As the night deepened, Fang, the journalist, silently disengaged himself from the bustling crowd and stepped into the vast, serene parking lot. The moonlight, though faint, was sufficient to illuminate his determined strides. His assistant, closely trailing behind, cast a gentle glow upon his resolute face with a handheld light, while Fang's fist clenched around a slip of paper bearing the enigmatic phone number sourced from "Code 1."
As the assistant handed over the phone, Fang's movements were a meticulous blend of caution and decisiveness. Facing the camera, he slowly pressed the dial button, momentarily suspending the air with palpable tension.
The wait, ever-lengthening and trying, was finally punctuated by the sterile, mechanical female voice: "You have reached a voice mailbox. Please leave your message after the tone. Beep."
Fang nodded slightly, a fleeting complexity fleeting across his eyes, before calmly delivering a message and ending the call. "I'll keep trying. Now, let's switch back to the live studio." His words, brief yet potent, exuded an unwavering perseverance.
The camera seamlessly transitioned, returning to the brightly lit studio. Zhang, the anchor, sat at her desk, gently massaging her temples, seemingly striving to shake off the aftermath of her earlier emotional lapse. "I deeply apologize to all viewers for my loss of composure, which undoubtedly disrupted your viewing experience. Tonight, undeniably, has posed an unprecedented challenge for me." Her tone was laced with sincerity and self-reproach.
As the camera lens gently widens, a woman dressed in understated elegance and possessing a gentle visage quietly appears by Zhang's side, none other than the recently controversial Lin Fangfang. She sits tranquilly, her eyes betraying both exhaustion and resilience, silently narrating her tale without words.
"I believe many of our viewers have gained some understanding of Ms. Lin through the programs of our sister station," Zhang's voice resounds once more, striving for a tone of impartiality and calmness. "Despite the myriad of misconceptions and accusations she's faced, tonight, she has chosen to bravely stand here, confronting it all."
Lin Fangfang nods softly, casting a grateful glance towards the camera. Drawing a deep breath, she prepares to speak, as if ready to unburden herself of every grievance and truth within this intimate studio space.
The camera gradually zooms in, capturing Lin Fangfang's face in stunning high-definition, her expression intricate with emotions—a blend of nostalgia for the past and anticipation for the future. The director seamlessly transitions the footage, transporting viewers back to an earlier scene broadcasted by the sister station.
On-screen,
The voice of "Code 1" echoes, low and enigmatic, as she recounts, "She instructed me to close my eyes and envision my mind being caressed by a gentle breeze, all distracting thoughts and turmoil dissipating. Then, she began the countdown, 3, 2, 1..." As she narrates, the scene seems to replay itself, immersing viewers in a sense of serenity and anticipation.
Yet, just as "Code 1" opens her eyes, poised to reveal the truth of that night, a harrowing scream pierces through the tranquility from off-screen. The camera swiftly pivots to the backstage, where a staff member's face has turned ashen, her body wracked with uncontrollable tremors, until she collapses with a thud. The producer acts swiftly, rushing to her side to brace her with his own body, barking orders for assistance to regain control of the situation and soothe the distressed staff member.
The anchor, witnessing this from his screen, wears an expression of shock and confusion. "What could she have endured? Why would she lose control at such a crucial moment?" he mutters to himself.
"Code 1"'s voice quivers subtly as she continues, "Her reaction now mirrors mine precisely at the end of that countdown, as if gripped by an invisible terror." The anchor, startled, turns sharply, his gaze darting between "Code 1" and the still-shivering staff member.
He spoke in disbelief, "Could it be that she too faced something similar to the Li Haoyu case..." His words trailed off, leaving a heavy, oppressive atmosphere in the air.
A flicker of anger and disappointment flashed in the eyes of "Code 1," and her tone was laced with chill and sarcasm as she spat, "Your show is nothing short of nauseating!" Without another glance, she stood up resolutely, leaving the scene without looking back, leaving behind a roomful of stunned and contemplative individuals.
The scene ended there.
The camera shifted back to the anchor desk, where Zhang's eyes were wide with concentration, as if gathering all her attention for the viewers. She addressed them sincerely, "When I saw that moment on screen, my expression was exactly the same as it is now—utterly shocked." Then, turning to Lin Fangfang, her voice was filled with concern and curiosity, "On the other program, it seemed they didn't give you a proper chance to explain. I believe not just me, but every viewer in front of the TV is eager to know—was your reaction a genuine outpouring of emotion, or a meticulously crafted performance?"
Lin Fangfang nodded slightly, a complex emotion fleeting across her eyes. "Yes, it was an act," she admitted candidly.
A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Zhang's lips, seemingly relieved by Lin Fangfang's honesty. "Your acting was so convincing, I couldn't help but wonder if you, too, hailed from a drama background like me?"
Lin Fangfang shook her head lightly, her smile tinged with resignation. "I've never studied acting, but the producer did offer me a performance fee." She paused before continuing, "However, I didn't do it to evade responsibility. I knew evasion would only make things worse."
Zhang's curiosity was fully piqued, and she pressed on, "So, how much did the producer offer you to participate in such a performance?"
Lin Fangfang smiled faintly, her tone unfazed. "Six thousand yuan, a figure that might not sound enticing at first." She explained, "But it wasn't just about the money; it was about the potential value it could bring."
Zhang nodded, her eyes filled with admiration for Lin Fangfang. "Go on, I'll listen intently and won't interrupt."
