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

I pushed open the dormitory door.

Yang Wei's bed was neatly made, and the book of past exam questions for the Administrative Aptitude Test on his desk was turned to page seventy. He was not there. This is how it is for students during graduation season. Most of the time they are busy running around for that vague future, and the dormitory has become an occasional rest stop.

Zhao Shuyao closed the door behind him, walked to his computer desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

Pressing the power button and staring at the data feedback on the screen after the account was created last night gave him great confidence: over 100,000 followers and 3 million views. The platform provided preferential traffic support for this kind of content that breaks the established perception of information gaps.

But that's not enough. When creating self-media content, especially historical popularization, relying solely on lecture videos that express fleeting emotions will only maintain popularity for a maximum of three days. To truly nail these "Qing Dynasty remnants" who monopolize the discourse to the pillar of shame, we must produce systematic and in-depth written transcripts.

Hold the mouse and double-click the document software on the desktop.

A blank page unfolded in the center of the screen, the cursor blinked rhythmically in the upper left corner, and Zhao Shuyao paused for two seconds with his hands hovering above the keyboard.

Where to start with the first video?

Following the mainstream approach of Qing Dynasty history experts, starting with Nurhaci or Huang Taiji, won't work. That would require explaining the extremely complex Eight Banners system and the situation at the end of the Ming Dynasty, which would be too information-dense and easily make ordinary netizens lose patience.

The most direct and effective way to shatter those people's illusions is to put the ending they least want to face on the table.

Ten fingers rapidly tapped the keyboard, and a line of bold, black text appeared at the top of the screen:

Why are all twelve emperors of the Qing Dynasty considered bastards?

After typing the main title, Zhao Shuyao pressed the Enter key.

He moved the cursor down and decided to use a reverse chronological order, starting with the person who was closest to modern people, the most controversial, and the most innocent person who was also glorified in film and television.

The keyboard keys emitted a series of crisp clicks, and a subheading appeared:

Episode 1: A Lonely Figure in the Late Qing Dynasty.

Zhao Shuyao stared at the four characters, shook his head, and thought, "No, that's too poetic." He deleted it and typed it again.

Episode 1: The most spineless, despicable, selfish, and inhuman emperor in history.

After giving these four extremely extreme characterizations, he began to lay out historical evidence in the document, emphasizing that online science popularization is not about venting emotions, but must be supported by solid logic.

Many netizens believe that Puyi, who ascended the throne at the age of three, was just a pitiful person swept up by the times, but he wanted to tear apart this hypocritical tragedy.

Typing speed increased.

First, why was Puyi able to become emperor?

This was by no means due to his exceptional intelligence, but rather stemmed from an extremely absurd and selfish political deal. In 1908, Emperor Guangxu and Empress Dowager Cixi died within two days of each other, plunging the Forbidden City into a massive power vacuum.

At that time, there were many princes and nobles in the Aisin Gioro clan who were older and more capable than Puyi. Why did Cixi choose a child who was still breastfeeding?

Zhao Shuyao typed a key line of information into the document: Because of his father, Prince Chun Zaifeng.

Zaifeng was an extremely transparent figure in the late Qing political arena. He was mediocre in talent and weak in character. What Empress Dowager Cixi valued in Zaifeng was precisely his "obedience and incompetence".

Arranging for Puyi to succeed to the throne and having Zaifeng as regent was essentially to allow Empress Dowager Cixi to continue ruling from behind the curtain without any hindrance, as the Grand Empress Dowager.

This was not about selecting the best ruler to prolong the dynasty's reign, but rather an old woman who craved power and, in order to hold onto it tightly, handed the fate of the entire country over to a baby and an incompetent man.

The starting point of such a change of imperial power was itself heavily influenced by private interests, completely abandoning the political bottom line of a great power.

The phone screen on the corner of the table suddenly lit up, accompanied by vibration, and the ringtone interrupted the typing.

Zhao Shuyao shifted his gaze from the computer screen to his phone. The caller ID showed: Counselor Zhang.

