Chapter 28: The Dagger Revealed

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That was certainly the truth. Every article Liang Feng produced for "Seeking Truth from Falsehood" was meticulously crafted, consistently churning out at least one piece with over a hundred thousand views every month.

With his official account as the anchor, he distributed content across various social media platforms, occasionally mixing in a few paid articles—a strategy that could be described as blossoming everywhere.

Yet, in stark contrast, his income could barely sustain the difficult operations of his small company of a dozen employees.

It was precisely because he insisted on maintaining a stance of resistance against capital that he refused to lower himself to accept its support. Moreover, given Liang Feng’s temperament, he would never allow his writing to be led by the nose for the sake of petty, short-term profits.

"But capital doesn’t just want to sell products, you know."

Finally getting to the point, Yun Hai casually revealed the high-end watch on his wrist, worth over a hundred thousand.

"My official account averages only a few thousand views, sometimes not even ten thousand. But as long as the content hits the mark, there are plenty of ways to monetize. With the follower base of 'Seeking Truth from Falsehood,' you wouldn't even need to change your writing style—just a slight adjustment, and you could be buying a new car within a month."

As he spoke, Liang Feng had already accessed Yun Hai’s official account via the QR code on his business card. He skimmed through a few recent articles and let out a disdainful scoff: "The 'enlightened intellectual' trope? That’s from some magazine back in the last century; it doesn't work anymore."

Yun Hai did not argue back. "Businessmen are just profit-driven. These universal values aren't wrong, and deep reflection isn't wrong either. As long as it allows one to live better, why not do it?"

"Universal values? That term sounds unhealthy. You'd be better off calling it the 'Brainwashing Method'."

"That’s because we cannot change the world. Isn't it normal to accept what you cannot change? One knows their own joys and sorrows—what is the point of stubbornly clinging to so-called truths? 'Brainwashing' sounds derogatory, but persuasion isn't always a bad thing. When we were children, we persuaded ourselves to study, telling ourselves there was no way out if we didn't. When we grow up, we persuade ourselves to work, knowing we'll have no money if we don't. Isn't that, in its own way, a form of brainwashing?"

Liang Feng shook his head. "Save those words for the fools. I know what you’re really up to. I’m not exposing you only because I lack evidence, but coating a cannonball in sugar doesn’t turn it into a candy. You are not our friends."

Yun Hai hadn't expected this guy to be so stubborn.

Indeed, he had come with a purpose, but he had also come with real money in hand. Being looked down upon because his moral alignment was questioned was understandable, but being looked down upon for earning money was a joke.

Since that was the case, it was time for a stronger dose of medicine.

"Teacher Liang, why do you think 'Breaking the Cocoon' has such high traffic today? They pour money into opening up new tracks, constantly buying traffic and running splash screen advertisements on various apps. What are they profiting from? Do you really think it’s from user tips?"

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Liang Feng frowned almost imperceptibly.

He had indeed considered this question before. "Yellow Lantern" kept signing young, naive streamers, forcing them to squeeze money out of their fans. But "Breaking the Cocoon’s" expenses were far greater than "Yellow Lantern’s," yet he had never heard of such tactics there.

He had originally assumed that the traffic brought in by "Yellow Lantern’s" bottom-of-the-barrel content was what caught the advertisers' attention.

Listening to Yun Hai now, it seemed far less simple than that.

Yun Hai knew he had understood, so he continued naturally: "An ant trying to shake a tree is miserable enough. But what if there’s a high wall backing the tree? Tell me, how long can that ant keep up the fight?"

Liang Feng almost laughed.

"Yellow Lantern" and "Breaking the Cocoon," these two old rivals—one relying on sleazy content to make money, the other on bottomless tactics to game the traffic—he thought he had seen the limit.

He hadn't expected there to be something even deeper at play.

"I should have recorded this."

Yun Hai raised an eyebrow. "Secret recordings aren't admissible as evidence; surely you know that, given your long history of researching the law. But if you were to release it, it would become ironclad proof of you slandering a competitor."

"You spent so much time studying abroad just to learn how to make money while abandoning your conscience?"

Yun Hai chuckled.

"Teacher Liang, I don't know why you have so much hostility toward me. I have never written a single article slandering anyone or anything. On the contrary, I’ve always encouraged my fans to be optimistic and positive. You have my account; when you're free, why not take a look? Drawing from the strengths of others is part of our professional standard as media workers. If you ever find yourself unable to make ends meet, add me on WeChat, and I’ll give you a quote."

Yun Hai didn't linger. He gestured with his glass and turned to leave. Three points of conversation were enough. To be honest, Yun Hai had lied—he was indeed representing "Breaking the Cocoon," or rather, the people above "Breaking the Cocoon."

Well, even if it didn't work out, there was no harm done.

Internet traffic thrives on conflict. Having such a "standard-bearer of justice" constantly watching "Breaking the Cocoon" and picking fights—how could that not be considered buzz for them?

"Breaking the Cocoon" was constantly stirring up opposition across various platforms; how could they not know that the ultimate killing blow is to enter the game oneself?

Those self-righteous dissenters were, in the end, just a part of the play.

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...

The night grew deeper.

The light snow from the evening had stopped, and the streets seemed even muddier than before.

The lights of the hotel, which had been noisy all night, were dimming one by one, and heavily tinted business cars drove past the entrance one after another.

In the corner of the fire escape, two figures—a man and a woman—flickered next to the glowing green "Emergency Exit" sign.

"You really aren't worried at all, are you? Do you have any idea that if you had arrived any later, that guy named Ma would have dragged me away by force!"

"We live in a society governed by law, don't overthink it. No one dares to kidnap someone in broad daylight."

"Overthinking? You know exactly what level of producer he is! If I dare to resist him today, tomorrow my smear pieces will be all over every major and minor website! No one will ever hand me a script again!"

"That won't happen. The internet isn't anyone's private domain anymore; he won't go to war with your company over such a small matter."

"Zhou Yifan! I am your wife! With this attitude of yours—as if it has nothing to do with you—do you even have me in your heart at all?"

"Keep your voice down!" Zhou Yifan’s brows were furrowed tightly, and he couldn't help but glance at the floors above and below the hallway. "This isn't home; watch your influence."

Yet, who would believe that the person standing in the dim corner of the hotel’s pedestrian corridor in the dead of night was the currently popular starlet, Ai Lian?

Her face was unnaturally flushed from excessive drinking, and her emotions were spiraling out of control. "Watch my influence? Have you ever watched your own? When you were flirting with all those little vixens, did you ever think about watching your influence? Did you ever consider me or our son?"

Zhou Yifan grabbed Ai Lian’s wrist. "You're drunk."

"Let go of me!" Ai Lian shook him off. "My tolerance for alcohol was trained by you yourself. What, no confidence in your own work? Do you think a small scene like this could stump me?"