William Bolton originally wanted to tell her that he had signed his name on the photo, but seeing that Emily Scott had no intention of continuing the conversation, he felt it was awkward to bring it up. Actually, giving credit to the creator is only natural—there’s no need to make a special point of it.

Chapter 4 Countdown

As the end of the workday approached, Matthew Miller finally shut down his computer. William Bolton seized the opportunity and walked over. Matthew Miller said, “Everyone’s off work, why are you still here?”

“Teacher Miller, there’s something I need to report to you.”

Matthew Miller picked up his bag. “What’s so urgent? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” He was in a hurry to get home and cook for his wife.

William Bolton followed him outside. “Teacher Miller, it’s about the Fugui Pig Farm.”

Matthew Miller laughed. “Young people really are dedicated—let’s not talk about work after hours.”

“Teacher Miller, when I went to the pig farm today, I found that the pig feed contains ractopamine.”

“What? Racto-what?”

William Bolton lowered his voice. “Clenbuterol!”

Matthew Miller asked, “So what?”

“I saw on the news that our country’s relevant authorities will soon launch a major crackdown on the pig farming industry, especially regarding the use of clenbuterol. I heard there will be an official document to completely ban it.”

Matthew Miller clearly didn’t take his words seriously. “Then let’s wait until the country bans it.”

“Teacher Miller, if we promote pork raised with ractopamine, aren’t we going against national policy?”

Matthew Miller stopped in his tracks, looking at him with clear displeasure. “Young man, as journalists, we must base our work on facts, not rumors. Those little tidbits you picked up from who knows where are worthless. If we publish them, people will laugh at us. Besides, our promotion of the pig farm is also supporting agricultural development, which aligns with national policies.”

William Bolton thought to himself, you keep talking about policies, but do you even know the dangers of clenbuterol? You’re just after the twenty thousand yuan sponsorship from Robert Bolton.

“Little Bolton! Why haven’t you left yet?”

Brian Turner came downstairs with the editor-in-chief, Eric Bennett. Eric Bennett was fifty-four, with graying hair but still energetic.

William Bolton quickly went over to greet them. Brian Turner introduced him to Eric Bennett.

Eric Bennett was very kind, smiling as he looked at William Bolton. “Young man, work hard and you’ll have a bright future.”

Brian Turner called out, “Little Bolton, have you eaten yet? Come join us.”

William Bolton hadn’t expected to be invited to dinner. He glanced at the editor-in-chief, Eric Bennett, who nodded. “Come along, we’re all on the same team.”

William Bolton’s phone chimed—reputation +100. This was because the editor-in-chief now knew his name. It seemed one editor-in-chief was worth a hundred ordinary people, or a thousand pigs. Probably because the editor-in-chief was well-known and well-connected.

Actually, the editor-in-chief of a county newspaper isn’t a big official, which is why Eric Bennett was so approachable. In a big city like Pengcheng, it would be almost impossible for a chief editor to sit down and eat with a trainee reporter.

That evening was a private gathering. Brian Turner was treating Eric Bennett to dinner, and since William Bolton was there, it was only natural for him to pick up the tab. When he came to Han County, his mom had secretly slipped him a thousand yuan, which he hadn’t spent yet. He’d always been a big spender, but now he was learning to be more frugal. If he wanted to establish himself quickly at the newspaper, he’d have to treat people to meals and build relationships. Opportunities to dine with the editor-in-chief were rare, so he had to seize the chance to make a strong impression.

Eric Bennett ordered a serving of Dongpo pork. He had some kind of experience—eating fatty meat before drinking. But when the Dongpo pork arrived, it seemed to be mostly lean, and Eric Bennett couldn’t help but complain that the Dongpo pork at Gefeng Restaurant wasn’t as good as it used to be.

Brian Turner agreed, “The chef must be the problem—maybe they changed cooks.”

William Bolton took the opportunity to slip in his own point: “Maybe it’s not all the chef’s fault. The quality of pork these days isn’t what it used to be. A lot of pig feed now contains ractopamine.”

Both seniors looked at him, finding the word “ractopamine” new and unfamiliar. William Bolton felt increasingly knowledgeable, all thanks to these uninformed colleagues.

William Bolton patiently explained the Chinese name for ractopamine, and also talked about the dangers of clenbuterol. He explained it so well that even Eric Bennett, who usually loved meat, lost his appetite and pointed at the Dongpo pork, saying, “No wonder this meat is so tough—turns out it’s got clenbuterol in it.”

William Bolton also mentioned what he’d heard about the government cracking down on the pig market. Eric Bennett looked at the young man with appreciation and nodded, saying to Brian Turner, “He’s a promising talent. A journalist needs not only political correctness but also political sensitivity. Little Bolton, you should gather some information on this topic and write about the dangers of clenbuterol. Once you’re done, bring it directly to me.”