The sound of chatter in the door faded in and out, like the fragrance of tea in the tea dregs barrel in the corridor. If Wang Zixu's name hadn't been called, he wouldn't have heard it so clearly.
The person who just spoke was Song Yinglian, a boy who entered the work unit at the same time as Diao Yiwen and Guo Ranran. His skin was slightly darker and thinner. Some people had seen him watching movies with Diao Yiwen on weekends.
There is no one in the corridor, everyone is in their own offices, and the doors of every office are closed. The corridor connects more than a dozen offices. These offices are like eighth notes, short and compact, making up all the sections of the entire unit. And this corridor is the staff.
Standing in the staff, Wang Zixu felt like an inappropriate rest.
He blinked, and the wooden texture on the red painted door became clear before his eyes, and then suddenly opened. His amazing imagination penetrated the thin door.
Guo Ranran was half-leaning in front of her desk, the sun shining on her hairpin, reflecting the light slightly. Diao Yiwen sat on the wooden sofa with her knees together, and Song Yinglian stood in the room, waving his hands, impassioned. In addition, there were several colleagues, sitting or standing, and everything was vividly visible.
Song Yinglian said: "You don't need to be stressed, Xiao Diao. I think you have more opportunities than Wang Zixu. Yes, he was in the limelight some time ago, but Shen Qingfeng almost approved him by name. What the leader really likes is your down-to-earth writing."
Diao Yiwen said: "But, I have only published in "Xihe Literature and Art". I have never written any materials."
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 secretly, the concierge told me before that Wang Zixu submitted to "Xihe Literature and Art" many times before. The manuscript didn’t even show up. "
"Is there such a thing? No wonder Shen Qingfeng doesn't like him. Just being able to recite the title of the book is nothing..." "Anyway, don't worry, Xiao Diao, behind closed doors, everyone in our office will definitely vote for you. "
His imagination weakened and the scenes in the office disappeared. Wang Zixu's eyes returned to the closed door, staring at the red painted wooden door in a daze.
Suddenly he suddenly realized: Zhang Cannian had been reminding him to "be prepared", but he never knew what "preparation" meant. He only woke up after hearing the conversation in the room. It turned out that this was preparation.
He understood why he was so messed up at his age. In the first few years when he came to the company, he only knew how to immerse himself in work. He did whatever his boss asked him to do, and he did whatever his colleagues asked him to do.
Song Yinglian and Guo Ranran are equivalent to Diao Yiwen’s electoral college. Through speeches, lobbying, canvassing votes, office networking and other activities, they quickly gained the support of offices one after another.
The Red Office, Blue Office, and Swing Office will lobby one by one and do their work one by one. The activities of this pocket electoral college only bypassed Wang Zixu's office.
He understood why Zhang Cannian came specifically to remind him. He must be well aware of these activities, but from his position, it was difficult to speak clearly. He could only make insinuations and urge him to start activities, otherwise he would be isolated by the entire unit.
A small evaluation of merit actually led to a campaign to elect the President of the United States. The prince was humble and sincerely convinced.
"Click."
The door in front of me suddenly opened. A colleague, holding a tea cup, leaned half out of the door and met Wang Zixu's eyes.
Song Yinglian’s voice reached Wang Zixu’s ears across his body:
“It’s okay, Xiao Diao, I will vote for you even if you haven’t published "Xihe Literature and Art". Wang Zixu is too arrogant and cold. Just because he has read a lot, None of them talked to us. ”
The colleagues who met Wang Zixu looked embarrassed and stood there not knowing what to say. Wang Zixu turned around naturally and quietly left the door of their office like a ghost, for fear of disturbing the people talking loudly inside the door.
He returned to his office, sat down in his seat, and pricked his head.
After finishing the report in the morning, he originally planned to think about the content of the script while he had nothing to do. But I sat there for a long time, unable to think of a single word.
He felt that he was mentally strong enough and strong enough to ignore these flies and dogs. He saw the Yangtze River, and he headed towards the Yangtze River like Kuafu, but after all, he did not have Kuafu's long legs and could easily cross the Canglang River. He could only wade in the Canglang River, letting the turbid water overflow his head.
Since he does not pursue progress, he does not 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 retreat silently, in a way that would not affect their mood.
If they knew, I heard their conversation word by word and remembered it in my heart, I don’t know how they would feel. He could only pretend not to hear, pretend to be silent.
Unfortunately, he is not as powerful as he imagined. The cursor flashed on the computer screen, but he was still affected.
Suddenly, Wang Zixu raised his head.
Damn it, why?
I have given up on judging the best, and I have given the opportunity to you. You can just canvass for votes and play with you. Why do you have to step on and support me behind your back?
He has always considered everyone’s feelings. Consider your wife’s feelings, consider your father’s feelings, and also consider the feelings of your colleagues and leaders.
But no one has ever considered his feelings.
A 30-year-old man with no money deserves to be hated by others, hated by dogs, and too transparent. No one cares about the spiritual world he possesses. Even his existence itself blocks the way of others and needs to be kicked away to achieve world peace. This world belongs to us and belongs to you, but it does not belong to him. He deserves to be obediently let go of this world and cannot have emotions. Damn it, why!
Wang Zixu stood up and strode to the door just now. The sound inside the door became much quieter. Maybe the colleague who opened the door just now told someone to eavesdrop, so they lowered their voice.
Wang Zixu stretched out his hand and opened the door with a click.
The conversation stopped suddenly.
Guo Ranran was leaning in front of 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 drifted over and blocked the sunlight. The office seemed to have 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 blue-light-blocking indoor glasses, let out a long sigh of relief, 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 sent out in one go. He updated two letters every day.
When he updated to 38 messages, his number of fans on Red Pepper had exceeded 1.48 million, and there were tens of thousands of messages urging updates every day.
An advertiser came to him and wanted to discuss business cooperation with him. The offer was 120,000 yuan, but he politely declined. Because he felt that this was the little prince's credit, and he could not be greedy for God's credit. Seeking profit for yourself becomes a different thing.
In the chat software, the avatar of an ugly cat with a painted face started to vibrate. Cheng Xing opened it and saw that it was Tian Zhenlei, the editor-in-chief of "Literary Circle" magazine whom he had communicated with before.
"Literary Circle" is a fiction journal that focuses on younger people. In the field of serious literature, its influence is second only to a few magazines such as "Acquisition", "September", "Yangtze River", and "Flower Country". In a sense, it is even more popular among young people than those magazines.
Tian Zhenlei said: "Xiao Cheng, I want to put our "Little Prince's Love Letter" in the form of a column on "Literary Circle". I would like to discuss with you how to do it."
Cheng Xing sat up straight and typed in the chat window: "Okay."