The office of the editor-in-chief of the infamous gossip magazine "Star News Weekly" in the Kwun Tong Industrial Building on Hong Kong Island.
The dark-skinned editor-in-chief, Fatty Chen, leaned back in his office chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he trimmed his nails and hummed a tune.
On his computer screen, which was open on his desktop, was a news broadcast by Zhang Yaoyang from a hotel in Hong Kong Island.
However, Fat Chen did not click on the live stream.
Instead, he waited for a message from one of his underlings who was using a drone to film Wang Yueheng's private hotel room.
See if we've captured any valuable footage.
Ideally, it would be a scene where he has just taken a shower and is not wearing clothes.
If there were any intimate scenes between him and Mo Zixue in the room, that would be even better.
Such footage is worth at least one million US dollars!
"Ta-da!"
Just as Fatty Chen was immersed in his fantasy of making a fortune, there was a sudden knock on the door.
"Come in!"
"Squeak~"
As soon as he finished speaking, the old wooden door was pushed open.
Three men, wearing T-shirts and sweating profusely, with cameras hanging around their necks, filed in.
"Why are you back so early today? How did it go? Did you get any fresh produce?"
Staring at his three underlings, Fatty Chen put down his nail clippers, flicked the ash from his cigarette, and asked.
He habitually refers to the latest gossip about celebrities as "fresh news".
The fresher the celebrity gossip material, the greater its value.
"Clatter"
However, one of the burly men suddenly stepped forward, took the black camera off his neck, and placed it on the table.
Fat Chen, sitting in the boss's chair, frowned and looked at the other person with a puzzled expression.
"Editor-in-Chief Chen, here's your camera back. I don't plan to be a paparazzi anymore."
He Ruilong, a paparazzi member nicknamed "A Long," put down his camera and spoke first.
"And me, I don't plan to do it anymore either!"
"Me too!"
The other two paparazzi then placed their drones and remote controls, which they used to spy on celebrities, on the desk.
"What's going on? A strike?"
"Do you still think I didn't pay you enough?"
"If you think the money is too little, we can talk about it. We'll get a big score from Wang Yueheng this time..."
Unaware of the situation, Fatty Chen frowned, stubbed out his cigarette, and prepared to continue his usual empty promises to retain his underlings.
"It has nothing to do with money. It's just that after listening to Mr. Wang Yueheng's new song, I suddenly realized that I wanted to change jobs."
"We no longer want to secretly film celebrities showering, rummage through their trash, or impersonate fans to harass them at their homes..."
"Suddenly, I feel that this kind of behavior is even more despicable than that of a rat in a sewer!"
"Besides, Mr. Wang Yueheng is a good person. I'm afraid that when I meet my father in the underworld, he'll ask me why I only harm good people..."
"Ah Long," He Ruilong shook his head, explaining with a dejected expression.
"I suggest Mr. Chen that you change careers as soon as possible. This line of work has no future! And it will only harm future generations."
Another paparazzo, Huai Fusheng, who was also thin, mustered up his courage and spoke up as well.
He still had bruises on his arm from when he sneaked into the toilet to take pictures of a celebrity and was beaten with a rubber baton by the celebrity's bodyguard.
"Smack!"
"What did you say?"
"I think you guys have gone mad from listening to this song and are hallucinating!"
"Without me, this 'big rat,' who would support you in buying a house, paying your car loan, and raising your children?"
"You're giving up opportunities to make big money to go to work in an office? I think you might as well just hang yourselves! You good-for-nothings!"
Upon hearing this, the editor-in-chief, Fatty Chen, suddenly stood up, slammed his hand on the table, and angrily reprimanded him.
"Yes, we are indeed useless, but I would rather be useless than be called a dog again."
"Instead of waiting to be punished by heaven, it's better to reclaim a little bit of dignity yourself first."
"I'm sorry, I choose to withdraw! Take care, Mr. Chen!"
After saying that...
Huang Xifeng, the paparazzi member who had been silent all along, pulled out his so-called "press card" from his pocket and threw it on the table.
He then turned around, opened the door, and walked out.
Seeing this, the other two simply stopped talking nonsense.
They all threw their Star News Weekly press cards on the table and got up to leave.
Looking at this scene before me.
Editor-in-Chief Fei Chen was stunned for a moment, then slumped back into his executive chair.
"Wow, it feels like I've crawled back up from underground!"
The moment I stepped out of that room.
Three young people from Hong Kong Island gazed out the window at the bright sunshine.
I felt my body, which had been unconsciously hunched over, suddenly straighten up.
At the same time, the same thought popped into my head: "Life without being a paparazzi is really wonderful!"
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