“I was passing by Yansha Bridge last night, right next to the embassy district. I was just walking along, when suddenly a woman came up and grabbed me, saying, ‘Hey big brother, want to have some fun? It’s cheap...’”

“Hold on, hold on!”

Now that you mention this, I’m wide awake!

William Clark quickly opened his notebook and got his pen ready. “Please, go on.”

“Anyway, she was a streetwalker, you know? I’ve run into them before and didn’t pay much attention, but this was right next to the embassy district, with lots of foreigners around. It’s a really bad influence. I hope you guys can expose this.”

“Alright, I’ll pass this on to our reporters. Thank you for your call.”

William Clark made sure to get the exact address, jotted it down in his notebook, and then entered it into the platform.

See, isn’t this great!

If only I could get more popular tips like this, I’d have plenty of material to collect.

Chapter 8: Gathering Material

“Morning!”

“Morning!”

Another day, and William Clark showed up at the newspaper office for his internship as usual.

It was already September, and the weather was gradually cooling down. He’d swapped his short sleeves and shorts for a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, still wearing sneakers, and now with an added cap that shaded his eyes, plus a ridiculously large backpack.

He looked just like one of those guys selling pirated discs in Zhongguancun.

He walked to his seat, pulled a few bags of snacks and drinks from his bag, and handed them to Emily Turner next to him. Emily Turner, who had been wary at first, had now become “if you give it to me, I’ll eat it.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. If you take my snacks, you’ll feel bad refusing me when I ask for help later.”

“Wow, you’re so blunt about it, I really have nothing to say.”

Emily Turner was actually quite curious and asked, “I know my own strengths and weaknesses. What could you possibly need my help with?”

“I told you, you have a nice voice.”

“That’s it?”

“Of course. Having a nice voice is a talent too.”

After a bit of chatting, the workday began. William Clark kept up his usual style—chatting and bantering—so almost everyone who called hung up in a good mood.

Most hotline calls were trivial matters, a few were emergencies like fires or car accidents, and a tiny fraction were about social issues or problems that required reporters to dig deep to uncover real news.

William Clark could easily judge the value of these tips. Some were genuinely good stories, but he remained calm—he had no desire to deal with print media ever again.

During short breaks, he’d look at his notebook and shake his head, sighing, “The spiritual life of the capital’s people is just too rich!”

In just four days at the hotline department, he’d already recorded fifteen popular tips, covering all districts, and a few were even firsthand accounts after personal experience.

Tips like these were also a regular column for the media. When there was nothing else to report, they’d run one of these to fill space.

Usually, reporters would go undercover for these stories. Newspapers were at a disadvantage here—TV stations had the edge, since their footage was more sensational. But sometimes things went wrong, and reporters got too into it and forgot they were undercover.

Like that reporter from Sichuan TV—he really did take his pants off!

A day of slacking off passed quickly. William Clark left the newspaper office, grabbed a quick bite, and started wandering around Tuanjiehu. Tuanjiehu is right next to the newspaper building, a park dug in the 1950s and completed in the 1980s.

As dusk fell, more and more people came out for a stroll, and among them were a few women who were clearly professionals.

William Clark didn’t disturb them, just observed from a distance. He thought the quality was a bit lacking, so he decisively took a bus to the next spot—near Liangma River.

Liangma River starts at Xiaojie outside Dongzhimen, flows northeast past Jiuxianqiao, and enters Bahe at Xibacun East.

In ancient times, caravans entering Beijing would often wash their horses in the river, then let them dry on the banks—hence the name “Liangma” (Drying Horses) River. Over time, the name evolved into “Liangma River.”

To the south are Liangma River Mansion, the Great Wall Hotel, Sanlitun, and various embassies. In 2001, this was one of the more bustling areas of Beijing.

By the time William Clark arrived, it was already past eight in the evening.

At a glance, the scale was much bigger than Tuanjiehu. Along a simple street, women in skimpy outfits lounged under the dim streetlights, some in groups of three or five, others working solo.

Every time you walked by, whether you knew them or not, they’d warmly invite you to their place for some fun.

“Beep beep!”

A Volkswagen Passat happened to drive by, stopped at the curb. The experienced driver didn’t even get out, just rolled down the window and chatted with two women.

Then the two women got in the car, and off they went, leaving only a trail of glowing red taillights.

“Tsk tsk!”

“The people are so genuine, there’s so much trust between folks—how wonderful!”

William Clark walked a few steps forward, entering the women’s line of sight. No need to say anything—just make eye contact, and someone would come over.

A tall girl in knee-high boots came up, her voice oddly soft, “Wanna do it? 50 yuan, the spot is very safe.”

“Where at?”

“Right over there.”

She pointed casually—there was a dark little grove.

“In the woods? No room?”

“The woods are more exciting. Wanna do it?”

“Uh, maybe I’ll just take a look first...”