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 workplace 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.

The corridor is empty, everyone is in their own offices, and the doors of each office are closed. The corridor connects more than a dozen offices, and these offices are like eighth notes, short and compact, making up all the sections of the entire unit. And this

A corridor is a staff.

Wang Zixu stood in the staff, feeling 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, and the sunlight shone 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 also several colleagues, sitting or standing, and everything was vividly visible.

Song Yinglian said: "Xiao Diao, you don't need to be stressed. I think you have a better chance than Wang Zixu. Yes, he was in the limelight some time ago, but Shen Qingfeng almost criticized him by name. The leader really likes you.

Such solid writing.”

Diao Yiwen said: "However, I have only published it in Xihe Literature and Art. I have not written any materials."

Guo Ranran said: "What happened to "Xihe Literature and Art"? Some people want to publish in "Xihe Literature and Art" but they can't. Let me tell you secretly, the concierge told me before, before, Wang Zixu submitted to "Xihe Literature and Art"

I went through the manuscript many times, but in the end I didn’t even see a shadow.”

"Is there such a thing? No wonder Shen Qingfeng despises him. Just being able to recite the title of a book but not being able to write it 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 scene 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 had never known what "preparation" meant. He only woke up after hearing the conversation in the room, and it turned out that this was preparation.

He understood why he was so messed up at his age. In the first few years after he came to the company, he only knew how to work hard, do whatever the boss asked him to do, and do whatever his colleagues asked him to do.

He can act but not speak, so he always offends people inexplicably, and some people always give him low marks in the year-end evaluation.

Song Yinglian and Guo Ranran were equivalent to Diao Yiwen's electoral team. 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 go to lobby one by one and do their work one by one. The activities of this pocket electoral college only bypass Wang Zixu's office.

He understood why Zhang Cannian came here to remind him. He must be well aware of these activities, but from his position, it was difficult to explain clearly, so he could only make insinuations and urge him to start activities, otherwise he would be punished.

The entire unit is isolated.

A small evaluation of merit actually led to a campaign to elect the President of the United States. The prince was humbly convinced.

"Click."

The door in front of him 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. Even if you haven't published "Xihe Literature", I will vote for you. Wang Zixu is too arrogant and aloof. He doesn't talk to us just because he has read a lot."

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 scratched 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 he sat there for a long time and couldn't think of a single word.

He felt that he was mentally strong enough, 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 Yangtze River.

Waves, he could only wade in the Canglang River, letting the turbid water flow over his head.

Since he doesn't pursue progress, he doesn't want to pass on the cold air.

He himself had suffered enough unfair treatment and invisible discrimination, and he did 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 about it, he heard every word of their conversation and remembered it in his heart. He didn't know how he would feel. He could only pretend not to hear it and pretend to be silent.

Unfortunately, he was 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 been considering everyone's feelings. He considers his wife's feelings, his father's feelings, and also considers the feelings of his colleagues and leaders.

But no one ever considered his feelings.

A 30-year-old man with no money deserves to be hated by others. No one cares about his spiritual world. Even his existence blocks the way of others. He needs to be kicked away to achieve world peace. This world belongs to us and to you.

The only thing that doesn't belong to him is that he deserves to leave this world obediently and not have emotions. Damn it, why!

Wang Zixu stood up and strode to the door. 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 voices.

Wang Zixu stretched out his hand and opened the door with a click.

The conversation stopped abruptly.

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 to block the sunlight, and 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 wore blue-light-blocking indoor glasses and breathed a long sigh of relief. He 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 published in one go. He updated two letters every day.

By the time he posted 38 messages, his number of fans on Red Pepper had exceeded 1.48 million, and he received tens of thousands of messages urging updates every day.

An advertiser came to him and wanted to discuss business cooperation with him. The quotation was 120,000 yuan, but he declined politely. Because he felt that this was the credit of the little prince, and he could not covet the credit of God and seek his own benefit.

It's changed.

In the chat software, the profile picture of an ugly cat with a colorful 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 young people. In the field of serious literature, its influence is second only to a few magazines such as "Get", "September", "Yangtze River", and "Flower Country". In a sense, it is even

It is 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 in "Literary Circle". I would like to discuss with you how to operate it."
Chapter completed!