Chapter 60: Sigh! Talent Scouts & Capitalism

It was a silence that felt almost unsettling, like the quiet before the end of the world.

In the back seat, Lin Zhiyan sat in the middle, with Zefi on her left and Kui Furen on her right. Although the seats were spacious and there was a reasonable distance between them, Lin Zhiyan still felt as though she were being squeezed between the two of them until she could barely breathe.

The car was heading toward Wickshay City, home to the Ringstar Empire’s oldest collection of landmark buildings. More than a hundred theaters, underground bars, magazines, and fashion conglomerates were housed within these magnificent, imposing structures.

Lin Zhiyan had previously seen Wickshay City only in movies and television dramas. The protagonists were usually small-town girls with big dreams, aspiring to respectable careers such as public relations, editing, acting, theater singing, or becoming elite lawyers.

Back then, her only pleasure had probably been imagining what her own future might look like through the buildings that served as the backdrops for those stories. Even at that age, when she was still naive and inexperienced, she had realized that her fantasies were little more than a rote imitation of the illusions created by capital.

Now, sitting in a car bound for the city she had once dreamed of visiting, she felt like a bottle of cola that had been shaken for two hours. There was hardly any fizz left, and the sweetness was so overpowering that it felt artificial.

However, this was not the time to play the part of a successful person who had grown weary of life. Her immediate priority was figuring out how to survive the journey.

The three of them had been sitting in the car for fifteen minutes, and the atmosphere had been frozen for all fifteen. Even a penguin dropped into the car would have frozen to death.

Soon, the silence was broken.

It was Zefi.

He sat beside her in a loose, lightweight trench coat, with several buttons of his shirt undone. His long, grayish-white hair fell over his shoulders and down his back, resembling frost and snow that had yet to melt.

Ever since Lin Zhiyan had repeatedly gotten on his nerves, he had stopped smiling altogether. His expression had grown increasingly similar to Li Siheng’s perpetually cold face. And now, it was even worse than before.

Zefi glanced at his wristwatch.

“I hope we won’t be delayed too long. I’m getting a little hungry.”

Lin Zhiyan immediately replied, “It’s good to be hungry! A healthy appetite is a blessing!”

Zefi shot her a sidelong glance, apparently amused by her eager attempt to join the conversation, but he didn’t respond.

Kui Furen chuckled. The silver tassel earrings dangling from his ears swayed, much like his elusive, ethereal voice.

“It seems you’re still as busy as ever. Otherwise, you could have come earlier and had lunch with us. The food in the school cafeteria is quite good.”

Lin Zhiyan played along. “Being busy is good! Being busy is great!”

Kui Furen rested his arm beside the armrest and turned his head to look at them. Several strands of his shoulder-length hair fell across his chest. He wore a black T-shirt and jacket, which made his light-colored hair stand out even more.

Lin Zhiyan’s eyes were like an out-of-control mouse cursor, darting wildly from one place to another.

Zefi suddenly chuckled, tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Perhaps you’ve been away from school for too long and miss your student days. You even miss everything about school, including the cafeteria.”

“What you say certainly makes sense, but the people you eat with are just as important as the emotional factors involved.”

Kui Furen smiled at Lin Zhiyan. The small beauty mark beside his lips seemed even redder as it moved subtly with the tip of his tongue inside his mouth.

“I used to think that food was too familiar to be interesting. But when I watched her eat, I somehow found myself with a much better appetite. I even ate more than usual.”

Under his gaze, Lin Zhiyan’s mouth went dry. Nevertheless, reason forced her to continue playing along.

“Eating more is good! It’s great to eat more!”

Zefi raised an eyebrow.

“What happened to all that nonsense you used to spout? In front of him, you’ve suddenly learned to behave yourself. Have you become nothing more than an echo, agreeing with everything he says?”

Lin Zhiyan looked at Zefi and shamelessly doubled down on her obsequiousness.

“Being an echo is great! Absolutely wonderful!”

“Just as you said, she’s still young. Why make so many demands of her?”

Kui Furen smiled.

“You’re already well into your twenties. It’s time you matured a little, too.”

“I’ve always been mature. It’s just that I somehow seem immature whenever I’m around you. How strange. I wonder whether you’ve been an old soul since childhood, or whether you simply think everyone else is less intelligent than you.”

Zefi smiled, his face once again taking on that gentle, almost pitying expression.

“But if you’re so fond of acting like a mature adult, why don’t you dress a little more properly?”

“if shirts, suits, and evening gowns are the only clothes considered proper, then that’s far too rigid a standard.”

Kui Furen was smiling as well. He turned toward Lin Zhiyan and asked, “Don’t you agree?”

“You’re already twenty-five. It’s time you matured a little, too.”

Zefi directly called out Kui Furen’s age. Then he smiled and looked at Lin Zhiyan.