Director Zhang is not very old, only five or six years older than Zhao Shuyao. He is mainly responsible for the daily management of graduate students and some miscellaneous tasks in the department. He has a rather smooth personality.

Last night, the deputy director of the department was the one who angrily demanded that Zhao Shuyao report to the academic affairs office immediately. But now, Director Zhang is calling, which means something else entirely.

Pick up your phone and swipe to answer.

"Director Zhang," Zhao Shuyao spoke first, his tone relaxed and even slightly amused, "What brings you to call me so early in the morning? Is there some kind of employee benefit to distribute, or are you inviting me to lunch?"

A very heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone.

"Zhao Shuyao, can you be a little more serious?" Director Zhang's voice was full of helplessness, without any sign of anger, but rather carried a sense of persuasion.

"You little rascal, you've really stirred up a hornet's nest, and you still have the nerve to joke around with me like that? Do you expect me to wait for the reporters to come besiege our dorm building looking for you?"

Zhao Shuyao leaned back in his chair: "Director Zhang, you must have something to ask me. Just tell me, and I'll do whatever it takes to help you."

"Don't rush to agree," Director Zhang quickly interrupted, seemingly afraid that Zhao Shuyao would say something shocking again. "I'm calling today not on behalf of the academy to issue you any disciplinary notice, but personally, I want to have a private talk with you."

"What are you communicating about?" Zhao Shuyao asked knowingly. "Didn't you just review my graduation thesis last week? The plagiarism rate was three percent, which is perfectly acceptable."

"It has nothing to do with your thesis!" Director Zhang lowered his voice on the other end of the phone, sounding somewhat hurried. "You're in your dorm, right? Do you have time now? If it's convenient, come to my office in the faculty building. There are some things that can't be explained over the phone; it's better to talk about them in person."

Zhao Shuyao understood. The incident last night had blown up too much, and the online public opinion had completely fermented. Now, even the higher-ups in the institute were probably unsure of how to handle the matter.

Should they be expelled or disciplined directly? Students and netizens online could flood the school's official website with complaints. If this isn't addressed, the academic elites who are on good terms with Yan Chongnian will exert tremendous pressure.

Therefore, let this young counselor sound out his opinion first.

"Okay." Zhao Shuyao glanced at the unfinished document on the computer screen. "Please wait for me for ten minutes. I'll save what I have and be right there."

Hang up the phone, click the save button for the document, and shut down the computer.

I stood up, grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, put it on, and left the dormitory.

On a March morning, the sun had already fully bathed the campus. Zhao Shuyao walked along the tree-lined path in front of the dormitory building toward the faculty and staff office area. There were many students coming and going on their way to class.

"Hello, Senior Zhao!"

Just as I turned the corner past the cafeteria, two second-year history students walked towards me, and one of them greeted me loudly.

Zhao Shuyao stopped and nodded.

"Senior, going to class?" Another boy looked at him, his eyes filled with undisguised gossip and respect.

"I'm not going to class." Zhao Shuyao waved his hand, pointed in the direction of the faculty building, and said casually, "Director Zhang is waiting for me in his office. He probably wants to have tea with me. You guys go to class now, and come to my dorm to hang out later if you have time."

"You're awesome, senior!" the two boys whispered, then quickly walked away.

Zhao Shuyao strolled along and, five minutes later, arrived at the third floor of the No. 2 faculty and staff building. He walked to the end of the corridor, where a sign read "Counselor's Office."

The door wasn't closed properly; there was a crack.

Zhao Shuyao raised his hand, knocked twice on the door, and then pushed the door open and went inside.

The office wasn't large, with two bookshelves against the wall. Director Zhang was sitting alone behind his desk, rubbing his temples. When he saw Zhao Shuyao come in, Director Zhang put his hands down and pointed to the chair opposite him.

Zhao Shuyao walked over, pulled out a chair without any ceremony, sat down casually, leaned back, stretched his legs slightly, and placed his hands on his stomach, showing an extreme sense of relaxation.

