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

The progress bar for uploading images and text on the screen is full, and the status changes to "Approved".

Zhao Shuyao did not immediately close the webpage. His gaze remained on the constantly changing number of followers in the upper right corner. The density of text and image information was extremely high, which could filter out core readers who were willing to read in depth.

But to truly establish a foothold in the traffic pool of 2016, netizens need a living "person," not just a machine that can only send text messages.

He needs to give everyone a clear and straightforward explanation.

He moved the mouse pointer to the taskbar at the bottom of the screen, opened the computer's built-in webcam software, and the screen lit up. He adjusted his posture so that his upper body was centered on the screen.

The dormitory room was dimly lit. He reached out and pulled back the curtains, letting in the March sunlight, which shone directly onto the calm contours of his face.

No outline was written.

Zhao Shuyao looked straight at the camera, extended his index finger, and pressed the Enter key on the keyboard. The red recording dot began to flash.

"Hello everyone."

Zhao Shuyao's voice was not loud, and his speech was at a steady pace, revealing the calmness unique to history students. "I am Zhao Shuyao, a third-year graduate student in the Department of History at Northeastern University. I am the one who angered Professor Yan Chongnian to the point of hospitalization yesterday afternoon during a public lecture."

By being straightforward and unpretentious, using the term "negative consequences," which is avoided by the entire internet, as a prefix to their self-introduction, they create a strong sense of contrast.

Zhao Shuyao bowed slightly, a hint of apology on his face: "I'm sorry to introduce myself to everyone in this somewhat abrupt way. Let me say hello to you all first."

"Regarding yesterday's events, I was simply sitting in the audience listening to the lecture. To be honest, I didn't intend to express any shocking opinions." He placed his hands on the table, his posture relaxed.

"The problem is that some of the views on governance in the early Qing Dynasty that Professor Yan expressed on stage are very different from the original texts of county gazetteers and daily records that I have been reading in the archives of various provinces over the past few years."

He paused for a moment, giving the audience time to think.

"The difference was so great that it was like calling a deer a horse, so I couldn't help but stand up and ask him about a few logical flaws. Who would have thought that the historical facts I had in hand might be too straightforward, causing the old gentleman to be unable to bear the truth."

Zhao Shuyao looked directly into the camera, the apology on his lips gradually fading, replaced by an absolute determination.

"I don't regret it."

These four words were pronounced with great emphasis, each one resounding and forceful.

"The education I received from childhood, and the many years I spent studying at this school, have repeatedly taught me one thing: the first priority for scholars is to tell the truth, especially when facing those academic authorities with their halo of prestige, one cannot back down even a step."

He leaned forward slightly, bringing himself closer to the camera: "If I had compromised and turned a deaf ear yesterday for my own future, it would not only have been an insult to my years of hard study, but also an irresponsibility to history itself. Everyone should know that there are too many distorted truths hidden under the veil of history, and people need to cut through the fog to find the evidence."

"My main research area is the history of the Ming and Qing dynasties. Taking this opportunity, I will use detailed historical materials to update everyone on this account from time to time about the little-known stories of the twelve emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties."

Zhao Shuyao raised his hand to smooth a stray strand of hair from his forehead, his tone becoming more relaxed: "In this process, some of the inferences I propose may overturn the perceptions that everyone has formed in front of the television."

"But I guarantee that for every accusation, I will provide corresponding photocopies of the relevant documents to prove it; even for those deliberately erased blanks, I will provide the most logical deductions based on the existing economic ledgers."

"Thank you all for your attention. I will stay true to my original aspirations. No matter how great the obstacles ahead, those truths that I have to speak out will never disappear from this account."

After saying the last sentence, Zhao Shuyao decisively moved the mouse and clicked to stop recording.

I watched the video replay myself. The sound was clear and the lighting was normal. The humor of him solemnly admitting to the crime of "making the great scholar faint," combined with the highly mission-driven academic declaration that followed, created an extremely strong attraction.

Without any editing or background music, he simply dragged the less than three-minute raw video into the Toutiao backend, typing only four characters for the title:

A Single Initial Intention

Click Publish.

After doing all this, Zhao Shuyao didn't check the data that immediately surged in the background. He took out his phone from his pocket and clicked "power off" without hesitation.

The screen went completely dark, cutting off all connection with the outside world.

Public opinion is shifting exponentially, and the academic clique's retaliation mechanism is inevitably operating at breakneck speed. The counselor Zhang's attempts to appease him have failed, and the college's high-pressure actions could come at any moment.

What he needs to do now is to build his most solid bottom line – his graduation thesis.

My fingers tapped on the keyboard, opening the folder on my desktop titled "Final Draft of Graduation Defense".

The document opened; it was a 20,000-word paper titled "A Study on the Development of Commodity Economy and the Evolution of Social Forms from the Early Ming Dynasty to the Mid-Qing Dynasty".

Zhao Shuyao scrolled through the text he had written in his previous life. In order to secure a place at the university, he had deliberately smoothed out the rough edges of his writing and used a lot of smooth and moderate academic terms such as "to a certain extent alleviated" and "its united front value is undeniable".

Looking at these words that reeked of cowardice, Zhao Shuyao sneered.

He selected a long passage on the screen describing the "economic recovery during the Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong reigns".

The entire piece is nonsense, masking the abject poverty caused by land grabbing and tax exemptions.

Completely overturn it and replace it with the most straightforward tax ledger analysis.

He pressed the backspace key heavily with his index finger.

A large area of ​​black text vanished instantly.

Zhao Shuyao's hands danced across the keyboard, and a new paragraph was quickly generated: "The economic recovery in the early period after the Manchu conquest of China was actually a passive abundance of resources resulting from the sharp decline in population after the bloody massacres and land enclosure movement."

