Fantasy Writers 1860

After a period of calm, Lenster's wisdom as a councilor regained the upper hand.

Although it's upsetting, from a rational perspective, it really can only be considered a coincidence.

First of all, I only recently learned about this myself. Although it has already started to spread within my own circle, it shouldn't have reached the point where even tabloids know about it in such a short time.

Secondly, the reason I'm so angry is because I'm seen as an old-fashioned person by others. This kind of thing is nothing to those self-proclaimed trendsetters who are actually morally bankrupt nouveau riche.

Finally, even if someone wanted to use this incident to attack me, the possibility is unlikely.

He thought it over and realized that his political enemies were all so-called old-fashioned people who wouldn't resort to such underhanded tactics to smear him. Even if they brought it up during parliamentary debates, they wouldn't sell it to tabloids.

Thinking of this, Lenster sighed deeply, took out his pipe, and stuffed it with some high-quality tobacco leaves imported from the colonies: "I have to say, if I were an outsider, I would definitely find this joke hilarious."

He glanced at the newspaper he had hastily thrown to the ground, thought for a moment, then picked it up and began to read it.

I was so busy getting angry that I didn't even look at the other content.

Lenster opened the newspaper and read it very quickly. This kind of stuff for lower-class people didn't have complicated language, profound content, or extensive use of allusions, so it was easy to read, and to him it was also tasteless.

But when he saw the jokes section again, he couldn't hold back anymore.

These jokes are weird, really weird.

These jokes, though seemingly lighthearted, actually hit the nail on the head.

He looked at it from left to right, and read between the lines: The Imperial Government is a bunch of idiots.

What a joke! This is clearly using jokes as a pretext to carry out sinister political metaphors!

Those vulgar jokes about excrement and filth don't actually harm society; in fact, they might even help the empire's rule. But he absolutely cannot tolerate things that appear civilized and respectable but actually harbor malicious intent and tarnish the empire's image.

All of these factors contribute to social instability.

For example, isn't the citizen who doesn't know his own happiness without reading the newspaper implying that newspapers are all fabricating stories and whitewashing reality? And isn't the person who said that the prime minister should be sentenced to two years for insulting him and 20 years for leaking state secrets subtly suggesting that the prime minister is an idiot—even though he agrees with that point?

This was the only joke that Lenster actually laughed at after reading it.

The most insidious of them all is that so-called four-stage tactic!

After reading it, his first reaction was that it made a lot of sense and the summary was spot on. His second reaction was that he realized that this was wrong and that he shouldn't have had such thoughts.

Such a principle should only be circulated among a small group; how can it be made known to everyone?

If everyone knows the routine, how can we carry out our work in the future?

Lenster grew increasingly alarmed, trembling all over. Despite the sweltering heat, he was covered in cold sweat and his hands and feet were ice-cold. The fact that even a member of parliament like himself had almost been swayed by such ideas demonstrated just how persuasive they were.

Many of the common people at the bottom of society are inherently greedy yet unwilling to strive, dissatisfied with the status quo but unwilling to change it. Seeing these so-called "jokes," wouldn't they be even more prone to wild speculation, perhaps even blaming the empire and the government for their discontent?

No, we absolutely cannot let this unhealthy trend continue!

Congressman Lenster abruptly stood up from his armchair, clutching the copy of the Lentinion Weekly tightly in his hand.

As an imperial councilor, maintaining social stability and order is his inescapable responsibility.

He went to the table and began to draft a letter:

"Your Excellency Speaker Mondford, I have recently discovered a publication with clearly inflammatory and subversive content, spreading dangerous ideas harmful to the Empire and the government, and it must be banned..."

"...To create such a vicious metaphor is unlikely to be a typical attention-grabbing commercial tactic; there may be a mastermind behind it. They might be spies from the Iris Republic; they always have strange and unusual tricks up their sleeves when it comes to public opinion..."

"...This kind of problem is not an isolated phenomenon. The lack of regulation in the domestic newspaper and publishing industry has long led to a situation where the good and the bad are mixed together, a phenomenon that is plain to see. If we can use this incident to launch a cleansing campaign and eliminate these poisonous weeds that corrupt the people's minds, it will truly benefit the Empire's cause..."

"...Enclosed is evidence from the 'Lentinion Weekly's' joke section; please read it critically..."

After finishing the letter to the Speaker, he took out a brand new sheet of paper and began writing another letter:

"To the editorial department of the Londinion Weekly: I am Londst, a member of the Imperial Upper House. I have noticed that your newspaper has published a lot of inappropriate content, which is suspected of spreading rumors and slander, and alluding to the Imperial government..."

"...What is your purpose in posting this? Who instructed you? What are your motives? Did you obtain permission from the relevant departments? Did they allow you to post this? Who is behind you, and what do you want to achieve by posting this? Who are you satirizing? What are you trying to subvert? What are you trying to destroy? What are you alluding to...?"

……

"I've been writing all day again, I'm exhausted." Dorian put down his pen, stretched, and moved his sore arms.

After paying off the coffee shop's debts, he returned to his apartment to continue writing the sequel to "The Million Pound Note".

It was at this moment that he realized he had forgotten to buy a typewriter.

No wonder I felt like I'd forgotten something important after returning from the Wenceyuan that day.

Even so, I still have to write.

The story of "The Million Pound Stamp" has now completely captured everyone's attention. If he doesn't write it now, the next issue of the weekly magazine won't feature the sequel. Not to mention Clancy, just based on the scene he witnessed at the Blue Sun Cafe this morning, those readers would probably tear him apart first.

Dorian blew on the still-wet ink on the manuscript, and another small matter came to mind.

I used to work a day job at the docks. I said I would come back the next day, but then I was stopped by debt collectors, had to activate the Illusion Book, and had to go to work at the Academy of Literature. I haven't been back there for the past few days.

I only worked there for one day, and I only just got to know the people there. Actually, there's nothing wrong with just disappearing like that.

In their minds, it's probably just another little story: "Whose young master came here to experience a day of dock life?"

However, after much thought, Dorian decided to go to the docks again to say goodbye to the people there.

Anyway, I'm just idling around, and the Taiwan Creative Content Agency doesn't work on weekends either. I won't officially start working until next Monday.

Moreover, they were, after all, the first people I met after I came into this world.

Even just saying "I won't be coming anymore, thank you all for taking care of me" would be fine.

Having made up his mind, Dorian carefully put away the manuscript, put on his only old overcoat, and walked towards the dock.

Should I buy myself a new outfit?

Dorian pondered happily along the way.