Chapter 613

In front of an open space in the Port District, a middle-aged man with a "protagonist" look walked out from the refugee group.

He had an appearance that quite matched the aesthetic of the Federation people for positive males: dark hair, a high but not eagle-beak-like nose bridge, thick eyebrows, cheeks like they were split by an axe, and that chin that could fascinate people.

Coupled with his slightly blue beard and blue pupils, even if he went to Creek Valley City to apply for a male lead, there would be a film crew willing to take him in.

He was wearing ragged but very clean clothes; as he walked out of the crowd, the reporters soon noticed him.

Congressman Williams wasn't coming, and the afternoon activity was canceled, making the reporters who were prepared to watch a good show somewhat disappointed.

But if they could obtain some other news materials through interviewing this person, perhaps they could more or less make up for some of their disappointed hearts.

However, they didn't think this guy could provide any explosive news; just a group of refugees.

That guy walked in front of the reporters; when there was still some distance, he suddenly raised his hands high and said loudly, "We are dying, please save us!"

The reporters, who were originally somewhat absent-minded, were suddenly jolted; they immediately trotted toward that person.

Seeing these reporters swarming over, a smile appeared on the middle-aged man's face.

"What is your name, sir?"

"Hope, Hope Wright."

The reporters recorded his name, and immediately asked, "Can you tell us why you think you are dying?"

The expression on his face was filled with a look of begging for salvation. "People are dying; this is the fact."

"Hunger, disease, anything will easily take away our lives."

"I know, we are refugees, we are not citizens of the Federation, but we are also human; we should also have the right to live on this world!"

"From the time we arrived in the Federation until now, the local government has not made any arrangements for us, including building simple dwellings in the Xingang District; those were also our spontaneous actions."

"We are like a proper noun that only exists in newspapers or magazines, not people who are really living in reality."

"People's sympathy also seems to stop at the newspaper, not shining into reality."

"Every day, people in the Xingang District starve to death in their own tents, or in some corner, because of long-term hunger."

"Some people will hurriedly finish their short lives in painful struggle because of disease."

"Every night, the shrill crying makes me unable to sleep; I have never understood."

"Is it that God closed his eyes and couldn't see our sadness, or did the sky of the Federation cover his gaze, letting his pious lambs suffer here!"

"We need help, humanitarian aid, or anything else is fine; I heard the Federation also has some Animal Protection Association."

"The benevolent and kind people of the Federation can give some care and love to those small animals, why can't they give some help to us who are also human?"

"We don't have any other excessive requirements; we just want to live..."

This Mr. Hope's speech triggered the empathy of quite a few reporters at the scene; the greatest wealth of bottom-level people is their empathy.

They can empathize with anything.

Even if they themselves are living very poorly, when they see the terrible lives of people who are even poorer, they still can't help but give birth to some thoughts of wanting to help them in the depths of their hearts.

Just like their exclamation when seeing a rich man lose millions or tens of millions in investment—this rich man is really not easy.

Just like their sadness when seeing a politician lose an election because of a narrow gap, just like...

They can empathize with people who are worse off than themselves, and can also empathize with those rich and powerful people who are countless times better off than themselves but encounter something people consider unfortunate.

Although they have a lot of money, although they have a lot of power, they are not necessarily living happier than themselves!

The people of the Federation, the poorer they are, the easier it is to empathize.

Reporters are not a privileged class nor are they rich people, and at the same time, they rely more on the resonance and empathy of readers to gain fame and profit for themselves.

This Mr. Hope poked their G-spot; they were satisfied.

At Mr. Hope's invitation, these reporters decided to go deep into the Xingang District, which "urgently needs someone to help them," to take a concrete look.

Just as Mr. Hope said, the federal government just let them come here, and then ignored them, as if they didn't exist.

What the people need is not truth and facts; what they need is something bloody, something that can sting the heart.

Soon they came to the Xingang District, and that strange odor began to spread; Mr. Hope introduced the reason why there was an odor here, which very well made "not being able to afford a bath" a small news explosion point.

Mr. Hope took them on a very special route; not long after walking, they came to an open space and saw them burning something.

The flames from the large pile of fire were a full three or four stories high, and there were many people around constantly adding firewood to it.

Before they even got close, waves of heat rushed toward them; the reporters hadn't had time to ask why they wanted to burn a bonfire in the summer before they saw a few people carrying some corpses and throwing them into the fire.

"We can't afford a cemetery, nor can we pay for cremation; in order not to let those corpses become the source of a plague, we can only solve it this way."

