The Federal people's emotions were crude.
The emotions of people all over the world were crude.
Perhaps this had something to do with language.
When language could not perfectly convey the subtle changes in one's inner emotions and could only summarize everything in one or two simple words,
the emotions of the humans who spoke that language as their mother tongue were also simple and crude.
They would never say something as poetic as "A tiger rests in one's heart while one delicately sniffs a rose." They would only say, "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
That was how the Federal people were. That was how everyone in the world was.
One or two words, three to five words—everyone used them.
From the homeless man who had just gotten off work by the roadside, to the Middle Class sitting in front of their televisions, and then to some capitalists.
Everyone's emotions were direct, simple, and concise.
Mr. Truman spent five hours laying out the Federal past and future before the people. He did not use many flowery words.
He could not have used them anyway.
He simply described everything in relatively plain and direct language, yet that alone was enough to shake everyone's nerves! The people's cheers seemed to possess an unbelievable contagiousness and reach. Even in the VIP stands, some people's emotions were stirred up and carried along.
Lin Qi lit a cigarette and watched Mr. Truman on the giant screen. He was an extraordinary man.
If someone were to rename a chapter of Federal history, then this period of history would be called the "Truman Era."
The people had not come to hate him because of Joanna's scandal. At least, those who had come here did not hate him that much.
Watching him stand there, standing in