“I remember most of your classmates are around twenty-five or twenty-six. Do they dress like teenagers?”

Lin Zhiyan looked up at the car ceiling and thought to herself, Wow, this car ceiling really is a car ceiling.

Then she looked out the window, then at her hands. She wished she could stand up, whistle a jaunty tune, open the car door, and jump out.

Oh, heavens! Won’t someone lower a rope for me so I can hang myself?!

She screamed silently inside her head.

Fortunately, while the two men continued their verbal sparring, the car finally reached its destination.

Lin Zhiyan secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Fine beads of sweat had formed on her forehead.

Wickshay was quiet, with few people around despite the densely packed buildings and the narrow gaps between them. The White Wax district, however, was the complete opposite. Countless illuminated screens intersected overhead, and the streets were packed with people brushing shoulders as they hurried past one another.

At White Wax Crossroads, fashionably dressed people rushed about in every direction. All sorts of vehicles sped past from time to time.

Standing in front of a media building, Lin Zhiyan surveyed her surroundings. Her expression remained unchanged, and there was no particular emotion in her heart, either. At that moment, she felt only a sense of bewilderment.

Those distant, iconic landmarks had once been little more than fantasies. Now, they had been placed right in front of her, and she had arrived here just like that.

It had been easy. It had been boring. And that was it.

Yet for more than a decade, she had dreamed of this place.

“Miss Lin.”

“Miss Lin?”

Lin Zhiyan came back to her senses and turned around. It was someone from the Vanguard News, accompanied by several others standing behind her, waiting for Lin Zhiyan to enter the media building for the official tour.

She looked farther inside. Zefi and Kui Furen were surrounded by a crowd of men in suits, all of them smiling obsequiously as they conversed with the two men.

Zefi looked impatient. He turned his head and glanced at her from a distance through the crowd, frowning as if to tell her not to waste time.

Kui Furen also looked at her with a pleasant smile. His gaze was calm, as though he were observing her—or perhaps had already seen right through her.

At that moment, Lin Zhiyan suddenly realized something.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have come.

Zefi and Kui Furen both seemed to know what awaited her next. She, on the other hand, was still completely in the dark. She could only vaguely sense that she might have stepped into a trap baited with something tempting.

But she had no idea what she was about to face.

Lin Zhiyan steadied herself and walked inside.

The tour began soon afterward. The interior of the building was occupied almost entirely by news organizations. Vanguard News was a fairly sizable publication among them, occupying two entire floors.

One floor housed its editorial department. After touring the various areas where printed materials were produced, covers designed, and publication plans discussed, Lin Zhiyan was taken to sit in on a meeting.

Apparently, a group of editors were discussing topics for the next issue. The men and women wore casual clothes and identification badges. Each held a cigarette, coffee, or black tea as they debated which topics would be most suitable.

“I think that, given current trends, population aging remains a timeless issue. Even though it’s been discussed countless times, we can still explore the welfare and benefits available to the elderly.”

“No one cares whether old people are going to die. But people do care about whether social media is stealing their home addresses. I think the best approach would be to focus on social media.”

They talked on and on, their enthusiasm seemingly endless.

Zefi stood with his arms crossed, wearing a faintly mocking smile. Kui Furen remained perfectly composed, simply watching Lin Zhiyan while the other staff members continued their introduction.

“Sorry about that. Everyone tends to get a little overexcited when discussing story ideas. As everyone knows, Vanguard News is a publication with a long and distinguished history. We’re now very committed to exploring issues in depth, and we’re also planning to launch our own channel to discuss a wider range of topics.”

At this point, the guide led Lin Zhiyan and the others out of the meeting room. As they entered the elevator, she continued, “Next, we’d like to show you our broadcasting studio.”

The newspaper staff’s enthusiasm didn’t require anyone else’s participation. Fortunately, Lin Zhiyan wasn’t the only guest invited for the tour. There seemed to be several others, although Zefi and Kui Furen’s presence clearly attracted a disproportionate amount of attention.

Lin Zhiyan fell a few steps behind the guide and let out a long breath, as though she were exhausted.

Kui Furen, who was walking ahead, noticed and turned around.

“What’s wrong? Is the air too stuffy in here, making you uncomfortable?”

“No, I just…”

For a moment, Lin Zhiyan felt a little tired.

Zefi smiled.

“She just thinks the place is outdated and rotten.”

“That’s what journalism is like,” Kui Furen replied with a smile. “Outdated and rotten, yet constantly renewing itself. There’s never any shortage of new stories.”

“But when every topic revolves around chasing public attention, doesn’t that make it rather pathetic?”

Zefi’s voice was soft.

“Are they really concerned about the issues themselves, or about the stories that keep repeating over and over again? Who knows?”

Lin Zhiyan took another deep breath. At last, she managed to recover some of her composure.

