Entertainment: A song that brought his deceased wife back to life.

Zhou Yan's face was contorted, his eyes were bloodshot, and he spat all over the face of the policeman in front of him.

"One and a half million? Do you even know how much that is?"

"That's enough money to buy an apartment in a second-tier city! That's more money than an average person could save in a lifetime!"

"Who would give it to a complete stranger? Who would use it to build a run-down elementary school?"

"This doesn't make sense! This doesn't go against human nature!"

Zhou Yan was panting heavily, his voice trembling as if trying to convince himself.

"An actor! This is definitely an actor!"

"These days, extras get 200 yuan a day, plus 50 yuan for those speaking in a dialect. I've seen too many of these melodramatic scenes!"

"Xu Qing! You've really gone to great lengths to clear your name!"

"You think people will believe you just because you found an old man from the countryside to cry on screen?"

"Where's the evidence? Where's the contract? Where's the acceptance report?"

"You think you can fool me with some shoddy video? I'm the director! You were still wearing diapers when I was working on the camera!"

Once Zhou Yan got into a frenzy, no one could stop him.

He genuinely didn't believe it.

In his worldview, humans are inherently greedy and selfish.

What great love, what selfless dedication—those are just lines written in scripts to fool fools.

When it comes to matters involving tens of millions of dollars, people are willing to sell their own fathers. Who would care whether children in remote mountain villages have access to education?

The audience looked at the hysterical director as if he were a clown.

No one spoke.

Everyone just watched him go crazy in silence.

That silence was more unbearable than any insult.

"Say something! Why don't you believe me?"

Zhou Yan panicked. He frantically waved his free hand, yelling, "Technology Department! Technology Department cut off the signal! This is a hacker attack! This is illegal!"

"Sizzle—"

Suddenly, an extremely piercing static sound came from the speakers.

That's the sound of a signal switching.

Zhou Yan's face lit up with joy: "See! It's cut off! I told you it was fake..."

Before he could finish speaking, his smile froze on his face.

The large screen did not go black.

Instead of going black, the image suddenly split in two, like cells dividing.

Then it split into four.

Divided into eight parts.

The image of the old principal, who originally filled the entire screen, shrank to the top left corner, still smiling憨厚ly at the camera.

Meanwhile, images lit up one after another in the other squares.

The backgrounds are completely different.

The lighting is also completely different.

In some places it's daytime, in others it's cloudy, and in still others it's raining.

"Feed? Feed? Is it lit up yet?"

"Er Gouzi, stop blocking the camera!"

"Why is there no sound? Do I need to press this red button?"

The noise instantly filled the entire Olympic Sports Center.

Those are dialects from all over the country.

Some were rough, some were gentle, some had heavy nasal tones, and some were so incomprehensible that it was impossible to understand what they were saying.

But everyone's movements were surprisingly synchronized.

They were all facing that small phone camera, either adjusting their clothes or wiping the sweat from their faces, their expressions showing a mixture of unease and awe towards the camera.

"This is……"

The fat audience member who just shouted for a refund had his mouth agape enough to fit a light bulb.

The signal in the top right corner is the first to stabilize.

That was a typical Loess Plateau background.

Behind them was a row of old cave dwellings, and in the courtyard, an old goat was tethered and chewing dry grass.

An old man with a white towel wrapped around his head stood in front of the camera.

The old man held a pipe in his hand, his face was so wrinkled it could trap a fly, and his skin was a bronze color from the wind and sand of Northwest China.

"Is that... the city's TV station?"

The old man's booming voice blared through the top-of-the-line speakers, making everyone's ears ring.

"I am the Party Secretary of Liulinpu in northern Shaanxi. My name is Wang Jianguo."

"We just wanted to ask if that young man named Xu Qing is here?"

"The year before last, during that severe drought."

"All the wells in the village have dried up, so we have to go 30 miles away to fetch water."

"Later, a kind person from the city sent us money, and we dug three deep wells and built a reservoir."

As the old man spoke, he turned to the side and pointed to a cement platform not far behind him.

The words "[Little Fish Well No. 3]" were written in crooked red paint on it.

"We don't have anything good in this poor place."

The old man pulled a handful of deep red dates from his pocket, held them up to the camera, his hands trembling.

"These dates are plentiful this year, and they're very sweet."

"I wanted to send some money to that young man, but he didn't leave an address."

"I heard from the kids in the village that this is a girl's name."

"I don't understand any grand principles."

"I just put up a sign next to the well."

"As long as there is still water in this well, every time we people from Liulinpu take a sip of water, we will remember how good that girl was."

"This is what they mean by 'never forget the well-digger when you drink the water'."

The scene was deathly silent.

Only the old man's simple voice echoed.

Before everyone could catch their breath, there was movement in the lower left corner of the screen.

It was a scene of heavy rain.

The background is a rushing river with murky water that makes one dizzy just looking at it.

The person in front of the camera is a middle-aged woman wearing a raincoat, holding a little girl of about four or five years old in her arms.

