episode 20
8:00 AM, Chairman's Office, HeTai Medical Equipment Company.
Mo Wenjin, with his legs crossed, leaned back in his comfortable office chair, clutching what looked like a letter in his hand. He stared intently at his slender, beautifully made-up female secretary for a long while before slowly stroking his chin and asking, "You want to resign?"
To be fair, the Mo family has good genes.
Although Mo Wenjin is middle-aged, he is not ugly. He has regular features and a tall stature. However, he has gained weight and, coupled with years of indulging in alcohol and women, his demeanor inevitably exudes a sleazy and weak appearance.
Therefore, the Chinese often say that one's appearance reflects one's heart, and sometimes this is not without reason.
"Yes."
Faced with Mo Wenjin's unbridled scrutiny, the female secretary remained expressionless, but inwardly she felt contempt.
"What's the reason? Are you not satisfied with the salary you're getting?"
As he spoke, Mo Wenjin suddenly revealed a meaningful smile, his eyes, which had long lost their luster, now fixed on his female secretary's slender waist like a venomous snake: "Or... are you upset that I've neglected you these past few days?"
"You should check the news; I don't want this month's pay."
The female secretary clearly didn't want to talk more. She gave him a slightly pitying, cold look, left him with that sentence, and then strode away in her high heels.
Before Mo Wenjin could react, his phone screen lit up with a ding.
It's a text message notification tone.
But strangely, at the same time the notification sound rang, his right eyelid twitched violently, and the usually crisp sound sounded strangely harsh today.
In a flash, an ominous premonition suddenly welled up in my heart.
His brows were furrowed so deeply they could trap a fly, and his hands trembled slightly as he swiped to open his phone screen.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be just a text message.
Mo Wenjin subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief, but upon seeing the text message, his heart leaped into his throat as if struck by lightning.
This text message, originating from an overseas IP address, contained only a single line of English text.
The judgment upon you shall nowmence.
Now, your sentencing is about to begin.
*
A small county town in another province.
Inside a small, unnamed internet cafe tucked away in a remote corner, a young man wearing a black hooded sweatshirt was hunched over a computer in the far corner, excitedly watching the online discussions.
After a while, he looked away and cheerfully waved to the shop owner behind the counter: "Boss! Another cup of instant noodles, please!"
"Okay!"
Soon after, steaming hot instant noodles were served.
Small towns aren't as refined and dignified as big cities. Instant noodles aren't served in plates or disposable plastic containers, but in brightly colored instant noodle buckets, just like the instant noodle buckets sold on green trains in Song Liuguang's childhood memories.
As for the taste, of course he couldn't remember.
Because he had never ridden a green train when he was a child.
However, when he occasionally faces other peers who have had happy and fulfilling family lives since childhood, he feels a morbid and secret sense of happiness because he is different from them. The first car he ever rode in was the best and most expensive car.
High-speed rail is both fast and expensive.
Even though that was after he had completely escaped the orphanage and was over twenty years old.
The water for making instant noodles was freshly boiled. As soon as the lid was lifted, the aroma and steam rushed up. It wasn't particularly hot this time of year, but Song Liuguang instinctively shivered from the steam and pulled his hoodie over his head before contentedly slurping up the noodles.
Even while eating, he didn't forget to keep track of the time. Following He Xun's orders, he would click the mouse every half hour to release a piece of information about Mo Wenjin on one of the many influential accounts he had managed since he first entered the industry.
Because the revelations started in the early hours of the morning, Hotai has obviously not had time to do public relations. Only netizens who stayed up late are on the front lines of the gossip. The headlines of major social media platforms and browsers are still dominated by the news of "Hotai Chairman Mo Wenjin forcibly sexually harassing Ding Xiabing". The word "explosive" is followed by blood-red words, as if it were the red brain matter that splattered after Mo Wenjin was finally shot dead.
As for why no internet companies are regulating this?
It's actually quite easy to understand.
Of course, they wouldn't suppress the article without contacting the Thai side; these profit-driven capitalists would love to let the hype linger!
In their eyes, Mo Wenjin's reputation is not the most important thing. What they really care about is how much benefit this incident can bring them. Anyway, it's not too late to withdraw when the Thai side takes the initiative to bow down and pay money to settle the matter. After all, which ordinary person has the ability to fight back against the deliberate suppression by capital?
