Chapter 2469: with translation of chapter title

William Arthur Louis, a Financial Times reporter. In the Pulitzer Prize selection a year ago, he was dispatched to East Asia by the Financial Times after being found to have fabricated news, which can be considered a kind of exile-style punishment.

Today, William received a "mission" from headquarters—to follow and interview Doctor Zheng at the 912 Hospital.

According to the fax sent by headquarters, it is judged that this Doctor Zheng is very likely to win this year's Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine.

Originally, this was a great opportunity for William—a rising Nobel Prize laureate could yield many stories.

But he scoffed at it.

Wei Feng stood in William's office, looking down at the surging Huangpu Jiang; originally this should have broadened his Thoracic, but he had no mood.

The stifling experience in Hai Cheng, Wei Feng came to Modu. By a fortunate coincidence, he happened to catch the Financial Times' East Asia branch short-staffed, and Wei Feng came to apply.

His past articles on medical disputes became his foot-in-the-door; due to local collusion, such good reports on 'the truth' could not be published, which became a noble-sounding reason for his entry into the Financial Times' East Asia branch.

This is exactly what Wei Feng needed; here he could showcase his talent. Unlike in Hai Cheng, where a good article capable of drawing public attention would simply sink without a trace.

"You are from Hai Cheng, I see from your records that you previously had dealings with Doctor Zheng?" William asked.

"Yes." Wei Feng said in a deep voice, "I am a conscientious reporter who exposes society's dark side. Unfortunately, the resistance I face is too great."

Wei Feng carefully crafted his persona—a conscientious reporter who exposes society's dark side.

He felt that the editor-in-chief of the Financial Times' East Asia region would like it.

"Take a look at this assignment and tell me your thoughts." William didn't move, leaning back in his chair, his eyes gazing at the Huangpu Jiang outside the window as he spoke lightly.

Wei Feng's heart stirred; he suppressed his excitement and picked up the documents on the table.

He saw a familiar name—Zheng Ren!

"Nobel Prize?" He actually became a nominee for the Nobel Prize nomination? Impossible—how could someone from that godforsaken little place Hai Cheng receive a Nobel Prize recommendation?

Burning with jealousy, Wei Feng's eyes turned somewhat red.

After reading the interview requirements once, his brain raced.

He could not let his subjective ideas ruin such a great job; as a refined egoist, Wei Feng tried to avoid making such a mistake.

He must know William's intentions as editor-in-chief, then follow his line of thought to conduct the interview.

Wei Feng remained silent for nearly one Minute, then suddenly heard William say leisurely: "Do you understand the Nobel Prize process?"

"I know a little." Wei Feng said in a deep voice, trying to make his voice thick and magnetic, considering every detail so as not to err over a small matter.

"Go on."

"Every year from October to December, nominations for the various Nobel Prizes are accepted, entering the review period; then in October of the following year, a few hours before the announcement, the Nobel Committee informs the laureates by phone. December 10 each year is the day the Nobel Prize is awarded."

"What do you think of this interview?" William, with his hand on his chin, seemingly not having heard what Wei Feng said, asked leisurely.

"……" Wei Feng couldn't grasp William's meaning; from the moment he entered, William, the editor-in-chief, hadn't glanced at him once—let alone judging from his expression or body language, even his tone showed no Fluctuation.

Truly a deep‑scheming big shot, Wei Feng inwardly admired him.

"Nobel Prize nominees are kept confidential, with a secrecy period of fifty years." William said: "But this Doctor Zheng, from what I briefly learned, rumors have been circulating since last year in Hai Cheng and Di Du that he has already received a Nobel Prize recommendation."

Wei Feng froze for a moment.

"Everyone says Murakami Haruki runs every year; the list of Nobel Prize nominees is secret, and only the most unprofessional reporters would make such a mistake, reporting all sorts of sensationalist gossip." William said, "Now the bunch of idiots at headquarters actually believe the rumors, lacking even the most basic professional competence."

"You're absolutely right!" Wei Feng stood at attention without hesitation, affirming William's statement.

If it's indeed confidential, there wouldn't be much room to maneuver—Wei Feng felt a fire ignite in his chest.

"Although I haven't gone to interview him, I've considered this. There are several possibilities; the greatest likelihood is that this Doctor Zheng Ren is self‑promoting. The records show he even does Surgery live broadcast on a website—he's someone who can't stand being ordinary."

Wei Feng listened quietly, knowing his first task was to listen—to hear the judgment of this industry heavyweight.

"Your trial is to uncover the truth about this Nobel Prize Nominee. If you can produce a piece I'm satisfied with, getting hired is no problem." William said with a smile.

A surge of hot blood rose in Wei Feng's chest; from William's words he sensed boundless hope. Joining an international major newspaper would be a meteoric rise. He guessed William, the editor‑in‑chief, favored him because he too came from Hai Cheng, the same city as Doctor Zheng, with whom he'd previously had dealings.

Otherwise, such a major matter wouldn't be entrusted to him.

"Go on, now go to HR to report—this counts as the internship stage." William said, "I look forward to your excellent reporting."

Wei Feng performed a deep Jiu Gong, his fists clenched tight at an angle William couldn't see.

If it weren't for the need to maintain a steady, prudent image, he would probably have jumped up and heartily celebrated becoming an intern reporter.

"William, sir, you're absolutely right! What does a lousy doctor, just a small‑time doctor at Haicheng Shi Yiyuan Hospital, have to deserve a Nobel Prize?"

As for the nominee's confidentiality, Wei Feng believed it outright after hearing William. Since Sir William said so, it must be correct. Having just received a nomination, he couldn't wait to spread the word.

This is hype, pure hype!

This job pleases Wei Feng—it lets him deal a fatal blow to his old rival while also breaking into the media conglomerate, achieving two goals at once.

He left William's office maintaining a respectful posture.

Keeping his hand back, he maintained a bent‑over posture, respectfully closed the door, and only then straightened his waist.

A triumphant smile spread across Wei Feng's face as he strode quickly toward the HR office; walking faster and faster, he felt the wind at his feet, having already torn off Doctor Zheng's ugly mask and broadcast his hype‑mongering intentions to all.

"How to do it? Academic fraud? That would be the most forceful."

Every instance of academic fraud, seizing the chance to hype, would stir the emotions of the onlookers and cause a great uproar.

That's actually a pretty good angle; a hint of a smile appeared on Wei Feng's lips.

……

……

Note: Zhang Junping inexplicably time‑traveled to become the great‑grandson of Song dynasty founding general Zhang Lingduo.

Treating time travel as a game, Zhang Junping began his playful life in the Northern Song.

Before he knew it, the great Song had become different!

Only then did the belatedly aware Zhang Junping shout, "Damn, I've ruined the great Song!"

"The Great Song Ruined by Play"