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

The barrage of comments on the screen was like a tidal wave whipped up by a typhoon, carrying overwhelming anger and despair, squeezing every inch of space in the live stream room.

"How can the success of three generations outweigh the hard work and dedication of a decade or so of studying?"

"What are we? What are we, really?!"

These two sentences repeated themselves, stinging the eyes of every ordinary person in front of the computer screen. In the live chat window, Wang, a reporter from Southern Media Group, had stopped typing. He stared blankly at the screen, his Adam's apple bobbing. Having worked in journalism for so many years, he knew all too well the weight of this kind of emotion.

Zhao Shuyao didn't look at the frantically scrolling bullet comments.

He removed his hands from the mouse, crossed them in front of his chest, and slowly sat up straight. His previous casual posture of leaning back in the chair completely disappeared, replaced by a dignified and upright posture.

The hint of mockery and composure on his face disappeared, and his eyes became extremely serious and profound.

"Everyone."

Zhao Shuyao spoke, his voice not loud, but it had a commanding presence that dominated the entire room.

He glanced at the camera: "I believe that most of the friends who are staying in the live broadcast room today and listening to my history lesson for more than half an hour are like me, who have gotten to where they are today step by step through more than ten years of hard study."

The scrolling speed of the comments slowed down slightly.

Zhao Shuyao placed his hands flat on the table, interlacing his fingers.

"From elementary school to junior high, from high school to university, we got up at six every morning and did homework until midnight every night. Why? Because we believed in a very simple truth." Zhao Shuyao's tone was calm, but it carried a power that struck people's hearts.

"Because our parents, our family, and everyone around us have been telling us that studying can change our destiny, and we have indeed been following this path, gritting our teeth and moving forward."

These few sentences, devoid of any fancy rhetoric and entirely descriptive, accurately capture the growth trajectory of countless young people in 2016.

"I just saw in the live chat that many people were asking, 'What are we?'"

Zhao Shuyao didn't look at the screen, but stared directly at the camera, as if he were looking through the internet cable at those fifteen thousand bewildered souls.

"Like everyone else, my ancestors for three generations were farmers who toiled in the fields. My parents are still tying steel bars on construction sites in the south."

"When I sat in that luxuriously decorated office and heard the phrase 'a peasant who's read a few unofficial histories dares to act as a spokesperson for truth,' my first thought was to stand up, grab him by the collar, and ask him—"

Zhao Shuyao's voice suddenly rose, his originally cold tone revealing a penetrating question.

"We got to where we are today through our own hard work, so what!"

"We didn't steal or rob; we learned it word by word. Who did we offend!"

"Just because we don't have a father who's a leading figure in academia, just because we don't have the wealth and connections accumulated over three generations, does that mean we don't even have the right to speak the truth, and we have to be forced to admit it and be called 'rotten apples'?"

These three questions were like three heavy hammer blows, striking the hearts of everyone in the live stream.

After two seconds of eerie silence, the public chat on the right side of the screen erupted in an unprecedented outburst of emotion.

"We didn't offend anyone; they're the ones in the wrong!"

"We live an honest and upright life, why should they trample on us!"

"Well said! That's exactly what we wanted to say!"

Zhao Shuyao's eyes reddened slightly, glistening with tears. It was a historian's conscience and an instinctive empathy for the most honest laborers on this land who suffered injustice.

I took a deep breath and suppressed the churning emotions in my chest.

"That's why I'm sitting here today, even at the risk of being disciplined and not getting my diploma, I'm determined to fight them to the end." Zhao Shuyao's tone became calm again.

"I refuse to believe that society is controlled by them; I refuse to believe that we deserve to be manipulated by these people!"

He picked up the yellowed Ming Dynasty local history book from the table and slammed it down heavily.

"We are the vast people, and our five thousand years of history, from Chen Sheng and Wu Guang to modern martyrs, have been telling us one thing for thousands of years—"

Zhao Shuyao's eyes were sharp, and he spoke each word slowly and deliberately.

"Are kings, marquises, generals, and ministers born with a special destiny?"

boom!

The number of viewers in the live stream exceeded 50,000 in an instant, attracting countless netizens who were just watching the drama on other platforms.

In the online environment of 2016, entertainment gossip and videos flaunting wealth filled our eyes. Suddenly, a young man appeared in front of this square screen and shouted out this declaration that will be passed down through the ages with the toughest bones. The shock was immeasurable.

The college students in the dormitory suddenly stood up; the migrant workers in the subway gripped their phones tightly; and reporter Wang at the live call window stood up even more abruptly, as if all the blood in his body was rushing to his head.

"Teacher Zhao is right!"

"To hell with three generations running the business, if you're not happy, then fight!"

"I refuse to believe they can control everything!"

The emotions in the comments section had completely boiled over, reaching a threshold that could overwhelm everything at any moment.

But Zhao Shuyao did not stop.

He knew that simply venting his emotions could not solve the real power oppression. To completely destroy the opponent's base, he had to bind this personal struggle to the most fundamental nature of the country.

Zhao Shuyao reached out and gently touched the left chest area of ​​his hoodie with his fingertips.

There, a red badge was quietly pinned to the fabric, radiating a calm luster; he had worn it specially before his live broadcast today.