Lin Fangfang spoke slowly, "Hidden in the city lies a prestigious kindergarten, where not only money but also social influence are the keys to entry. When I was entrusted by the TV station to become the producer's assistant, that identity card became my pass into the exclusive parent group. But my ambitions ran deeper. To ensure my child grew up in such an elite environment, I had to shine brighter than the rest."
"The producer casually mentioned the idea of an 'impromptu' performance during the show, only to dismiss it later, but the truth was far more intricate. He approached me with a plan, claiming to have stumbled upon a demotion list on the director's desk, with my name prominently featured. He suggested I demonstrate my dedication and sacrifice through acting, to curry favor with the director and avert my demotion. Naively, I believed him and threw myself into it."
"But reality proved cruel. A colleague confided that the list never existed; in fact, the director had intended to promote me to producer. The producer, feeling threatened, orchestrated this entire scheme. His intention was to use my 'acting' as leverage after the show, exposing it to the director to tarnish my image. Ironically, the performance was accidentally exposed during the live broadcast, and instead of achieving his goal, he tried to leverage public opinion to push me further into the abyss."
Zhang's brows furrowed slightly as she probed further, "So, you believe that by acting your way into that kindergarten, you're paving a path to success for your children?" Lin Fangfang nodded gently, her eyes glinting with conviction. "I firmly believe that a solid foundation opens up numerous possibilities for them."
Zhang sighed softly, a hint of helplessness creeping into her tone, "Society is far more intricate than we fathom. In the workplace, people value your abilities and hard work more than the kindergarten you attended as a child. If you're truly exceptional, you can climb to the pinnacle of academia, even from humble beginnings."
Lin Fangfang's face flickered with hesitation before settling into determination. "I understand your point, but I believe every stage is integral to their growth. I want to give them the best start and lay a solid foundation for their future."
Zhang shook her head gently, trying to broaden Lin's perspective. "You're overthinking it. A kindergarten doesn't dictate a child's future. It's their character, interests, and direction of effort that matter most."
A complex emotion flitted across Lin Fangfang's eyes as she spoke slowly, "Perhaps you're right, but as a mother, I only want to do my utmost to pave the way for them. You don't have daughters, so you can't understand. As for shame, it's not mine to bear; it's the producer's, for his selfishness and deceit."
Zhang's face flushed, and her tone grew heavy, "Don't you find deception to be immoral? When you fabricated the lie of sexual assault, did you consider the feelings of those who have genuinely suffered such trauma? I understand that people might compromise their principles to achieve their goals, and I reluctantly agreed to have you on the show to appease my superiors. I feared losing control of my emotions, which is why I prefaced this as my most uncomfortable interview. By inviting you, I implicitly endorsed your actions, and they were grossly excessive."
With that, Zhang rested her chin on her hand, turning her face away.
After a moment of silence, Zhang placed her phone on the table and, scrolling through Weibo, said, "If you insist on staying here, fine, I'll just wait until the commercial break with you."
Seeing this, the producer quickly rearranged the program flow, switching the screen back to the reporter, Fang.
Fang's finger hovered over Li Haoyu's number, repeatedly jumping between keys, yet never pressing the call button. As the night deepened, the chime of four o'clock struck quietly, and the distant red and blue lights of police cars flickered like ghosts, casting shadows on Fang's determined face and reflecting onto the deserted streets, adding a sense of urgency and unease.
Another "The number you dialed is powered off" message echoed, prompting Fang to finally put down her phone. Her gaze pierced through the camera lens, her voice steady and forceful, "In this silent depth of night, we've received heartbreaking news—the brave woman, Code '74', who stood up to reveal the truth, has passed away despite emergency efforts. So far, two innocent lives have been lost, one lies in a coma, and over a hundred women have fallen victim to this tragedy. Li Haoyu, running away is not the solution. You're still young; hiding in the shadows for the rest of your life is too long and unworthy. It's time to step forward, take responsibility for your actions, and seek solace for those you've harmed."
The scene shifted abruptly back to the studio, where Lin Fangfang's voice remained resolute and passionate, "After being marginalized by the company and even brutally expelled from the kindergarten community I poured my heart into, I've borne undue pressure. All my hard work seemed to vanish overnight. Tell me, isn't such a cost an excessive correction? What more do I need to apologize for?"
Interjecting, Zhang's voice was laced with barely contained anger and hurt, "Lin Fangfang, you've never experienced that desperation and pain, so you can't comprehend the harm Li Haoyu's crimes have inflicted on the victims. As one of them, I've felt that helplessness and fury firsthand. Your words and actions are not just indifference to me; they're a trampling of our wounds. I sincerely find your behavior reprehensible, and I want nothing more than to punch you to the ground."
Realizing the cameras were still rolling, Zhang suddenly turned, her fierce gaze scanning towards the control room, her question cutting through the air, "Who switched the camera without permission?!" The photographer, startled by the intense interrogation, instinctively stepped back, his face etched with tension and confusion.
"I never intended to make these words public." Zhang's voice was low and determined as she grabbed the camera from the table with a fierce determination, a glimmer of resolve in her eyes. With a forceful swing, she hurled it aside, and it crashed to the floor, leaving a deafening silence punctuated only by the echo of shattering equipment.
In a rented room on the third floor, the tenant yanked the lamp plug from the socket and leaned back in his chair. Suddenly, a chill ran through his fingertips. Looking up, he saw the carpet stained with dark red blood, which continued to seep from its edges unchecked. He didn't try to stop it but let it spread, feeling a strange detachment from the horror unfolding before him.