The day after tomorrow, Ouyang Feng, the director of the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television, and Feng Xiaogang, the chief director of the Spring Festival Gala, are nervously looking at the comments. His secretary, Wei Dong, looks grim and asks, "Director, Director, should we close the comments section? This isn't good."
"You're a pig-brain! You think things aren't bad enough already?"
Ouyang Feng cursed, and Feng Xiaogang shook his head, saying, "We can't close the comment section, but we can't let them keep cursing like this either. After all, there are leaders around, and it wouldn't be good if they saw it. If all else fails, we'll just cancel Chen Feng's program."
Feng Xiaogang and Chen Feng had little interaction, so he only knew that Chen Feng was the most popular singer in the music scene, but he didn't know about Chen Feng's influence and connections.
Upon hearing this, Ouyang Feng's face turned green. "I'd rather you get lost than let him leave! Are you even speaking human language? Do you even know who requested that he be invited here?"
Feng Xiaogang was stunned and confused until Ouyang Feng pointed to the sky, which made his face turn pale and he swallowed hard, terrified.
"Think of a solution, otherwise it will make the leader look bad."
Did Chen Feng actually donate the money?
Ouyang Feng looked at Wei Dong and asked.
"I don't know, but logically speaking, he wouldn't have avoided using such a simple publicity stunt."
"Does he even need to create hype? Why don't you go ask him? If not, we'll donate in his name. If he does, expose him."
Feng Xiaogang nodded. He had already remembered Chen Feng and warned himself never to offend him again.
"The director is right. Turn this into a positive story, make the netizens who were cursing feel ashamed and apologize. This will create a persona for Chen Feng, someone who donated a lot of money but would rather be cursed than let anyone know. This way, the reversal will be more significant."
......
At the Spring Festival Gala, Li Qingning, holding her phone, looked at Chen Feng and said, "Look at the comments on the Spring Festival Gala's official website; they're telling you to get out."
"It doesn't matter, I didn't really want to come anyway."
Chen Feng shrugged. To be honest, he really didn't want to come. The reason was that he didn't like this kind of occasion.
Li Qingning rolled her eyes at him and said, "How about we announce it?"
'There's no need for that. Just be conscientious in your work and life. Who are you putting on a show for?'
Chen Feng didn't care about the comments online at all. In this era where the internet has no memory, many things will be forgotten in a few days at most.
At 8 p.m., the Spring Festival Gala of China was broadcast live across all channels, online channels, and major video apps. Although countless people said they would not watch the Spring Festival Gala if they had a bad habit of watching it, the number of viewers tonight actually exceeded ten times that of previous years.
When they saw the terrifying viewership numbers, Ouyang Feng and director Feng Xiaogang were stunned. Weren't people all over the internet saying they wouldn't watch Chen Feng? How come so many people are watching?
The number of viewers for this year's Spring Festival Gala reached a staggering one billion. Keep in mind that the entire population of China is only 1.3 billion. Did all the infants and toddlers attend?
"The data is still increasing, with a global audience of 400 million and a domestic audience of 600 million. The number of viewers in China is increasing three times faster than the global audience."
This is the data obtained by the staff and then fed back to my supervisor.
As dusk settles and the night sky comes alive, countless fireworks soar into the heavens, while countless Kongming lanterns gleam with an eternal orange glow. The darkness is filled with hope, and beneath the earth, the warmth of human life shines through.
Families reunite, countless families gather in their own homes, raising their glasses in laughter, enjoying fine wine and delicious food at the dining table, while on television, the Spring Festival Gala sketches are on display.
On this day, the whole country and the world are filled with joy, happiness, warmth, hope, and anticipation.
In the city, children play to their hearts' content in amusement parks, while adults sing and dance.
In the countryside, in small courtyards, children set off sparklers, sky rockets, and firecrackers. The aroma of these fireworks filled the air and lingered for a long time. This is how the Spring Festival of this era still retains its festive spirit.
Fires blazed everywhere, laughter filled the air, ancestors were worshipped, paper offerings burned brightly at crossroads, and the faint glow of incense and candles illuminated the path ahead.
But amidst this prosperous era, there is another spark of light: Yungang.
Tonight, countless people are at home with their children, wives, and parents, but these firefighters who are holding the line in Yungang have nothing to do but gasp for breath, except face the ever-present threat of reigniting fires.
They have sacrificed so much for the safety of the people. They also have families and children, but on this special day, for many of them, even a phone call or video chat has become a luxury.
Liu Wei, from the Third Squadron, uploaded two photos. One was forwarded to him by Master Yang, showing a long line of trucks crashing into a pile of fire extinguishing equipment.
The second photo shows his comrades lying haphazardly on the ground, a large number of trucks, and the drivers sitting in front of them.
"Thank you for risking your lives to rush into the fire and deliver firefighting equipment to us. Thank you, Chen Feng, for your 1 billion yuan donation. You not only saved us, but also the entire city of Yungang..."
"It's lit again, comrades, quick!"
Before he could finish typing a message, Captain Chen Xiao's roar made Liu Wei stand up reflexively, drop his phone, grab his weapon, and rush inside.
On the scorching earth, a message that was not yet fully edited was accidentally sent out.
In an instant, the first thing he saw was his family and friends, countless greetings, text messages and phone calls coming in, but no one answered.
After Mr. Yang finished unloading the equipment, he picked up his phone and saw dozens of videos popping up from an account labeled as his wife.
He pressed the answer button, and as soon as the call connected, he heard a sound that broke his heart.
"Dad, come back, come back! I miss you, Dad!"
A child's voice, not yet four years old, trembling with tears, rang out in his hand. Then, Mr. Yang saw a virtuous woman, followed by an elderly person, then a friend. The small screen was crowded with more than a dozen people.
One can imagine how many people in this family are waiting for Liu Wei and worrying about him.
Master Yang opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but he found that he couldn't say anything. Compared to these young people, although they, as drivers, are often away from their families and rarely spend time with their children, parents, and wives, they are still lucky.
"Son, why aren't you saying anything? Are you alright? Waaah, son..."
"Son, Dad made your favorite braised pork. Dad is waiting for you, waiting all night. Please be careful."
"Honey, come back safely, do you hear me?"
"Honey, why aren't you saying anything?"
"Dad! Why aren't you saying anything?"
Hearing the concern and urgency on the phone, Mr. Yang covered his mouth, slowly turned the camera towards the direction Liu Wei was running, gently fixed his phone, lit a cigarette, went to the side and cried, and then called his family.
In that small video, the scene ahead was filled with flames, and the rekindling was happening faster and more fiercely than expected. Liu Wei and other firefighters were running towards the fire.
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