"Don’t like journalists?" Dallas Taylor continued watching the students taking photos in the distance, lost in thought.
"Yeah, I don’t like them. You know about that girl from the Aviation Tourism Institute, Zoey Leaf, right? She was my only friend. Even in death, she couldn’t find peace just because a journalist wrote ’dressed provocatively’ in the news headline. It’s terrifying. Her mom had a heart condition and was pushed to death by a few questions." Mia Ginger lowered her head slightly, gritting her teeth, "That’s why I hate them. Seeing them with a camera makes me angry, makes me want to explode, want to fight, want to swear."
Her voice trembled slightly, with a touch of deeply engrained hatred and resentment.
Dallas Taylor was momentarily stunned.
"Officer, do you understand this feeling?" Mia Ginger’s voice grew quieter, "In this world, there are people who hold power that others don’t, with a sense of superiority from a fixed class, who can harm others at will. A look, a word, an action, and they easily determine others’ life and death, trample on others’ dignity, destroy their beliefs. And the result? They act as if nothing happened, no matter how severe the matter, they just lower their noble heads and apologize, as if apologizing is something great. But in fact, apologies solve nothing. The dead are not coming back, and a wound that’s healed still leaves a scar, often throbbing faintly out of nowhere."
"Yeah, I understand." Dallas Taylor nodded.
Mia Ginger sniffed, pursing her lips, glanced at him from the side.
"I’ve also encountered many such people, wished I could kill them." Dallas Taylor said fiercely, yet his stern face was unusually calm.
Mia Ginger was taken aback, a bit confused, not knowing what to say.
Dallas Taylor glanced at her, suddenly smiled, and said slowly, "But girl, there are many such people in the world, and they will never disappear. Many times even if you hate them, you can’t touch them even a little."
"I know." Mia Ginger said, feeling a bit frustrated.
"But it’s not hopeless." Dallas Taylor looked firmly into the distance, using that seasoned, in-control voice, "As long as you become stronger than them, that’s enough. Running away is not a solution, anger is useless, just be stronger. They have the right to speak, then gain more right to speak than they do. They have a sense of superiority, then rise to an even higher level, make them look up to you, isn’t that it? This society is inherently unfair, everyone is divided into various classes since birth; if you’re weak, you’ll be trampled by others, if you’re strong, you can trample others. If you don’t want to be trampled, you must strive to become the strongest, stand at the top. Only by standing high can you overlook the beautiful scenery of this world."
His words somewhat shocked her soul, Mia Ginger didn’t turn back, suddenly fell silent.
"Nothing much to worry about," Dallas Taylor patted his pants, stood up, "Much of it is the same after thinking a few more times, you, this piece of ginger, are still too tender."
His voice carried a hint of nonchalance, as he walked away.
Mia Ginger lifted her head and watched his back, suddenly feeling that their officer wasn’t as annoying as she had imagined.
Did he just call me a piece of ginger?
Mia Ginger came back to her senses, feeling a bit speechless, and the melancholy emotions were swept away.
Half an hour quickly passed.
After the reporters left, everyone continued the military training obediently.
Mia Ginger’s impression of Dallas Taylor changed, and even during training, she felt genuinely respectful rather than initially always wanting to challenge him.