Bian Xuedao is a proofreader for the Songjiang Daily.
Unlike book editors at publishing houses, his job requires him to work the night shift year-round.
What qualities should a proofreader for a newspaper, especially a daily, have?
In simple terms, a proofreader must be meticulous, focused, and attentive, while also possessing a considerable reading volume and political literacy. In short, proofreading is not just about picking out typos and punctuation mistakes; it's a seemingly insignificant job that requires a high level of personal skill.
At 33 years old, Bian Xuedao has been working as a night-shift proofreader for seven years. His work hours are from 6 p.m. to 1 a.m.
The constant day-night shift has left his body in a suboptimal state, made him somewhat taciturn, and aged him mentally more than his actual age.
There are five proofreaders at Songjiang Daily, but only four actually work.
Bian Xuedao is the youngest of the five and the only one on a contract. The other four are on permanent staff.
At first, Bian Xuedao felt resentful about this, but over time he came to accept it. The newspaper's decline seemed inevitable. He thought that the print media would survive for maybe another 10 years before being completely swallowed up by the internet and mobile devices.
Sitting and waiting for death wasn't Bian Xuedao's style. The profession of working with words and the quiet nights allowed him to think and make plans.
A year ago, Bian Xuedao began discussing with his wife, Xu Shangxiu, what they would do when the newspaper closed. He realized that apart from being an avid reader and knowing how to drive, he didn't have any marketable skills. His wife, who was a university professor, comforted him, saying, "It's okay. Even though student enrollment is decreasing, universities won't collapse anytime soon, and there's still me."
The office was bright as day, with the constant ringing of the internal phone.
Bian Xuedao had just finished proofreading the second draft of several pages for which he was responsible and passed the time by listening to music through his headphones.
Bian Xuedao had just caught a B-level mistake.
The lottery numbers for the recent draw were 1, 7, 8, 11, 21, 31, with the blue ball being 1, which was a unique combination.
When the first draft was submitted, Bian Xuedao checked the numbers against the lottery website, and everything was fine.
But when the second draft came in, the number "1" for the blue ball had been accidentally removed by the layout designer.
If this mistake went to print, according to the newspaper's latest penalty system, Bian Xuedao would have wasted an entire week of night shifts.
He used the internal line to call the layout designer, told him about the mistake, and asked him to check the numbers online and correct it.
Tinnitus started again!
He stood up from his chair and walked to the window, doing some stretches. It felt better.
"It's almost midnight, and the pages are still being adjusted. Looks like it's going to be a late one tonight," Bian Xuedao thought as he gazed out the window at the dark sky.
Tomorrow was the day the Songjiang Metro Lines 1 and 2 were opening.
The editors were as excited as if they had been injected with adrenaline, saying they had to make a beautiful edition of the newspaper.
Bian Xuedao, however, found it absurd. A newspaper that sells fewer than 10 copies a day—who would care if it's beautiful or not?
"Teacher Bian, have you finished proofreading my page?"
A female editor from the current affairs department stood behind him, about 31 or 32 years old. She had been working at the newspaper for three years, but it was said she didn't have a labor contract, no insurance, no year-end bonus, and even lacked many small benefits.
The newspaper, which appeared to be thriving, had become increasingly soulless.
As for Songjiang Daily, it was an obvious sunset industry with gaps everywhere, yet it still carried an inexplicable sense of superiority. If the company were to bully anyone, it was the capable people who had no backing. The employees who were "related" had it much easier. A media group with several newspapers had fewer than 300 frontline editors and reporters, but nearly 3,000 people drew a salary and received benefits.
Bian Xuedao admired the female editor's tenacity and sympathized with her because if she had joined 10 years earlier, her patience would have had some value. Now, it was hard to say.
"I've finished. I've asked the layout designer to retrieve it for revisions," Bian Xuedao replied.
Sitting back down, Bian Xuedao struggled to get back into proofreading mode. He thought about what the female editor was doing in the newspaper. He also thought about continuing in the job himself, but even if the newspaper didn't go under, he knew that if he kept staying up all night, he wouldn't live long enough to retire at 65.
It was already 1 a.m.
The entire city was silent except for the occasional passing of construction trucks.
The surrounding buildings were dark, except for the bright lights on the fifth floor of Songjiang Daily.
He had basically finished proofreading, and now he only had to check the places that had been corrected. Bian Xuedao relaxed as much as he could, closed his eyes, and listened to music.
Aside from one proofreader who was constantly on sick leave but still received a salary, the other four proofreaders had completely different hobbies.
When he had free time, the oldest, Old Wang, liked to play Mahjong on the computer, Old Li enjoyed analyzing lottery trends, and Old Jiang loved watching TV dramas. A few years ago, Bian Xuedao enjoyed watching American TV shows, but after he got tired of them, he started listening to music with very effective headphones. He spent many nights watching American TV shows, listening to English songs, and his English skills, influenced by his wife who taught English at university, hadn't deteriorated. In fact, he could sing many English songs very fluently.
Bian Xuedao's habit of listening to music while proofreading caused some inconvenience for the editors and layout designers.
Since he listened to music while working, they often couldn't reach him through the internal line and had to walk over to find him.
The chief editor, Song Ming, had already smoked half a pack of cigarettes that night, but he still felt the urge to smoke.
