1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

Early in the morning, the newsboy's cries broke the silence of the early morning.

"Extra number! Extra number!"

Breaking news from the London Express! The Home Office praises this newspaper as "the conscience of London!"

A group of workers who had just come out of the factory stopped in their tracks, and even some well-dressed employees who were about to go to work turned their heads to look.

They certainly knew about the *London Express*; the recent hot topic, "Sleepyhead," was published in that newspaper. The piece was so realistic, it was practically a description of what was happening around them.

After a long time, finally a gentleman noticed their suffering.

The London Express, which was able to publish this article, is considered by them to be "the conscience of London."

But the Ministry of the Interior?

The Home Office, which only knows how to collect money and arrest people, actually praised a newspaper as "the conscience of London"?

Are they still asleep?

A textile worker, who had just finished his night shift, was skeptical, but he took out a penny and bought the latest copy of the London Express.

When he saw the headline printed in the largest font on the front page, he rubbed his eyes, looked at it again, and then handed it to the coworker next to him.

"George, can you take a look? Am I seeing things, or has this newspaper gone mad?"

"This seems to be true..."

More and more people gathered around, eagerly passing the newspaper around.

Upon seeing this headline, everyone's reaction was one of shock and disbelief.

After all, this is highly illogical.

However, their doubts began to waver when they saw the detailed report in the newspaper about Mr. Henderson's "friendly visit" the day before.

The report stated that Home Office officials expressed "deep concern" over the "Sleepy" article and encouraged the London Express to "continue its efforts to speak out for the underprivileged, expose social injustices, and share the King's burdens."

Is this really true?

After all, no one could have imagined that someone would have the audacity to "call a deer a horse" and manipulate public opinion.

Just as the crowd was buzzing with discussion, a few "touts" mixed in with the crowd started stirring things up.

"I knew it! His Majesty the King is benevolent, and there are still good people in the government!" a seemingly honest worker suddenly shouted.

"The novel 'Thirst for Sleep' is so tragically written that even a stone would shed tears. The officials in the Ministry of the Interior must have been moved as well," another "tuo'er" immediately chimed in.

These remarks were like a spark, igniting a spark of hope in the hearts of the people.

Perhaps those in power aren't heartless? Or perhaps they've simply been misled?

Now that Mr. Michel's article has shown them the truth, have they decided to change their minds?

Once this idea took hold, it spread like wildfire, and feelings of gratitude fermented among the people.

"Great! Our voices have been heard!"

"Thank you, Mr. Michel! Thank you, London Express!"

"We should also thank the Ministry of the Interior! They did a great job!"

Suddenly, someone shouted, "Long live the Ministry of the Interior!"

The crowd fell silent for a moment, then a louder shout erupted.

"Long live the Ministry of the Interior!"

"Long live the King!"

People waved their newspapers, their faces beaming with joy.

They seemed to already see a bright future for the factory, with shorter working hours and higher wages.

This frenzy, fueled by lies, quickly swept across London.

-----------------

Meanwhile, inside the Ministry of the Interior office building.

Mr. Henderson was enjoying the tranquility of the morning with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

He slept very well last night, staying up for several extra minutes.

He believed that his warning would be enough to make the newspaper editor named Michael behave.

A subordinate walked in and placed a stack of freshly printed newspapers on his desk.

"Sir, this is today's newspaper..."

Hmm, the London Express has a new issue too; it must be an apology letter.

An apology that isn't sincere enough won't get you anywhere.

Henderson leisurely picked up the newspaper, ready to see how the editor-in-chief named Michael would apologize in a humble manner.

But when his gaze fell on the huge headline, the smile on his face vanished instantly.

A surge of anger welled up inside him! His face turned a deep purplish-red.

"puff!"

He sprayed a mouthful of coffee onto the expensive wool carpet.

"Cough cough cough"

Henderson couldn't catch his breath and coughed so hard his lungs almost came out.

"Fuck, what the hell is this?!"

He tried to stand up, but his movement was too sudden and he knocked over the chair.

Henderson felt like his lungs were about to explode with anger.

Every word he said yesterday was clearly a threat, so how did it become "friendly encouragement" in the newspaper?

He really didn't expect that anyone would be so audacious.

What will Mr. Bob, who paid the bill, think of him when he sees the newspaper?

Although he was greedy, he also had professional ethics.

"Get the car ready! I'm going to shut down that damn newspaper! I'm going to throw that bastard Michael in jail!" Henderson roared at his subordinates.

Just as he was about to rush out, the office door of his superior, Sir Wellington, head of the publishing oversight department, opened.

"Henderson, come to my office."

Henderson forced himself to calm down, tidied his appearance, and walked into Sir Wellington's office.

.......

"Sir, did you see that? That newspaper is blatantly spreading rumors! We must shut it down immediately!" Henderson said angrily, holding the newspaper.

Sir Wellington did not read the newspaper; he simply went to the window and drew back the heavy curtains.

"Take a look for yourself!"

On the street right below the Home Office building, a group of "enthusiastic citizens" had already gathered. They held up a banner that read: "The Home Office is the conscience of London."

"Seize it?" Sir Wellington turned around and looked calmly at Henderson.

"Aren't you trying to tell all of London that we aren't 'the conscience of London' by going to seal things off now?"

"Are you shutting down a newspaper, or are you trying to incite a riot?"

"Also, these things below may have already been seen by government officials. Do you want the adults to see our incompetence?"

"Henderson, are you trying to kill me?"

"Sir, I absolutely have no such intention."

Henderson quickly explained.

He looked down at the cheering crowd below, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.

He finally understood the sinister intentions of that guy named Michael.

He was tricked, completely tricked!

If we shut it down now, that newspaper is doomed, but their political careers will also be over.

What will the adults think of the publishing supervision department? If they can't even handle this small matter, how can they shoulder heavier responsibilities? How can they improve?

"Sir, what should we do?" Henderson's voice was tinged with despair.

"What should we do?"

Sir Wellington gave him a cold glance:

"You're responsible for the mess you made."

"There are some things I don't know."

"What you need to do now is go downstairs immediately, represent the Ministry of the Interior, and with a smile, accept that banner."

"Then major issues are reduced to minor ones, and minor issues are ignored."

"Yes! I'll go right now!"

Henderson slunk out of the office like a defeated rooster.

As a high-ranking official in the Ministry of the Interior, he certainly knew what had happened to Henderson; there weren't many things in the Ministry of the Interior that could be kept from him.

"That's an interesting response."

After giving Henderson a dressing down, the head of the publishing oversight department picked up the London Express and started reading.

"I've given you a chance; now it's up to you whether you know what's good for you."