Pessimism

Snowflakes drifted down, white as jade, like messengers sent by God to shower blessings upon the faithful.

Parisian residents, cooped up indoors, poured out of their homes and frolicked in the snow with their children, savoring this wonderful time to the fullest.

To the people of Paris, "snow" was a rare sight. In Medicis's memory, the last snowfall in Paris had been many years ago.

As for exactly how many years, Medicis could no longer remember. To those struggling with hunger and cold, "snow" was no good thing—nothing worth commemorating.

This year was an exception. The dividends brought by the Prusso-Russian War had not been enjoyed by Austria alone; France had also reaped lavish rewards.

Against the backdrop of booming economic prosperity, France's social tensions had eased. Most visibly, life had become easier for the people of Paris.

Medicis felt this more keenly than anyone. As the owner of a small newsstand, he had his own unique way of judging such things.

Most French people were keen on politics. So long as their finances allowed it, they subscribed to several newspapers. To some extent, newspaper sales also reflected France's economy.

In this regard, Parisians had every reason to be proud. French newspaper sales had ranked first in the world for years, with Parisians accounting for half of that total.

If global newspaper sales were ranked, one would reach an interesting conclusion: France > Austria > Britain > Paris.

This was not some joke or punchline. It had truly happened.

The political sensitivity of Parisians could be called the highest in the world. If one wanted to tell a Parisian from a countryman, all one had to do was see whether he commented on political news.

"Medicis, I'm here to pick up my newspapers."

A familiar voice rang out, pulling Medicis