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

Director Zhang's lips moved slightly.

Looking into Zhao Shuyao's clear, unadulterated eyes, the set of "respect for teachers and the way" rhetoric he had prepared in his mind instantly crumbled upon when confronted with this question that directly challenged the bottom line of academic ethics.

The office was quiet for a full half minute. The second hand of the quartz clock on the wall clicked regularly. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting several streaks of light and shadow on the solid wood desk.

Director Zhang picked up the glass teacup beside him, wanting to drink some water to relieve the awkwardness of being suppressed by the students. But as soon as the water reached his lips, he felt that drinking water now seemed too unconfident, so he gently put the cup back in its place.

"Zhao Shuyao, let's close the door today and not talk about those things." Director Zhang softened his tone, adopting the deliberate manner of a caring older brother, trying to forcibly pull this erratic conversation back onto the track of reality. "You studied history, you should understand that throughout history, many things are not simply black and white. If the water is too clear, there will be no fish."

Director Zhang leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped under his chin: "You got a moment of pleasure in the lecture hall and uploaded the video to the internet. Now it's so popular, but have you thought about it? You've put Professor Yan, our Northeastern University, and even our entire history department on the hot seat."

Zhao Shuyao didn't interrupt, but simply leaned back in his chair and looked into Director Zhang's eyes.

"So, Director Zhang, what do you mean?" Zhao Shuyao tilted his head slightly, his tone still gentle.

"I mean it for your own good." Director Zhang held up a finger and drew a circle in the air. "The one who tied the knot must untie it. Delete the video from that Toutiao account, and then post a short apology statement online. Be sincere and say that you were young and impetuous and used excessive language during the academic discussion."

Upon hearing this, Zhao Shuyao's smile slowly faded.

His gaze lingered on Director Zhang's slightly tired face. In those two seconds, Zhao Shuyao's brain raced: Who does Director Zhang represent? A counselor at this level has no right to decide the direction of such a nationwide public opinion event. His words today must have been instructed by a higher-level leader in the college to come and probe the situation.

"Impossible, Director Zhang." Zhao Shuyao shook his head, spreading his hands on his knees, refusing decisively without leaving any room for negotiation.

Director Zhang frowned: "Why not? This is the cheapest way to quell the storm right now."

"Because it goes against my conscience." Zhao Shuyao sat up straight, his voice not loud, but every word was extremely clear. "Director Zhang, you have been in charge of this class for three years, you know my personality. I never argue with anyone in the department."

"If his views on the podium hadn't been so absurd, dragging those truly principled historical figures into the mud, I would never have embarrassed him in front of hundreds of people."

Zhao Shuyao looked straight ahead: "If I were to delete the video I released based on historical facts today in order to 'settle things,' or to bow down and admit my mistakes to someone who has distorted historical conclusions, then all my years of studying would have been for nothing. Scholarship is about truth and falsehood. If I don't even dare to preserve the truth, what use is this diploma to me?"

These words, though seemingly gentle, were actually quite sharp. Without using any extreme language, they completely freed Director Zhang from the "worldly shackles" he was trying to impose upon him.

Director Zhang sighed with a wry smile. He rubbed his temples, looking quite helpless. He knew that Zhao Shuyao had the stubbornness of a scholar at heart, but he didn't expect him to be this inflexible.

"Zhao Shuyao, you are indeed very knowledgeable, but you are just too inflexible." Director Zhang placed his hands on the edge of the table, his tone softening as he began to back down. "When did I ever ask you to actually admit your academic mistakes to him?"

Director Zhang lowered his voice, as if imparting some workplace secrets: "What I mean is, as long as we maintain appearances, that's fine. You're graduating soon. After July this year, you'll get your degree and be free to roam. As for what Professor Yan says, let him say it. What does it have to do with you?"

Looking at Director Zhang's earnest and persuasive manner, a sharp glint flashed in Zhao Shuyao's eyes.

They backed down, shifting from demanding a "public statement and the deletion of the video" to "saving face."

"How can we save face?" Zhao Shuyao casually probed. "Director Zhang, may I ask another question? Is this suggestion your personal idea, or the idea of ​​a certain leader at the school?"

This is a very pointed question. It gets straight to the heart of the conversation.

Director Zhang paused for a moment, avoiding Zhao Shuyao's gaze, then picked up his water glass and blew on the tea leaves floating on top: "What's the connection? Was it my idea or the academy's? Wasn't the starting point the same: to ensure your smooth landing?"

Director Zhang took a sip of water and offered what he considered the most compromise solution: "Actually, this is quite simple to do. First, set the video to be visible only to yourself to cool down the online public opinion. Then, take some time this afternoon to come with me to the First Municipal Hospital."

"To the hospital?"

"Yes, let's go to the outside of the ICU." Director Zhang nodded repeatedly, as if he had grasped a lifeline to solve the problem. "In front of Professor Yan or his family, let's buy a fruit basket and say a few kind words, such as 'Sir, please take good care of yourself.'"

"Once the family's anger subsides, those people in academia will have no excuse to put pressure on our school anymore. This won't have any negative impact on your graduation. That shouldn't be difficult, right?"

After hearing this "perfect" solution, Zhao Shuyao suddenly laughed.

That was a laugh that I found utterly absurd.

Go to the ward to offer condolences, to see that sanctimonious old academic tyrant?

If I were to actually stand in front of the hospital bed with a fruit basket, putting on a hypocritical act, what would be the point of my rebirth?

Are all those timeless insights and lofty ambitions that we hold in our minds, those aspirations to reshape the backbone of history, going to bow down to a basket of discounted apples and bananas?

