The final exams were over, and another two-month-long holiday began. Zhou You effortlessly finished grading the papers. The only consolation was that there were no sympathy points this time—most scores were above 70. The students had genuinely put effort into the course, which also proved they recognized him more as a teacher.
"Hey, Teacher Zhou, I've finished editing my new documentary. Want to take a look? I'll send you the extended version!" Zhou Hao had just finished editing and was eager to show Zhou You, his kindred spirit.
Zhou You was delighted and readily agreed: "Of course I want to see it. What genre is it?"
"You'll know when you watch it." Zhou Hao was being coy.
Zhou You chuckled: "Alright, seems pretty confident." He was about to hang up when he suddenly remembered that Zhou Hao had a documentary that was taken down shortly after its release, now impossible to find. But the director must still have a copy.
"Director Zhou, send me that documentary you made before, 'The Main Person in Charge (Shuji),' too."
Zhou Hao laughed on the other end: "No problem, just don't spread it around yourself. Don't come crying to me if something happens."
"Haha, you filmed it and nothing happened, what's the harm in me watching?" Zhou You shot back boldly. Trying to scare me? I'll just keep quiet then.
The delivery was fast, sent via the most expensive courier service, paid on delivery. When Zhou You received the package, he couldn't help cursing under his breath—skimping on such small change. Documentary directors really were dirt poor.
Nothing to do today, so he dedicated himself to watching videos. No need to deliberate which one to watch first. Humans have a natural tendency—the more unattainable something is, the more curious they become. Many things, when placed right in front of you every day, you overlook. But the moment they're gone, you start longing for them. This is a classic trick used by many businesses: "limited edition," "last day," "only a few spots left." It's all about creating scarcity. Add a dash of mystery and high-tech flair, and it becomes even more irresistible, shooting through the roof. And you know what? People still fall for it. It's worked for thousands of years.
Zhou You had watched this documentary once before, on the NetEase Open Course documentary channel. Back then, as a student, he didn't really understand it—he just watched out of curiosity, gleaning little insight from the dialogue. Especially one scene where the video cut out but the audio continued, a dark moment that authentically captured part of that ecosystem. "Get it done, collect the money. Fail, refund the money." At least there was some conscience, haha—better than those who just make empty promises. In that era, it was a breath of fresh air.
He laughed as he watched. Who would have guessed that guy would end up sewing in prison? Even more unexpected was that he was now friends with Zhou Hao. The world is cold, and court colleagues are even more ruthless. But the guy did have high standards. There was a line in it: "People buy expensive over cheap. The apartments in the neighboring complex are cheaper, but they don't buy them—they go for the pricey ones." Chinese people believe you get what you pay for. Every trade has its secrets. Faced with an unfamiliar field, they instinctively choose the expensive option. There's no other way—they can't grasp the intricacies, so they buy expensive for peace of mind. As "Influence" puts it: "It's worth noting that when people are unfamiliar with a product or service, they're especially likely to apply the 'expensive = good' principle." Because we lack the time, energy, and ability to judge a matter or item. We instinctively rely on mental shortcuts or expert advice—until the expert crashes and burns. That's why live-stream shopping took off later—same reason. Only when you're in your own field do you realize expensive doesn't mean good. In other areas, you just have to endure. That's also why Xiaomi's business kept improving. When you're choosing an unfamiliar product, Xiaomi has the edge. It's not the best, but it's not the worst—a mid-range option, perfect for people with decision paralysis.
The documentary laid human nature bare: fawning to superiors, stern to subordinates, two-faced—no, multi-faced!—and the scenes with peers. Businessmen were equally slick, speaking human words to humans and ghost words to ghosts. The only one telling the truth was an outsider with united front value. So he had no qualms. In today's society, his identity would definitely be exposed, but it's a shame it never spread widely. Watching documentaries really broadened the mind. Zhou You even saw what a "depth charge" was.
He couldn't help cursing: "They really know how to play. No wonder I'm a country bumpkin." Fill a small shot glass with baijiu, drop it into a large glass of beer, and down it in one gulp—that's a depth charge. Dressed impeccably in public, beasts behind closed doors. Many people, in front of the public, are sanctimonious and righteous, seeming like perfect gentlemen. Or they hold high positions, wealth rivaling nations. But in reality? Only those who get close know the truth. That's one reason for maintaining distance and mystery—to uphold a lofty image. Actually, the best way to shatter illusions is to imagine them sitting on the toilet, straining with constipation. At that moment, every image crumbles. Whether beauty or authority, it all vanishes. Hahaha.
He finished watching the documentary in high spirits. He set the rest aside for now. Zhou You had seen the beginning and knew what it was—a story he'd watched before. The extended version was longer, five hours. Only a hardcore documentary fan like Zhou You could sit through it. Usually, after watching social documentaries, he'd feel depressed, but not this one. It was fun, interesting—sure to be passed down for a long time. Future generations would study it over and over, examining the speech, clothing, and meeting styles, maybe even finding someone who looks just like them. There's nothing new under the sun; history always repeats itself. Don't believe me? Just look.
Yina showed up again. Think about Yina's history: watch him build a tall building, watch him host a banquet, watch his building collapse.
"Yina, is the baijiu good?" Zhou You asked curiously.
"Yeah, it's good, but it burns my throat. Hard to get used to at first." As a baijiu enthusiast, Yina had a say.
"What, your throat hurts? Let me check. Probably needs some lubricant." Zhou You was very concerned about Yina's health. She was about to return home, and he couldn't let her go with an ailment. He pulled her upstairs for an examination—he always kept some basic medicine on hand. Sigh, a perfectly good chef had to moonlight as a doctor, treating sore throats. But Zhou You's medical skills were poor; he was still a novice. It took a few hours of fumbling to barely cure her. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, press down the gourd and the dipper floats up—once the throat pain was fixed, other places started hurting. Yina initially suggested bringing others in as test subjects, but Zhou You disagreed. He said since Yina was leaving soon, not treating her properly might worsen her condition. Reluctantly, she had to endure. When she left, she limped away, silently vowing never to come alone again. That quack doctor had no sense of honor.