The next morning, Shen Manci rushed to her workplace early.
Journalists at the News Center were usually quite casual when they didn’t have specific assignments; some wouldn’t even show up at the official clock-in time. Many veteran reporters wouldn’t even set foot in the building unless there was a mandatory meeting.
However, the events of the past few days had left the News Center in a state of unrest. Aside from Shen Manci, other reporters had also begun to feel “ostracized” by the people of Jizhou. When people do not know the truth, they tend to stir up trouble. In an era where information was not yet instantaneous, the public couldn’t distinguish one media outlet from another; they simply clamored for a result.
This morning was different. The reporters from the news department had all gathered at the office—a fuller house than usual. A group of people crowded around the center’s only black-and-white television, watching a broadcast.
The TV was airing news related to Jizhou No. 1 Middle School.
“You report so much about my husband, but no one has investigated how my son died back then! Is the media this unethical? Can the media just kill people so easily?”
The woman’s voice and her words on the screen were etched into the minds of everyone present. Without a doubt, this incident had once again pushed the Jizhou News Center onto a moral chopping block.
The Jizhou news department discussed the matter, unable to understand why Hengkou TV—a fellow media entity that might soon take over Jizhou’s jurisdiction—would engage in such “cannibalistic” behavior toward their peers.
On the other hand, the veteran reporters at the Jizhou News Center hoped to avoid any further coverage of the school. The incident had already brought enough trouble to their doorstep.
But Shen Manci stood up. She argued that the News Center should report on the Jizhou No. 1 Middle School case, and she wanted to follow the entire process to its end. She felt the mother of the bullied victim was right: they needed to reveal the full truth behind the victim’s death. They owed the public the truth.
“Media must have power; media must seek truth from facts; media must be decisive. Weren’t these the words you veterans said to the interns on their first day in the newsroom?”
“Report things as they are. Don’t fabricate, but don’t hide either. Weren’t these the words spoken by you, Director Zheng? By you, Brother Dang? Or you, Sister Ji?”
“Are you all going to overturn your own philosophies now?”
“Xiao Shen, it’s not that we don’t want to do it. It’s just that in the face of reality, we can’t simply follow our whims and act on our own impulses.”
“What do you mean by ‘whims’ or ‘acting on impulses’? Is placing the truth before the masses considered a whim? If so, the price for the public to even touch a fragment of the truth is far too high! You want us to allow ourselves to be cowards until we finally muster enough courage? But some people can’t afford to wait. The victim’s mother can’t wait; the victim himself is gone; the sentenced Zhao Chaokang can’t wait; and the public, waiting for the dawn of this case, cannot wait forever for a result.”
Shen Manci laid out the facts that everyone else was too afraid to voice in one single breath.
After a long silence, someone finally spoke. It was Li Dang, the senior who had been mentoring Shen Manci since she joined the unit.
“Shen, this isn’t Qinhai. This is Jizhou. Jizhou isn’t as open and free as Qinhai, where you can treat these reports as mere dinner-table gossip. Qinhai is so big that no one knows anyone else. But Jizhou is different. Jizhou is a small town where a bit of rain causes a traffic jam. The moment you step out your door, the whole neighborhood knows you. They know your job, your name, and everything about you. In Jizhou, your friends and neighbors know you better than you know yourself. In such an environment, the pressure we face for broadcasting a report isn’t some abstract public opinion behind a newspaper—it’s someone literally pointing at your forehead and cursing you out to your face.”
Following Li Dang, Ji Xiaoyun added: “People in Jizhou aren’t like people in Qinhai. We can’t live that kind of life.”
Chen Nian, despite her lack of seniority, stood by Shen Manci. “But why do you assume the public will point their spears at us if we report the truth? Isn’t it possible that by reporting the truth, we finally clear our names?”
Shen Manci gave Chen Nian an appreciative look. She continued, “We are already being branded as ‘unscrupulous media.’ If we don’t report accurately, if we don’t investigate the events thoroughly and lay it all out, we will never be able to clear this stain for the rest of our lives. Trust can be severed in a single, fleeting moment.”
Director Zheng coughed twice. He placed a thermos filled with soggy dried tangerine peel water onto the table. The vessel made a sharp thud as it landed. He had remained silent for a long time, listening to the debate. Finally, he spoke: “Xiao Shen, you’ve been in this industry for a long time. You should understand that some things are only appropriate for interns to say.”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but he had left Shen Manci an “out.”
Shen Manci remained silent; she understood the implication in Director Zheng’s words. Eventually, she simply said, “I know this isn’t your decision to make. However, this is Jizhou, and we are the Jizhou News Center. Isn’t reporting on local matters exactly what our job is?”
With that, Shen Manci grabbed her coat and left the office. Chen Nian, seeing her leave, chased after her. “Wait for me, Sister Shen!”
The remaining people in the office looked at each other. Finally, some couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“What was that? It felt like we were filming a TVB drama.”
“Honestly, having an intern give us a lecture…”
Ji Xiaoyun couldn’t help but laugh either—a helpless, weary laugh. “Maybe people from Qinhai are just built that way.”
Li Dang took out a Plum Blossom cigarette, lit it, and said slowly, “But she is from Jizhou; she only went to Qinhai later. Still, being taught how to be a human being by someone with a ‘Qinhai’ attitude… it feels a bit uncomfortable, doesn’t it, Old Zheng?”
Director Zheng added more hot water to his flavorless tangerine peels. “Alright, you bunch of brats. ‘Old Zheng, Little Zheng’—enough. I’ve already applied to the higher-ups to report on the Jizhou No. 1 Middle School case. Did you think I didn’t want to? This is a local Jizhou matter; Hengkou TV had no business sticking their hands in. They really thought we were just a bunch of pushovers.”
Li Dang took a drag of his cigarette, then stood up and crushed the butt in the ashtray. “Pushovers or not, we haven’t retired yet. We can’t let people steal the work in our own backyard.”
Director Zheng’s pager beeped several times. He looked at the number on the screen calmly.
“You’d better be more than just talk.”
“The job is really here. You’d better back me up.”