"The core of its tax system has always been to prioritize exploiting Han Chinese lands to supply the Eight Banners. The so-called 'never increasing taxes' is nothing more than a numbers game on top of the existing exorbitant levies and miscellaneous taxes..."

In chapters concerning the evolution of thought and culture, he was even more ruthless, directly retrieving the list of books destroyed during the compilation of the Siku Quanshu.

"In the name of the Siku Quanshu (Complete Library of the Four Treasuries), the actual purpose of intellectual castration was to perpetrate literary inquisitions for over a century. Its fundamental aim was not to maintain stability, but to thoroughly enslave the foundation of Chinese civilization by physically eliminating the spiritual backbone of the literati..."

Four whole hours.

Apart from the clicking of the mouse and the constant clatter of typing in the dormitory, Zhao Shuyao was immersed in this pure demolition and reconstruction, transforming an originally mediocre press release into a gleaming academic spear.

Zhao Shuyao stopped banging until the afterglow of the setting sun turned the dormitory floor orange-red.

Press "Ctrl+S" to save the document, then unplug the USB drive for a double backup.

Leaning back in his chair, he let out a long breath, feeling refreshed. He could take the spot to stay at the university, but as long as his thesis passed the formal examination, he could use his absolute academic strength to nail the department leaders who were trying to smooth things over to the wall at the defense.

Stretching, Zhao Shuyao picked up his phone from the corner of the table.

Press the power button.

As Huawei's classic boot screen flashed by, the phone froze for ten seconds as soon as the interface entered the desktop.

The frequency of incoming information is too high, and the hardware cannot handle it.

Dozens of red missed call icons occupied the top of the screen, with a wide variety of locations, including local Fengtian, Beijing, and even landline numbers from southern coastal cities.

The bright red "99+" dot in the upper right corner of WeChat's green icon is extremely eye-catching.

Zhao Shuyao opened WeChat, and the list was frantically scrolling up and refreshing.

In the history department's group chat, there were already thousands of unread messages. Two hours ago, Li Bo directly tagged him: "Brother Yao! You're really like a brother to me! Your self-introduction video is going viral in the department. Your attitude is so tough, I bow down to you!"

Liu Yu followed closely behind: "Senior Zhao, where are you right now?"

Scrolling down, I saw that my roommate Yang Wei had sent over a dozen private messages, each one more desperate than the last: "Damn it, why did you turn off your phone?", "Are you trying to tear the sky apart?", "The department office has even called me asking about your whereabouts, hurry up and reply!"

Besides familiar people, dozens of friend requests appeared in my contacts, all with similar notes such as "Alumni support", "History senior requesting acceptance", and "Media reporter requesting an interview".

Zhao Shuyao looked at the information with a calm expression.

Without replying to the panicked inquiries, he opened his WeChat Moments and typed the next line:

"All is well. I was writing my thesis while my computer was off, so please don't worry about me."

Click send.

I exited WeChat and casually opened the Toutiao app.

The data feedback from the backend was far more alarming than he had anticipated. His self-introduction video, titled "A Beginning," garnered over 800,000 views and more than 50,000 likes in just four hours.

The comments section was overwhelmingly filled with enthusiasm and banter.

A comment with over 10,000 likes was displayed at the top: "This blogger is truly amazing! The very first sentence, 'I'm the one who took that person to the hospital,' made me laugh out loud. Not a single swear word, yet it perfectly showcases the integrity of a cultured person. I'm a fan!"

The following comment read: "This is what they call 'no destruction, no construction.' Nowadays, experts talk about the big picture all the time and united front tactics all the time. Zhao is right, doing academic research means telling the truth. I'm eagerly awaiting the hardcore verification of the Twelve Emperors series!"

Seeing the feedback from these real netizens, Zhao Shuyao knew that his public persona was now firmly established, and he had secured the most advantageous position in this battle for historical discourse.

"Buzzing—"

The phone in my hand suddenly started vibrating violently without warning, breaking the silence of the dormitory.

Caller ID: Assistant Li from the Dean's Office.

Zhao Shuyao raised an eyebrow and recognized the number. It was Assistant Li, the dean's direct administrative staff member in the School of Literature. He was usually arrogant and held a lot of authority over the review of graduate students. Even a counselor like Director Zhang couldn't control him, so someone at a higher level finally stepped in.

Swipe gently on the screen to answer the call.

Instead of holding the phone to my ear, I held it a little further away.

Sure enough, the moment the call connected, a deafening roar erupted from the receiver:

"Zhao Shuyao, where are you? Don't you have any sense of discipline?!"

Assistant Li's voice was extremely sharp due to excessive excitement, revealing the extreme anger of a powerful person being ignored by their subordinates.

"Why has your phone been off all afternoon? Do you know how long the department has been holding meetings because of you?"

Before Assistant Li could even catch her breath, she continued her barrage of questions: "You caused such a huge mess at the lecture, and the department is trying to mediate. Instead of thinking about how to mitigate the damage, you dared to recklessly post videos online. Do you even know that Mr. Yan's family has already sent a letter of protest to the school?"

Zhao Shuyao listened quietly to this extremely informative outburst, analyzing the underlying ferocity in the other party's words.

"What exactly do you want, huh?!" Assistant Li slammed his hand heavily on the table, making a dull thud. "If you want to graduate from Northeastern University and keep your degree, you'd better get to the administration building right now and explain yourself!"

A one-minute-long burst of high-voltage power seemed to be crushing Zhao Shuyao on the other end of the phone.

He chuckled softly and spoke in a rather indifferent tone:

"Assistant Li, why are you so angry? What do you want? I just turned off my phone and was writing my thesis."