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

The temperature control system in the small conference room was operating quietly.

The faint scent of top-grade agarwood hovered in mid-air.

The atmosphere in front of the rosewood conference table fell into a deathly silence that lasted for half a minute after Mr. Li, the man in the Zhongshan suit, said "reconstruct cultural identity".

A middle-aged man sitting at the corner of the table picked up the white porcelain teacup in front of him. The movement of the lid stirring the water was noticeably stiff, making a series of clinking sounds.

He is Zhang Yuan, a professor of Qing Dynasty history at a well-known university in China, and is a frequent guest on various television lecture programs.

Zhang Yuan put down his teacup, his gaze quickly sweeping across the table before finally settling on President Li's data report.

"Mr. Li is right, this is definitely not just Zhao Shuyao's problem." Zhang Yuan straightened his suit collar, his tone revealing a deep sense of powerlessness.

"You're not on the front lines of teaching, so you have no idea how passive the current situation is. In the past, when we talked about the Kangxi and Qianlong eras and the limitations of history in class, the students were all taking notes. But what about now?"

Zhang Yuan sighed and shook his head repeatedly: "More and more young people are now skeptical of the general textbooks we provide. A few days ago, when I was lecturing on the cultural contributions of the Siku Quanshu (Complete Library of the Four Treasuries), a student raised his hand, took out a scanned copy of a local county gazetteer from his phone, and asked me why more than 3,000 ancient books were confiscated and destroyed during the compilation of the book. In front of more than 100 people, I couldn't continue the lesson at all."

These words tore away the fig leaf from everyone present.

Mr. Wu, who is in charge of investing in cultural tourism projects, immediately took over the conversation. He straightened up from his leather chair, leaned forward, and placed his hands on the table with his arms crossed.

"I deeply understand Professor Zhang's words." General Manager Wu's voice was deep. "As everyone knows, I have several Qing Dynasty-themed cultural parks under my management, and they have been doing very well in the past few years."

"But in recent years, visitor numbers have plummeted, and in turn, those Ming Dynasty sites that used to be deserted have also been affected."

Mr. Wu held up two fingers, his brows furrowed.

"Take the Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum in Nanjing for example. In the past, most of the visitors there were middle-aged and elderly tourists, and there weren't many people all year round. But now things have changed. The number of visitors to the Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum in one day is equivalent to the number of visitors to the Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum in a whole year in the past. And there are also major museums in various provinces and cities. You'll see for yourselves when you go there."

Mr. Wu's gaze swept over the directors and producers present, offering his assessment: "These days, tickets for any slightly well-known museum need to be booked three days in advance, and on weekends, they're practically impossible to get. We're all in the cultural industry; do you know what this means?"

The only sound in the conference room was the faint crackling of burning agarwood.

"This means that young people today no longer believe the embellished words in books." Mr. Wu spread his hands. "They believe more in what they actually see. The backward image we create in words and movies is being exposed by the real objects displayed in museums."

Another scholar who had participated in the compilation of historical documents quickly nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Wu has touched on the core pain point." The scholar picked up his teacup, not to drink water, but to use the action to hide his inner anxiety. "I really don't understand how archaeological teams from all over the world can dig up so many incredible things from underground? The most fatal thing is that many key ancient tombs have not yet been excavated."

He put the teacup back in its place and lowered his voice.

"It's no wonder that young people are skeptical. Even when I went to see it myself, I felt dizzy. The chariot parts unearthed at the Qin Dynasty site two years ago, the tightness of the gears and mortises, and even the metal components of the military tents, are basically no different from the current industrial design standards."

The scholar became more and more excited as he spoke, gesturing with his hands in the air.

"Looking at the history of medicine, the Ming Dynasty medical kit unearthed recently contained surgical tools such as hemostats, scalpels, tweezers, and even a prototype of a threaded syringe."

"These things are clearly displayed in the showcase, allowing visitors to make a direct comparison at a glance. There's a Ming Dynasty scalpel on top and a Qing Dynasty shaman mask below. How are we supposed to argue in our papers that history has progressed?"

Complaints began to spread across the table. Producers started complaining about the pressure of getting films and TV series approved, and public relations managers complained about the skyrocketing costs of controlling trending topics lists.

"Bang."

A muffled thud interrupted the entire conversation.

Mr. Li slammed the purple clay teapot on the table, his face turning completely cold, his sharp gaze behind his glasses sweeping over everyone present.

"Are you finished?" Mr. Li's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an absolute sense of pressure. "Are you all sitting here today to hold a grievance session? All the cultural tourism data and archaeological discoveries you've mentioned—aren't they all facts that are out in the open?"

Mr. Li leaned back in his chair and gave a cold laugh.

"Can't you say something constructive? We're in a crisis. We need to figure out how to get these young people back into our narrative framework, how to get them to believe the information we provide again, instead of them sitting here in this spacious private room wallowing in self-pity."

