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

Pushing open the dormitory door, the room was empty. Yang Wei's book of civil service exam questions was still open on his desk. Zhao Shuyao did not stop, but went straight to his own desk, pulled out a chair and sat down.

He pulled his old Huawei phone out of his jacket pocket, pressed his thumb on the power button on the side, the screen lit up, and then a confirmation option to shut down appeared.

He knew all too well where the story was headed. The plan to appease the counselor, Director Zhang, had failed, and the academic bureaucrats in the department who wanted to save face in front of the academic bigwigs would definitely launch a barrage of attacks.

Phone calls, text messages, and even private messages of advice from fellow students will come one after another like flies.

Zhao Shuyao tapped the screen lightly to confirm the phone was off, and the system interface went completely dark. He then casually placed the phone face down on the corner of the table.

By isolating all external information sources and gaining absolute initiative, in this information-explosive era, whoever controls the pace of discourse controls the power to set the rules.

I reached out and pressed the power button on the computer, and the monitor lit up.

With his hands flat on the keyboard and his eyes fixed on the document interface, the cursor blinking rhythmically in the upper left corner, Zhao Shuyao's brain quickly retrieved the top-secret dossier and archives from the late Qing Dynasty that he had read countless times in his previous life.

Ten fingers tapped, the crisp sound echoing in the quiet dormitory. A line of bold black text appeared at the top of the screen.

Why are all twelve Qing Dynasty emperors considered bastards?

After typing the main title, Zhao Shuyao pressed the Enter key and began writing the subtitle.

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

The opening should absolutely not be a list of dry era names and treaties; that's the work of old-fashioned scholars. The core of internet communication lies in breaking down the sense of sacredness and using the most secular perspective to expose the true nature of historical figures.

Zhao Shuyao's hands flew across the keyboard.

"Dear viewers, when we mention this last emperor who ascended the throne at the age of three, through the filters of various films and television dramas, we always feel that he was a pitiful person swept up by the tide of the times. He lived deep in the palace, lonely and helpless, and even failed to leave a single descendant in his entire life, which makes countless people shed tears of sympathy. But is the truth really so innocent?"

Zhao Shuyao stopped what he was doing, crossed his hands and clasped them together. This was the suspense he had created at the beginning. In his mind, he simulated those voices that tried to whitewash Puyi: forced by circumstances, physical defects, it was not his fault.

Zhao Shuyao chuckled and continued typing.

"Let's explore why he had no offspring. Within the red walls of the Forbidden City, no one truly cared about a child's physical and mental health. Surrounding him was a large group of profit-driven eunuchs. These servants, in order to have peace and quiet and to get a good night's sleep without having to serve their masters, chose the most destructive method."

"The eunuchs pushed palace maids to his side early on and carried out so-called 'enlightenment' without any bottom line. This was not only a kind of morbid environmental torture, but also a typical drama of the lower-level servants manipulating their masters after the alienation of feudal imperial power."

"By the time he truly reaches the age of understanding, this body will have already been completely ruined by that distorted lifestyle. This is not a physiological accident, but the inevitable evil fruit borne by that extremely corrupt system in this last descendant of the royal family."

Having written this far, Zhao Shuyao read it carefully once. His words were restrained, without a single vulgar or obscene word, yet he thoroughly exposed the selfish and dark ecosystem of the Qing Dynasty's imperial harem.

Next, we move on to the core and most important part. This is also the minefield that those "Manchu remnants" and certain rationalists are desperately trying to cover up.

"But is this merely a matter of personal morality and family tragedy? Absolutely not."

Zhao Shuyao's typing speed gradually increased, and the text on the document page quickly extended downwards.

"After leaving the Forbidden City, his life trajectory changed. He lingered in places like Jingyuan in Tianjin, and even echoed many Manchu loyalists who had fled to Qingdao to establish a restoration base."

"Has he fallen into poverty after losing the special privileges of the palace? Not at all. He still eats Western food every day, plays tennis, and maintains an extremely extravagant lifestyle. Where does the money come from?"

Zhao Shuyao increased the font size of the document by one point and set it to red.

"When he left the palace, under the guise of 'rewarding' Pujie and others, he took away a large number of priceless treasures like ants carrying food, including rare and unique books from various dynasties, masterpieces of calligraphy and painting, including national treasures such as 'Along the River During the Qingming Festival,' which filled countless large camphor wood boxes."

