CDJMM – Volume 4 -Chapter 41 Filming in the Interstellar Era (41)

Facts proved that Le Jing’s initial guess had been correct.

Or rather—things were even more severe than he had imagined.

After running a full search on his light-brain, Le Jing rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

Across the entire Earth Alliance, cultural works that seemed to promote Zerg culture—films, novels, anime, you name it—were simply innumerable.

Compared with those earlier, blatantly obvious works, “Tulip Beauty” was practically mild and subtle.

Le Jing found no fewer than dozens of films exploiting the blank period in Earth’s history, claiming that human civilization originated from the Zerg. That it was the Zerg who helped humans abandon their primitive blood-and-raw-meat lives, and that the Zerg taught humans language, writing, painting, architecture—everything. That the Zerg were humanity’s civilizational mentors.

And astonishingly, this narrative had a massive market!

On old Earth, such films would’ve been brushed off as the fantasies of third-rate sci-fi. No one would’ve taken them seriously. But in the Interstellar Era, people actually filmed such things, and Le Jing couldn’t help but question their intentions.

He finally understood why so many humans in the Interstellar Era had such high favorability toward the Zerg.

Clearly, the Zerg’s infiltration of human culture had been a long, ongoing campaign.

Comparatively, Huaxia—shielded by a strong central government—had been less corrupted culturally. Foreign countries, however, were complete disaster zones.

In capitalist multi-party nations, leaders changed every few years for the sake of “democracy” and “freedom.” The result of a weak central government was rampant populism and a flood of “public intellectuals” and “opinion leaders.”

Even in Le Jing’s era, such “public intellectuals” were everywhere in Huaxia’s public discourse.

These petty bourgeois elites trumpeted “Freedom America,” “Glorious Capitalist New World,” and harshly condemned Huaxia’s so-called rotten autocracy—creating the illusion that “the moon abroad is rounder,” “the foreign air is freer and sweeter.”

Le Jing preferred to call them cultural traitors.

More terrifying than traitors on a battlefield were cultural traitors.

They wielded pens as blades, killing invisibly—subduing nations without battle.

The Iron Soviet Union withstood armies of steel, yet fell to peaceful evolution.

Thus, in the second decade of the 21st century, the government paid special attention to ideological control, precisely to avoid a second peaceful evolution.

Scrolling through his light-brain, Le Jing fell deep into thought.

With this many abnormalities, even an outsider like him could see the problem so clearly—there was no way the smartest leaders around the world hadn’t noticed.

They had noticed, and they had implemented measures.

Entertainment restrictions, heavy promotion of traditional culture… yet little had changed.

Because the Zerg world was simply stronger. As simple as that.

The Earth Alliance was like a newly founded PRC, while the Zerg world was the United States.

The Galactic Union was like the UN, and within it, there were more than a dozen races as powerful as the Zerg.

Earth was merely an unloved third world.

For balance, other planets wouldn’t let the Zerg swallow Earth—but they wouldn’t clash head-on with the Zerg just to protect Earth either.

Le Jing felt more than ever how monumental his dream of counter-invading alien culture truly was.

But…

The young man stared intensely at the light-brain screen, amber eyes reflecting shifting lights—something fiery within him seeming ready to break free and look boldly upon the world.

His cerebral cortex tingled; an itch spread from his spine through every vein.

He grinned, excitement blooming.

The harder the dream, the sweeter the triumph when it’s achieved.

Le Jing learned about the trending topic on Xingbo that afternoon.

Seeing countless entertainment marketing accounts seriously “analyze” how much he cared about “Tulip Beauty,” Le Jing snorted, unusually impatient.

Truly, “The singing courtesan knows not the hatred of a fallen nation; across the river she still sings ‘Flowers of the Rear Courtyard.’”

He hadn’t wanted to respond—but after thinking, he still posted on Xingbo:

“My frown isn’t for art—it’s for politics. ‘Tulip Beauty’ isn’t avant-garde art; it’s political propaganda. The Zerg and humans are purely predator and food. The tender love in the movie is nonsense. Would you fall in love with meat on your dining table? Likewise, the Zerg feel nothing toward humans except naked appetite.

‘Tulip Beauty’ uses romance as a disguise to humanize and soften the Zerg, making humans let down their guard—ultimately bowing to them, allowing slaughter.

This kind of subtle cultural brainwashing has lasted a thousand years. I sincerely hope our generation will see its end.”

Once posted, the name Shi Jing surged back onto the trending list.

Comments flooded in beneath his post:

【The wind keeps blowing：Heh. Stop pretending you’re the lone sober one in a drunken world. Just be honest—you’re smearing your competitor to eliminate opposition.】

“My World Without You:” I can’t stand moral–preaching saints like you. I was just watching a romance movie, how exactly did I get ‘brainwashed’??

“So Hungry in Class Every Day:” Movies are an art form detached from politics! A good movie transcends borders and culture! Don’t use your filthy thoughts to project onto art!

