Carrying a Jurassic on me-Chapter 1342 - 654: The Annoying Imp

Er Gouzi’s fear was not unfounded; this guy had picked up quite a few bad habits outside—like, for instance, if you cushion a punch with a book, you can inflict internal injuries that won’t show up in an examination.

Upon seeing Dang Wenzheng approaching with such a thick book followed by a group of people, he immediately assumed they were there to beat him, prompting a significant change in his attitude.

He had been so bold before because he noticed that even though the police officers at the station ordered them to do push-ups and spoke harshly, they rarely resorted to physical beating—that’s not to say the guy was dull, but he just wouldn’t learn from the good examples. Those who obediently did their push-ups either hadn’t thought it through or didn’t see things as clearly as he did.

If the police had pushed and kicked those doing push-ups, Er Gouzi probably wouldn’t have protested about corporeal punishment.

Dang Wenzheng seemed quite cheerful at that moment. "Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, we don’t beat people. You said it yourself—corporeal punishment is wrong, and we definitely wouldn’t do that! This book is for you to study, and the writing paper is for you to write down your reflections. Our chief said, as long as you write a good reflection, we’ll let you go—so that’s all set, right?"

Hearing that they weren’t there to beat him, Er Gouzi immediately relaxed. "I’ll write, what’s the big deal. Do I have to write a certain number of words?"

"You’re pretty smart to know there’s a word count requirement," Dang Wenzheng hadn’t even spoken when someone behind him couldn’t help but chime in. "The number of words we want from you isn’t much, just 20,000. Whenever you finish, that’s when you can go home—even if you can finish right now, we’ll let you leave."

"20,000 words?" When Er Gouzi heard ’20,000 words’, he was almost ready to jump to his feet, ignoring the rest of the sentence. "Why don’t you just have me write a book?" freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"A book is usually hundreds of thousands of words. You only have 20,000 to write, stop making a fuss!" Dang Wenzheng suddenly changed his tone. "Either write or stay here indefinitely."

Saying this, he turned around and motioned for everyone to leave, locking the door behind them he raised his voice, "Remember, the door will open for you once you’ve finished writing. If you don’t finish, you’ll be writing in here forever. No copying from the book—what we want is your personal reflections, got it?"

Once back in the yard, seeing many people slacking off, Dang Wenzheng pointed and said, "Do you not want to do any more push-ups? If you don’t finish, you can’t rest inside. If you don’t want to do it, just say so and you may also go study with a book."

Study with a book? What’s that about?

Everyone lying on the ground was somewhat puzzled, with one brave soul raising his hand to ask, "Can we inquire what ’study with a book’ entails?"

"Heh!" Dang Wenzheng sneered. "It means you learn some legal knowledge and incidentally write a 20,000-word reflection. What about it, do you want to go study?"

Studying is all well and good, but tinged with the obligation of a 20,000-word reflection, it seemed rather terrifying.

Without another word, the person who asked began doing push-ups with renewed vigor—although it was exhausting, he accepted his punishment since it was his own fault for getting into this situation. After all, there was hope of finishing, and if it got too tough, it wasn’t like the officers would actually harm them. But writing a 20,000-word reflection? Damn, how long would that take? He couldn’t even finish compositions over 600 words in two class periods when he was in school!

Being aware of compositions of over 600 words shows that years of compulsory education had been somewhat useful. At least, the person who asked must have had some junior high ’advanced learning’—for high school, it would have been 800-word essays.

But regardless of whether it was junior high or high school, a 20,000-word task was as unrealistic as a fantasy. This wasn’t just asking for too much; it was practically driving people to despair—if those locked up here had that kind of ability, they wouldn’t be gambling; they could write novels and make a fortune. After all, manuscript fees these days are not insignificant—Boss Yan’s published pseudo-scientific papers envious earnings spoke for themselves.

Moreover, even if you could actually write 20,000 words in here, you’ve also got to consider, there’s no standard for written material, what if they say your understanding isn’t deep enough after all that effort?

In reality, few people thought so far ahead, and once the 20,000-word requirement was out, everyone immediately lost the urge to slack off. Push-ups were great—what was it—they also help you exercise, right?

They were all villagers, and even those few who had gone out as migrant workers weren’t doing easy labor. Although not accustomed to push-ups at first, a bit of bite-the-bullet effort and a strong laborer could handle hundreds easily. At worst, their arms would ache tomorrow—it’s not as if they were breaking bones or anything serious, so what’s there to fear? Especially since the weather is so cold, moving around could actually keep them warm.

Yang Er Gou had initially harbored some hope, thinking it’s better to write than to be like those fools sprawled on the ground outside ’embracing the Earth’, right? But once he actually picked up the book and tried reading, he quickly realized he couldn’t even recognize all the characters.

Such a tragedy.

His family now had only one child, himself. The reason he was called Yang Er Gou was that there had been an older brother before him who died soon after birth.

When Yang Er Gou came along, some villagers suggested the previous child’s death might have been due to his family’s profession as suona players. You see, in the early days, every celebratory and somber village event would call for a suona band, but increasingly it became just for funerals.

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