After eating, Yang Mi hurriedly left.
There was no helping it—work was too busy. After being spun a tale by Zhou You, though she couldn't quite grasp it, she still felt it was impressive and seemed to make sense. On the way back, she kept mulling it over, but the more she thought, the more something felt off.
Zhou You's words sounded so reasonable, but they were impossible to act on. What did "the right era" even mean? Had she been fooled? Anyone who believed that would be an idiot. The world itself had no logic to speak of, yet he was still teaching people principles. How ridiculous.
Forget it. As long as these scripts became a hit, why bother with all that? Life had no worries—if there were any, she'd deal with them later. Was Zhou You right? Very right. Was it useful? Basically not at all. It was the kind of correct nonsense.
Those people were best at saying things like that. Those who knew some inside info excelled at it because they understood the reasons but couldn't reveal them, so they had to come up with a high-sounding excuse. At first listen, these words seemed reasonable, not bad. But after hearing them a few times, you'd realize: how do you even act on this? And why are there so many contradictions? If a busybody came along and looked back at what he'd said before, then observed what he was doing now, not a single thing would match up—it was all lies!
If you asked him why he lied, he'd accuse you of being shallow and not grasping the deeper meaning. Don't listen to what he says; just see whose money he's taking, and you'd know! Take someone's money, solve their troubles. Whoever's bowl you eat from, you answer to them!
In the blink of an eye, the new semester started, and Zhou You's first batch of students was about to graduate. What were the seniors doing? Looking for jobs, preparing for grad school exams, retaking tests—besides these, there were those seizing their last moments to party wildly, living for the moment.
Huang Zhenkai was one of those. He wasn't job-hunting or studying for exams; he spent every day holed up in an internet café playing games. His life motto was: "Be happy one day at a time; worry about tomorrow when it comes." But seniors had to do internships and get proof of them. Their major required interning at the city or provincial library—boring stuff, just grunt work. No office space; they rotated through public reading areas, shelving books, collecting them, and tidying up. No challenge at all, and the worst part: zero pay. They just got an internship certificate, which the school demanded!
Was it mandatory? Not exactly. If you had connections, you could tell the teacher you'd found a company to intern at, or that you'd landed a job requiring immediate internship. That worked. But most students had no connections, so they obediently went to the library, wasting their time.
In Huang Zhenkai's rulebook: "Only idiots do that. Jobs aren't assigned anymore. Older alumni got hired directly, but for us, it's all exams now." It was a lose-lose situation. Luckily, they were at a top university. The internships at vocational schools were worse—forced to work on factory assembly lines, or no diploma. They had students by the throat: years of school just for that piece of paper.
Why not resist? Bro, don't joke—I'm already at a vocational school! If I had any way out, I wouldn't be here. Every student there came from ordinary families with no money, power, or connections. Those with a bit of cash either went the special talent route or repeated a few years of high school. The richer ones just went abroad, not even playing in the same league—you'd never see them.
Huang Zhenkai, though lazy, was sharp. He never bought into textbook nonsense. Most people like him ended up doing okay after graduation because they understood society's rules early on. Other students kept in touch with Zhou You, but not as much as Huang Zhenkai did. Now, hearing that Zhou You had opened a "Wave Rider" gym nearby, he sauntered over.
"Teacher Zhou, I'm at your Wave Rider place. Are you in?" he called from downstairs.
Zhou You happened to be there. Curious, he answered—this student wasn't a traditional good kid, but Zhou You, with his sales background, had seen plenty like him. He knew these types would live less twisted, painful lives later.
"I'm in. Come on up to the fourth floor," Zhou You said, just finishing a training session and showering, rehydrating.
It was Huang Zhenkai's first visit. Seeing so many muscular guys on the first floor, he couldn't help envying them compared to his own scrawny frame, but he knew himself—he couldn't handle that grind. Exiting the elevator, he spotted an open office door and peeked in. Zhou You was sitting there drinking water.
He strolled over. "Teacher, this place is awesome. I saw the old spot, but this is my first time here. If I hadn't called you, I wouldn't have dared come in."
Zhou You smiled. Anyone seeing so many tough guys would hesitate—that was his plan. Putting them on the first floor filtered customers, impressed them, and gave a warning, all at once.
