OBS Chapter 1279 Public Opinion Reversal
Chapter 1279 Public Opinion Reversal
Chapter 1279 Public Opinion Reversal
Zishui County will build a highway that will go directly to Tongguan!
This news was like a bucket of cold water thrown into a boiling oil pan, causing an uproar in newspapers across the province.
In an instant, public opinion was in an uproar, drowning out the already pressing worries about the drought.
"Zishui County Magistrate Hao Weicheng is ambitious and disregards human life!"
The front page headline of the provincial capital's *Qinfeng Daily* was sharp and jarring, and the article vehemently denounced: "At a time when the worst drought in decades has left the land parched and people resorting to cannibalism, Hao is not thinking of doing everything he can to provide disaster relief and save the people from their suffering, but instead he is undertaking large-scale construction projects and forcing dying disaster victims to build roads? Is this not profiting from the national crisis for the sake of political achievements?!"
Another commentary in the Northwest People's Daily was more cautious, but also full of doubts: "Zishui County is the area most severely affected by the disaster, and County Magistrate Hao's move is really puzzling. Even if it is called 'work relief,' how can the weak disaster victims bear such heavy labor? Could there be another reason for this, or... is it really a helpless move to win the favor of the higher-ups?"
"Disregarding human lives! Wasting public resources and manpower!"
"Corrupt officials and bureaucrats harm the people!"
"Get off the stage!"
Rumors spread like wildfire, filling teahouses, taverns, fields, and villages with angry and bewildered curses.
Zishui County, along with the road that has yet to be built, has become synonymous with ineffective disaster relief and disregard for people's livelihoods in the eyes of the people of the province.
In the simple disaster relief committee office in Zishui County, Hao Weicheng held several newspapers with his name printed on them, his fingers trembling slightly from the force.
His initial hope, which had been fueled by persuading some local gentry and wealthy households along the route to purchase road rights in exchange for grain, was now extinguished by the overwhelming barrage of insults. Cold sweat trickled down his temples, staining a small patch of ink on the newspaper.
"Mr. Bai, please take a look..."
Hao Weicheng's voice was bitter as he pushed the newspaper towards Qin Hao, who was sitting opposite him: "It's everywhere, all condemnation! They're calling me Hao Weicheng a heartless official who disregards human life and is a corrupt bureaucrat who profits from the national crisis! I... I've only been in Zishui County for less than two months, and already..."
Qin Hao put down the engineering zoning map he was reviewing, took the newspaper, and calmly scanned the shocking headlines and articles.
"Oh? They're pretty fast. It seems there are quite a few people watching this murky water in Zishui."
Seeing his expression, Hao Weicheng became even more anxious: "Mr. Bai! You still have the mind to laugh? This document even includes you, the vice chairman of the disaster relief committee! The label of 'corrupt official' has been pinned on all of us!"
He pointed to one of the articles that mentioned "the Zishui Relief Committee is a dead-end job and colludes with the corrupt."
Qin Hao smiled and said, "County Chief Hao, please calm down. These newspapers and magazines are just pointing fingers at the country from thousands of miles away, based on bits and pieces of information and conjecture. Have any of them ever set foot in my Zishui territory? Have they ever seen the resettlement sites or the disaster victims on the construction sites? They are just sitting in their offices and believing whatever they hear."
Hao Weicheng was taken aback: "What do you mean?"
Qin Hao stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the faint outline of the resettlement shacks in the distance outside the city: "Instead of letting them hide in the shadows and speculate wildly, spread rumors, and incite public opinion to portray us as heinous and cruel officials, it would be better to... invite them in."
"Please come in?" Hao Weicheng was even more astonished.
“Yes.” Qin Hao turned around, his eyes shining: “Not only should we invite them, but we should also make a big show of inviting reporters from major newspapers to Zishui County! Let them see for themselves how serious the disaster is in Zishui County, see how we ‘disregard human life,’ and see if those disaster victims were driven to construction sites to wait for death! Once they understand, what they write will naturally no longer be mere conjecture, and they might even be able to help Zishui County secure more disaster relief supplies.”
Hao Weicheng suddenly slapped his forehead: "Oh! Brilliant! How come I didn't think of that! It's better to guide than to block. Instead of arguing, let them witness it with their own eyes! Let them use their pens to tell us the truth!"
The gloom on his face vanished instantly, and he stood up excitedly: "Mr. Bai, you see things very clearly! I'll get on it right away, I'll sell everything I own to invite all the well-known reporters in the province!"
……
A few days later, at dawn, a convoy of seven or eight cars and mule carts of varying ages, kicking up clouds of yellow dust, drove into Zishui County.
Sitting in the carriage were reporters and photographers from various well-known newspapers in the provincial capital, who had been "hired at great expense" by County Chief Hao. As soon as they entered the county, the scenery along the way immediately caught their eyes.
