325. Some bombs cannot explode

Author: Hao Xifeng

325. Some bombs cannot explode

Safit was the first reporter to enter the preparation room and the most curious about the changes in Kawi's treatment plan.

During the period after he returned to the ward after the blood transfusion, apart from pressing the bleeding point on his elbow and eating the lunch brought by the surgical assistant, he was always thinking about how to write down today's events.

In news reports.

The whole thing became a lot more mediocre after these changes. Once the news became mediocre, mainstream newspapers and those tabloids that focused on the bottom's dirty tricks became the mainstream sales on the street. The sales of newspapers like "The Paris Review" can be

Just imagine.

From his original intention, he did not want to mess around, which goes against the professional spirit of journalists.

So in the auditorium of the surgical theater, the troubled Safet tried other people's opinions to see what they thought.

In fact, after many doctors agreed with Kawei's views and practices, he gave up. After exchanging opinions with his colleagues, Safit finally realized that this was probably not a good idea.

Until he left the Main Palace Hospital and overheard a conversation on the street corner【1】

The target was the reporter who just went for a blood transfusion with him and worked at Le Figaro newspaper. The other one had a scarf wrapped around his mouth and nose, so he could not see his face clearly. But judging from the conversation between the two, the other person should

He is the doctor from the Main Palace Hospital, and he was in the preparation room just now.

Safit previously thought that his imagination was already very rich, but who knew that the reality was even richer, and the other party's operation completely exceeded everyone's expectations.

The conversation between the two was very short and ended in less than three minutes. He listened on the street corner for three minutes and his hands shook for three minutes. This was not because of how cold the late autumn in Paris was, but because of excitement and a kind of grasping.

The excitement of fate's straw.

This is not a medical issue, it is simply unethical and despised behavior.

Moreover, it involves the chief physician of the largest hospital in Paris, as well as the Austrian surgeon who has become popular recently. No matter what angle you use to write it, you can create a shocking story, and you don't have to worry about being unable to think of words.

This is how news is interesting, and only in this way can newspapers be marketable. Safit seems to have found the joy of being a reporter again.

At around five o'clock in the afternoon, after watching the boring hernia surgery and listening to medical terminology all afternoon, Safit finally returned to the newspaper office. Following him back to the newspaper office was a notebook that recorded the entire process, and a corresponding

Huge plan.

"Editor, I have to get your permission."

He had never been so polite to this fat middle-aged man, but today was different. His article needed to go through him before it could be published in the newspaper. Safit carefully stuffed a note with a rough outline of the story.

In his hand, he also lit the cigarette he just held in his hand, and his words were flattering:

"I can guarantee that tomorrow's "Paris Review" will be the second Le Figaro. No, no, no, we sell it much cheaper than Figaro. Tomorrow must belong to "Paris Review"!"

Editor Joskin was his old boss, and he knew very well how much this man weighed, so he never took this note to heart from the beginning.

So when he unfolded the note, he was only slightly surprised and quickly regained his composure: "Is that why you've been talking for so long?"

Safet didn't expect the other party's reaction: "Look carefully, it's Kawei, the director of obstetrics at the Main Palace Hospital. His name is..."

"Hugel Jean Burns." The editor snorted, "I'm not as casual as you. I know the staffing of the Palace Hospital much better than you do, especially the obstetrics department. Where did this Hugel graduate?

I know how many surgeries I have had, how many friends I have, and how many 'enemies' I have."

"Isn't this an excellent news source?"

Joskin raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at his subordinate as if he were a fool: "Are you kidding me? Are you sure you want to write this matter into tomorrow's newspaper?"

Safet knew that the other party was still angry about a report he had written while drunk last week, so he quickly explained: "These are all true, I heard the news with my own ears. The other party is a subordinate of Professor Hugill, and I myself

I also went into the preparation room to draw blood and so on."

"It has nothing to do with whether it's true or false."

Joskin sighed, put the note into the oil lampshade, lit it and threw it into the ashtray. He looked at the paper ashes huddled together after being quickly swallowed by the flames, touched his stomach and said: "There are some shells

It can’t be blown up, at least not yet.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he felt that this sentence was not enough to describe the current situation, so he changed his words: "No, it shouldn't be stuffed into the barrel of the cannon at all. It should stay quietly in the wooden box. Even if it is made,

Incorrect."

Safet finally understood: "What are you worried about again?"

"The situation is unclear." Joskin cherished words like gold and did not want to say more. "Let's change the title. There is no way to publish this article."

"Even if we don't publish it, Le Figaro will definitely publish it. Why not publish it with them? There will be no problem!" Safet was very confident and took two steps forward to the editor.

Yan persuaded, "Our sales have dropped again recently. We can't compare with those messy tabloids. We can't continue like this!"