Director Zhang looked at the nonchalant young man in front of him, his brows furrowing into a deep knot.

"Zhao Shuyao, you..." Director Zhang opened his mouth, seemingly choosing his words carefully, "How can you still maintain such a nonchalant attitude? Do you even know the current situation? Professor Yan Chongnian, over eighty years old, was taken from Dongda University last night and went straight to the intensive care unit. He's still lying in the hospital under observation!"

Zhao Shuyao looked at Director Zhang without saying a word.

"That's a nationally renowned academic giant." Director Zhang leaned forward, his hands resting on the table. "Our school has finally managed to invite him to give lectures these past few years, and you've just launched into a barrage of sarcastic remarks in front of hundreds of people."

"Now that things have escalated, if something really happens to him in the hospital, or if his family or the academic association he belongs to comes to our school demanding an explanation, can you bear the consequences?"

This rhetoric remains a standard example of the pressure tactics employed within the system, using the severity of the consequences to justify the wrongness of the action, while ignoring the logical correctness of the action itself.

Seeing Director Zhang's anxious expression, Zhao Shuyao suddenly chuckled.

This laugh stunned Director Zhang.

"Director Zhang, you're exaggerating." Zhao Shuyao straightened up, placing his hands on the edge of the desk. "First of all, what do you mean by 'I can bear the responsibility'? If this matter is really investigated, I'll definitely be the one to take the blame."

Director Zhang breathed a sigh of relief: "Good that you understand. So, what the institute means is..."

"The court's opinion is not important," Zhao Shuyao interrupted directly. "This matter falls under the category of civil disputes. As long as his family is willing, they can sue me in court at any time. I will compensate them according to the law's judgment."

Zhao Shuyao spread his hands, appearing very cooperative.

"But Director Zhang, we are both humanities students, and we value cause and effect. Yesterday, in a public academic lecture, we discussed the specific historical facts of Emperor Kangxi's southern tour and the Manchu-Mongol marriage alliance. I presented my arguments and evidence, but he neither refuted me nor provided any valid evidence."

Zhao Shuyao tapped the table: "He himself was at a loss for words and his narrow-mindedness and poor emotional management caused his blood pressure to rise and he fainted. Legally speaking, at most it can be considered that I angered him. If we really want to convict him, it would be nothing more than provoking trouble or a civil dispute over the right to health."

Seeing Director Zhang's facial muscles gradually stiffen, Zhao Shuyao leaned back in his chair again.

"I've done the math." Zhao Shuyao said calmly as he gave his legal education. "If he sues me, as long as he can swallow his big-shot act and publicly admit that he was hospitalized because he couldn't win an argument with a student in his twenties, I'll have no problem with that. He can pay for the hospitalization, I can pay for the registration, and I can pay a little for emotional distress. I can afford it all."

The office fell silent.

Director Zhang stared intently at Zhao Shuyao with his mouth slightly agape. He had prepared a whole speech to persuade Zhao Shuyao to issue a statement on the campus website to ease the tension and apologize to Professor Yan, so that the college could also explain the situation to the outside world.

But to his utter surprise, the soon-to-be-graduated graduate student in front of him did not play by the rules at all. Instead of being intimidated by the word "consequences," the other party bypassed moral blackmail and used an extremely shameless yet legally sound underlying logic to turn the matter into a farce where whoever sued would lose face.

"You..." Director Zhang swallowed hard. "That's just sophistry. We're all educated people; we can't just talk about the law and ignore basic manners. You've angered your elders to the point of hospitalization; don't you feel any remorse?"

"Manners?" Zhao Shuyao's smile vanished, and his gaze instantly sharpened.

"Director Zhang, sitting there spouting nonsense, he packaged Emperor Kangxi's methods of treating the common people like cattle into the image of a great emperor for all time. Is that what you call quality? He uses his power to instill that kind of servile ideology in hundreds of naive young students. Does that give him any psychological burden?"