Chapter Twenty-One: Is It Really Not a Scam?

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Dou Peng felt like he hadn’t fully woken up these past couple of days. The CEO of a major company, after several twists and turns, had somehow contacted him through a friend of his subordinate’s wife’s close friend on a WeChat group, insisting on giving him a large sum of money?

First, the background of the Breakthrough software kept popping up notifications, but Dou Peng didn’t even glance at those little red dots—they were too trivial to bother with. Then, strangers from a large delivery workers’ chat group suddenly added him as a friend. Dou Peng had seen this before—pure scammers—and he rejected them outright.

But what he never expected was that after failing once or twice, the man actually started talking about him openly in the group chat. When Dou Peng saw it, a whole bunch of guys were feverishly tagging him, as if he was about to get promoted, get a raise, and reach the pinnacle of life.

Sending money to him out of the blue?

The group members teased him relentlessly, saying Dou Peng should test the waters because this big shot even said that once Dou Peng made a name for himself, he could bring everyone in the group along to make money.

Dou Peng was almost certain this was a gang of scammers. Either they wanted him to pay a membership fee or trick him into signing a fake contract. Maybe it would start with some grand promises: “You’re great, as long as you give us a hundred thousand yuan, we’ll make you a god.”

Yet, the so-called big boss’s choice of a high-end restaurant for their meeting was truly upscale. Having delivered there a few times and seen menus with no dish under three digits, Dou Peng, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to get a free meal, still decided to show up.

After all, there was no way they’d ask him to pay; tricking a trickster sounded like a fun game.

But now, looking at the man opposite him, Dou Peng was a little bewildered.

Are scammers this professional these days? Even going so far as to get plastic surgery?

The man, dressed in a sharp suit, spoke seriously: “Young brother, didn’t you check online? I really am Wang Tianxia.”

Dou Peng scrutinized the encyclopedia entry repeatedly: “How much do you make doing this per day? Were you just born to look like him? Are you guys still hiring? Tell me, which big leader do I look like?”

He had to admit, this scammer was truly convincing.

Just by looking at the online ID photos and the clips of the Breakthrough CEO in interviews, it was extremely difficult to tell them apart from the man sitting in front of him.

Wang Tianxia chuckled: “If I was just trying to scam you, the cost would be way too high. Breakthrough Tower isn’t far from here—I even invited you to the company for a meeting. Could the company be fake? It’s just that you’re not interested in the company, so I suggested meeting here.”

Dou Peng sneered: “Do you take me for a fool? The CEO of a big company has that much free time to handle business in person? If you were a small startup with great benefits, high pay, and a two-month free trip to northern Myanmar, maybe I’d believe it.”

Wang Tianxia genuinely liked Dou Peng’s way of speaking.

That kind of irony without a clear hint—so ambiguous that enemies and friends alike couldn’t tell—is exactly the kind of thing that would stir up both critics and fans, turning the comment section into a battlefield.

Never overestimate the intelligence of netizens!

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They simply don’t care or understand the deeper meaning you want to express. Using literal irony can easily spark flame wars.

Flame wars equal popularity.

“If you were just an ordinary employee, I wouldn’t have come in person. But I see a rising star—a seed of a celebrity with millions of fans.”

Dou Peng rolled his eyes: “No need to paint such a grand picture. I’m not paying any membership fee. Just order me two steaks, but remember to pay first.”

Wang Tianxia quickly formulated a character profile of Dou Peng in his mind: no ambition, let alone drive, and a pessimistic distrust toward everything.

But he was also a frustrated youth, with an extreme, immature sense of justice, and a tendency to chase small gains—more concerned about immediate benefits.

He started by ordering two 1.2-kilogram tomahawk steaks and some standard sides. Wang Tianxia paid the bill promptly, which was unusual in such a restaurant.

“Brother, how much can you make delivering food in a month?”

Seeing the total on the electronic bill, Dou Peng felt a bit embarrassed. He admitted that his monthly salary might not be enough to afford this meal, but the hardworking common people had no business comparing themselves to capitalists.

At least he earned his money honestly, without cheating or scamming.

“Do you get the respect you deserve by earning your money honestly?” Wang Tianxia asked twice in a row.

Dou Peng immediately recalled the unpleasant experience of almost being locked up at the police station and the disdainful looks from wealthy ladies in high-end residences. Suddenly, he lacked confidence.

But admitting it was impossible.

Wang Tianxia didn’t expose him but continued: “But if you pick up a camera, no one dares to bully you.”

This is the Internet era! All power bows before the media!

Nothing fears exposure—no matter how high the authority or how wealthy the background. Trouble exposed online only earns equal scorn.

And the word “exposure” is built on traffic.

“No one will admit all this, but traffic can bring you all the respect you want.”

When internet celebrities’ reputations collapse, there are always people defending them, saying no one is perfect. That young girl in Dou Peng’s video, who accidentally made a mistake and suffered assault and abuse, only deserved to be blamed.

Why?

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Dou Peng caught on: “I just want to give her justice. After all, she didn’t evade responsibility and was even prepared to compensate. Hitting someone is simply wrong.”

“But without your video footage, would she ever hear a word of justice?”

Wang Tianxia was skilled at tailoring his approach to the person. To the ambitious Lin Ke, he painted a vision of divine heights. But with Dou Peng, he first tempted him with benefits, then appealed to his fragile pride, offering him the moral high ground.

“I watched your video. You didn’t just record a simple clip—you’re speaking for the weak, protesting injustice, and you’ve already resonated with ordinary people.

We short video creators aren’t media, but we share the grand ambition of media workers to smooth out all social injustices. Delivery workers are active in every corner of the city. As long as you want, you can expose all the filth to sunlight.”

Wang Tianxia hadn’t planned to step in personally, intending to let the management department handle it. But yesterday, he saw Dou Peng’s response video.

“You can’t tell a dung beetle that shit stinks; revealing the truth only offends the scammers.”

Rough words, but truthful!

That simple sentence, displayed in bold white font on a black video frame, was a straightforward mockery of all the rabble who blindly joined in the insults.

It was as if a lone, unruly hero in the martial world stood up to injustice, then coldly glanced at all the misunderstandings and accusations with contempt for the masses.

Wang Tianxia knew in an instant—this was the man he needed.

This was who Breakthrough needed!

The delivery rider sector of Breakthrough needed young people with a sense of justice and courage to speak out. He wouldn’t cross any red lines or engage in negative fights with netizens, but a single line from him could set the comment section ablaze.

The delivery rider track was built on social hot topics—having such a provocateur meant there was no shortage of buzz.

That’s why Wang Tianxia came in person.

And since he came, failure was simply not an option.