"Director Zhang," Zhao Shuyao waved his hands repeatedly, a smile spreading from the corners of his mouth to the corners of his eyes, his tone revealing an extremely pure humor and sarcasm, "Your suggestion is absolutely unacceptable."

"Why can't it be used?" Director Zhang asked anxiously.

"Think about it, what kind of place is a hospital? It's a place to treat the sick and save lives." Zhao Shuyao clasped his hands together and began to deduce in a serious manner, "Why was Mr. Yan admitted yesterday? It was because his blood pressure soared to 220. He has just caught his breath and needs to rest."

Zhao Shuyao pointed to his face: "You want me to go to his hospital room with this face now? Do you think he'll see me with the face I just exposed in front of hundreds of people, and think I'm showing respect for my teacher, or will he think I'm coming to provoke him again?"

Director Zhang opened his mouth, but for a moment he couldn't find the words to refute it.

"What if he's in a bad mood?" Zhao Shuyao spread his hands, his tone extremely innocent. "As soon as I walked in, he couldn't catch his breath, and the heart rate monitor next to him went straight down with a 'beep'... Director Zhang, then this trip to the hospital isn't to visit an elder, it's to pull the tubes."

"puff--"

Director Zhang almost spat out the tea he had just drunk onto the table. He quickly pulled out a tissue to cover his mouth and coughed violently.

That brat, what kind of talk is that?

But upon closer inspection, this kid's logic has formed a perfect vicious cycle, leaving no room for rebuttal.

"Cough cough... Stop arguing with me!" Director Zhang coughed until his face was red. After finally catching his breath, he pointed at Zhao Shuyao and said, "I'll just ask you one question. Can't you at least go through the motions for the sake of his eighty-year-old age? If that's not possible, you go, stand there with the fruit basket, and don't say a word the whole time. I'll say all the nice things for you. Is that alright?"

"no."

Zhao Shuyao dropped his playful expression, his gaze becoming deep and resolute once more.

"Director Zhang, I haven't done anything wrong. Just because he's older doesn't mean I have to give in." Zhao Shuyao's voice was calm as water, yet carried an unshakeable weight.

"If old age is the ultimate truth, then what's the point of libraries and archives? Why not just burn all the history books in the world and go to nursing homes to listen to the old folks make up stories?"

Zhao Shuyao stood up and pushed the chair he was sitting on back into place.

"So please don't try to persuade me anymore. I have no good feelings towards Old Man Yan. For his cardiovascular health, to avoid causing trouble for the school, and even more so to avoid causing trouble for you, I will absolutely not go to the hospital."

Their attitude was extremely clear: they would not listen to any persuasion or coercion, and were completely unyielding.

Director Zhang looked up at the tall and upright student and saw in his eyes the unyielding sharpness that only the younger generation of scholars possessed.

He knew that today's conversation had been a complete failure; the "stability maintenance" task assigned by the institute was utterly ineffective against this kid.

"Alright." Director Zhang seemed to have all his strength drained away. He waved his hand wearily and slumped completely into his office chair. "I understand your attitude. I will report this matter to the higher-ups truthfully. You'd better watch yourself."

At this point, Director Zhang paused, his tone carrying a hint of coldness and businesslike indifference: "Also, I'm formally informing you that your application to stay on as a teacher has been unanimously rejected at the departmental meeting. There are still three months until graduation, so you'll have to figure out your own job situation."

The true colors are revealed when the map is unrolled; this is the price of refusing to cooperate.

If it were an ordinary farmer's son, upon hearing this news, he would probably feel like the sky had fallen.

But Zhao Shuyao's face showed not even the slightest surprise.

"I understand. Thank you for taking care of me during this time, Director Zhang." Zhao Shuyao nodded slightly, maintaining the decorum and politeness expected of a cultured person. "Please take care of your health and try not to stay up too late."

After saying that, Zhao Shuyao turned around without hesitation, pushed open the office door, and walked out.

He gently closed the door behind him. The lock clicked softly.

The corridor was empty, with the morning sunlight streaming through the window at the end of the corridor onto the terrazzo floor.

Zhao Shuyao stopped in his tracks outside the door.

He slowly reached into the pocket of his windbreaker, pulled out his slightly chipped phone, swiped his thumb across the screen to unlock it, and opened the recording app on the desktop.

In the center of the screen, a red recording rippled gently with the breeze in the corridor, displaying the recording time as 15 minutes and 24 seconds. This perfectly covered all his conversations from the moment he entered the room.

Zhao Shuyao promptly pressed the stop button and then renamed the audio file to: "Director Zhang's Talk on March 15: On the Cancellation of Staffing Due to Punishment for Speech".

Click to save and upload to cloud drive for backup.

After doing all this, Zhao Shuyao's lips curled into a cold smile.

It wasn't that he was treacherous, but rather that he had suffered too many hidden losses in that circle in his previous life, and he had to be careful when dealing with these hypocritical academic bureaucrats.

In case the college tries to distort the truth due to public pressure, claiming that he not only insulted the professor but also assaulted the counselor in the office, in order to withhold his graduation certificate.

That recording, which was polite and logically clear throughout, was his best shield.

He put his phone back in his pocket and strode down the stairs.

To hell with the quota for staying on campus and the official staffing system.

Now an even bigger storm awaits him; the foundation of his hundreds of thousands of online followers and three million views has already been laid.

Now I need to go back to my dorm. I'll immediately sit down at that old computer and start typing out the first draft of "All Twelve Emperors of the Qing Dynasty Were Bastards".

He wanted to expose the true nature of Puyi, the last emperor who was glorified in textbooks as a "pitiful person in troubled times" but was actually devoid of national integrity and willing to be a puppet of the invaders for personal gain.

The storm has only just begun.