Even if many people were added together, it wouldn't work.
Moreover, Mo Wenjin has some connection with Yuntu, a figure who has been making waves in the internet industry in recent years. Mo Shilin's downfall might actually be what they really want to see.
......
Soon, as the chain of evidence became more and more complete, outraged netizens quickly flooded the comment section of HeTai's official account. Various marketing accounts and media outlets followed suit, spreading the news about the incident extensively, along with related photos and videos.
Quick-thinking self-media bloggers have begun analyzing Ding Xiabing's micro-expressions frame by frame during her appearances on variety shows and at events recently. Meanwhile, most enthusiastic netizens are digging into Mo Wenjin's life trajectory and He Tai's past shady business dealings, hoping to prove that Mo Wenjin is of low character and that this scandal has now come to light.
In addition, some people rushed to the comment section under Ding Xiabing's Weibo post to leave messages of comfort and express their heartache, posting sentimental words such as "I'm sorry to have met you in this way".
Those remarks made Song Liuguang feel nauseous.
I wonder who berated Ding Xiabing after she declined an autograph from a passerby when she was on a plane offline because she wasn't feeling well.
Song Liuguang disdainfully looked away, tilted his head back and drank a few mouthfuls of noodle soup before he could barely suppress the nausea.
Time always flies, and the hands of the clock on the wall soon pointed to nine o'clock.
A new round of trials has begun.
Online, people claiming to be employees of Hotai began to appear one after another, posting detailed accusations that Chairman Mo Wenjin frequently sexually harassed his attractive subordinates, regardless of gender.
Photo and video evidence are also attached below.
Others may not know, but Song Liuguang knows that all the people who leaked these inside information were people whom He Xun had secretly visited and who had been lobbied by Taishi.
While skillfully switching between accounts to comment and manipulate public opinion, he couldn't resist harassing He Xun with a self-destructing messaging app on his phone.
"Brother Xun, it wouldn't be right for you not to treat me to a meal after this is all done, would it? You have no idea how stinky that guy next door is, he hasn't showered in at least ten days! Do you know how hard it was for me to come all the way to this remote corner for this?!"
He Xun, who was also closely monitoring online activity, quickly replied, "Good boy/girl ^-^".
Song Liuguang was immediately moved and was about to send a cute bunny emoji with kisses and hugs when He Xun sent another line of unusually cold text: "No more playing on your phone, get back to work. Soon there will be different opinions online, so keep an eye on them. I'll help you."
Song Liuguang: "...This cold and ruthless man."
He replied to He Xun with a curt "hmm," then quickly refreshed the webpage with the mouse.
*
A torrential downpour of cold rain fell in the mountains last night, and the area is still shrouded in dark clouds and thick fog, as if a large, murky veil has been draped over the sky.
The air was damp and chilly, and all was quiet except for the occasional villagers hurrying along the steep mountain path to do farm work.
Scattered, low-lying clay houses sit amidst the rolling hills and waters. The thatched roofs barely keep out the rain, while transparent water droplets slide down the tips of the resilient grass and drip onto the moss-covered base of the walls.
This is Ding Xiabing's hometown.
"Damn it! What kind of godforsaken place is this?!"
Fang Yuan carried a GoPro, trudging through the muddy path into the mountains, cursing under his breath.
"What happened to the poverty alleviation program? It's the 21st century, and they can't even afford to build a decent road? All the money went to waste!"
Fang Yuan is an unknown online self-media blogger.
Two years ago, he dreamed of becoming an internet celebrity. After witnessing many ordinary people make a fortune by creating their own media, he disregarded the advice of his family and friends and resolutely quit his stable job. He then bought expensive equipment and became a self-media blogger.
Full-time.
The ideal is very beautiful, but the reality is very harsh. Not everyone can make a living in the internet industry.
Over the past two years, he has tried making more than a dozen different types of videos, but they have never become popular. The most liked video of him visiting a store only has 63 likes. He had to beg and plead with the kind store owner to pay him to make the video.
Two years have passed, and he's not even making back the money he spent on the equipment. He's struggling to even afford three meals a day. If he hadn't saved up a few tens of thousands of yuan in advance, he would have been begging on the streets long ago!
He couldn't understand why he wasn't famous.
