William Bolton’s purpose in treating them to this meal was not just to make a deeper impression—he wanted to take a shortcut and get his report published as soon as possible. Han County has a population of over 700,000; if his name could be spread through the Gefeng Morning Post, and if 70,000 people read the newspaper every day, then in theory his reputation value could increase by 70,000 a day. That’s over two million in a month, and in two months he could achieve his annual goal. Just thinking about it made him happy.

William Bolton’s intention was simply to quickly boost his reputation value; he hadn’t thought about targeting anyone in particular. But in order to increase his reputation value quickly, he wouldn’t worry about other people’s feelings.

At Thursday’s pre-editorial meeting, a debate broke out, triggered by Robert Bolton’s exclusive interview. Originally, the exclusive interview about the pig farm should have belonged to the news department, but since Richard Bolton paid to have it published, it was assigned to the advertising department.

William Bolton’s photos were beautiful, and the interview was comprehensive. Matthew Miller submitted the compiled photo report at the pre-editorial meeting, but of course didn’t mention William Bolton’s name.

Because of last night’s braised pork, Eric Bennett, who was still thinking about the clenbuterol issue, raised a series of sharp yet professional questions: Did the pig farm have any violations? Was ractopamine added to the feed? If there were violations, who would be responsible for this exclusive interview?

As soon as these questions were raised, Matthew Miller was left speechless. Other editors also said the report should be handled with caution; political correctness couldn’t be sacrificed for a bit of advertising revenue.

Naturally, Matthew Miller’s exclusive interview was shelved. The editor-in-chief suggested he continue the investigation and clarify a few issues; only after ensuring there were no potential risks at the pig farm could the promotional piece be published. Although William Bolton’s name was never mentioned from start to finish, Matthew Miller believed this matter was definitely related to William Bolton—after all, he’d only heard the word “ractopamine” for the first time yesterday.

Compared to Matthew Miller’s setback, things went much more smoothly for the culture department’s Emily Scott. The article about caring for left-behind children received unanimous praise, especially the photo of the big-eyed girl taken by William Bolton, which won the approval of both the photo and art editors. They even suggested putting the report on the front page on Student Aid Day, with special emphasis on the photo.

Emily Scott also never mentioned who took the photo. As a seasoned journalist, she predicted that this photo was the highlight of the report, and deliberately or not, decided to leave out the photographer’s name.

After the pre-editorial meeting, Matthew Miller stormed into the office like an angry lion. William Bolton was at his computer, typing up an in-depth report on the pig farming market. Matthew Miller rudely pointed at William Bolton’s nose: “Little Bolton, I really didn’t see this coming. You’ve only been here a few days, and you’ve already learned how to tattle to the bosses.”

William Bolton feigned ignorance: “Teacher Miller, what do you mean? The highest-up I know is you.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You ruined the pig farm report. If the advertising department doesn’t meet its target this year, it’s all because of you.”

“Teacher Miller, I don’t like what you’re saying. The advertising department’s target this year is three million. Are you saying that without the pig farmer’s twenty-thousand-yuan sponsorship, you can’t meet your target? If you can’t finish your task, you can’t just blame it on me.”

“Many a little makes a mickle, grains of sand build a tower—don’t you get it? If you don’t have the ability, don’t mess up my business. So young and already eager to climb over my shoulders to get ahead—typical city kid, streetwise!” In the eyes of Han County locals, Pengcheng is a big city, and people from Pengcheng are mostly streetwise.

“Who are you talking about? Say it again and let me hear it?” William Bolton glared, full of menace.

Matthew Miller was actually a bit scared—was this kid about to hit him?

Someone quickly came over to pull them apart, mostly advising William Bolton to respect his elders. Emily Scott, however, said something fair: “Old Miller, don’t get angry. What proof do you have that Little Bolton tattled on you? It was Chief Editor Bennett who rejected your feature. If you’re upset, take it up with Chief Editor Bennett.”

The county-level newspaper office wasn’t big, so their conflict quickly spread throughout the office. Eric Bennett called them one by one into the editor-in-chief’s office. He called Matthew Miller in first, stating that he didn’t even know William Bolton, and that he’d already checked with higher authorities. The relevant national departments were indeed drafting policies to regulate the pig farming market, and related policies would be released soon. Shelving Matthew Miller’s feature wasn’t targeting him, but protecting him.

After Matthew Miller, William Bolton entered the editor-in-chief’s office. Eric Bennett earnestly advised him to respect his elders and unite with colleagues, and also specifically praised his political sensitivity. Whether the report was eye-catching wasn’t the most important thing; the key was not to make mistakes in principle.

William Bolton took the opportunity to hand over the just-finished “In-Depth Report on the Pig Farming Market” to Eric Bennett. Eric Bennett hadn’t expected him to write it so quickly. After a quick look, he found the article indeed incisive and very well-timed. If published, it would definitely attract significant public attention.