He fiercely criticized the Manchu scholar clique and the twelve emperors of the Qing Dynasty.

"Thirty percent, I will deposit this money into your designated account on time after the monthly billing."

Zhao Shuyao's words fell in the office.

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Sitting in a folding chair, Director Wang suddenly dropped the black ballpoint pen he was holding. The plastic pen barrel hit the wooden table with a crisp sound and rolled down the tilted table to the ground. He didn't even bend down to pick it up; his gaze was fixed on Zhao Shuyao's face.

The master sat directly behind the desk, looking into Zhao Shuyao's clear eyes.

He had been involved in the entertainment and charity circles of Beijing for decades and had seen too many so-called huge donations, with Forbes-listed billionaires holding up checks for five million at charity galas.

Five million may seem like an astonishing figure, but for those people's Ponzi schemes, it's less than one-thousandth of their total investment. In essence, it's just an extremely cost-effective public relations and marketing expense.

When ordinary people encounter major disasters, donating ten or one hundred yuan is an act of kindness and won't affect their breakfast the next day.

However, in special circumstances, it is permissible for someone to donate a large sum of money. For example, someone could set aside 30 percent of their current and future income as a long-term, monthly fixed expense for charity.

This does not hold true in the instinctive logic of humans to seek advantage and avoid harm.

Earning 10,000 a month and donating 3,000, earning 100,000 a month and donating 30,000, is not a donation; it is a long-term process of cutting off one's own flesh and blood to fill the lives of others.

The expert's eye muscles twitched slightly, and he drew a judgment from Zhao Shuyao's extremely steady breathing and relaxed posture.

The young man in his early twenties in front of me was not joking, nor was he making a verbal promise on impulse.

The hero didn't hesitate for long; he quickly raised his hand and waved it forcefully in mid-air.

"Zhao Shuyao," the hero's voice lost its previous composure, his speech noticeably faster, "I truly appreciate your kindness, really, but thirty percent of the income is simply too much."

The swordsman leaned forward, placing his hands on the edge of the table, his gaze becoming extremely serious: "You're still a student, about to graduate, about to enter society, facing the most practical issues like buying a house, starting a family, and making a living, don't you?"

Zhao Shuyao watched the hero quietly without interrupting.

"When it comes to charity, it's about doing your best and doing it gradually over time." Seeing that Zhao Shuyao didn't react, the hero continued to lay out his attitude completely. "You can't let charity make your life miserable. If your quality of life drops significantly because of this donation, then you've put the cart before the horse."

The master pointed to the filing cabinet in the corner, his tone revealing an unwavering determination.

"I don't want my donors to be living beyond their means to do charity. This is the bottom line I have adhered to for the past ten years. If that's the case, I don't want you to do it, and I absolutely cannot accept you doing it."

These words were spoken without reservation. Despite being burdened with huge debts and desperately short of money to keep the project running, the hero still chose to refuse a donation.

After listening, Zhao Shuyao leaned back on the sofa and sat up straight.

Instead of refuting, he raised his hands and clapped twice, the applause sounding particularly crisp in the simple office.

"Great hero." Zhao Shuyao's lips curled up, his eyes full of admiration. "As expected of someone who has played a great hero, your thoughts and level of understanding are truly admirable. The fact that you can still speak to this extent in your current situation shows that my trip to Yanjing today was definitely worthwhile."

Zhao Shuyao withdrew his hand, leaned forward slightly, and spoke in an extremely calm tone: "But the more you say that, the more I want to donate. You're worried that I'll overspend, because you have no idea about my future income curve. I believe my income will definitely keep growing, and I have absolute confidence in the opportunities of this era."

The hero frowned, preparing to continue trying to dissuade him.

Gu Nanxi, who had been sitting quietly to the side, put down the paper cup in her hand. She glanced at the hero, and her clear voice rang out in the office, interrupting the hero's thoughts.

"Hero, please don't try to persuade him anymore." Gu Nanxi had a slight smile on her lips. "Just now downstairs, I asked him the same question as you. I asked him if he really earns a million a month in the future, would he still insist on donating 30% of it?"

Director Wang bent down to pick up the pen, but as he straightened up, he heard these words and his movement froze in mid-air.