However, Joskin had no reaction to these words and just shook his head: "It is true that Le Figaro can be published, but believe me, it is impossible for them to publish it under the current situation."

"It doesn't make sense, it really doesn't make sense!"

"If it's paid, I'll give you 40 francs." Joskin took out a banknote from his pocket, put it on the table and sent it in his direction, "I'll give you the 20 francs first. Don't keep thinking about becoming famous overnight.

, the media has reached this point, it is not a good thing to explode."

For people like Safit, money is hot to the touch: "Give it to me when I win."

After saying that, he slammed the door and left the editor's office.

The Paris Review is very moderate. When reporting news, it tries to be objective and does not express sharp opinions. It seems to follow the trend. Although the title is a bit bold, people who read it over time will know what the content is and will not buy it.

.

Compared with those newspapers that follow the mass line of the bottom, it is easier to attract attention.

All kinds of sexy news are the backbone, interspersed with some noble scandals, and it is best to add some surprising news from abroad to embellish it, and you have an excellent news feast. The main thing is fabrication, even if some of them are real people

To tell the truth, you have to add fuel to the fire.

Why can small newspapers make money by writing random things, but not when he wants to really start a scandal?

Safit's mind was filled with "unfairness", so he finished writing the manuscript and went home in a daze.

"You're finally back. Do you remember what happened tomorrow night?" My wife was setting out the knives and forks for dinner. "We agreed to come back at four o'clock in the afternoon, so don't come back late because of some gossip."

Safet had already forgotten about this. He sat on the table, grabbed some bread and was about to put it in his mouth: "Hmm? What's the matter?"

"W-what did you say?!" His wife's hand stopped in mid-air and she looked at him blankly, "Have you forgotten?"

After living together for so many years, Safet could hear the change in her tone and realized that something was wrong. But the more anxious he became, the dumber he became. It seemed that he had talked about this matter yesterday, but he just couldn't remember it: "I

, I’ve really been under a lot of pressure at work recently, and I really can’t think of it.”

"Are you stressed at work?"

The wife threw down the spoon in her hand, took off her apron, and said in a hushed voice like hot water about to boil: "I get up at four in the morning to work as a milkman, and go to wash Mrs. Ramos' clothes at eight. If I can survive in the afternoon,

I have to help in the tailor shop just to give some money to my family!"

"Okay, okay, it's my fault, me"

The woman's emotions are like a lit haystack, and she can't stop: "What are you doing during this time? Just stay in that newspaper office and write some shabby articles. Your monthly salary is only 80 francs, and you talk about how tired you are all day long.

.You are the most tired, I am not tired at all, right? I have to go home and get you something to eat, I am not tired!!!"

"I'm just a reporter, 80 francs is not bad."

"Reporter, why did the reporter I met before have 260 francs?"

"That's from Figaro." Safet couldn't help but asked, "Do I owe you? Or did I treat you wrong? Did I go out drinking and gambling? Or did I find another woman?"

"Yes, yes, you are right, I was wrong, okay!"

"This is the money, what do you want me to do?"

"You only ask me what to do, are you a man???"

"I"

For Safit, this process of blaming each other was all too familiar. It was a common quarrel between couples, and the initiator was nothing more than the word money.

Before, he had no choice but to go out and sulk, and then go home and reconcile with his wife when he was really tired. After all, life still had to go on. But it was different now. He actually had an opportunity in his hand.

, an opportunity to turn around.

Safit, who once again left the house to calm down alone, stared blankly at the sun that was almost completely setting: "I remembered that I was accompanying her for hypnotherapy for infertility. I have such a bad mind."

He clenched his fist and punched his forehead several times. When the pain was so painful that he dared not use any force anymore, he spread his legs and ran quickly to the newspaper office.

Kawei's surgery will naturally be reported. Although the cesarean section was stillborn, the hernia surgery was completed beautifully.

For a time, there was another wave of Cavalry in the streets of Paris. Both Cedieu and Hugier became his foils. Even the previous surgical emperor seemed to be overshadowed by his light. It seemed that the surgical ideal in this world

To develop, Kawi must take the lead, otherwise it will inevitably fail.【2】

"I'm not interested in newspapers."

Kawei rarely went to the restaurant to have breakfast early in the morning. He shook his head at the newspaper that was delivered to him and raised his hand to take the dinner plate: "Not to mention that the reports in it are inaccurate and have no nutrition at all. It is just a waste of time."

Walking beside him was Shanwang. Compared with the three old assistants, the reactions to Kawei felt very fresh to him: "Not all of them are complimentary, some are also skeptical." [3]

Kawei sighed, picked a piece of ham sliced ​​bread and an omelette, and forced the topic away: "How was the review of yesterday's hernia surgery?"

"Oh, it's pretty good. The anatomical position is basically clear."
To be continued...