At this point, a deeply ingrained, toxic viewpoint will inevitably emerge to refute it. Zhao Shuyao directly anticipated this prediction in the document and launched a logical confrontation.

"I've seen many so-called rational voices online defending this behavior, saying: 'After all, it's the emperor's property, it's the private property of the Aisin Gioro family. They can do whatever they want with their own things, what business is it of outsiders?'"

After typing those few lines, Zhao Shuyao stopped, looked at the screen, and curled his lips into an extremely sarcastic smile. This is called a fallacy of equivocation.

With a forceful tap of his ten fingers, he struck down the counterattack section.

"People who put forward this view are extremely selfish and lack basic logic. Let's think about something very simple: If a gang of robbers breaks into your house with knives and occupies it for hundreds of years, and then takes all the treasures passed down through generations, does that mean that the treasures that originally belonged to your family are legally their private property just because the robbers occupied it for a long time?"

"Those cultural relics are the fruits of the labor of generations of Han Chinese literati and scholars, the crystallization of civilization nurtured on this land of China for thousands of years. When the Manchus entered the pass, they plundered them and put them in their imperial collection. Now, it is only right for them to return them to their rightful owners. To take these things for themselves is outright robbery!"

Zhao Shuyao leaned back in his chair. A simple rebuttal wasn't enough; it had to be elevated to a higher level, completely nailing it to the pillar of shame regarding national integrity.

"Let's take a step back and not worry about ownership. Let's make a simple analogy: Imagine you are a top scientist right now, and you have a technological invention that could change the entire human world."

"You're currently facing some financial difficulties. Would you really hand over this top-secret technology to those foreign powers that are constantly eyeing our country, just so you can continue to enjoy fine coffee and live in a luxury villa?"

"Any ordinary person with a conscience knows the answer is no, but what did this self-proclaimed noble emperor do? In order to maintain his standard of living and for that illusory dream of restoration, he sold off these cultural relics in large quantities. Who were the buyers? Most of them were ordinary people."

Zhao Shuyao's writing has become increasingly sharp, with logical chains linking each other tightly, directly hitting the nail on the head.

"In Tianjin, including those old-timers and young people hiding in Qingdao, he had long been involved with Xiao Rizi. The people who acted as matchmakers were all remnants of the Qing Dynasty. These people swarmed around him like flies, and their purpose was self-evident: to sell China's national treasures in exchange for the invaders' money and support, willingly becoming puppets to be manipulated."

"Selfish to the extreme, even the most basic human dignity can be put on a price tag. This is the last emperor that those people try to beautify and sympathize with on the podium every day. From beginning to end, he has no national integrity whatsoever."

At this point in the copywriting, the emotional build-up and logical refutation have been fully implemented.

But that's not enough. In the internet age, empty words are meaningless. If you only have opinions but no evidence, the other party can immediately label you as a "historical nihilist."

Zhao Shuyao moved the mouse to the desktop and opened an encrypted folder named "Backup of Qing Dynasty Archives".

He skillfully rummaged through the contents, extracting several extremely damaging images: one was a photocopy of the original newspaper from 1924 regarding the Qing Dynasty's post-Qing Dynasty post-war settlement committee's inventory of artifacts taken from the palace; another was a partial photocopy of letters exchanged between high-ranking Manchurian officials in Qingdao and the Japanese consulate during the Manchukuo period; and the last image was a replica of the transaction receipts for several rare and famous paintings that had been lost overseas.

Drag these images to their corresponding positions in the document according to the logical flow of the text, and clearly label the year of origin and archive number below each image.

After all this was done, the entire document became substantial and impeccable. It was not just an online article, but also an extremely rigorous academic denunciation.

Zhao Shuyao scrolled the mouse wheel up and down, checking for typos and formatting errors from beginning to end. After confirming that everything was correct, he opened the computer's built-in recording and webcam software.

To go viral online, you need to use both videos and text/images.

He adjusted his posture, leaning forward slightly to ensure his face was centered in the frame, and cleared his throat.

"Start recording." Click the red record button.

"Dear friends on Toutiao, I'm a history major from Northeastern University. Today, we won't talk about grand narratives; instead, we'll delve into the life of the last emperor who appears so pitiful in countless films and television dramas..."

Zhao Shuyao spoke at a steady pace, without any loud or forceful accusations. He was just like an old gentleman telling historical anecdotes in a teahouse, using an extremely restrained tone, with three parts teasing and seven parts seriousness, to tell the contents of the document in a gentle and detailed manner.