The reporters photographed with solemn faces; cremation had only just risen, but it hadn't gained the recognition of the Federation people.

Because the Bible has always advocated burial and believes that burial is the best way to return to the embrace of the Lord.

And the content related to cremation often has a relationship with "purification."

Ordinary people certainly don't need to be purified; only those heretics need to be purified, so cremation is not popular; many believers think that they can't go to heaven after cremation.

For the Federation people who almost all have faith, these people being burned to ashes after death is one thing, and they will also be mixed with other people's ashes, not even being able to be independently put into a jar and buried in the earth; they will definitely go to hell!

This is already the most serious punishment: going to hell after death!

Then they continued to walk inside and could see many people who were so thin they were just skin and bones; they were sitting or lying on the side of the road; a reporter asked, "Why are there so many people like this here?"

Mr. Hope explained very calmly, "They are waiting for death; this can faster and more conveniently let them return to the world."

The scenes in the refugee area caused a huge shock to the reporters; they had never thought that people could live so miserably!

When they finally saw a woman squeezing blood from her nipples to nurture her child, everyone was silent.

Those reporters started taking money out of their pockets, hoping the woman could buy some milk powder instead of using her own blood to raise the child.

"Mr. Hope, I don't know how to describe everything I saw here today; I believe everyone who knows what happened here will face you with a heavy heart just like me."

"You should get help; this is the bottom line of human morality; we cannot break this bottom line."

"I will report this news truthfully, ensuring it is seen by more people, and will also call on everyone to donate money and goods to help you tide over the difficulties..."

"You are a person with noble morality; you will change the people here and their lives; you will warm everyone like the sun!"

The reporters were really too cultured; the things they said were so nice, so nice that Mr. Hope was almost about to shed tears!

He shook hands with every reporter and said, "I didn't do this to promote myself or what I want to do; I just couldn't remain silent in such an environment."

"No matter what changes happen in the future, good or bad, at least I have tried for the tomorrow and future of each of us!"

"Thank you, thank you for every one of you being able to have the patience to come over with me, and see and understand the harsh living environment of the people here with me,"

"God bless the Federation, God will also bless us!"

He piously put his hands together; someone snapped this photo; the bright sunshine illuminated half of his face, and the beautiful side of the city was on his left.

And the other half was shrouded in imperceptible shadows, merging with the human misery behind him, forming a camera frame with a very strong contrast and a full sense of impact.

Soon the reporters left here; those people around who were so hungry they couldn't even stand up looked at Mr. Hope; he turned around, and the sunshine came from his left half of the body to the right half.

He was smiling on his face, looking at these miserable people, facing their longing gazes, slightly pulling in his chin. "Everything will get better!"

People inexplicably felt a force rising from the soles of their feet; they didn't clearly know that they had already become chips in a political game.

But even if they knew, they wouldn't care.

At least chips can be placed on a velvet gambling table to play games; people will let them live in order to protect the chips.

If they don't become chips, they can only sit on the cement ground, the gravel ground, waiting for the period to finish its last stroke.

They raised their hands high, chanting about Mr. Hope's goodness; all this made Mr. Hope feel a trace of joy.

This is the foundation for realizing his future; it is chips; he will become an amazing person; he firmly believes in this point!

With the participation of reporters, as well as those miserable photos, early the next morning, the front page headline of "Today's Jincheng" was occupied by this news.

The reporter who wrote this report used "Our morality is dying along with our conscience" as the title, and used a wide-angle photo, putting the bonfire used to burn corpses together with the people sitting next to the fire waiting for death.

The dark-toned picture pressed on everyone's heart like dark clouds; accompanied by lightning and thunder, a rainstorm fell down with a patter.

"... People are dying, dying in the beauty we weave; their deaths have no meaning, will not become nutrients to nourish this land, but will only become the pain that can never be wiped away in our hearts."

"Compared to them who need help, actually what needs help more is us; our conscience, our virtues, our human moral bottom line are wailing, are begging us for help."

"We are not just saving them, but also ourselves."

"Please reach out a helping hand, for them, for us."

Lans read the content of this report; after reading it, he put it by his hand, and then picked up the coffee with milk and took a sip.

"Next time if you add milk, you don't need to add sugar; it's too sweet!" He commented, and then looked at the ladies and gentlemen at the dining table.

Whenever he wanted to inspire these people, he would find that the eyes of these people were particularly clear, clear enough to see the bottom at a glance.

