novelnext Chapter 70 Turning the Tables
Chapter 70 Turning the Tables
Chapter 70 Turning the Tables (Total 16500 words published)
Pittsburgh City Hall, Mayor's Office.
Martin Cartwright sat behind his desk, while his campaign manager, Scott Reed, stood in front of him, waving a stack of freshly printed reports, his voice brimming with excitement.
"Boss, everything is going according to plan." Reed placed the report on the table. "This is the latest poll data. Wallace's approval rating has stagnated for three consecutive days, and even dropped by two percentage points this morning."
"Our racial strategy is working; the white blue-collar workers are starting to waver. They don't trust Wallace, and in the Black community, the rumors of him being a 'white savior' are making it difficult for him to get anywhere."
Reed took a sip of water and continued.
"More importantly, the Finance Bureau's freeze order has played a significant role. Construction at the South District site has been halted for three days, which is Wallace's lifeline. The workers are not receiving their wages, and their resentment is building."
Cartwright listened to the report, but his face did not show the joy that Reed had expected.
"Don't underestimate him, Scott," Cartwright said calmly. "That young man is like a slippery eel; every time I think I've got him in my grasp, he always finds a crack in the wall and slips away."
He stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and his eyes became deep.
"What is he waiting for?"
"Why hasn't he taken any action in the face of our administrative strangulation? He should sue us for abusing our power, or mobilize those workers to protest in front of the city hall."
"These are the normal reactions, but he was too quiet."
This silence made Cartwright uneasy.
At this very moment, at the campaign headquarters in the prefab houses of the South District.
Karen frowned as she watched the poll numbers decline, Frank smoked in the corner, and Sarah stared at the comments on the computer screen accusing Leo of "betraying the revolution," her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to reply.
Cartwright's three-pronged approach certainly left the young team bewildered.
Leo stood in front of the Pittsburgh map in his office.
He had been standing here all night.
Roosevelt's voice echoed in his mind all night.
"He wants to assimilate you," Roosevelt's voice rang out. "It's a very ruthless, open scheme."
Leo thought to himself, "Since it's an open conspiracy, we can't hide. If I show anger or rush to distance myself, I'll only appear as a radical opposing for the sake of opposing, and I'll fall into his pre-set trap of 'immaturity'."
“That’s right,” Roosevelt said. “But if you simply accept it, you’ve already lost. Your supporters will see you as a co-opted, as Cartwright’s little brother, which is exactly what he wants—to turn you into a branch of his power system.”
"What should I do?" Leo felt a little anxious. "This seems like a dead end. Refusing is wrong, and accepting is wrong too."
"You're wrong, Leo. This is never a choice between acceptance and rejection; it's a question of who's in control."
"Listen, Leo. What you're worried about now is that your base—those radical young people and angry workers—will question your stance because of Cartwright's praise."
"They'd think: if even that bastard mayor thinks Leo is good, then there must be something wrong with Leo; he's in cahoots with them." That's perfectly normal linear thinking.
"To break this mindset, you can't rely on explanations. The more you explain that you're not right, the more voters will think you are."
"What you need to do is reshape the definition of praise."
"You must turn his praise into a surrender to your principles."
Leo's mind raced: "A surrender document?"
"Yes. Think about it, why would a high-ranking incumbent mayor praise a challenger?" Roosevelt guided Leo's thinking. "In conventional political context, this is an elder supporting a younger person. He is establishing his superior position through praise—'I believe in you, you can take over my position in the future, but for now you still have to listen to me.'"
"This is his current narrative logic."
"What we need to do is completely overturn this logic. We need to interpret his praise as the old-era managers finally realizing their incompetence and having no choice but to bow down and pay homage to the leaders of the new era."
"You must accept his words completely, and not only accept them, but also regard them as a form of repentance."
Roosevelt's voice carried a hint of cunning.
"This brings us to the issue you were just concerned about: how do you address the doubts your supporters have about you? How do you prevent them from thinking you're in cahoots with capital?"
"The answer is simple: you don't join Cartwright's camp, you force Cartwright into your camp, and you bring him in as your subordinate."
"That's called turning the tables."
"Imagine if, during Napoleon's coronation, the Pope praised Napoleon as God's chosen people, would Napoleon have worried that the people would think he was the Pope's lackey?"