The entire private room fell silent instantly.

Mr. Li tapped his fingers on the table, the tapping sound like a countdown.

"When you encounter resistance, don't always focus on the problem itself." President Li glanced at the two people across the table who had remained silent. "If complaining could smooth over troublemakers like Zhao Shuyao, what would be the point of all the research funding and public relations budget we allocate to you every month?"

President Li paused briefly to clarify the strategic direction.

"Remember the tone I just set: even without Zhao Shuyao, tomorrow Li Shuyao and Chen Shuyao will step forward and release videos. What you need to do is study how to resolve this group of people from a systemic perspective."

"How do we narrow their channels of communication, minimize their influence, and prevent their words from reaching the public? Do you understand?"

Everyone lowered their heads. They were used to achieving their goals through capital operations in the shadows. Whether it was blocking research funding or creating scandalous news, they always followed the principle of secrecy and covertness in their actions.

However, given the current trend of openness and transparency across the internet, these underhanded methods have completely lost their footing.

Seeing that the internal discussion had reached a dead end, Producer Wang, who had been fiddling with walnuts, rolled his eyes.

He stopped what he was doing, leaned forward slightly, and looked over the long table at the two white men sitting at the end.

These two white men, Smith and John, are the Asian representatives of a large overseas cultural exchange foundation. They are the real source of this long chain of interests.

Producer Wang swallowed hard, his tone becoming very cautious.

"Mr. Smith," Producer Wang tentatively began, "the current public opinion environment in China is indeed quite tricky. Zhao Shuyao currently has official backing, so taking direct action against him domestically would be too risky."

Producer Wang observed Smith's expression and continued to present his plan.

"Could we try a different approach? Following the same method we used to deal with those young public intellectuals, we could send Zhao Shuyao a very significant invitation for an overseas academic exchange in the name of your foundation."

"Once he steps out of the country for fame and fortune, that's our territory." A ruthless glint flashed in Producer Wang's eyes. "We can set him up in terms of accommodation, exchanges, and even financial transactions."

"As long as we tarnish his reputation overseas and label him with accusations of violating local laws or academic misconduct, he will naturally have to bow down and compromise with us."

Producer Wang proposed a complete closed-loop logic.

"Once he accepts the compromise, we'll let him speak in reverse online, find a new group of influential figures to help him promote our narrative, turning him from a dragon-slaying hero into a dragon himself. This kind of script reversal will be a devastating blow to those blindly following young people, and the effect will be immediate."

All eyes turned to Smith and John. Although this kind of "overseas honey trap" tactic was not respectable, it had indeed successfully recruited a large number of intellectuals with integrity over the past twenty years.

Smith picked up his Americano, took a sip, and his light blue eyes swept around the conference room, a hint of undisguised contempt flashing in them.

"Mr. Wang, you have a very rich imagination." Smith put down his coffee cup and replied in fluent but slightly awkward Chinese, "But you seem to have misunderstood your position."

Smith placed his hands on the table with an arrogant attitude.

"This plan is a last resort for scholars with real world-class influence or those who have access to core secrets. Using overseas resources to set up a scheme is extremely costly. And this Zhao Shuyao you're talking about is just a student in his twenties who hasn't even graduated yet."

Smith shook his head.

"His current size and level are simply not enough to be considered, and it is not worth our foundation personally getting involved and using overseas political and business resources."

Producer Wang's face turned bright red, his mouth slightly agape, speechless.

John then took over the conversation, pulling a document entirely in English from his briefcase.

"Our stance is clear: resources will only be used where they are most needed." John tapped the table with his knuckles. "But this does not mean we are giving up our intervention. The so-called historical awakening wave stirred up by Zhao Shuyao is detrimental to our global cultural strategy."

John provided a specific implementation plan.

"We have a large surplus in the special publicity fund we set up in China this year. Take this money and go find those marketing agencies. Don't talk about any profound historical materials, ordinary netizens can't understand those."

John stared at Zhang Yuan and Producer Wang.

"Give them money to stir up trouble in all videos and articles about Zhao Shuyao and people like him, focusing on attacking his motives. We want to muddy the waters."

John laid out the script in a clear and organized manner.

"You university professors are responsible for preparing standardized scripts and teaching them to those online trolls to question the bias of his information and accuse him of sensationalism. When fifty out of a hundred ordinary people criticize him, the opinions of the other fifty will waver. Do you understand?"

Mr. Li nodded and looked at the others.

A low murmur of agreement rang out in the conference room. Zhang Yuan immediately said that he would organize his graduate students to refine the counter-argument tonight, and Producer Wang also promised to connect with some of the largest public relations companies in the country.

Lubricated by huge sums of money, a massive dark web rapidly unfolded in the night of Beijing.