"What's up? You're about to graduate as a senior, not interning or job-hunting, and you've got time to come here?" Zhou You knew he wasn't going for grad school, so he skipped that topic.
"Sigh, the school's sending us to the city and provincial libraries for internships. I don't want to go. Can you help me out?" Huang Zhenkai didn't beat around the bush with his teacher. After years of college, he'd figured out Zhou You's style: say what you need to say. He had no standing to play games.
"Help you? You want me to tell your teacher you don't have to go?" Zhou You joked.
"No, no, just give me an internship certificate," Huang Zhenkai waved his hands frantically. Why make it so complicated? A certificate could solve it without owing favors.
Zhou You chuckled, pointing at him. "You're clever. I can give you the certificate, no problem. Have you found a job yet?"
Huang Zhenkai grinned, rubbing his head. "Still looking. But you know, Teacher, our major isn't popular in companies—mostly sales jobs. Nothing's clicked yet."
Zhou You felt a pang of sadness. At the end of the day, it was a niche major. Girls were fine, but guys had to support families. Without a solid background, civil service exams were tough, and a house alone could drive you crazy.
"Do you have any companies in mind? If so, I can help you think it through," Zhou You asked with concern.
To his surprise, Huang Zhenkai shook his head, a bit serious. "Thanks, Teacher, but honestly, I'm not ready to work yet. I've got no classes this year, and I'm not taking exams. I want to use this year to do everything I've wanted to play. I'm afraid I won't get the chance later!"
Zhou You was taken aback. Were kids this smart now? He knew he'd become a corporate drone later, so he was grabbing his last chance to party. Maybe he realized this was the only time in his life he'd truly control.
"That makes some sense, but you still need to eat later. What then?" This path required sacrificing a lot—for ordinary people, it was a gamble. Missing the recruitment and job seasons made it hard to find a decent position.
"Teacher, have you heard a song called 'Banknotes' by Chi Zhiqiang?" Huang Zhenkai pulled out his phone and started playing it.
*Who created banknotes, ruling the world with tyranny?* *Some sell their children for you, some go to jail for you.* *One bill after another, one pair of handcuffs after another.* *Banknotes, no one can do without you.* *Money, you're a knife that kills without blood.* *Facing shiny banknotes, how many rack their brains?* *Some frown for you, some laugh for you.* *Running east and west, nodding and bowing.* *Banknotes, your power is no small thing.* *Money, you've bewitched so many people.* *Banknotes are essential in life.* *Money, don't treat it as the ultimate treasure.*
Zhou You closed his eyes. He'd never heard this song before. Listening to it all the way through, he realized how brilliantly it was written—every word a gem, vividly capturing servitude. But why wasn't it a hit? It was born in the wrong era. If this song had come out in Mao Mao's time, it would've been a killer, striking straight to the heart. Too bad it came too early. Don't expect capital to kindly promote it—don't even dream of it. No matter how good a work is, it needs exposure and traffic, or it gets buried.
Many people love the saying, "Gold will always shine." Ha, who knows that plenty of gold is buried deep underground or locked in safes? Many people never get their moment to shine. What is correct nonsense? That's it. And it subtly drives home a painful truth: if you don't shine, it's because you're not gold! It directly slanders the losers. If you accept the first statement, you have to accept this one, and that's the saying's real goal: to smear ordinary people in society, making you admit your own incompetence at the root. Killing the soul. Beyond material control, it gives you mental torment, making you doubt yourself and your life.
Zhou You was increasingly aware of society's malice. Who doesn't want a happy, carefree life? But if you don't think, others will think for you, then use those thoughts to control, oppress, and exploit you. And then there's summarizing books into key points—it just costs money and brainpower. In school, memorizing key points might get you high scores. After graduation, not so much. Reading isn't about comprehension tests with standard answers and highlights. Good books need multiple readings, tied to your own experience. Everyone's insights differ. Having key points and standard answers is just absurd.
Huang Zhenkai saw Zhou You close his eyes in thought and stay silent. He figured Teacher Zhou was pondering his internship issue, but he didn't know Zhou You's mind had already drifted to contemplating life.