Roosevelt answered firmly, "No."
"Because Napoleon took the crown directly from the Pope and put it on his own head. He accepted the Pope's praise, but he accepted it with the air of an emperor."
"You want to be the Napoleon of Pittsburgh."
"You need to cultivate yourself into a nonpartisan leader who tries to unite everyone. This kind of leader has the magnanimity to accommodate everything, including his enemies, but only if the enemies acknowledge your correctness."
"Since Cartwright praised you, it means he acknowledges that your Pittsburgh recovery plan is correct and that your 'work relief' model is effective."
"Since he admits that your approach is correct, it's tantamount to admitting that the approach he's been using for the past eight years is wrong."
"Since he's wrong and you're right, then who should listen to whom?"
Leo's eyes lit up; he had caught the key point in this chain of logic.
"So I not only want to thank him," Leo thought to himself, "I also want to mentor him."
"Absolutely correct," Roosevelt praised.
"This is the key to resolving doubts. When your supporters see that you don't become humble and subservient because of the mayor's praise, but instead stand on a higher level, evaluating or even appointing Cartwright like a teacher to a student, or a future mayor to a retiring employee."
"They won't think you've been bought off; they'll just think: 'Look! Even that arrogant Cartwright has been won over by Leo! Leo is the real boss!'"
"This will greatly satisfy voters' desire for conquest and vanity. They support you just to see you defeat the system. And making the representatives of the system bow down to you is much more satisfying than cursing them in the street."
"As for the centrist and moderate voters, what they see is your tolerance and magnanimity. You didn't engage in partisan strife, you didn't launch vicious attacks, and you were even willing to accept your opponents without holding grudges. This demonstrates your vision as a future mayor."
"Remember, Leo, understanding human nature is the key to persuading voters in elections."
"Most foolish politicians think that elections are a contest of whose policies are better and whose charts are prettier."
"You're so wrong." Roosevelt's tone was filled with regret. "Elections are about feelings, about how to precisely manipulate those most primal switches deep within people's hearts."
"People crave change, yet instinctively fear chaos; people admire the strong, yet also desire to see their benevolence. Your current approach precisely satisfies these two seemingly contradictory aspects of human nature."
"You satisfied the radical party's desire for change with a strong, assertive stance, while simultaneously alleviating the centrist party's fear of chaos with a tolerant invitation. You capitalized on that subtle human psychology—the desire for the thrill of 'winner-takes-all' while also seeking the security of a 'graceful ending.'"
"So, Leo, don't reject his praise."
"Go up on stage and accept it with a beaming smile. Then, in front of the entire city's media, give him a gift in return that he absolutely cannot swallow."
"Tell him that since he agrees with your ideas so much, then you should formally invite him to [the event] after he loses the election."
Join your team after I step down as mayor.
"Schedule him for a position. For example—a special advisor to the Citizens' Advisory Committee."
"Tell everyone that you are willing to be in this committee and teach this former mayor, step by step, what true public service is and what true urban revitalization is."
"You should use this method to turn his flattery into your own coronation."
"You need to make him understand that on the Pittsburgh chessboard, you are the only one who sets the rules. He wants to play this hypocritical political game? Fine, then use a more sophisticated form of hypocrisy to leave him with nowhere to run."
"If he refuses your invitation, he's slapping himself in the face. He said he admired you yesterday, but today he's unwilling to work for you, which means his praise yesterday was hypocritical and he's a liar."
"If he accepts, of course he can't accept it; that would be tantamount to directly acknowledging you as the next mayor."
.
"No matter what he chooses, he's already lost."
"That's the art of politics, boy. Catching the enemy's bullets, reloading them, and firing back with even more firepower."
Leo turned around.
His eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze was frighteningly bright.
"Sarah, inform the media," Leo's voice broke the silence in the office. "I'm holding a press conference in two hours."
"What's it about?" Sarah asked instinctively. "Are we going to refute the mayor's praise?"
"No," Leo said, a smile playing on his lips. "We should thank him."
Two hours later.
Inside the mayor's office, a television on the wall was broadcasting live footage from a local Pittsburgh news channel.
This was a press conference that Leo's team had announced in advance, and the venue was a studio rented by the television station.
