge him to start the activities, otherwise he would be isolated by the entire unit.

A simple performance appraisal turned out to be like the election of the US president. The prince was humble and convinced.

"Click."

The door in front of him suddenly opened, and a colleague, holding a teacup, leaned halfway out of the door and made eye contact with Wang Zixu.

Song Yinglian's voice passed through his body and reached Wang Zixu's ears:
"It's okay, Xiao Diao. I would vote for you even if you haven't published in Xihe Literature and Art. Wang Zixu is too arrogant and cold. He relies on his extensive knowledge and doesn't even talk to us."

The colleagues who met Wang Zixu looked embarrassed and stood there, not knowing what to say. Wang Zixu turned around naturally and left their office door quietly like a ghost, for fear of disturbing the people who were talking loudly inside.

He returned to his office, sat down at his seat, and tied his head.

After finishing the report in the morning, he had planned to think about the script content while he was free. But after sitting there for a long time, he couldn't think of a single word.

He felt that he was strong enough in spirit, strong enough to ignore these petty tricks. He saw the Yangtze River, and he headed towards it like Kuafu, but he didn't have the long legs of Kuafu to easily cross the Canglang River. He could only wade in the Canglang River, letting the muddy water flood over his head. Since he didn't pursue progress, he didn't want to pass on the cold air.

He himself has suffered enough unfair treatment and invisible discrimination, and he does not want to pass on these depressing contents to young people. So he chose to quietly withdraw in a way that would not affect their mood.

If they knew that he had heard and remembered every word of their conversation, he didn't know how they would feel. He could only pretend that he didn't hear it and remained silent.

Unfortunately, he was not as strong as he thought. The cursor on the computer screen flickered, and he was still affected.

Suddenly, Wang Zixu raised his head.

Damn it, why?
I have given up on the evaluation and I have given you the chance. You guys can canvass for votes and play your own games. Why do you still have to praise and step on one behind my back?

He always considers everyone's feelings, including his wife's feelings, his father's feelings, and the feelings of his colleagues and leaders.

But no one ever considered his feelings.

A 30-year-old man without money deserves to be hated by people and be ignored by people. No one cares about his spiritual world. Even his existence is blocking the way of others. He needs to be kicked away to achieve world peace. This world belongs to us and you, but not to him. He deserves to give up this world and not have emotions. Damn it, why!
Wang Zixu stood up and strode to the door he had just walked through. The noise from inside the door had become much quieter, probably because the colleague who had just opened the door told him that someone was eavesdropping, so they lowered their voices.

Wang Zixu stretched out his hand and pushed the door open with a click.

The conversation stopped abruptly.

Guo Ranran was leaning against the desk, Diao Yiwen was sitting on the wooden sofa with her knees together, and Song Yinglian was standing, looking back at him in surprise.

The clouds floated over and blocked the sunlight, and the office seemed to be filtered through a Japanese filter. The light was bright green and transparent, making people feel happy.

Wang Zixu glanced at everyone and said, "Xihe Literature and Art is nothing."

……

Cheng Xing, wearing a blue-light-blocking interior goggles, took a long breath, took his hands off the keyboard, picked up the mouse, and clicked "Publish".

"The Little Prince's 40 Love Letters to the World" was not published all at once; he updated two letters every day.

By the time he updated to 38, his number of fans on Hongjiao had exceeded 148 million, and he received tens of thousands of messages every day urging him to update more.

An advertiser approached him and wanted to discuss business cooperation with him. The price quoted was as high as 120,000 yuan per order, but he politely declined. He felt that this was the credit of the little prince, and he should not take credit for it. It would be a distorted idea to seek profit for himself.

In the chat app, an ugly cat avatar started to move. Cheng Xing clicked on it and saw that it was Tian Zhenlei, the editor-in-chief of the Literary World magazine, whom he had communicated with before.

"Wenyijie" is a fiction magazine that tends to be younger. In the field of serious literature, its influence is second only to a few magazines such as "Dedao", "September", "Yangtze River" and "Huaguo". In a sense, it is even more popular among young people than those magazines.

Tian Zhenlei said: "Xiao Cheng, I want to put our "The Little Prince's Love Letter" in the form of a column in "Literary World". I want to discuss with you how to do it."

Cheng Xing sat up straight and typed in the chat window: "OK."

(End of this chapter)

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