Chapter 1

In Songjiang City, with a population of 8 million, there were no more than 80 people doing the same job as Bian Xuedao.

Bian Xuedao was a proofreader for the Songjiang Daily. Unlike the proofreaders for publishing houses, his job required him to work night shifts year-round.

What qualities should a proofreader, especially for a daily newspaper, possess? In short, they should be meticulous, focused, and have a substantial reading volume and political awareness. In summary, proofreading is not just about spotting typos and punctuation errors; it's a job that, though seemingly unremarkable, demands high personal capabilities.

At 33, Bian Xuedao had been working as a night shift proofreader for 7 years. His working hours were from 6 PM to 1 AM.

The constant day-night reversal, the daily companionship with words, and the endless reading of the dry and repetitive content in the daily newspaper had put his body in a sub-healthy state, made him less talkative, and aged him mentally more than his actual age.

The Songjiang Daily had a total of 5 proofreaders, but only 4 of them actually worked. Bian Xuedao was the youngest among the 5 and the only one on a contract. The other 4 were on permanent staff. Initially, Bian Xuedao felt very unbalanced about this, but later he gradually came to terms with it. Not to mention the uncertainty of the retirement age, which was estimated to be at least 32 years away, and the unclear future policies, the decline of newspapers was evident. He believed that print media might not even last 10 years, eventually being swallowed by the internet and mobile phones, leading to its complete demise.

At this point, spending 100,000 to 200,000 yuan to buy a permanent position from the leadership was not worth it.

Sitting and waiting for death was not Bian Xuedao's style. His profession, which involved working with words, and the quiet nights made him good at thinking and planning.

A year ago, Bian Xuedao started discussing with his wife, Xu Shangxiu, what they could do if the newspaper went under. After some thought, he realized that apart from reading a lot of newspapers and driving, he had no skills that could earn money. His wife, who was a university teacher, comforted him, saying it was fine. Although the number of students was decreasing year by year, the university wouldn't collapse even if the newspaper did. She was still there for him.

The lights in the newspaper office were as bright as daylight, and the internal phone bells were ringing one after another.

Bian Xuedao had just finished the second review of the sections he was responsible for that night and was wearing headphones to listen to music to pass the time.

Bian Xuedao had just spotted a B-level error.

The double-color ball lottery numbers for the evening were 1, 7, 8, 11, 21, 31, 1, a very special set of numbers.

When the first draft was submitted, Bian Xuedao, as usual, checked the numbers on the lottery website, and they were correct.

However, in the second draft, the numbers had changed to 1, 7, 8, 11, 21, 31.

The basketball "1" had been accidentally deleted by the layout editor.

If this were published, according to the newspaper's latest reward and punishment policy, Bian Xuedao's week of night shifts would be in vain. He called the layout editor on the internal phone, told him the double-color ball numbers were wrong, and asked him to check online and correct them.

His tinnitus started again! He stood up from his seat, walked to the window, and did a few stretching exercises, feeling a bit better.

"It's almost 12, and the sections are still being adjusted. It won't be early today," he thought, standing by the window and looking at the dark night sky outside.

The next day was the opening of the Songjiang City Metro Lines 1 and 2. Some of the newspaper's leaders were as excited as if they had been injected with adrenaline, determined to produce a beautiful issue. Bian Xuedao found it absurd. A daily newspaper with less than 10 copies sold at retail, who would care if it looked good or bad? The city leaders? They only read the first and second pages, checking if their reports were included and comparing the size and position of their colleagues' reports.

"Mr. Bian, have you finished checking my section?"

Behind Bian Xuedao was a female editor from the news department, 31 or 32 years old, who had been at the newspaper for 3 years. She was rumored to have no labor contract, no insurance, no housing fund, no year-end bonus, and not even the usual small benefits.

The newspaper, which seemed glamorous on the surface, was becoming increasingly inhumane. It was a sunset industry with many leaks, yet it still maintained a sense of superiority. If the big store bullied people, it only bullied those who came in based on their abilities, while those with connections lived comfortably. In a newspaper group, there were only about 300 frontline reporters and editors, but nearly 2000 people were on the payroll and received benefits.

Bian Xuedao admired the female editor's resilience and felt sorry for her. If it had been 10 years earlier, her endurance would have been valuable, but now it was hard to say.

"Finished, I just had the layout editor take it back to make corrections."

Sitting back at his desk, Bian Xuedao couldn't get into the proofreading state for a while. He thought about what the female editor was doing there and what he was doing there. Even if the newspaper didn't go under, the constant night shifts would likely prevent him from living to the age of 65 to collect his social security.

It was already 1 AM.

The entire city was silent except for the occasional passing of construction trucks. The surrounding buildings were dark, but the 5th floor of the Songjiang Daily was still brightly lit.

The major part of the proofreading was almost done; he just needed to check the corrections. Bian Xuedao leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and listened to music.

Apart from one proofreader who was on long-term sick leave but still received a salary, the other four had completely different hobbies. When they had free time, the oldest, Old Wang, liked to play mahjong on the computer, Old Li enjoyed studying lottery charts, and Old Jiang loved watching TV dramas. A few years ago, Bian Xuedao enjoyed watching American TV series, but later got tired of them and started listening to music with high-quality headphones. Watching American TV series and listening to English songs every night, along with his wife Xu Shangxiu, who taught English at a university, kept his English skills from deteriorating much. He could sing many English songs very smoothly.