Why is it that some people can become internet celebrities overnight by showing their faces, dancing, or flirting—and some don't even show their faces, just wearing a cheap, tattered shirt that costs 100 yuan for two, paired with a blinding purple filter and upbeat music?
He simply couldn't understand it.
At first, he held the belief that "hard work will definitely pay off" and tirelessly tried new topics. However, every time he poured his heart into his work and hoped that the public would give him some enthusiastic response, the dismal data and the few likes that were barely enough to satisfy a beggar would immediately pour a bucket of ice water on him and teach him a lesson. It showed him what sociology is and what it means to become famous by chance.
Every time he saw his own awkward face and forced natural expression on the screen, he felt like he wasn't even human.
He's just a clown.
He's still a clown nobody watches.
Gradually, he became numb, or to put it more nicely, he resigned himself to his fate. He accepted that he, Fang Yuan, was not destined to be a big internet celebrity.
However, while quitting his job was easy, finding another job was incredibly difficult. Time flies, technology advances rapidly, and he, who had become severely out of touch with society, could no longer find a suitable job. Of course, he also couldn't adapt to the daily grind of being a corporate slave.
But then again, it's not that he couldn't find a job; there were jobs that would take him, like serving dishes, washing dishes, and cleaning toilets. But he had already become like Kong Yiji when he was in school, and he could never take off his long gown again.
Desperate for a living, he squandered his meager savings, going to nightclubs every day to party. He would drink until he was completely drunk before dragging his half-asleep body back to his rented room, where he would lie down and sleep until the afternoon of the next day, only to go back to the nightclub to continue drinking. This cycle repeated itself endlessly.
......
And so, last night, as usual, he went to drown his sorrows in alcohol and drank until he was dizzy and about to go home when a bombshell news item popped up on his phone screen, instantly sobering him up.
"Hotai Chairman Mo Wenjin forcibly sexually harassed Ding Xiabing, the top male lead in online dramas."
Whether in the video or the photos, Ding Xiabing's private parts were all blurred out, and even her voice was cut off, leaving only Mo Wenjin's threatening and insulting words and his ferocious face. It can be seen that the whistleblower is trying his best to protect Ding Xiabing's privacy and intends to minimize the harm to Ding Xiabing from this incident, while also focusing the attention on Mo Wenjin.
But this revelation completely stirred up Fang Yuan, a person who had no connection to the matter at all.
His excitement wasn't the kind of public anger that arises from capitalists exploiting minor celebrities with no connections; rather, it was excitement! The excitement of having seized the initiative!
It's 4 a.m., and this revelation has only been posted for two minutes. It hasn't spread widely yet, and there are only a few scattered comments below the video.
Heaven has eyes!
He could go ahead and dig up more scraps, especially about Ding Xiabing! Since the whistleblower intends to target Mo Wenjin's side, then as a self-media blogger, he should find another way!
Forget whether it's true or not, the important thing is to generate traffic! Someone once told him that literature is a kind of clever rhetoric, but isn't news, live streaming... the same?
Fang Yuan's originally cloudy and dazed eyes turned red. He stared intently at the phone screen, his whites of his eyes splitting open with red blood vessels. At this moment, he seemed to be able to hear his heart pounding.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Play the music that leads him to glory.
He didn't want to live like a walking corpse anymore! He wanted to be famous! He wanted to be a star! He never wanted to see the faint contempt in the eyes of his relatives and friends again!
Like Fan Jin after passing the imperial examination, he trembled as he haphazardly stuffed his phone into his pocket. Then he ran to the outer ring road, flagged down a truck driver going in the same direction, paid double the fare, and, sporting a messy head of hair, unshaven stubble, panda eyes, and reeking of alcohol, drove straight here that very night.
Deep in the mountains, in an impoverished ravine, lies Ding Xiabing's hometown.
Fang Yuanyuan was a young woman who had never been to such a remote mountain village before. Knowing nothing about the living environment of the people in the mountains, he even wore a pair of white sneakers.
To make matters worse, the sudden rain last night made the already bumpy terrain even more difficult, and the mountain roads became even more muddy.
The deeper Fang Yuan went, the angrier he became. He cursed as he walked until he met the eyes of an old man sitting on a stone bench smoking a cigarette. Only then did he manage to suppress his anger, press the shutter button, force a smile that he thought was friendly, and drag his two lumps of wet mud to the old man.