Along the roadside, the once bustling villages and towns are now eerily silent. Houses have collapsed, and the ruins cast dark shadows under the blazing sun.
The old elm tree at the village entrance had its bark stripped bare, leaving only the stark white wood, which looked particularly menacing in the wind. Occasionally, a few scattered figures could be seen, some an old man huddled in a corner, looking withered and emaciated, others a woman cradling a lifeless infant, her eyes vacant and numb. In the barren fields, the cracks were deep and bottomless, and not a single blade of grass grew.
A young reporter wearing glasses pushed up his glasses and wrote in a somewhat hoarse voice: "Nine out of ten houses are empty, with very few survivors, like a ghost town... The situation is a hundred times more tragic than described in the reports!"
“Yes.” An older reporter next to him put down his camera and sighed heavily. He had just taken a picture of a emaciated old woman lying on the ground eating some dry, hard grass roots: “I thought the reports of the disaster were exaggerated, but it turns out to be a real hellish scene… In this situation, they still want to build roads? They really don’t value the lives of the disaster victims!”
However, just as they were about to reach the county town and could already see the outline of the gray city wall, the scene ahead left the reporters speechless!
The chaos and wailing they had imagined, which should have been no different from what they had seen along the way, did not materialize. What came into view was an area far larger than they had imagined, enclosed by a rough but unusually neat wooden fence.
This area is not right next to the city wall, but maintains a certain safe distance. Viewed from above, it resembles a giant chessboard made up of countless small squares.
Countless dilapidated thatched huts and shacks were built in a row, densely packed yet orderly. Each hut area had enough passageways for people to pass through.
What's even more surprising is that, despite the extremely high population density in the area, there was no sight of starving people everywhere, nor the expected stench of excrement and plague that would permeate a gathering place for disaster victims—the pungent smell of disinfectant lime could be faintly detected in the air.
Long, winding queues stretched out in front of several large kitchen sheds. The disaster victims, dressed in rags and emaciated, held broken bowls and earthenware jars in their hands. At the distribution point, someone shouted to maintain order. The victims who received food lowered their heads and left quickly. Although their movements were slow due to weakness, they were unusually orderly, and there was almost no shoving or pushing.
The reporters exchanged bewildered glances, their eyes reflecting unbelievable shock. This was a world completely different from what they had seen along the way!
A sharp-eyed reporter photographed the food in a disaster victim's bowl—a bowl of murky, strangely colored porridge, barely deserving the name. It contained clearly visible dark green wild vegetables, coarse bran, and broken bean dregs, with hardly any whole grains of rice visible. It was less porridge and more a thin paste mixed with various edible plant roots, stems, leaves, and mill byproducts.
"Brother, is this all you eat every day?" A reporter stopped a thin disaster victim holding a bowl of porridge and asked, pointing to the bowl.
The disaster victim numbly looked up at the reporter, nodded, and said in a hoarse voice, "It's good enough that I can survive."
After he finished speaking, he ignored the reporter, carefully protecting the half-bowl of porridge, and staggered towards his thatched hut.
"Excuse me, with so many people crammed together, how can you guarantee there won't be an epidemic? Looting? Chaos?" another reporter asked, grabbing the team leader who was maintaining order.
The squad leader straightened his back and pointed to the white lime powder scattered in the corner of the shed area: "Vice Chairman Bai said that lime is scattered every day, water is boiled and drunk, and people go to those big pits to relieve themselves, so there will be no plague. As for chaos? There were some people who led a disturbance before, but they were quickly suppressed. Now the county sets up soup kitchens every day, and everyone can survive. Who would have the mind to cause trouble?"
The reporters suddenly realized what was happening and quickly jotted it down in their notebooks.
“In times of chaos, harsh measures are indeed effective.”
"It seems cruel, but it is actually a way to save one's life out of desperation."
Afterwards, Hao Weicheng personally accompanied the reporters to a construction site further away. That was the starting point of the highway leading to Tongguan.
A hundred meters from the construction site, a wave of sound mixed with dust rushed towards us. The deafening shouts rose and fell: "Heave-ho! Heave-ho!" Tens of thousands of men, shirtless or wearing only tattered shirts, wielded heavy picks and shovels in the huge trench.
Their muscles were bulging yet they were gaunt, their bronze skin glistening with sweat and yellow dust, which carved deep furrows into their backs. With each swing of the pickaxe, dirt and rocks flew, causing their skeletal bodies to tremble violently, but no one stopped.
At the edge of the construction site, makeshift sheds were piled high with food—still the same kind of flatbread or porridge made from a mixture of grains, wild vegetables, and bran, but the quantity was clearly much more plentiful than what was provided at the resettlement site. Someone was specifically responsible for boiling water, and beside huge buckets, many tired day laborers stopped to gulp down the slightly scalding "boiling water." Some of the healthier women were also helping at the edge of the construction site, breaking up stones and weaving straw mats.
