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

The number in the upper left corner of the screen flickered.

Five hundred and twelve people.

For an account that started broadcasting temporarily in a budget hotel without any prior promotion from any platform, this number is already the center of a small storm.

Zhao Shuyao's gaze swept over the scattered bullet comments on the public screen that were still trying to stir up trouble by calling him "heartless" and "selfish," his eyes as calm as if he were looking at a few buzzing flies.

It's clear that PR firms' online trolls only have three tricks up their sleeves. Once the core logic is dissected, all that's left is baseless sophistry and illogical arguments.

"Alright." Zhao Shuyao tapped the cup twice with his slender fingers, making a crisp sound.

The voice seemed to carry a magnetic field, instantly suppressing the slightly restless atmosphere in the live broadcast room.

"Regarding the Tianyin Foundation and other standards for non-governmental charities, I've already laid out my cards on the table." Zhao Shuyao spoke into the microphone, his tone gentle yet carrying an undeniable sense of finality. "Those who understand will understand, and those who pretend not to understand won't understand no matter how many times I explain."

Cross your arms in front of your chest.

"So, that's all for today regarding this issue. I won't be responding to any more related topics. It's late at night, so let's not talk about these disgusting topics."

Zhao Shuyao refocused his gaze on the camera, a unique hint of humor flashing in his eyes: "Let's just chat like we did on Bilibili last time. Feel free to bring up anything you want to talk about, as long as it doesn't exceed the knowledge reserves of this history major."

The comment section was silent for a second, then a counterattack from true fans came. The trolls' rhythm was forcibly cut off, and all sorts of questions began to scroll wildly across the public screen, from "Are Ming Dynasty firearms really effective?" to "Does the streamer even have a girlfriend?" Various characters poured down like a waterfall.

Zhao Shuyao narrowed his eyes, his gaze precisely capturing the rapidly scrolling barrage of comments.

Just then, a long comment, filled with jokes and without any emojis, came into his view.

"Host, I'm a college student from a rural area. I want to ask, what should young people like us, with no background or resources, do in this era to carve out our own path and change our family's fate?"

Zhao Shuyao's gaze sharpened slightly.

This comment didn't have the formulaic feel of a paid troll, nor the affected sentimentality of someone whining; it only conveyed an extremely heavy, almost suffocating sense of bewilderment.

He was all too familiar with this feeling of confusion.

Just a few hours earlier, he was in the dusty Suzhou building materials market, watching Old Zhao's calloused hands pick up a 30-yuan "small sky blue" cigarette, and listening to his mother carefully entrust him with the money she had saved up for half her life to buy a house.

That is a microcosm of the countless lower-class families in the concrete jungle trying to pave the way for the next generation to climb the social ladder with their blood and sweat.

"That's an interesting question."

Without hesitation, Zhao Shuyao locked the mouse pointer directly onto the user with the ID "豫中原野", right-clicked, and invited them to join the live stream.

Meanwhile, in a university dormitory thousands of miles away.

He stared blankly as his comment was instantly drowned out by hundreds of other people's comments. He had only asked casually and hadn't even expected to get a serious response in this live stream full of people having fun.

Suddenly, a notification popped up in the center of the screen: The host "Northeastern University History Department Idle Person" invites you to join a voice chat.

The boy's pupils contracted sharply. He subconsciously glanced around to make sure his roommates were all wearing headphones and playing games before taking a deep breath and clicking "accept" with trembling hands.

The moment the microphone was connected, a slightly heavy breathing was heard amidst the static.

"Teacher Zhao... Teacher Zhao!" The boy's voice was filled with obvious excitement and disbelief. "I never expected that you would see my question, and even... even get me on the microphone."

"Don't be nervous." Zhao Shuyao's voice came through the network, carrying a strange soothing power. He slightly adjusted his posture and leaned forward. "You can't call me Teacher Zhao. We're about the same age. The question you just asked is exactly what I've been thinking about lately."

Zhao Shuyao asked in a calm tone, "If you don't mind, could you briefly tell us about yourself? What's your major, and what's your current situation?"

The boy swallowed hard on the other end of the screen, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts. Two seconds later, he spoke, his voice still carrying a hint of immaturity.

"Teacher Zhao, and everyone in the live stream... I'm from a rural area near a county in central Henan." The boy's voice was thick with local accent. "Back in high school, I worked incredibly hard and finally got into a 211 university in another province, majoring in materials engineering. I'm about to graduate, but..."

The boy paused for a moment, as if what he was about to say weighed a ton.

"But when I go to job fairs and see all those densely packed booths and requirements, I feel incredibly lost. I feel like my family has already emptied their savings to support my education." The boy's voice lowered.

"I don't know if my current diploma is enough to establish myself in this big city, and I don't know when I'll have the opportunity to repay my family."

The chat in the live stream slowed down unusually at that moment.

Without the previous clamor and the online trolls' insults, in 2016, when the mobile internet was just emerging, countless young people hidden behind their screens saw their own equally distressed and helpless reflections in this boy named "Yuzhong Yuanye".

Zhao Shuyao listened quietly without interrupting. He could clearly picture the other person's current state: a young man carrying the expectations of his entire family, standing at a crossroads in his life, looking at the towering class barriers before him, feeling helpless.

After the boy calmed down a bit, Zhao Shuyao slowly spoke.

"Materials Engineering, 211." Zhao Shuyao nodded, his tone devoid of cheap platitudes. "Brother, first of all, I want to congratulate you. You have already earned the most basic ticket to this era through your own efforts."

Before the boy could thank her, Zhao Shuyao abruptly changed the subject, his tone becoming extremely objective and cruel.