Fang Yuan pointed the GoPro camera at the old man, then cleared his throat: "Sir, hello, my name is Xiao Fang, I'm a self-media blogger from the city, may I ask you a few questions?"
"Xiao Fang?"
The old man squinted his cloudy eyes, looked him up and down, and looked puzzled, clearly not understanding why this unshaven city man looked so young.
Fang Yuan suppressed his impatience and repeated gruffly, "Yes, I'm Xiao Fang. Can I ask you a few questions?"
The old man frowned, his deep-set eyebrows furrowed, and waved his hand at him, flicking cigarette ash onto his face as he spoke, his accent thick: "I don't understand."
"......"
"Do you know where Ding Xiabing lives?" Fang Yuan took a deep breath, wiped the ash from his face, and patiently explained in simple terms, "Ding, Xia, Bing, is that the handsome young man who went to the city to become a star?"
Whether his method was truly effective or the old man was overly sensitive to the name of the big star who had come from the mountains, his expression did indeed change noticeably after hearing the name Ding Xiabing.
"Are you asking about that grandson of the Ding family?" The old man's hand, holding a cigarette, hovered in mid-air as he stared at Fang Yuan with a strange expression.
The old man had a heavy accent, but ultimately the local dialect was quite close to standard Mandarin. It was a little difficult for him to understand Fang Yuan, but it was much easier for Fang Yuan to understand him.
"Yes, yes, yes! That's him! Do you know where he lives?" Seeing that the old man finally got it, Fang Yuan couldn't help but get excited.
"Hmph! A phoenix has finally flown out of that chicken coop, why would it bother with us poor bastards?" The old man curled his lip, sneered disdainfully, and then, as if a switch had been flipped, began to grumble incessantly, "He wouldn't even donate a little money to us before, so who would bother going to his house? He makes his own place look like a shiny pile of donkey dung, but he doesn't know how to contribute anything to the people in our village. What a big star, ugh, he's just a heartless ingrate..."
This series of illogical words made Fang Yuan's head buzz, as he had just finished drinking the night before. He pinched his brow in pain and was about to interrupt the old man when his eyes rolled around and an idea suddenly came to him.
He patted the old man's shoulder in a seemingly comforting gesture, subtly guiding the conversation: "So, since Ding Xiabing went to the city to become an actress, she's rarely had any contact with you? That's a bit hard to say... And from what you're saying, you must have helped her family quite a bit before, right?"
Whether it was because he didn't get a share of the big star's pie, or because he really hated the ungrateful wretch, the old man's expression suddenly became indignant when this was mentioned. He jumped up from the stone stool, and his old bones, as thin as firewood, almost fell into the black mud pit.
After shakily regaining his footing, he stood on the stone block with his hands on his hips, his eyes wide, looking every bit the shrew: "That's right! When he was seven years old, I helped him carry a whole basket of herbs down the mountain!"
Fang Yuan: "...Anything else?"
"There's...there's...there's still so much!! We couldn't finish pouring it all out in three days and three nights!"
"......"
Fang Yuan realized at this point that Old Deng hadn't helped the little star at all; he was just jealous and angry because he hadn't gotten his way.
He pursed his lips speechlessly, just about to find an excuse to end the conversation and try to get some information from someone knowledgeable, when the old man's eyes changed. Suddenly, he pointed to the spot behind him and said in a sarcastic tone, "Oh! Whoever you say arrives."
Fang Yuan turned his head and saw a short woman, around seventy years old and neatly dressed, slowly walking towards him with a bamboo basket on her shoulder.
This is... Ding Xiabing's grandmother?
Driven by greed, Fang Yuan reacted swiftly. Based on the old man's words, he quickly deduced that the woman must be the only remaining relative in Ding Xiabing's family, whom she had mentioned on many occasions.
He hurriedly carried his tools and ran to Ding Xiabing's grandmother, beaming with joy, "Hello, you must be Ding Xiabing's grandmother?"
Before anyone knew it, a large number of villagers had gathered around to watch the spectacle.
Seeing Fang Yuan, dressed smartly and beaming, heading straight for Ding Xiabing's grandmother, a woman, cracking sunflower seeds she had grown herself, glanced at her with a sour look and said, "Ding Alian, another big city reporter is here to interview you! Your grandson, whom you picked up from the stinky ditch, is really something, but why hasn't he taken you to live in the city yet?"