"I... uh, alright, there is no morning exam today."

Those people at the dining table all breathed a sigh of relief; they might have felt this was interesting at first, but soon they didn't feel that way anymore.

If someone always asks you things you don't understand, you won't feel it's very interesting.

He asked about other things, things these people knew, and the atmosphere immediately became much more cheerful.

"Our liquor is selling quite well in the Bay Area; the price now is three hundred and seventy dollars a bottle, and there is still more room for growth."

Derixi talked about the sales of these "five-year aged" whiskeys, and the smile on his face could not be stopped at all.

The cost of these whiskeys is slightly more expensive, but only slightly, about thirty to forty dollars, but it can bring more than eight times the profit!

These whiskeys actually still have some small flaws; their alcohol smell is too hard, but Lans is trying to find a way to solve these problems.

If these problems can be solved, then eight-year-aged and ten-year-aged whiskeys will appear.

"Besides this point, more liquor has appeared in other districts." He added another sentence.

There is only one big gang in Jincheng, the Lans family, but there are still quite a few medium and lower-level gangs; each district has them, except for the Empire District and the Port District.

He couldn't wipe out all the gangs, because he couldn't do that.

Even if he expelled all these current ones, a batch of new gangs would soon rise.

The federal society is like a super cradle, specifically breeding these violent groups; as long as a vacuum appears, new groups will soon be born, and there will never be a moment of termination.

So rather than considering how to find those medium and lower-level gangs every day, it's better to set the rules and let them follow them; as long as they follow the rules and earn money for him.

Then he is also able to tolerate these small gangs.

After Lans listened, he pondered for a while. "How many gangs are there?"

Erwin gave a number that was unexpected but within reason. "At least a hundred."

Some small families might have a dozen people; their "territory" is a certain section of a street, or some seven or eight people together operating an underground bar.

This situation is very normal; the number Erwin gave is actually still very conservative.

Lans tapped his fingers on the table. "Notify these people; I want to talk to them, just recently."

"Also, let Rogerf come over..."

Before ten o'clock, Rogerf appeared in front of Lans; the old man was living more and more spiritedly.

No way, the best "miracle medicine" is actually the banknotes in people's pockets.

Poor people are listless, rich people are spirited; there is a reason for this.

If everything you encounter every day can be as you wish, it's hard for you not to live comfortably.

But if you have to haggle over a dollar or two every day, get angry, and even have a big argument with your family or friends, it's impossible for a person to live comfortably.

Scientists have also been looking for the specific interference of the spirit on the body; they have many theories, but they can never find the key one.

Rogerf is like this; with money, even his old brothers have regained their vitality.

"I heard you have been very close to a little widow recently?" Lans signaled for him to sit down, holding a cigarette, and tapped the butt on the table.

Rogerf's old face turned a bit red. "We are just good friends."

Lans didn't deny his explanation. "So you had a big argument with your son for the sake of this good friend of yours."

When Rogerf heard Lans say this, he suddenly sighed. "I also have the right to pursue happiness."

Like most people of that era, his union with his wife was more like two people who needed to shoulder social responsibilities, at the age when they needed to shoulder social responsibilities, and then naturally came together and built a family.

For those people in the past, talking about love or something, it wasn't that it absolutely didn't exist, it was just that this part of people was still a very small minority.

Most people were introduced by others, and then when they got along, they didn't dislike each other, so they formed a family.

This is also why most operas are talking about love; if the audience really had their own love, that kind of profound or colorful one, why would they pay attention to other people's love stories and produce some kind of empathy?

Because they themselves don't have it!

So they would crave those love stories; of course, there are also some sadomasochistic lovers; they like the set of a poor boy falling in love with a rich girl, and then breaking them up!

Rogerf and his wife also came together like this; the time was up, then they met each other twice, didn't dislike each other, and then under the arrangement of both families, they got married.

No matter when, Rogerf never had a bit of love for his wife, only family affection; that is family, not a lover.

And recently, this little widow made him produce that kind of impulse, to the extent that his old brother, who hadn't been used for quite a long time, also became spirited.

As for why his son would argue with him, the reason is actually very simple.

His son was worried that Rogerf would really marry that little widow, and then the property that originally belonged to him would be divided by the little widow.

He was even afraid that his old man could still give birth; if he gave birth to a little thing, then there would be nothing left, or even more!

He couldn't accept this.

If their family was still very poor and not well-off, he wouldn't care.

But now that they have money, instead, some things are not seen so openly.