Especially when he read the paragraphs about "robber logic" and "scientist analogy", he deliberately slowed down his speech, looked directly at the camera, and his gaze conveyed a sense of pressure that seemed to penetrate the screen.

Fifteen minutes later, the video recording was completed.

Zhao Shuyao clicked save. The video file was too large and needed post-production editing, including adding subtitles and background music, to achieve the best dissemination effect, which would take a considerable amount of time.

He glanced at the time in the lower right corner of the screen; it was 10:30 a.m. The public forum couldn't be left empty.

Without hesitation, he copied the already formatted text and image document, opened a web browser, logged into the Toutiao creator backend, and pasted the text and image content into the editor.

Title confirmed. Original content declaration checked.

"Publish an article to generate buzz first." Zhao Shuyao moved the mouse to the bottom right corner and clicked "Publish".

A green notification pops up in the center of the screen: Published successfully, currently under review.

While waiting for the review, Zhao Shuyao moved the mouse to the menu bar on the left side of the backend and clicked on "Revenue Center". This was a crucial part that he had never encountered in his previous life - the dividends of the times.

The page loaded in one second.

A number appeared prominently in the center of the screen: 1342.5 yuan.

This is the direct traffic revenue generated by the lecture video from last night after it went viral overnight.

Zhao Shuyao looked at the number and nodded in satisfaction.

A little over 1,300 yuan was more than enough for him to live comfortably for a whole month on a university campus in a northern city in 2016. Moreover, this was just the initial revenue from a single video.

Those academic cliques tried to use their connections to prevent him from staying on as a teacher, but they had no idea that they were themselves providing Zhao Shuyao with a steady stream of income far exceeding his fixed salary by ten or even a hundred times.

"With this money, I'll have plenty of room to buy professional access to research documents," Zhao Shuyao muttered to himself. With confidence, he became more composed in his actions.

He casually clicked on the "Private Messages" list next to him.

The red dot in the upper right corner shows "99+" unread messages. Pulling down the page reveals a screen full of private messages.

"Senior Zhao, I'm a history student from another university, and your performance in yesterday's lecture was simply divine!"

"Blogger, when will you release your next post? That old man is always fooling people on TV. You need to produce more substantial content to give them a good slap in the face."

Most of the encouragement and urging for updates comes from ordinary netizens. This is the most genuine base of support. The eyes of the people are discerning. As long as you provide real logic and evidence, they can immediately tell who is telling the truth and who is deceiving people.

But Zhao Shuyao's gaze did not linger on these praises for long. His fingers scrolled through the messages, and his eyes were fixed on several long private messages.

The tone of these private messages is completely different from that of ordinary bystanders.

A user with the ID "Talking about Qing History under the Zhenghuang Banner" sent a question of several hundred words: "Do you even know what the protection of private property is? You're just a student who hasn't even grown up yet, holding a few pieces of tattered paper of unknown authenticity, and you're here spreading heresy and misleading the public."

"You are deliberately creating ethnic divisions and undermining stability. Delete your account immediately, or we will jointly report you to the relevant authorities for spreading rumors and causing trouble!"

Another private message from an ID named "Qingfengmingyuebiangujin" was even more direct: "Professor Yan is still in critical condition in the hospital, and instead of apologizing, you continue to stir up trouble online. Don't think you can act as an opinion leader just because you know a little bit. Get ready to receive a lawyer's letter!"

The Manchu remnant faction has begun to systematically go underground.

Zhao Shuyao did not reply. He opened the personal homepage of the two accounts and glanced at them briefly. In the following list, there were several local history and culture research association accounts with blue V certification.

Zhao Shuyao sat in front of the computer, looking at the vulgar language on the screen.

Those people thought that by waving "lawyer's letters" and accusing someone of "disrupting the overall situation," they could frighten and back down an ordinary college student. They were used to using their privileges to suppress dissenting voices, but they didn't know that Zhao Shuyao was waiting for these people who were sticking together for warmth to take the initiative to step forward.

"A lawyer's letter?" Zhao Shuyao muttered to himself, then chuckled.

The article that was just published, which contained images of top-secret files, has now passed the platform's intelligent review and its status has changed to "published".

Zhao Shuyao took his hands off the keyboard and looked at the screen. He knew very well what kind of overwhelming logical massacre those who kept shouting about private property and royal dignity would face when this article entered the information stream.