Upon hearing this, the others burst into laughter, though there was a hint of sarcasm in their laughter.
Ding Alian didn't seem to understand. She awkwardly rubbed her hands, which were chapped from long hours of work, smiled, and without responding to the other villagers, took Fang Yuan directly back to her home.
Although she was reserved, there was no surprise on her face at Fang Yuan's arrival, probably because of Ding Xiabing, who often had reporters interviewing her.
Fang Yuan entered the house and first looked around at the surroundings.
The space wasn't large, and there weren't many things, but you could tell that Ding Xiabing was quite filial. The room was fully equipped with appliances and furniture, and there was even a neck and shoulder massager lying on the brown dressing table.
The renovation was also very new; the white paint on the walls clearly indicated that it had just been renovated not long ago. It was like heaven and hell compared to the mud houses he had seen when he went up the mountain.
As she was looking around, Ding Alian brought over a plate of apples and stammered, "Mr. Reporter, what do you want to ask? Please ask."
She didn't speak in her dialect, but rather in broken Mandarin. At her age, I wonder how long she'd practiced in private...
Fang Yuan decided to cut to the chase without further ado: "What's your opinion on Ding Xiabing trending on social media today?"
"Trending...? What...what trending?"
Because of the isolation of the mountain village, Ding Alian, who was already unfamiliar with the internet, had no idea that her poor grandson Ding Xiabing's story had gone viral across most of China.
Thinking of that scandalous news, Fang Yuan gave a playful smile, avoiding the camera's view: "Ah...so you didn't know? Hasn't he contacted you recently?"
“I haven’t been here these past few days. Bing is busy, and I understand him. Bing had previously said he would bring me to the city, but I’m used to living in these mountains all my life and I’m not used to living in the city, so I didn’t agree.”
Mentioning Ding Xiabing, Ding Alian's expression softened noticeably, and she became more talkative: "That child has such a hard life. He was abandoned in a ravine when he was so little. When I found him, he was sucking his fingers and laughing, not even knowing he didn't have parents anymore. It made me cry..."
"No need to say that," Fang Yuan interrupted her impatiently.
Ding Alian paused, then hesitated, twisting her hands together, tears still glistening in her weathered eyes: "Don't we need to say all this? Reporters always asked these questions before..."
Fang Yuan certainly didn't want to hear that. His purpose in coming here was simple: to gain traffic and become famous. Apart from fans, who would be interested in Ding Xiabing's old, outdated stories? Without some gimmick, who would watch? How could he build a fanbase if no one watched?
Thinking it over, he held up his GoPro and pointed the camera at the room, filming every nook and cranny before turning back to look at Ding Alian.
The old man stood there quietly, like an outdated and forgotten statue.
Fang Yuan suppressed the urge to smile from excitement, a deep greed flashing in his eyes: "Your house looks quite luxurious, completely different from the houses of other villagers in the mountains. How much does your grandson earn a year? At least a million, right? He bought a villa in S City, didn't he?"
*
On the other end, Song Liuguang stared at a video posted by an unknown self-media blogger, which had already reached the highest popularity level, and felt an itch to the core.
Why harass an elderly person? Those stupid netizens who only follow the crowd can't see it, but can't Song the paparazzi see it? What kind of word games is this damn blogger playing? They're all old foxes, what kind of ghost story are they playing here?
Although he admitted that he was quite ruthless when he was a paparazzi, going to any lengths to create headlines for clicks, at least he didn't harm his family, right? Besides, he was targeting so-called big stars who make a fortune of 2.08 million a day and arrogant capitalists who deserve to die!
That damn blogger is way more of a bastard than him!
While angry, Song Liuguang was also astonished that He Xun had actually predicted this.
He got up angrily again, grabbed a bottle of carbonated drink from the freezer, and gulped down several mouthfuls to barely suppress his anger.
But as soon as he refreshed the page, he felt his blood pressure spike to 180 again.
Because of this viral video, some marketing accounts, eager to grab traffic, followed suit and started to speculate that Ding Xiabing was a scheming man with ulterior motives, and that this information was deliberately leaked by Ding Xiabing to force his sugar daddy to let him take the lead.