The rain was so heavy that it pattered loudly against my raincoat.

"Can everyone hear me?"

The woman's voice was somewhat high-pitched, with a distinct southwestern accent.

"I'm from Yunnan."

"We used to cross the river by zipline, and several people would fall in every year, including school children."

As the woman spoke, her eyes reddened.

She turned the camera behind her.

In the heavy rain, a reinforced concrete bridge spans the two banks, as stable as Mount Tai.

On the cement pier at the bridgehead, three characters are engraved: "Little Fish Bridge".

"Someone donated this bridge to us last year."

"It used to take two hours to cross the river, but now it only takes five minutes."

"My baby no longer cries from fear on the zipline."

The woman wiped the rain from her face, unable to distinguish whether it was tears or rain.

"Everyone in our village wants to thank this benefactor."

"When we were looking for someone to carve the inscription, that person said we didn't need to write his name on it."

He said as long as the bridge is sturdy, it's fine.

"He said the bridge was built after his wife, and that we should walk on it quietly so as not to disturb her sleep."

The woman sniffed and bowed deeply to the camera.

"My benefactor, please rest assured."

"We sweep the bridge clean every day."

"No one dared to speak loudly on the bridge, and the children all walked on tiptoe to cross it."

"We were all afraid of waking up that Bodhisattva."

boom--

This is like the last mountain that breaks the camel's back.

Zhou Yan was completely paralyzed.

He released his grip on the railing and slid to the ground like a lump of mud.

His lips trembled, but he couldn't utter a single sound.

Water cellars in northern Shaanxi.

A bridge in Yunnan.

A canteen in Guizhou.

A library in Gansu.

The number of squares on the big screen is increasing.

Eight, sixteen, thirty-two...

Each cell contains a different story.

In each square, there are two identical characters—【小鱼】 (Little Fish).

Those are not cold, impersonal engineering projects.

Those were living, breathing people, with sincere faces and passionate hearts.

This is an all-encompassing net.

A net woven with goodwill.

It caught all of Zhou Yan's malice, his schemes, and his plots, crushing them to pieces.

"How do we act this out...?"

Zhou Yan muttered to himself, his eyes terrifyingly empty.

"So many dialects, so many scenes, so many people..."

"How could this be acting?"

"How much money will this cost? How many resources will need to be mobilized?"

"Impossible... This is absolutely impossible..."

He was still trying to explain all this using that ridiculous "interest theory".

But what he didn't know was...

In this world, there are some things that transcend self-interest.

For example, a madman who squandered his entire fortune of tens of millions just to buy peace of mind for his "deceased wife".

For example, a father-in-law who used the Red Hacker Alliance and satellite permissions just to support his son-in-law.

These two forces combined.

Let alone a small-time variety show director.

Even if the King of Heaven himself came, he would have to bow down in the face of this fact.

The images on the big screen were still scrolling.

More connections came in.

There's one scene that's particularly interesting.

That was an elderly woman from Sichuan, feeding pigs.

Upon hearing that the connection was established, he threw down the pig feed scoop and shouted into the camera:

"Is that idiot Xu Qing here?"

The entire audience held their breath.

Is this person here to insult others?

The old lady's next sentence was:

"You silly brat! You donated so many air conditioners to our nursing home, why don't you save some money for your own wedding?"

"I heard your wife is gone?"

"It's alright! If you don't mind, I'll introduce you to my niece, the village beauty!"

"Although her name isn't as nice as that girl's 'Little Fish,' she has a big bottom, which means she's good at bearing children!"

"puff--"

Someone in the audience who was originally crying their eyes out couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Then, laughter erupted.

Some people were laughing while wiping away tears.

Some people were laughing so hard that snot bubbles were coming out of their noses.

This is the truth.

There was no sentimentality or deliberate elevation of emotion found in the script.

Only the most simple, down-to-earth, and even somewhat rough care.

The old lady was still going on and on, trying to sell her niece.

Xu Qing stood on the stage, helplessly holding her forehead.

He now regrets not leaving a "married people please do not disturb" note when he donated.

He secretly glanced at the judges' panel.

really.

"Teacher Luo," who was just crying, has now pushed her sunglasses up a little.

A chilling, murderous glint shot from those bloodshot eyes.

If looks could kill.

That Sichuan woman's niece is probably already queuing on the Bridge of Helplessness.

Xu Qing quickly waved her hand at the camera, making a gesture of begging for mercy.

This scene was precisely captured by the camera.

On the big screen, Xu Qing's somewhat disheveled, somewhat helpless, yet down-to-earth expression blended seamlessly with the images of the simple villagers.

This moment.

No one doubted that he was a fraud anymore.

No one thinks he's creating a persona anymore.

Because no one can create such a grand, realistic, and "stupid" character.

He's a fool.

A fool who moved the whole world to tears, yet he himself was still worried about having to kneel on a washboard when he got home.