"However," Zhao Shuyao tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his rhythm steady, "since you've come to me with this question today, I won't give you any platitudes like 'as long as you work hard, you'll definitely succeed.' I'm going to tell you a historical truth that hasn't changed for thousands of years."

Zhao Shuyao stared at the camera, his eyes clear: "Those from poor families who aspire to great things are always facing a life-or-death struggle."

As soon as those words were spoken, it was as if a cold wind swept through the live broadcast room.

"You have to be mentally prepared. In our family background, there is no capital for trial and error, no backup resources. If you want to leap over the dragon gate, there is never a 100% chance of success. Most children from poor families end up finding a place on the edge of the city and wasting their lives there."

The boy on the other end of the microphone let out a long sigh, his bitterness evident in his voice.

"I know... I know everything." The boy's voice was filled with a deep sense of helplessness. "Actually, it's really too difficult for families like ours to get ahead. In today's society, we no longer have any opportunities for even slightly better resources. It seems like we have no other choice but to work in factories."

The boy's words resonated strongly with the audience.

One of the guys on microphone number two couldn't help but chime in, "Yeah, Mr. Zhao, these days it's really hard for ordinary people to get anything done. We want to start a business but we don't have the capital, we want to find a good job but we don't have the connections. We can only watch those rich kids get investments so easily, while we can only wait and see."

As Zhao Shuyao watched the scrolling comments on the screen, such as "Too difficult" and "Heartbreaking," the image of Old Zhao on the construction site and his mother's weathered smiling face resurfaced in his mind.

I understand this helplessness all too well. The pain of being ground down by life, yet still having to grit your teeth and look up at the stars, is the most resilient and tragic underlying tone of this land's civilization.

"Everyone, that's true. Social classes do exist, and the barriers between them are indeed very strong."

At that moment, Zhao Shuyao's lips slowly curled into an extremely sharp smile, as if it could tear apart this layer of pessimistic gloom.

"However, you've overlooked one thing. In this seemingly monopolistic world, there will always be cracks in the door that let in the wind."

Zhao Shuyao straightened up, clasped his hands together, and exuded confidence: "Actually, there is always an opportunity. I mentioned it in the live broadcast last time, I don't know if everyone noticed."

"For us poor kids, if we want to accumulate initial capital in the shortest amount of time and change our family's fate, putting aside the unrealistic fantasy of winning the lottery, there are basically only two paths in reality."

Zhao Shuyao held up two fingers.

"First, start your own business, catch the right trend, and even a pig can fly." He withdrew one finger. "But I won't go into detail about this path today, because for most ordinary people, it's suicide."

"So, today we'll only talk about the second path." Zhao Shuyao's gaze pierced through the screen as he uttered that word, one word at a time: "Go do business."

There was a moment of silence in the live stream.

Immediately afterwards, the comments section exploded like a powder keg.

"Doing sales? Isn't that just running around doing pitches and selling insurance?"

"Teacher Zhao, are you kidding me? This is what you call a way to change your fate? That's so low-level!"

"I'm a graduate from a prestigious 211 university, and you want me to go door-to-door selling things? I can't bear the embarrassment!"

"It requires no technical skills; anyone can do it. What kind of future is that?"

Zhao Shuyao looked at the screen full of disdain and doubt, but he wasn't angry. Instead, he felt like he was seeing a group of bookworms whose eyes were blinded by traditional ideas.

"Low-end, no technical content, anyone can do it?" Zhao Shuyao shook his head repeatedly, his laughter carrying a condescending and insightful tone.

"Comrades, you take the word 'business' too lightly and too simply."

Zhao Shuyao leaned forward, his tone becoming extremely authoritative, and began to dissect the concept.

"You think that doing business means wearing a suit and tie and handing out flyers in the subway station, and being scolded by customers every day while still having to smile and beg. You think that hurts your dignity."

Zhao Shuyao slammed his fingers heavily on the table.

"But in the real business world, what is business? Business is the lifeline of a company, the only channel to monetize its products, and the place closest to money!"

"You say it has no barriers to entry, and that's true; even those with low education can do it. But to say it lacks technical content is a huge mistake! How do you understand a client's psychological defenses within ten minutes? How do you secure a contract amidst attacks from several competitors? How do you turn a dead end around? This requires extremely high levels of insight into human nature, resilience under pressure, and resource integration capabilities!"

Zhao Shuyao's gaze was piercing: "I can tell you responsibly here that as long as you choose a reasonably profitable industry, work for a decent company, and grit your teeth to become one of the top performers, what does it mean to change your destiny?"

He spread his hands, giving an extremely straightforward answer: "Tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of yuan in commission per month, a six-figure bonus at the end of the year, and the ability to buy a house in a second-tier city outright within five years."

"This is reality! In this position, nobody cares about your background, nobody cares if you graduated from a 211 university. The only bargaining chip is your performance. This is the only meat grinder the poor can fight for!"

These words, like a resounding bell, left the Henan boy on the microphone speechless, and the viewers in the live stream were also somewhat bewildered by this hardcore business logic.

Just as Zhao Shuyao was about to further analyze how to choose an industry, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the screen.

The previously quiet comment section was suddenly invaded by a strange force.

Several extremely glaring, bright red bullet comments flooded the screen like locusts, abruptly interrupting the emotional resonance he had painstakingly built up.

"You've got a whole set of theories, but what are you doing, a history major pretending to be a business mentor? Can you stop spouting platitudes?"

"Exactly! You always boast about how principled you are. I want to ask you, just tell your history properly, why do you look down on our Qing Dynasty so much?!"

"The Qing Dynasty laid the foundation for its territory, and all nations paid tribute to it. What right do you have to smear the Qing Dynasty!"