It's commonly known as a self-directed and self-acted performance, a case of the thief crying "stop th
This is their core ideology.
They don't care about the truth of the matter, nor do they care whether their words and actions will cause secondary harm to the victims in the incident.
They only care whether the blood-soaked buns taste good.
Amidst a sea of news accusing capitalists of oppressing ordinary people, this counterintuitive viewpoint naturally garnered a significant number of views. However, what shocked Song Liuguang was that, despite the overwhelming evidence, tens of thousands of people in this comment section actually agreed with the view that "Ding Xiabing is a scheming man."
Moreover, these people all have one thing in common: their words reveal an attitude of being the only one who is sober in a world of drunks, without them even realizing it.
"Actually, I've always wanted to say that Ding Xiabing is just average-looking. Surely she's not so badly attractive that a wealthy boss would force himself on her? What kind of beautiful women hasn't he seen?"
"I agree with the above. That's what I think too, but I haven't dared to say it for fear of being scolded..."
"Sure enough, no matter how obscure a celebrity is, they still earn more money than us. We should take better care of ourselves."
"Tsk, if this nobody wasn't orchestrating this himself, I'd eat my keyboard on live stream. Has everyone started making being a sugar daddy sound so sophisticated and refined these days?"
"No way, what era are we living in that they still force people? You have legs, they can't stop you if you want to leave. Being hypocritical is disgusting, ugh."
"Ding Xiabing, your most important task right now is to uninstall Yangshizi novels. Do you really think you're some kind of female protagonist in a forced love story with a domineering CEO?"
"That's how people from remote, impoverished areas are. Last time I was watching that food show with my mom, and this Ding Xiabing didn't even know how to eat caviar! It's a joke!"
"Everyone knows that bad people come from poor and remote areas, right? Those who know, know."
"Ding Xiabing and his family are all ingrates. The villagers helped him a lot when things were tough, right? They forgot their roots as soon as they became famous. They're really something else."
"These young idols should have been banned long ago. Scientists are our role models, okay? Today's young people are really not as good as we were back then."
"......"
As the video was about to break 100,000 likes, Song Liuguang gritted his teeth and sneered. Just as he was about to join the verbal battle, a long rebuttal appeared in the latest comment. Immediately afterward, the self-media blogger's account was banned, and the profile picture, homepage, and nickname were instantly blank. Several accounts that were most active in the comment section were also not spared and were forced to shut down.
"......."
As expected of He Xun.
First insult them, then ban their account, giving them no chance to retaliate—it feels great!
Song Liuguang relaxed his back teeth, silently deleted the text he had just typed, and mentally gave He Xun a thumbs up.
Xun-ge is awesome!
It gave me the feeling that his brother Xun was with him at that moment.
......
As time passed—and perhaps also due to the efforts of He Xun, the account-bombing maniac—arguments such as "Ding Xiabing orchestrated the whole thing herself" were quickly drowned out by the tide of the internet.
because.
Those colleagues and rivals who had a grudge against Mo Wenjin started to smear him.
As it turns out, having capital makes all the difference.
Meanwhile, under pressure from numerous netizens tagging them, the official account of the S City Police Department was finally forced to speak out, announcing that a case had been opened and a thorough investigation would be conducted.
Seeing the official intervention, Song Liuguang was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.
He calmly opened the folder he had prepared in advance and personally sent out the complete account of the car accident that had been erased years ago.
The truth of the crimes that were forced to be buried back then has finally been revealed to the world. He, who claimed that he was only doing it for money, suddenly leaned back in his chair as if he had collapsed.
"Dad...Mom..."
Song Liuguang covered his face with one hand, awkwardly calling out those two names that should have been the most familiar to him.
His right hand, resting on the mouse, was trembling slightly, and his eyes, half-hidden by his hand, were unreadable, as if he were crying or laughing.
He murmured to himself, and in the shadows cast by those who stood up and sat down, his bewildered eyes seemed a little moist.
You'll see it, won't you?
Although... although I've never met you, I still want to cry for you right now.
......
I don't know how much time passed, maybe not much, perhaps only a minute, when the phone screen lit up with a voice message from He Xun.
Song Liuguang wiped his face haphazardly, and was about to casually tease the other party for daring to send him a voice message at a time like this, when he heard a clear and solemn voice coming from the receiver.
"It's okay, don't be sad."
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