Cartwright sat back in his chair, lit a cigar, and squinted at the screen.
He was in no hurry.
In his view, this was nothing more than the prey's last struggle before being caught.
He thought he would see an enraged Leo, a young man who lost his composure in front of the camera, angrily accusing the mayor of conspiracy, a political novice forced to speak recklessly by public pressure.
But he was wrong.
On screen, Leo Wallace is still wearing that iconic old suit, but his hair is meticulously combed.
He stood under the spotlight in the studio, composed and exuding a calm aura.
Behind him, on the huge electronic screen, was a high-definition screenshot of a news article—the front-page headline of the City Tribune, in which Cartwright praised Rio as "the pride of Pittsburgh."
Leo gave the camera a confident smile.
Good afternoon, everyone.
"Today, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Mayor Martin Cartwright for holding this press conference."
Cartwright's hand, holding the cigar, froze in mid-air.
Leo's voice continued to come from the television.
"Thank you, Mayor, for giving such high praise to our Pittsburgh Revitalization Plan in a public setting."
"This is not only an affirmation of my personal life, but more importantly, it proves a fact."
Leo turned around and pointed to the large screen behind him, his expression turning serious.
"This proves that even establishment officials like Mayor Cartwright, who represent the old system and old ways of thinking, have to admit, when faced with undeniable facts, that the path we have been adhering to is Pittsburgh's only future."
"The mayor's praise is actually a public endorsement of our progressive ideas. This shows that even he has realized that his approach over the past eight years is no longer working."
Cartwright's lips twitched.
But that's not the most fatal thing.
On television, Leo abruptly changed the subject, leaning forward, placing his hands on the podium, and looking directly into the camera lens.
"Since the mayor so agrees with my ideas and appreciates my work ability so much..."
"Therefore, I extend a formal invitation to Mr. Cartwright here, in front of all the citizens of Pittsburgh."
Leo extended his hand, making an inviting gesture.
"I cordially invite Mr. Martin Cartwright to join my Citizens' Advisory Committee after he leaves office as mayor."
"I believe that after he hands over the management of the city to me, with his many years of experience, we will definitely be able to find a suitable position for him to continue contributing in the new municipal government."
"I will personally help him learn in this committee and teach him how to truly and practically serve the people."
With a loud "bang".
Cartwright's cigar fell onto the table, then rolled onto his trouser leg, burning a black hole in it.
He stared intently at the screen.
Leo did not refute his praise; he accepted it entirely and went even further.
Leo constructs a completely new narrative framework: Cartwright praises him because Cartwright is old and incapable, and is bowing to the future new king.
Leo positioned himself as the "future mayor," while placing Cartwright in the position of a "retiring old man" and a "subordinate who needs to be educated."
For his supporters, Leo's rhetoric sent a clear message: Look, even the mayor has bowed to our truth; I am educating him, not siding with him.
For centrist voters, Leo displayed a nonpartisan leadership style.
He is magnanimous, confident, and already exudes the aura of a successor.
As for Cartwright himself...
He was put on the hot seat.
All he could do was ignore it.
Scott Reed stood to the side, mouth agape, face pale.
On television, Leo finished speaking and turned to leave.
What is left to the audience is a confident, determined, and all-encompassing figure.
Cartwright frantically patted the sparks off his pants.
The air was filled with the smell of burning.
After the initial panic subsided, Cartwright's face did not show the kind of furious rage one would expect.
Instead, as he stared at the screen gradually dimming, a hint of admiration appeared in his eyes.
"pretty."
Cartwright said in a low voice.
"That was a brilliant move—using someone else's strength against them, turning the tables on them."
He turned his head and glanced at Scott, the campaign manager beside him who looked like a fool, his disdain undisguised.
"This is definitely not a trick that kid could come up with, Scott."
"Who could come up with such a response?!"
Cartwright took a deep breath; he finally realized what he was facing.
"This is a response only a top-notch political strategist could make; this is textbook-level public relations."
"It seems the rumors are true. That old bastard Murphy really went all out, lending that kid his best team of staff in Washington."
"As expected of an elite from Washington," Cartwright sneered. "His actions are truly exceptional."
He realized he had made a huge mistake.
He underestimated his opponent's intelligence and the power behind him.
But it's okay, this is just one round.
The competition is far from over.
>