For the metro special edition, Song Ming had taken on five pages. Although the pages had started to be finalized a week ago, and the leaders had reviewed them several times, the title had been shortened from 24 topics to 20, and then to 16, yet on the last day, they were still adjusting small details like the column headers.
Song Ming, who was not yet 40 but already had sparse hair, felt exhausted. Without a cigarette to wake him up, he was starting to struggle. He saw Bian Xuedao leaning back in his chair listening to music, and he walked over to wake him up, signaling toward the smoking room.
In the smoking room, Song Ming lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and said, "We're not finishing early tonight. This has been going on for four or five days. It's really draining! I get through the fatigue here at work, but when I get home, I can't sleep. I just lie there wide awake until the morning. If this keeps up, I'm starting to wonder if I'll drop dead one day from the exhaustion."
Bian Xuedao, holding the cigarette but not lighting it, kept squeezing it in his hand while staring out the window at the streetlights. He said, "I've been the same lately. I get sleepy while driving home, but when I get there, I can't sleep at all. When I finally fall asleep, the dreams are all over the place. Since last week, every night, I've been dreaming that I'm playing the main character in the movies and TV shows I've seen recently. It feels so real, it's like I'm not even dreaming."
Song Ming, who had barely smoked a few puffs, extinguished the cigarette, put it back in the box, and asked, "Real? Didn't you pinch yourself in the dream?"
Bian Xuedao chuckled, "I did, but it didn't work."
Song Ming laughed too, "That's quite the dream, huh! You've been the main character in all these movies? That's pretty amazing, right? Life's full of variety, how great would it be? Hey, teach me the secret to your dreams."
Bian Xuedao looked at Song Ming and said, "Come on, there's no secret! I don't even want to dream!"
Song Ming replied, "Really no secret? Come on, don't hide it. If you've got one, teach me. It's so stifling here at the newspaper. I want to let loose, even if just in my dreams."
Bian Xuedao glanced at the door to the smoking room and said, "Keep it down, the editor-in-chief is in there."
Song Ming clicked his tongue and said, "If I hadn't had kids, I would've quit by now. Hey, did you see the metro route planning map on my page? If we'd seen this five, no, ten years ago, we could've bought two apartments near the metro station. We wouldn't be stuck here working all night!"
As they were talking, Bian Xuedao's phone beeped with a text message.
It was from Xu Shangxiu!
"Uncle, I'm going to bed now. Be safe driving back."
Xu Shangxiu and Bian Xuedao were the same age. They met in 2009 by chance and discovered they were classmates at the same university. Eventually, they became a couple.
They had been married for over four years and were known in their circle of friends as a model couple.
Xu Shangxiu often watched Korean dramas, and because Bian Xuedao's appearance and demeanor resembled a character from one of the dramas, she affectionately called him "Uncle." Despite his attempts to correct her, she still called him that.
At 2 a.m., Bian Xuedao had almost finished his shift.
The duty editor-in-chief reminded the proofreading department to do one final check of the proofs.
"Page 1 is fine!"
"Page 2 is fine!"
"Page 3 is fine!"
...
"Page 11 is fine!"
"Page 12 is fine!"
...
"The metro special edition is fine!"
At 2:15 a.m., the proofs were finalized.
The drive home took less than 20 minutes, with little traffic.
The metro special edition was finally done. Bian Xuedao should have felt relieved, but as he gripped the steering wheel, he couldn't shake a feeling of mild frustration.
Maybe it was just the recent stress.
He turned on the music, and Shinedown's "Miracle" played.
It was a habit of Bian Xuedao's: to play energetic rock songs to stay awake on his drives home. He kept two bands' albums in his car, one from Shinedown and the other from Nickelback. Bian Xuedao had already decided to take Xu Shangxiu and a few friends to KTV this weekend for a night of singing.
It was only after starting work that Bian Xuedao realized he had a talent for singing.
During the first two years of his job, when he was stressed and unhappy, he used singing as a way to relax. Before marriage, sometimes he'd go alone, singing any song he could, even if he couldn't reach the notes, singing so loudly he almost ran out of breath. Then one day, for some reason, he suddenly figured out a new vocal technique.
After that, he won the top prize at the union's annual party for three years in a row, with high-pitched songs that outperformed the rest of the group, which led to him using the prize money to buy his car.
When he was almost home, he came across a car accident.
An SUV had collided with a taxi at an intersection. The SUV seemed fine, but the people in the taxi looked like they might not make it.
Bian Xuedao slowed down and silently looked at the rearview mirror, thinking about the unpredictability of life.
As a semi-buddhist, he silently chanted "Namo Da Yuan Dizang Wang Bodhisattva" several times, praying for the people in both vehicles, while calming his own mind.
When he got home, perhaps due to seeing the accident, Bian Xuedao didn't feel sleepy at all.
He tucked the blanket around Xu Shangxiu and quietly closed the bedroom door. After washing up, he sat down on the sofa, turned on the TV, muted the sound, and silently watched the images change on the screen.
"Buzz." His tinnitus started again.
After a few seconds, Bian Xuedao suddenly felt his eyelids grow heavy. A strong wave of sleepiness hit him like a tidal wave.
Then, his senses began to retreat, his perception narrowing like a receding tide. The images on the screen slowed down, and every movement of the characters seemed to use a 10x slow-motion effect.
Gradually, the colors on the screen faded to black and white, the images becoming blurry.
He felt himself float a little, then float some more... and then, he really floated up.
Uh...
Here comes another strange dream!