To prevent the young man from saying anything wrong, he repeatedly reminded him that no matter how Master Mang asked, these few standard responses would suffice. He understood why Master Mang wanted to select someone from among the residents and specifically let the young man be the first to go on stage.
This indicated that this young man was particularly important.
Itâs just a bit of a pity.
If that young man, resident number 1999, who wrote novels, had completed the task at the last moment, he would have been the most suitable person for recognition. But now... itâs a bit inappropriate.
...
"A fine young man."
Chen Mang smiled as he looked at the young man walking up the stage: "Last night, among all the residents, you pushed the most zombies through the Gate of Space, a total of 12. Young folks are indeed strong."
"Seems like Fixed Starâs food is pretty good?"
"Not just good..." The young man was slightly taken aback and stammered nervously, "I couldnât even get enough to eat on the previous trains, almost starved, and was completely powerless. It wasnât until I came to Fixed Star that I finally knew what it means to feel full."
"Fixed Star is like a savior in the apocalypse, taking me away from suffering."
The residents below burst into laughter at the young manâs awkwardness, and the atmosphere suddenly became quite harmonious.
At this moment, Fang came on stage, holding a tray with a medal on it.
This is what Chen Mang had forged overnight using the Mechanical Heart.
The design wasnât bad: jet black, not as flashy as gold, but exuding a calm bravado, feeling heavy in the hand.
Chen Mang took the medal from the tray, stepped forward, pinned it on the young manâs chest, and laughed, looking down at the audience: "This is the first âOrdinary Medalâ issued by Fixed Star."
"I personally crafted, designed, and named this medal. It is a medal prepared solely for the residents."
"Named Ordinary, it represents that even the most ordinary person will eventually have their day to shine."
"Fixed Star is a great platform!"
"On this platform, everyone can realize their lifeâs value in the apocalypse, find their lifeâs goals, and my goal is to make this platform bigger, a bit bigger, even bigger."
"Each medal represents the highest honor."
"All the contributions made by the medal recipients to Fixed Star will be forever recorded in the âHistory of Train Development,â for future generations to read and admire."
"Is there any kind of reward you would like?"
"I donât need a reward."
The young man shook his head firmly, the words heâd memorized spilling out spontaneously: "Having the opportunity to contribute to Fixed Star is my honor. Without Master Mang, I might have already died in the apocalypse, where would I have the chance to stand here."
The residents below, eyes glued to the awards ceremony on stage, looked at the medal on the young manâs chest with some envy.
Isnât that just a medal...
Isnât that simply a token of immunity from death?
As long as this young man doesnât betray in the future, occasionally skipping mining or being lazy, who would dare say a word?
Many people looked on with jealousy because they knew in their hearts that this might have been the easiest time to obtain the "Ordinary Medal." This opportunity was snatched by this unknown figure, indeed making some feel envious.
Many also quietly encouraged themselves within; every contribution, even by a resident, would be seen by Master Mang. Sooner or later, they too would take this medal.
Old Pig, standing below, nodded in satisfaction. The young manâs performance wasnât bad, and it seemed he could be used more in the future.
"A reward is necessary, nonetheless."
Chen Mang chuckled, paused, and then said, "Is there any minor ailment that has been bothering you physically?"
"Yes..."
The young man hesitated, glanced down at Old Pig in the audience, that wasnât in the script. But seeing the encouraging look in his eyes, he still said honestly, "I have rhinitis. Whenever I eat something hot, my nose runs and I sneeze continuously. It never got healed despite many treatments before the apocalypse."
"Thatâs an easy fix."
Chen Mang smiled: "Later, go find Old Pig and get a full repair in the âMedical Cabin.â Youâll never have this problem again."
"No... thatâs not necessary."
The young man quickly refused: "Thank you for the kind offer, Master Mang. The bread I eat every day is cold. Itâs been a long time since I had anything hot, and the rhinitis hasnât acted up for ages."
"Really, thereâs no need, Master Mang."
"..."
The smile on Chen Mangâs face gradually froze.
The originally harmonious atmosphere below suddenly fell silent for no apparent reason.
"Itâs over, itâs all over!"
Standing below, Old Pig pinched his philtrum tightly with his forefinger, feeling faint, wishing he could pass out and wake up to find it was all a dream. Itâs completely over...
You said that at a time like this.
You might as well have pointed at Master Mangâs nose and cursed, saying Fixed Starâs meals were so poor you canât even get a hot bite to eat.
Donât you know, in the apocalypse, how luxurious it is to eat your fill every day?
Saying it privately would be one thing.
To say it in front of all the residents, in front of so many people, this guy surely wonât survive the night, but his career record will also have a stain that cannot be washed away.
"I..."
By this time, the young man also realized, his voice trembling with a cry: "Master Mang, I... I didnât mean that, what I meant was, itâs nice not to have anything hot, I just have rhinitis, I also donât like eating anything hot. No, no... I..."