The hero turned his gaze to Gu Nanxi, awaiting the next installment.

Gu Nanxi turned her head and glanced at Zhao Shuyao, then looked back at the hero: "Guess what he said? He said that once his income really reaches a million, he will take out half of his income to do this. He has even calculated the accounts: he will keep 500,000 for himself and give the remaining 500,000 to you."

After those words were spoken, the office fell completely silent.

The hero's hands froze on the table as he looked at Gu Nanxi's calm face, confirming that she wasn't exaggerating. Then, he very slowly shifted his gaze back to Zhao Shuyao's face.

Earning a million a month, he takes out half of it.

A complex emotion, indescribable in words, welled up in the hero's chest. It was the immense shock of someone who had been walking in the mud for a long time and suddenly encountered a kindred spirit, a kindred spirit who was even purer than himself.

He wanted to say something, but found that any conventional words of thanks seemed utterly inadequate at this moment.

The hero suddenly stood up from the folding chair, walked around the desk, strode to Zhao Shuyao, and stretched out his hands to tightly grasp Zhao Shuyao's hands.

He didn't speak, but the pressure on his hand kept increasing, and the veins on the back of his hand were clearly visible.

Feeling the pressure on his hand, Zhao Shuyao patted the swordsman's hand in return, his tone very carefree.

"Hero, please don't overthink it." Zhao Shuyao looked into the hero's eyes. "By putting the money with you to help you, I'm actually helping myself as well."

Zhao Shuyao withdrew his hand and pointed to the street outside the window.

"I just told Nanxi downstairs that when you live alone, strip away all the fancy stuff, it's really just about three meals a day and a bed, right? My hometown is in a rural area of ​​northern Jiangsu, and my parents are still working on a construction site in Suzhou. I've never experienced that kind of extravagant life, and I don't need it."

Zhao Shuyao spread his hands, looking extremely natural: "So, for me, a good standard of living is enough if I have enough to eat and wear, and can afford to buy a few books to read."

"Those extra numbers, if not used to do something worthwhile, are meaningless except to prove that I once existed in the bank account. I don't need to care about them."

As the hero listened to Zhao Shuyao's extremely simple yet insightful views on materialism, his eyes welled up slightly. He took a deep breath and suppressed his emotions.

"As expected." The hero nodded heavily, his voice slightly hoarse. "As expected of a new youth who deserves to be singled out for promotion, Zhao. To be honest, after being in this circle for so long, I've seen too many people who spout empty words of morality. Hearing what you said today makes me feel ashamed of myself."

"You're exaggerating," Zhao Shuyao waved his hand and stood up. "I should learn from you. You're facing such great difficulties right now, with creditors blocking your door every day, yet you still insist on sitting here, doing these thankless things for those sick children."

Zhao Shuyao's gaze swept around the simple office, his tone firm: "Seeing you like this, I can't be lazy anymore. When I get back, I have to work hard, write more articles and shoot more videos. The more data I have, the more numbers I can transfer."

The hero smiled, and the fatigue on his face vanished in that instant.

With the business settled, the atmosphere in the office completely relaxed. Director Wang quickly grabbed two clean paper cups, filled them with hot water from the water dispenser, and carried them to the coffee table.

The four of them sat down again.

Zhao Shuyao picked up the freshly poured hot water and his gaze fell on the weathered face of the hero behind the desk. He recalled the entertainment industry history of the past few years from his previous life. The power struggles hidden behind the gossip news often revealed the most authentic pulse of the times.

"Great hero." Zhao Shuyao put down his water glass, then changed the subject, his tone becoming inquisitive. "When we were chatting earlier, you mentioned that you stopped hanging out with those people in the Beijing circle after filming 'Guanzhong Gunshots'."

The hero was drinking water when he heard the title of the play and paused slightly.

"I studied history, and I'm very interested in these kinds of old stories in the industry." Zhao Shuyao leaned back, finding a comfortable position, and fixed his gaze on the hero.

"If I remember correctly, that was a major production several years ago, with a very strong cast and crew. Did you and these people from Yanjing fall out just because of that drama, 'The Gunshots of Guanzhong'?"