Chapter 0174: No Escape

Dong Chenxi had never expected that Zhao Fusheng in life and Zhao Fusheng at work were two completely different people.

“I need the sales data for mobile phones in China over the past five years,” Zhao Fusheng instructed Dong Chenxi. “Also, check the sales figures for PHS last year and this year.”

He paused, then continued, “Additionally, look into Zhou Feifei’s market approval rating.”

Dong Chenxi hurriedly jotted down Zhao Fusheng’s requests in her notebook, fully aware that these materials were all related to advertising planning.

Not until Zhao Fusheng left the company did Dong Chenxi tell him how much effort it would take to gather this information.

This had nothing to do with Wang Zhen’s personal friendship with Zhao Fusheng. What kind of person someone was, what kind of person they pretended to be for the workplace, and what kind of person they hoped to become in the future—everything they did would ultimately show on their face and in their temperament.

How well a person lives depends on their ability to solve problems independently. If they ask others about everything, even if surrounded by experts and wise men, their life will still be a mess.

So Dong Chenxi understood clearly that Zhao Fusheng might give her this job out of respect for Wang Zhen, but he would never tolerate her coasting along in the company.

She remembered the first time she met Zheng Yao, when Zheng Yao said to her: “We only look at results, not effort, because there are too many people pretending to work hard. At least results are relatively fair.”

Dong Chenxi knew that if she left Future Advertising, she might only be an ordinary clerk, having to endure occasional harassment from her boss or supervisor, unlike now, with a boyfriend who loved her and a stable job.

There are many bad things in this world, and people make mistakes, but we always meet some good people and encounter feelings that warm our hearts.

Zhao Fusheng had no idea what Dong Chenxi was thinking, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care too much.

She wasn’t a three-year-old child. Work was work, and personal relationships were personal relationships.

Compared to those drifting in Beijing, at least Dong Chenxi was happy now.

Zhao Fusheng had once written an article titled “No Escape,” which he composed when he left Beijing. It wasn’t long, so he could still remember it clearly.

“I thought I had long left the barbaric age behind, but in the end, I found I had nowhere to escape.

As a child, there was kindergarten; after starting school, there was Yuzhang Academy.

After finally growing up, I came to Beijing to make a living, only to be driven away by a fire.

Some struggled to become middle class, hoping to use money to build a barrier for their children.

Some insisted on being single, glad they didn’t have children, and used a lifetime of savings to buy the most高端 nursing home for their eighty-year-old selves, only to find themselves helplessly abused by nurses, unable to resist and with no one to visit.

Lying in the nursing home bed, I thought of those innocent children harmed at Sansè Kindergarten without knowing it, and of those years when the internet was underdeveloped and we only watched the News Broadcast every day.

I couldn’t tell who was more miserable or who was happier.

I didn’t know whether to take soma in the brave new world, or whether to choose the red pill or the blue pill from Morpheus.

All I knew was that I had nowhere to escape.

Maybe by next week, I’ll have forgotten.”

Life is hard; each of us lives with difficulty. All we can do is grit our teeth and persevere.

Although he knew that the materials he asked Dong Chenxi to investigate were of little use to him, if he didn’t do this, the advertising plan he suddenly produced would seem too abrupt.

It’s hard for an idiot to pretend to be a genius, and equally hard for a genius to lower their IQ to that of a fool. Because talent, as Mao Sui said, is like an awl—even in a bag, it will poke through inadvertently.

So Zhao Fusheng sometimes felt distressed, because he often found that he could solve certain problems effortlessly, but couldn’t speak up, and could only watch those around him exhaust themselves trying to complete them, or fail.

This often gave Zhao Fusheng a deep sense of guilt.

Smart people are always in pain, especially those toyed with by fate.

Shaking his head, Zhao Fusheng smiled bitterly. What was wrong with him today, letting his mind wander like this?

He had actually finished most of the planning proposal. The task he gave Dong Chenxi was just a formality. Once she handed over the survey data, he would produce the detailed advertising plan, and that would be the end of it.

The next step was to make money quickly and invest in real industries.

Since his father had a handle on the family business, Zhao Fusheng didn’t bother with it. In his view, even if his parents messed up, as long as he developed well, he could still help them patch things up.

So, besides Future Advertising, Zhao Fusheng felt he should find another way to make money.

After all, a person needs some ambition; otherwise, what’s the difference from a salted fish?

Moreover, Zhao Fusheng was a reborn person. If he didn’t even have a goal to strive for, living would be meaningless.

Before his rebirth, Zhao Fusheng had thought that if he had a chance to start over, he definitely wouldn’t drift to Beijing. Back then, he thought he would just be like the ordinary people around him.

A nine-to-five job, marriage and children, occasionally going out with a few colleagues to sit, sing, and chat.

But now, looking back, Zhao Fusheng felt that idea was too naive. For a reborn person, ordinariness itself was a tragedy.

The question of what people live for was undoubtedly nonsense, because everyone’s life path is different.

But Zhao Fusheng felt that, no matter what, he couldn’t follow the same path as his previous life. Living a second life, there had to be some change.

“Zhao Fusheng, you’re back.”

“Ah, I’m back.”

Just then, a greeting interrupted Zhao Fusheng’s thoughts. Looking up, he realized he had unknowingly walked back to the dormitory building.

The person who had just gone out was none other than Qin Wentao’s roommate.

Because of the fight Qin Wentao had helped with last time, the male students in the class had grown closer. Dorm members who usually didn’t interact much now exchanged jokes when they met.

That’s how college is. Don’t think that classmates in the same class have such close relationships—that’s all literary works and social media fooling you. So-called schoolmate bonds are mostly confined to small circles of a few people. The rest are outsiders.

The most obvious example of this is class reunions after graduation.

Only those who are doing well are keen on reunions. Those busy making a living, working nine-to-five, and struggling to support their families have no time to waste on gatherings.

As for those who constantly act like they cherish classmate bonds and miss their youth, what they miss is just that sentiment. If you really asked them to help a classmate in trouble with a hundred thousand or so, they might not say anything to your face, but the next day they might even change their phone number.

In real society, money is paramount.

Why was happiness so easy to come by when we were children? Because back then, being ugly or poor wasn’t so obvious.

Pushing open the dorm door, Zhao Fusheng looked strangely at Tan Kaixuan and Wang Zhen playing games. “I can understand Wang Zhen being in the dorm, since I just assigned work to Senior Chenxi. But Lao Tan, why aren’t you with Hu Xia? What are you doing in the dorm?”

Tan Kaixuan replied without looking up: “She said she had something to do and told me to do whatever I wanted. I had nowhere to go, so I came back to play games.”

Zhao Fusheng nodded, then noticed that besides the computer he had bought, there was another computer in the dorm.

In fact, it had been there since yesterday, but he had just returned from Beijing and was too tired to pay attention. Now that he noticed, he found it strange.

“Where did this computer come from?” Zhao Fusheng asked in confusion.

Before he could get an answer, the dorm door was pushed open, and the classmate who had greeted him earlier rushed in, shouting, “Bad news! Wen Yu got beaten up!”

With a start, all three people in the dorm stood up...