314: Chapter 112: It’s Not That There’s No Retribution; It’s Just Not the Time Yet 314: Chapter 112: It’s Not That There’s No Retribution; It’s Just Not the Time Yet Zhu Yuwen walked aimlessly on the street, his mood very heavy.
His precious camera had broken, but he couldn’t remember when it had happened.
By the time he regained consciousness, he found himself on the way back to the press office.
His throat was quite uncomfortable, as if he had drunk fake liquor, constricted and panicked, coughing twice but still not relieved.
Feeling somewhat out of breath.
Back at the press, he sat down, undid his shirt collar, and took a couple of sips of the cold tea left on the desk, but the symptoms did not subside, and instead grew worse.
“Nothing, just a sore throat, might have caught a bit of a cold.”
Zhu Yuwen covered his throat and managed a difficult smile.
“You caught a cold in this hot weather?”
“Then it must be a summer cold!”
A colleague joked next to him, clearly not taking his symptoms seriously.
“Right, the editor has been looking for you!”
“Okay, I’ll go there now.”
With his precious camera broken and unsure if it could be repaired, Zhu Yuwen didn’t know how he was going to explain it to the editor.
He walked nervously into the editor’s office.
The editor was in his fifties this year, with a ruddy complexion and appearing well-maintained, yet he still looked worried while reading the manuscripts on his desk.
“Where have you been?
It took you so long to get back?”
“…Qinghe Middle School.”
If the editor hadn’t asked that question, Zhu Yuwen might not have been able to remember.
The moment he spoke, his throat tightened again, making his voice sound even stranger.
“Qinghe Middle School?
Didn’t I tell you not to go to Qinghe Middle School?”
The editor frowned upon hearing this.
“Only Qinghe Middle School has coeducational boarding, other places don’t produce good shots.”
Zhu Yuwen had no qualms about this in his heart: “Since they don’t have school uniforms, as long as we don’t capture the school’s sign in the shot, who would know which school it is, we just deny it and that’s the end of it.”
In these times, it’s still very difficult to take photos of couples on the street.
Generally, young men and women who dare to walk the streets holding hands openly often have complicated identities, or, to put it bluntly, are very likely to be part of the newspaper-reading demographic.
The poor students over at Qinghe Middle School, they don’t matter much; they can’t stir up any waves.
Most importantly, the readers, the lords love to see it.
We can freely fall in love, what class are you to even talk about love?
Not studying hard in school, wasting taxpayers’ money, you must be spat upon!
Spit upon vehemently!
The readers, the lords feel great after venting, and naturally, the newspaper’s popularity follows suit.
The editor earnestly advised: “The principal of Qinghe Middle School is Zhou Yaowen, don’t provoke this old guy, I’ll have to clean up your mess if trouble arises.”
“Zhou Yaowen is nothing special!”
Zhu Yuwen dismissed, what about President’s confidant, in reality, isn’t he just an old invalid who has been ousted after a failed struggle?
If he could have become the mayor, Zhu Yuwen might have thought more highly of him.
Now relegated to being the principal of a desolate school, what’s the difference between him and those from the Former Dynasty?
Although I am just a journalist, I look down on him, I dare to mock him to his face, what can he do to me?
But for some reason, after he said this, his back suddenly became ice-cold.
The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
An inexplicable fear welled up in his heart.
He wanted to brace himself and say a few pleasantries, but then he looked up to see the terrified expression on the editor’s face.
When the damp and rough rope settled on his neck, Zhu Yuwen still hadn’t reacted.
The next moment, the rope violently tensed.
Zhu Yuwen made a strange sound from his throat as his body was forcibly dragged, bit by bit, into the air, and no matter how he struggled, it was in vain.
The editor-in-chief watched everything that was happening before his eyes with terror and suddenly realized something.
He immediately picked up the phone to dial a number.
But before he could dial the first digit, the same rope looped around his head, dragging him from his seat to the corner of the room.
A pair of fair feet silently descended onto the editor-in-chief’s desk.
Zhou Qing picked up the manuscripts on the desk, casually flipping through the content.
“Underage girls continuously disappearing, suspected to involve religious conflict…”
“Former Oiran forced into factory work, no longer possessing her beauty and grace…”
“Blue Sky Flour Mill manager keeps a mistress, wife confronts him at work…”
“XX department suspected of excessive use of violence, causing public outrage…”
Her gaze landed on one of the manuscripts.
The headline read, “A Discussion on Ten Bizarre Current Phenomena and the Inherent Flaws of Our Countrymen.”
Byline, Duke Songbai.
Noisy voices came from outside the door.
Newspapers had to be typeset before being sent to the printing factory to be printed and then delivered to street stands the next morning, so working overtime at night was quite normal.
It was already dark outside, and many people hadn’t left for home yet.
With chaos on the streets these past few days and hot news everywhere, the reporters were as excited about their work as if it were the New Year.
The two people hanging in the office had lost their ability to struggle, with only slight convulsions left in their bodies, and a foul smell began to emerge from their trousers.
As Zhou Qing turned her attention to the door, several ropes, as if endowed with life, nimbly wriggled out from under the crack of the door.
Noises of a water glass shattering on the ground came from outside, which quickly became completely silent.
Zhou Qing picked up the manuscript signed by Duke Songbai and stepped toward the door.
Just at that moment, the phone on the desk suddenly rang.
She hesitated for a moment before lifting her hand to answer the call.
Unexpectedly, Principal Zhou’s voice came through the phone.
“Zhou Qing, come back.”
The girl, whose reason was almost shrouded in killing intent, jerked as if she had been a good student caught by a parent reading a book outside of class, instinctively shrinking her neck and wanting to crush the handset.
You’ve dialed the wrong number!
“Are you not listening to me now?”
In the principal’s office of Qinghe Middle School, Zhou Yaowen handed the phone to Wang Yunxiao, “Bring her back!”
Wang Yunxiao curled his lip, took over the phone, and let out a hello, only to hear the busy tone of a disconnected call.
He had come to Principal Zhou intending to discuss the situation of Cui Xiaoying and her daughter and see if he could help with their housing issue.
He hadn’t intended to cover for Zhou Qing.
He thought Principal Zhou wouldn’t bother with such trivial matters.
Yet, Principal Zhou, as if he had foreseen the future, greeted him with an accusation as soon as he entered the door, “You let Zhou Qing out to kill people, thinking that if a ghost does the killing, there won’t be any consequences?”
Wang Yunxiao was taken aback, instinctively arguing, “Sir, there’s a difference between a ghost killing people and a ghost claiming lives, isn’t there?”
Before you accuse Zhou Qing of murder, why don’t you consider whether the person who caused her to hang herself should bear the consequences?
Principal Zhou angrily retorted, “What’s the difference?
As long as she kills, she’ll accumulate karma, and what if she truly becomes a Fierce Ghost without Spirit Intelligence?”