For a moment, countless people flooded under his StarNet post to scold him. The way they reacted—as if Le Jing had just dug up their ancestors’ graves—was almost grotesque.

Compared to such an overwhelming torrent of curses, the comments supporting Le Jing’s statement were nearly invisible.

Malice poured down like a torrential storm. Reason and goodwill were like a small boat in rough seas, rocking violently, struggling to stay afloat.

With a few marketing accounts fanning the flames, Le Jing’s post was once again pushed onto the trending list.

At the same time, the insults below his post grew increasingly vicious. As time passed and the situation fermented, some netizens even Photoshopped funeral portraits of Le Jing.

Le Jing was a bit surprised.

Such one-sided public opinion was too abnormal.

And if something is abnormally wrong, then there must be a hidden hand.

Someone bought water-army trolls to target him?

He didn’t even need to think—there was only one suspect. Besides the Zerg, who else could it be?

His Empress’s Royal Dog and Tulip Beauty were direct conflicts of interest. It was no surprise they kept an eye on him.

Le Jing sneered and simply shut off the comment section on his StarNet page.

Let the outside world flood and rage—his resolve would not waver.

…

“…There has never been any ‘love’ between Zerg and humans. Only raw, naked hunger…” Tian Hui’s facial muscles twisted, forming a vicious grin.

Heh, that brat Shi Jing could only talk tough online now.

Overestimating himself.

He’d soon learn his lesson.

Then he’d understand who he could and could not afford to provoke.

The light-brain screen flickered. A video window popped up, revealing a blue-gray humanoid brain-worm.

Anyone who had watched Tulip Beauty would immediately recognize his character in the drama—Sevier.

His lips moved slightly as a cold, mechanical voice came out: “How are things progressing?”

Tian Hui immediately put on a flattering smile and bowed deeply. “First-day box office reached 200 million. For a romance film, it’s already quite a good start.”

Sevier’s voice dropped a few degrees. “It is not the box office champion.”

Tian Hui hurried to say, “As long as we win the Ark Awards, the box office will catch up sooner or later.”

Sevier gave an almost imperceptible nod, his tone absolute: “Tulip Beauty will win Best Film, Best Director, and Best Actor and Actress. We have already paid. Do not disappoint us.”

Tian Hui nodded and bowed repeatedly. “Rest assured, rest assured! My biggest virtue is obedience. Whatever you want me to do in the future, I’ll do it without complaint!”

Sevier nodded again and added another warning: “Do not attempt to deceive us. Otherwise, the little creature inside your body will eat your brain.”

In the middle of winter, a layer of hot sweat broke out on Tian Hui’s skin. His back bent even lower, his tone more groveling than ever: “I would never dare deceive you, my lord. I’m your dog—whatever you command, I will do.”

Sevier’s cold, stiff face revealed no emotion at Tian Hui’s obsequiousness. He simply asked, “Is there anything else you need to report?”

Tian Hui quickly straightened and told him about Shi Jing’s StarNet post.

Sevier: “I am already aware.” He casually flicked a finger. “After the Ark Awards, he will die in an accident.”

Tian Hui froze, shock filling his eyes.

He had indeed wished the Zerg would teach Shi Jing a lesson, but he had never imagined they would choose to kill him!

Sevier said coldly, “Your brainwaves seem resistant to this.”

Tian Hui jolted, stammering, “N–No!” The smile on his face looked as though it had been glued on. “I’ve long wished to kill him myself. Now that you’re acting in my place, I am only grateful!”

“Hmph. Do not harbor thoughts you shouldn’t.”

Sevier’s image disappeared.

Tian Hui stared blankly at the light-brain, drenched in sweat, face pale as paper, his body shaking uncontrollably.

He hated Shi Jing…

But he had never wanted him dead.

Yet…

He tugged the corners of his mouth into a smile uglier than crying. He could barely keep himself alive—how could he care about someone else’s life?

Tian Hui closed his eyes. Color slowly returned to his face. His shaking stopped.

This isn’t my fault.

If blame must be placed…

Blame him for talking too much.

…

…

Cao Desheng’s expression grew more and more solemn as he stared at the light-brain.

He had long known Shi Jing was a genius.

And geniuses were always proud.

So he should not have been surprised that Shi Jing posted such frank remarks on StarNet.

But… he was still too young.

Some truths simply cannot be spoken aloud.

Most of his friends who once liked telling the truth… died of all kinds of “accidents.”

The uproar online was, ironically, proof that the Zerg had set their sights on Shi Jing.

Cao Desheng closed his eyes, falling into memories.

They were all so brilliant. What a pity…

Was he going to stand by and watch Shi Jing walk the same doomed path as his friends?

He finally opened his eyes, a decision made.

He dialed a number.

“It’s me, Cao Desheng.”

“I want to recommend Shi Jing for the national Special Talent Protection Program.”

He paused at whatever the person on the other end said.

Then he whispered:

“…Can I give him my spot?”