“I’ve just been touring for too long, so I’m a little tired. More importantly, I don’t understand the logic behind these topics.”

Kui Furen smiled.

“What’s there to misunderstand? People care most about money, fame, s*x, and health. An aging population makes people think about their future welfare, while social media reflects people’s pursuit of fame and fortune.”

“What about money, then?”

Lin Zhiyan asked.

“Don’t both of those topics ultimately come down to the unequal distribution of resources and problems within the social structure? What about the design of the welfare system? What about legislation governing social media’s handling of privacy?”

Lin Zhiyan asked.

“Those are good questions, but they’re not what people care about.”

Kui Furen smiled. Then, all of a sudden, he changed the subject.

“That said, I’m not particularly knowledgeable about these things. Why don’t we go take a look at the broadcasting studio instead? I heard they’re recording a program. Perhaps there’ll be a celebrity you like.”

Zefi raised his eyebrows slightly but said nothing.

“Well, we’re already here.”

Lin Zhiyan took another deep breath. She was beginning to regret coming on this tour. Ever since entering the building, she’d felt as though the air pressure were unusually low, making it difficult to breathe.

She started walking again.

“Although there’s no celebrity I’m particularly fond of, getting an autograph wouldn’t be so bad.”

Kui Furen shot Zefi a brief glance before walking beside Lin Zhiyan toward the broadcasting studio on the second floor. Zefi said nothing and followed them.

When they arrived, Lin Zhiyan discovered that the floor contained numerous open recording areas. Moreover, this was a shared studio used by Vanguard News and several other publications, with each room marked by a different label.

As she toured the facilities, Lin Zhiyan couldn’t help feeling surprised.

In one room, someone sat rigidly upright while reading the news. In another, a person lay sprawled across a desk, using a ridiculous puppet as a prop. Elsewhere, two people were facing each other and telling jokes.

…And this was merely a shared studio used by a few smaller news organizations. What would the studio of a major news conglomerate look like?

Lin Zhiyan could only imagine it as this entire floor with a Pro Max suffix tacked onto the end.

But when they finally reached Vanguard News’s own recording studio, they found a crowd gathered outside.

Among them were the senior executives who had welcomed Kui Furen and Zefi, the staff members who had been guiding the tour, and several production crew members.

Kui Furen looked a little surprised.

“What happened? An accident?”

“I’m not interested in joining a crowd just to see what’s going on.”

Zefi checked the time.

“I should head back for my meeting. What about you?”

Before Lin Zhiyan could answer, several staff members hurried over from nearby and looked her up and down.

Then the person leading them asked, “Excuse me, are you Miss Lin Zhiyan?”

Lin Zhiyan froze.

“Ah? Ah, ah?”

“Here’s the situation. Vanguard News is planning a live discussion program about issues affecting young people. This is our first episode, but we’re about to begin recording, and one of our scheduled guests can’t make it. S-so we wanted to ask whether you might be willing to fill in for them?”

The woman looked utterly earnest. She immediately took Lin Zhiyan’s hand and pleaded with her.

“We happen to have your résumé, and you’re a perfect fit for this program. The recording won’t be difficult. You’ll simply be discussing a few topics with the other guests. We’ll pay you a guest appearance fee, and if we invite you to write articles for us later, we’ll offer you our highest rate.”

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

*This is ridiculous. Have I seriously just been discovered by a talent scout while walking down the street?*

This setup had clearly been meticulously arranged by Kui Furen. But she had no idea what he was trying to accomplish, so her instinct was to look toward Zefi.

Zefi merely tapped the face of his wristwatch with a finger and said nothing. But she understood his message perfectly.

*If you’re going to leave, leave now. I’m running short on time.*

Lin Zhiyan bit her lip. Just then, a hand settled on her shoulder.

She froze. Zefi raised his eyebrows as well.

Kui Furen acted as though he hadn’t noticed anything unusual. Pressing down lightly on her shoulder, he bent over and whispered into her ear.

“Those things you just told me about—don’t you want to tell them, too?”

As he leaned closer, the faint scent of flowers and grass lingering on him drifted toward her. Strands of his hair brushed against her cheek and neck.

Like vines lying in wait, ready to cling to her and drain her dry.

Zefi turned around and stood beside her. He gently took hold of her wrist, gave it two quick tugs, and then promptly let go.

Without another word, he walked straight toward the exit.

Kui Furen, too, seemed to dissipate like a ghost being driven away. He slowly stepped back and said, “I have a phone call to make. Take your time deciding. It sounds like a good opportunity.”

Lin Zhiyan stood in front of the broadcasting studio as several staff members chattered around her about the live program. She merely tilted her head back and stared upward.

Countless cameras, lighting rigs, and sound-recording devices hung from the ceiling. The floating surveillance spheres occasionally shifted, adjusting their focal lengths as they zoomed in and out.

A dense array of lenses, like a dense array of eyes.