Chapter 127: Truth and Deception Intertwined

Zhuang Chen grew increasingly solemn as he listened. Having been a firsthand witness to many events, his feelings ran deep, yet hearing it all spoken directly still stirred a complex mix of emotions within him.

“I have hosted several expert teams, two of which were led by master’s supervisors from well-known domestic universities. Communicating with them was painful—I’d rather not recall the details—but the whole experience felt like a classic historical tale…”

“During the reign of Emperor Hui of Jin, Sima Zhong, a famine struck, and many people starved to death. After hearing reports from ministers about the starving populace, Emperor Hui, secluded deep within the palace, proposed a solution: since the people had no grain to fill their bellies, why not eat minced meat instead?”

Ding Wei scoffed, “Some so-called experts are just like Emperor Hui. They stay locked away in their ivory towers, utterly ignorant of the industry’s realities and frontline hardships. They spend all day designing plans behind closed doors, lecturing endlessly until they believe their own words are gospel.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad if they only spouted impractical ideas. The real problem is when they represent relevant departments to conduct research and then draft plans meant to directly guide practice. I’ve seen those plans—they left me cold and disheartened.”

“It’s like certain entertainment companies behind some stars, constantly stirring up news every so often. When there isn’t any, they manufacture scandals just to maintain visibility with investors and the public, which helps them secure roles and higher pay.”

“In the end, the sad conclusion is this: experts, big or small, just need to stay grounded. Better yet, don’t mislead the relevant departments; best of all, don’t mislead the public. And if they can just keep quiet, that would be the conscience of the industry.”

Zhuang Chen couldn’t help but smile bitterly, a wave of sadness washing over him.

“Experts know perfectly well that what the departments really want is not a report that identifies, analyzes, and solves problems, but the authority, legitimacy, and scientific correctness behind the report.”

“If an expert is truly inexperienced, they might insist on including their candid insights in the report, making it difficult for the department to handle or implement, causing embarrassment. But would a real novice ever become an expert?”

“Usually, they understand the social game very well. Being invited is just an act, a performance. If you don’t cooperate, will everyone still want to play nicely together later?”

“No one’s foolish; everyone knows the drill. Happily traveling across the country with their graduate students, doing no real work themselves, just showing up to make an appearance. A few projects a year, easily pocketing two or three million yuan, under the guise of research fees, consultancy fees, project fees—actually just payment for the performance.”

Ding Wei exhaled deeply, and the two lapsed into a brief silence. Then she said, “In truth, any industry, after some time developing, will undergo polarization. The public welfare sector is no exception, but in China, this divide seems excessively stark, with glaring contrasts.”

“Some institutions and practitioners seem to live high above in the clouds, while grassroots organizations languish in the abyss below. Each busily tending to their own affairs, the cloud dwellers unaware of the abyss’s hardships, the abyss oblivious to the chill of the clouds, day ignorant of night’s darkness.”

Zhuang Chen nodded in resonance. The “cloud” mainly referred to organizations with official backing or foundations, while the “abyss” was the struggling grassroots groups. The former are lofty and prestigious; the latter, humble and impoverished.

Working at a foundation, especially an international one, usually requires foreign language skills and often a master’s or doctoral degree. For many grassroots organizations, barely scraping by, living hand to mouth, anyone with two legs, who can breathe and endure hardship, is considered talent.

“At the end of 2014, a forum on the development of non-public fundraising foundations was held in the capital. An industry heavyweight confidently declared: ‘If an earthquake struck here today, the domestic public welfare cause could regress by ten years!’”

“Amusingly, at almost the same time, a group of grassroots public welfare organizations were gathering, convinced they are the backbone of the industry. They took a certain foundation as a target of criticism. For example, in earlier years, this foundation’s children’s projects struggled to raise funds, but after a major disaster, donations flooded in, leading the foundation to drastically cut children’s programs in favor of disaster relief.”

“To us grassroots folks, their strategic shift boils down to money. For money’s sake, they halted once-glorified projects on a whim, then dressed themselves up in grandeur and splendor, yet their actions were no different from profiteering merchants.”

“In the U.S., some foundation heads earn more than the president. Here, a foundation department manager’s annual salary might be counted in tens of thousands of yuan—possibly the entire yearly budget of a grassroots group, not to mention the team, work environment, networks, and connections. They’re on entirely different levels.”

Ding Wei shook her head helplessly. “Forget it. These lofty truths are nice to hear but useless in practice.”

Zhuang Chen stood, refilled her coffee, and asked, “How do you select your aid recipients?”

Ding Wei accepted the cup with both hands, thanked him, then replied seriously, “We usually have several criteria. Children who proactively provide student IDs, teacher contacts, household registration, and local police contacts are highly likely in urgent need of financial help.”

“For them, having a meal is far more important than personal privacy. And as orphans with nothing, there’s really little to be deceived about—except in cases involving traffickers.”

“Those who are eloquent and tearfully plead poverty are 100% frauds. Truly distressed children, over time, lose confidence quickly, become tongue-tied, unclear in speech, and have confused logic.”

“I still remember my first case: a ten-year-old girl named Little Peacock, the very one in this photo.” Ding Wei pulled out her phone and showed the picture. “Her mother disappeared, and her father was severely disabled and unable to do anything. Though their home was empty, the daughter was still her father’s beloved treasure.”

“That kind of devotion is something only a father can fully understand. Even penniless, he believed only the very best in the world was worthy of his daughter.”

“Every winter, without any heating at all, life in northern China was a long, grueling ordeal. Eventually, he was forced to post online, hoping to find someone to take the child in.”

“He posted twice, but thankfully no one wanted to adopt Little Peacock. Later, the father reached out to me for help with heating. The next day, I ordered a Midea oil-filled radiator via Taobao. Considering the heater was bulky and delivery slow, I also sent thermal underwear and a hot water bag the same day.”

“Two points left a deep impression on me: Little Peacock’s father was not greedy at all. After sending the heating supplies, I asked if they needed anything else. I expected him to say yes—at least the electricity bill would be high, as heaters consume a lot.”

“But each time, he answered firmly: no, we don’t need anything else. Still, I’d send small things occasionally, just in case. In contrast, other children who later contacted me always answered ‘money’ when asked what they needed.”

“After paying many school fees and investigating, I finally understood they weren’t orphans, just from struggling families.”

Looking at the girl’s contented smile in the photo, Ding Wei became emotional. “The father only ever talked about his daughter, never himself. As long as she was fed and warm, he was satisfied. To others, maybe just a humble disabled man, but as a father, absolutely heroic!”

Suddenly, Zhuang Chen’s eyes reddened. Overcome with emotion, he clenched his fists tightly, fighting back tears.

Ding Wei, sensitive to his change, refrained from probing further, since it was their first meeting. She shifted the topic: “Do you know how children in underdeveloped areas view volunteer teachers? And how do these teachers see themselves?”

“My first day, full of hope and passion, I came to the mountain region dreaming of changing the children’s lives. But on that very first day, a student bluntly asked: ‘Teacher, when are you leaving?’”

“I said: ‘I’m not leaving!’”

“The students said: ‘No, that’s not right.’”

“Puzzled, I asked: ‘Why not?’”

“They said: ‘Every teacher before you left after a few months.’”

“I promised: ‘I’m different from them. I’m staying!’”

“The students fell silent for a long moment, then softly said: ‘Others have said that too, but they all left in the end…’”

“We didn’t dare to believe anymore…”