What shocked the reporters most was that there were more than a dozen points distributed along the initially formed roadbed.
At each point, there were several young people dressed in school uniforms, though covered in mud and grime. They wore straw hats or headscarves and carried tape measures, simple levels, wooden stakes, and paper and pens. They were measuring, drawing lines, and recording, occasionally pointing at the drawings and arguing loudly.
“These are…” the reporter pointed to the students.
A hint of pride flashed in Hao Weicheng's eyes: "Oh, those are students from the Geology Department and Engineering Department of Guanzhong University."
"College students?!" the reporters exclaimed almost in disbelief. The young people before them, covered in dust, with sunburned cheeks and chapped lips, were a far cry from the glamorous college students they had in mind.
"Yes," Hao Weicheng solemnly introduced, "They volunteered to come and assist with the engineering surveying under the leadership of Vice President Bai! All the students gave up their holidays, received no wages, and even brought their own food!"
A reporter asked the college students why they came to this dusty construction site. One student wiped his young face, which was covered in dust, and said, "What you learn from books is never enough; you must put it into practice. As Mr. Bai said, practice is the only way to test knowledge. How could we miss such a good opportunity to practice?"
A reporter quickly wrote in his notebook: "Students from the Geology Department of Guanzhong University put down their pens and rulers, and ventured out into the scorching sun and dust, using knowledge as their weapon to open up a path to survival for the starving people!"
Another reporter didn't hesitate to point the camera at one of the students who was intently adjusting the level, his eyes covered in sweat and dirt but incredibly focused.
Shock! The sheer shock overshadowed all the doubts and criticisms the reporters had raised before entering the county. They witnessed a disaster far beyond their wildest imagination, as well as an equally astonishing level of organization and a group of people struggling against despair!
"May I ask, County Chief Hao?" The older reporter's tone became more serious and respectful than ever before: "How was all of this accomplished? The Vice Chairman Bai you mentioned... is he...?"
Hao Weicheng knew the time was ripe. He took a deep breath and pointed to a makeshift command post not far away, shaded by straw mats: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is not all thanks to me alone. The one who truly presided over the overall situation and made the overall plans is Mr. Bai Zihan, the vice chairman of the Zishui County Disaster Relief Committee and the chief engineer of this 'highway'!"
The reporters immediately swarmed over.
Qin Hao remained unusually calm in the face of the swarm of reporters and the flashing camera flashes.
After answering several questions about the overall project plan and the organization of disaster victims, he stepped back and pushed the equally dusty students to the front:
"The specific technical surveys, route optimization, and phased construction coordination were all done by these students from Guanzhong University. It was they who measured every inch of land with their own feet and calculated every cubic meter of earth and stone with their pens, which made this seemingly impossible task possible. The credit doesn't go to me. It is they, the countless villagers who sweated and toiled on the construction site, County Chief Hao, and everyone who worked together to create this small miracle. This road is a 'path to life' that they paved with their knowledge and sweat."
……
A few days later, the tone of major newspapers in the provincial capital was completely reversed!
The front page of the Qin Feng Daily featured a headline in large red letters: "Miracle! Zishui's Self-Rescue Path in a Disaster-Stricken Area!" The article detailed the devastation of the disaster, highlighting the orderly resettlement, the strong and effective management, the scale and difficulty of the project, and the core contribution of the students.
The Northwest People's Daily published an article titled "Scholars Barefoot Measure the Road to Survival, Iron Fist and Tender Heart Save the People - A Sample Investigation of the Zishui Disaster Relief Project," praising these students as "the backbone of China's future."
The accusations of "profiteering from national disaster" and "disregarding human life" fell silent overnight.
These on-site reports, rich in pictures and text, carried an undeniable sense of authenticity and appeal, and quickly spread throughout the province, even reaching neighboring provinces and the desks of high-ranking officials.
The provincial government and the disaster relief agency are overwhelmed by the widespread chaos and public pressure. The outstanding performance of Zishui County, this "outlier," is like a timely rain from heaven! A perfect positive example!
Commendation orders poured into Zishui County. Hao Weicheng was commended and awarded a major merit for his "calmness in the face of adversity, effective measures, skillful disaster relief, and outstanding achievements."
They even had County Chief Hao write down the disaster relief strategy in a booklet and give it to officials from other disaster-stricken counties to study and learn from.
However, time did not stop because of the commotion. The disaster was not over; instead, it entered an even crueler phase.
The torment of the scorching summer sun finally came to an end. The drought, which had lasted for nearly six months, was finally dispelled by a long-awaited, torrential downpour amidst the almost desperate longing of countless people.