Rebirth of the Uncrowned King

Shuttle through the small alleys familiarly. This road was discovered by accident after I worked for two years. It can save a full 10 minutes from home to the newspaper office.

When I arrived at the newspaper office, it was exactly 59:[-], and I managed to get into the office at the last minute.

Turn on the computer, and the schedule shows that there is currently no work in progress.I breathed a sigh of relief, and finally felt relieved, otherwise it would be really difficult for me to recall what reports I made two years ago.

When surfing the Internet, the homepage of the browser is my homepage on a certain SNS social networking site.I looked at the logs and status posted by myself two years ago with great interest, and laughed from time to time.

Most of the photos in the album are at the scene of certain events. There are many comments from people below, with envious voices: "Senior is so amazing!" "Ah Zhen, come on, take care of your body."...

In the diary, most of them are reports published by myself, and there are a few current reviews. I should be very proud of these things at the time, but now it seems that the articles are still a little tender, especially the current reviews. Not sharp enough.

At that time, I had worked for less than a year, so I was really young and frivolous.

"Is someone late again?" Suddenly, a familiar voice came from the front of the office.I quickly closed the page and looked up to the front.

Ha, so two years ago, the director's hair was still so black, I never noticed it before!

The director scanned the office, and finally stopped on the desk to my left.I sneak a peek, the table is empty, its owner is obviously late.

"Tell him to come to my office when he comes." The director dropped a sentence, and there was no sound in the office.

"Also," the director just walked two steps, then turned around again: "Xiao Ye, come over here, I have a piece of news for you to do."

So, under the sympathetic eyes of everyone, I followed the director who seemed to be in a bad mood and walked into his office.

Investigating a black intermediary is my main job today.

I thought about it for a while, but I didn't remember that I did such a report two years ago.

Could it be that everything I encounter now is different from the previous life?

There is no time to think too much, no matter whether the task is done or not done, just do it seriously.After packing my backpack, I left the newspaper office and went to the address provided by the director.

This interview did not go well.

At around five o'clock in the evening, I stood alone in front of the mirror in the public toilet, turned on the faucet, and poured cold tap water on my hands, giving me a jolt.

I looked up and saw myself in the mirror, with pale foam on my face and lifeless eyes.

There was a creaking sound of the door opening behind him, and a middle-aged man came out of the toilet.In the mirror, I saw the look of astonishment on his face.

I hurriedly splashed a spoonful of water on my face, washed off the foam several times, took out a tissue from my pocket, wiped off the water on my face, turned around and left with my facial cleanser.

Seeing a man wash his face with facial cleanser in a public toilet, it's not surprising that this uncle would be shocked, but I really can't bear it, the feeling of walking around with phlegm on my face.The tightness brought by the dried phlegm and the slight fishy smell made me feel like my face was rotting every second.

Fortunately, when I passed by a convenience store today, I bought a can of facial cleanser and put it in my bag—this was originally a habit I developed a year later, but I didn't expect it to be of great use today.

The attitude of the black intermediary is naturally uncooperative, but when I interviewed several victims, they all refused to interview.I managed to make an appointment with a person, and when he heard that I was going to write the detailed process of his deception in the manuscript, he turned his face on the spot.He said that he would rather lose those thousands of dollars than be retaliated by that evil intermediary.

I tried my best to persuade him, but he still refused to agree and kept driving me away.In the end, he was really annoyed, and he spit a mouthful of thick phlegm directly on my face like that.

Naturally, this manuscript cannot be written.There is not enough material, and no victim has come forward. If the article is published, it is very likely that someone will bite back and say that I am a framed person.

When the director heard my report, he sighed and hung up the phone after saying a few words, sounding very disappointed.

After hanging up the phone, I vaguely recalled my previous life—I decided to collectively call the days before today my previous life.Two years ago in my last life, there was indeed such a piece of news about black intermediaries in the newspaper office.

It's just that the reporter who went to run the news was not me, but Xiaotao, a thin female reporter sitting at the table to my right.

That day, I seemed to be late. In the evening, I heard that the black intermediary's manuscript hadn't been produced, and Xiao Tao was slapped in the face.

From this point of view, it would be more cost-effective for me to be spat on, at least it can be considered as a flower protector by accident!

Two years, my state of mind has become too much.

If it were me two years ago, I would probably be so angry.A reporter, a person who most wanted to help him, was regarded as an enemy by the victim in the end, and was spat on the face severely.I might even have a big fight with the victim, trying to convince him with a bunch of fanciful theories.

But so what?Those victims will not change their minds, they have their own difficulties, and I can't force them to come.All I can do is laugh at myself and live my own life.

This industry is like this. In less than three years, I have seen too much and experienced too much, which can change people's mood so much.

The only thing that remains the same, the me now and the me two years ago have only one wish, that is, I hope that every time I write a manuscript that exposes the scandal, I hope to reduce the stains of a society and make this society a little cleaner .

It's a pity that I was two years older, but I still couldn't fulfill this wish today.

I was still a little lost in my heart, so I simply went to a bar for a drink alone.