Bian Xuedao's habit of listening to music while proofreading was a headache for some editors and layout editors because he often couldn't hear the internal phone calls and they had to come over to find him.

The chief editor, Song Ming, had already smoked half a pack of cigarettes that night and still wanted to smoke. For this special issue on the metro, Song Ming had taken on 5 sections. Although he had started preparing a week in advance and the leaders had reviewed it several times, reducing the number of headlines from 24 to 20 and then to 16, adjustments were still being made on the last day, even to the horizontal and vertical headlines.

Song Ming, who was in his late 30s and already had very little hair, felt very tired. Without a cigarette to keep him alert, he couldn't hold on. Seeing Bian Xuedao leaning back in his chair, listening to music, Song Ming went over, tapped him awake, and gestured towards the smoking room.

Lighting a cigarette, Song Ming took a deep puff and said, "It won't be early today. We've been doing this for 4 or 5 days, it's really exhausting! If we keep doing this a few more times, I really doubt I won't die suddenly one day."

Holding the cigarette, Bian Xuedao didn't light it, just pinched it back and forth, looking at the streetlights outside and said, "This is just Lines 1 and 2. Didn't you do the overall plan for the metro? There are still Lines 3, 4, and 5... Even without the metro, every time it rains heavily, snows heavily, or the wind blows strongly, we have to work overtime."

Song Ming stubbed out the cigarette he had just smoked a few puffs of and put it back in the box, saying, "That's true. The metro is still better; at least it's not disgusting to work on. I can't stand those other topics. Heavy rain can be linked to urban civilization, heavy snow to urban strength, and strong winds to urban warmth. How can such a good city still have a talent outflow and rank low among cities of the same level? We, who edit this, are so disgusted, how disgusted do you think the readers are?"

Bian Xuedao glanced at the door of the smoking room and said, "Keep it down, the chief editor is here today."

Song Ming scoffed, "If I hadn't had a child a few years ago, I would have quit for sure. Hey, you saw the metro route plan on my section, right? If we had seen this 10 years ago, no, 5 years ago, and bought a couple of houses around the metro stations, whether we sold them or rented them out, we wouldn't have to work so hard every night, right?"

Bian Xuedao's phone beeped with a text message.

It was from Xu Shangxiu.

"Uncle, I'm going to sleep. Be careful driving back."

Xu Shangxiu and Bian Xuedao were the same age. They met by chance in 2009 and were surprised to find they were alumni from the class of 2001. They then miraculously became partners. After more than 4 years of marriage, they were loving and respectful to each other, a model couple in their social circle.

Xu Shangxiu often watched Korean dramas. Because Bian Xuedao's appearance, figure, and temperament were 80% similar to a "uncle" character in a Korean drama, she had called him "uncle" since they met. Despite several attempts to correct her, she continued to call him "uncle."

At 2 AM, it was almost done. The on-duty chief editor reminded the proofreading department to do a final check.

"Page 1 is fine!"

"Page 2 is fine!"

"Page 3 is fine!"

...

"Page 11 is fine!"

"Page 12 is fine!"

...

"The metro special issue is fine!"

At 2:15 AM, the final proof was ready.

Driving home in the early hours of the morning, the roads were smooth and traffic was light, taking less than 20 minutes. The metro special issue was finally done, and Bian Xuedao should have felt relieved, but sitting in the car, he felt a bit depressed.

Maybe it was due to the recent stress.

He turned on the music, and Shinedown's "Miracle" played. This was his habit; he listened to some energetic rock songs while driving at night to stay alert. In his car, he had albums from two bands: Shinedown and Nickelback. Bian Xuedao had decided to spend the weekend with Xu Shangxiu, inviting a few friends to sing at a KTV for the whole night.

Bian Xuedao discovered his singing talent after starting work. In the early years, he used singing to relieve stress and pressure. Before marriage, he sometimes went alone, singing whatever he wanted, even when he couldn't hit the high notes. A few times, he even felt short of oxygen. One day, he suddenly found a vocal technique that worked for him. At the newspaper's union-organized parties, he won the top prize of 10,000 yuan for three consecutive years with his high-pitched songs, which also became the first fund for buying a car.

On the way home, he encountered a car accident. A SUV and a taxi had collided at a crossroads, and the taxi looked very bad. Bian Xuedao slowed down and watched in the rearview mirror, reflecting on the unpredictability of life. As a half-practicing Buddhist, he silently recited "Namo Dizang Wang Bodhisattva" several times to pray for the people in the cars and to calm his mind.

At home, perhaps due to the accident, Bian Xuedao felt no drowsiness. He helped Xu Shangxiu cover herself with a towel blanket, quietly closed the bedroom door, washed up, and leaned on the sofa. He turned on the TV, muted it, and watched the silent images change.

"Buzz," his tinnitus started again.

Bian Xuedao suddenly felt himself in a strange state. His body's various sensations seemed to retract into his body like a tide. The TV images slowed down, and every mouth movement and action of the characters seemed to be in slow motion, gradually turning black and white. The resolution of everything in front of him seemed to decrease, becoming blurry. He felt as if he was floating, and then he really did float up.