Hu stood on the bridge, holding a copper plate in his hand, which was covered with rust.
"Hey, little Shanghai, are you satisfied with all the people in this world?"
"Oh, satisfied? My Lord in the Capital," Hu turned around and let go of his hand. The copper plate fell under the bridge hole. No one came forward to pick it up. "Open your eyes and see that this is fucking satisfied! This is called Paris of the East? Today's banknotes and coins are like waste paper! The poor starve to death and the rich starve to death. The damn Kuomintang censors newspapers and news all day long. What's the use of being lavishly spending money?"
"I used to want to be rich and gay, but what I hope for is a future where everyone can live and work in peace and contentment, a bright future, and a stable and trustworthy government! The result, look at them!" Hu pointed at the group of beggars huddled on the street.
"Is this what you call high-sounding? A Jing?" Jing was stunned for a moment, and she saw Hu begging in a soft tone.
"It's been a long time since you called me that."
Intention: Either an idealist becomes a realist, the world is big and constantly changing