"I will always remember a quote from a great man."

Zhao Shuyao touched the badge with his fingers, his voice becoming extremely solemn.

"We must never become detached from the masses."

"Anyone who becomes detached from the masses is a traitor; anyone who looks down on the masses is our enemy."

Zhao Shuyao looked at the camera and said, "I see that many older comrades and leaders are still maintaining this original aspiration and working hard to maintain social fairness. People like the Yan family who think they are superior just because they have resources are just a very small minority of clowns."

His finger rested on the badge on his chest, his gaze unwavering.

"You should all see what I'm wearing on my chest."

"I can't let it down." Zhao Shuyao's voice carried an unwavering resolve. "Because it is my faith, the education I received from childhood, and the driving force that has kept me striving to get to where I am today. Therefore, when faced with their arrogant and condescending capitalist attitude..."

Zhao Shuyao's lips curled into a cold, sarcastic smile: "Not only am I not afraid, I even find their fear of poor people having enough to eat particularly laughable."

Quiet.

Absolute silence lasting ten seconds.

The live stream seemed to be paused, with 50,000 viewers watching the young man sitting at his desk, pointing to the badge on his chest.

Compared to that small badge, the previous claims of a "three-generation circle" and "capital to withdraw project sponsorship next month" seem so pale, thin, and even ridiculous.

The next second, the barrage of comments exploded and completely flooded the entire screen.

"pay tribute!!!"

"These are true scholars! These are our fellow travelers!"

"I'm moved to tears. I thought the world was entirely ruled by capital, but it turns out there are still people who remember the words of great men!"

"Comrade, Teacher Zhao, we support you!"

"Investigate Yan Jianhui thoroughly, investigate Yan Chongnian thoroughly, and investigate the School of Humanities at Southeast University thoroughly!"

"Report them on the Ministry of Education's official website, leave messages on the Discipline Inspection Commission's website, and get these academic tyrants who ride roughshod over the people out of academia!"

The shock and respect from netizens turned into concrete action guidelines, with neat rows of condemnation slogans flooding the public screen.

Looking at these messages, Zhao Shuyao finally felt a slight relaxation in the tension that had been building up in his heart.

His feelings became incredibly complicated and heavy. Originally, he only wanted to use traffic and logic to protect himself, but when he truly felt the power of public opinion gathered by these 100,000 people, he understood that he could no longer back down, nor did he want to.

"By saying these things and releasing those recordings, I know that in the eyes of many 'smart people,' I am cutting off my own escape route, thinking that I am stupid, or even stubborn."

Zhao Shuyao suddenly smiled, using a humorous tone reminiscent of a newspaper vendor to ease the excessive tension in the air.

"I think I damaged the part of my brainstem that's responsible for 'being tactful' when I was memorizing political questions for the postgraduate entrance exam. But think about it, isn't our society's development today thanks to generations of people who seemed foolish, inflexible, and stubbornly persistent?"

Picking up the ceramic cup beside him, he used tea instead of wine and raised it to the camera.

"If my 'foolishness' can tear open the fig leaf covering the truth of history and contribute even a little bit to the fair development of our society, then I would rather be this fool for the rest of my life."

"Cheers, comrades."

……

Meanwhile, in downtown Fengtian, at the top-floor suite of a luxury hotel.

"Bang!"

A loud bang.

Yan Jianhui's latest iPhone was slammed against the wall, the screen shattering instantly like a spiderweb, and the phone bounced onto the wool carpet with a dull thud.

Just a moment ago, Yan Jianhui was dressed in a suit and tie, looking high and mighty. Now, he was bracing his hands on the marble bar counter, his tie was askew, and large beads of cold sweat were dripping down his forehead and temples.

His pupils contracted sharply, and his breathing was as rapid as someone who had just finished a marathon and was about to suffocate.

Everything that happened in the live stream just now replayed in his mind like a slow-motion video.

He was holding a glass of red wine, fully expecting that as long as he made a phone call to the leaders of Dongda University to put pressure on them, Zhao Shuyao, this poor student, would obediently shut up.

When he heard Zhao Shuyao release the recording, he still had a sliver of hope, thinking that at worst it was just a public relations crisis, that he could spend some money to buy a trending topic, and then let it cool down for a few months and it would be over.

but.

When he saw Zhao Shuyao pointing to the badge on his chest, quoting a great man, and elevating the arrogant phrase "three generations of management" in private to the level of class antagonism of "being detached from the masses," he was deeply moved.

Yan Jianhui's brain went completely blank with a "buzz".

This isn't information processing; this is a nuclear strike!

He knew all too well what this meant. In China, you could commit academic fraud, have a chaotic private life, and even exploit the rules for your own personal gain. As long as you weren't caught red-handed, there was always room for maneuver.

However, you must never, in public or with extremely arrogant language, touch that red line—class stance.

"A madman...this kid is a madman!"

Yan Jianhui's teeth chattered, making a clicking sound.

The young assistant standing to the side was already pale with fright, trembling as he stood in the corner: "Professor Yan... what... what do we do now? The PR company just called and said that the trending topic can no longer be suppressed, and all the major official media outlets will definitely repost the Southern Media Group's report."