When She Stops Being Dramatic

Chapter 99: Chapter 54: The 1950s’ Long-Suffering Wife (54)

Zhu Yun had never liked taking shortcuts in life. She also lacked that condescending sense of superiority, the feeling of being the only one who could see things clearly.

Many of her fellow employees at the Space-Time Administration Bureau were far too pragmatic, with a view of their missions that bordered on fanatical.

They had to abide by a few strict regulations, but the rest was left to their own discretion.

For example, they couldn’t actively interfere with the grand course of history, such as power struggles between rulers.

Nor could they use overly anachronistic technology, like using firearms in an age of melee weapons.

And they certainly couldn’t expose their true identities or manipulate the locals into helping them complete their missions.

Yet among all these regulations, there were never any restrictions on humanity itself.

Because public adoration was the ultimate yardstick, and everyone inevitably pandered to it.

Some viewers liked positive, tenacious personas, while others preferred characters who were decisive, exceptionally clever, and clear about their loyalties and enmities...

More villainous and vile personas might initially grab attention with their novelty and audacity, appealing to the viewers’ darker impulses, but they quickly became tedious and nauseating.

The moment something didn’t align with the viewers’ tastes, this audience would instantly turn on the actor. Their previous adoration would transform into a visceral hatred, wishing that person would be cast into the deepest level of hell.

Even after the ”actors” returned, they could face unimaginable crises like being blacklisted, doxxed, hunted down, verbally abused, or even assassinated.

Therefore, most people steered clear of such dangerous personas.

Of course, plenty of clever individuals capitalized on the public’s love for the bizarre by creating personas with a twist. This allowed them to, one, indulge their darker, more malicious impulses, and two, still win over the audience.

For instance, a loathsome archvillain who is later revealed to be a deep-cover agent. This dramatic swing from condemnation to praise, from evil to righteous, was an even better way to earn affection.

Or a flamboyant, unlikable courtesan with a promiscuous reputation who is actually the daughter of a disgraced official, putting up a thorny exterior while remaining chaste for her true love...

But who could ever know what was real and what was just part of the act?

Others diligently turned their lives in each world into a dramatic epic, full of ups and downs.

But Zhu Yun knew that if she lived like that, she’d probably die an early death, never knowing a moment of true happiness.

In her eyes, each world was a real life—one that couldn’t be replayed or reversed.

She was like a newborn child, entering each world without memories of the others. Every time was a new beginning.

She wasn’t responsible for some distant audience; she only wanted to be responsible for herself and for the living, breathing, warm, and kind friends and family around her!

As she listened to her apprentices chatter, she heard that some communes had run out of grain in their storehouses. They had shut down the canteens on the spot, telling everyone to fend for themselves. But in this freezing weather, where would anyone find food?

The government quickly adjusted its plan, drastically cutting supplies to various work units and diverting a month’s worth of relief grain to the hardest-hit areas.

Zhu Yun pursed her lips slightly. She had a habit of seeing the bigger picture in small details, and her mind was already racing through several possibilities.

A tired look appeared on her face. She smiled and said, ”We’ve been busy for most of the day. Aren’t you tired? Hurry back and get some rest. If you still have energy, you might as well use it to memorize a few more formulas, poems, or vocabulary words.”

”The goal I’ve set for us is to take the college entrance exam next year. You don’t have much time left!”

”Your knife skills are already quite good. And since there’s not much else around in winter besides an endless supply of radishes, you can all practice by carving radish flowers...”

Their master’s words sent a jolt through the apprentices.

They couldn’t help but wonder nervously, ’Did we get carried away just now?’

”Ma-Master,” Gao Weilan, who dreaded the very sight of a textbook, said quietly, ”There are less than six months left. We practice knife skills for six hours every day, on top of our regular jobs. After you factor in eating and sleeping, there’s just not enough time to prepare.”

For these second-generation factory kids who were used to a comfortable life, practicing knife skills for six hours a day was an incredible feat of persistence. They were already immensely proud of themselves.

It was the first time in their lives they had ever stuck with something for so long.

Zhu Yun smiled. ”Time is like a sponge; you can always squeeze a little more out of it. You’re all fully grown, so you don’t need that much sleep. You can memorize a few vocabulary words while you eat. If you get indigestion, think of it as a good way to lose weight.”

”Look at me. I only made it to the third grade and never even graduated. Later, I studied hard for two months in the factory’s literacy program to get my diploma, and now I’m going to take the college entrance exam next year, too.”