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

Zhao Shuyao held the water bottle in his hand, nodded to the two junior girls who were still excitedly reminiscing, and then looked at Gu Nanxi: "Alright, you're all sweaty after running, don't stand in the cold wind here, or you'll catch a cold."

Gu Nanxi zipped up her jacket, pushed her ponytail back, and walked out along the edge of the track. The two walked out of the playground side by side and waved goodbye briefly at the fork in the road.

As Zhao Shuyao walked along the tree-lined path toward the sixth dormitory building, he had just stepped onto the third-floor corridor when he saw a slightly hunched figure carrying a thick stack of review materials as he came out of the dormitory.

It's my roommate, Yang Wei.

"Old Yang," Zhao Shuyao stopped and greeted him, "What time did you get up on this weekend?"

Yang Wei looked up and saw Zhao Shuyao. A slightly tired smile appeared on his previously tense face, but he didn't stop walking: "You got up at 6:30 and memorized some essay questions. Shuyao, have you finished your run?"

Zhao Shuyao glanced at the almost worn-out "Administrative Aptitude Test" book in his hand: "The provincial exam is coming up soon, right? Your health is important. Don't overexert yourself, or you'll break."

"How can I not be nervous?" Yang Wei stood there and sighed heavily, the documents in his hand crumpled. "This is the last good opportunity for fresh graduates to take the civil service exam. If I can't get in, I'll have to go to the job market to submit my resume and run a business. These past few nights I've been dreaming about doing logic puzzles."

"Do your best and leave the rest to fate." Zhao Shuyao didn't offer any motivational platitudes; he knew better than anyone how difficult the narrow path within the system was. "Go eat something hot; the meat buns from the cafeteria just came out of the steamer."

"No, I'll just grab something to eat and head to the library to save some seats. They'll be gone if I'm late. You go about your business, don't worry about me." Yang Wei shook his head, grabbed his documents, and hurriedly walked down the corridor, his back revealing an extreme anxiety of being pushed forward by the gears of time.

Zhao Shuyao stood there, watching Yang Wei push open the door at the end of the corridor. This was an extremely ordinary young man, a true microcosm of the times, who did not cause trouble, followed the rules, and risked his life just to get a stable job.

Pushing open the dormitory door, pulling out a chair and sitting down, Zhao Shuyao pressed the power button on his laptop, and the screen lit up.

Times are changing, and the internet's voice is powerful enough to become a shield protecting ordinary people as they open documents and hover their fingers over the keyboard.

The interview about the Manchu territory and legal system from last night hasn't aired yet. We still have to personally pave the way for the online battlefront. After the previous article about Puyi was published, there were still many Manchu loyalists in the comments section trying to whitewash him by saying, "Puyi was also helpless; he was trying to protect the Manchu people, young and old."

Utterly absurd logic.

Zhao Shuyao narrowed his eyes slightly, his hands landing on the keyboard, the sound of typing echoing rapidly in the quiet dormitory.

The title is straightforward: "From Coal Hill to Changchun, a debate on the backbone of two generations of emperors who lost their kingdoms—what exactly was 'the world' in the eyes of the Manchu imperial family?"

The entry point must be to the point. Zhao Shuyao pulled up the folder he had organized yesterday and dragged several historical photos into the document.

The first photo shows Puyi wearing the so-called "Manchukuo Grand Marshal's uniform," standing at Changchun Railway Station, bowing, his hands pressed tightly against the seams of his trousers, and fawningly greeting the Commander-in-Chief of the Kwantung Army.

The second photo shows Puyi on his way to Japan, holding the Three Sacred Treasures, symbols of the Japanese Imperial Family, in his hands, kneeling and worshipping Amaterasu Omikami.

Zhao Shuyao's eyes were cold as he typed the first paragraph: "Many people like to make excuses for this last emperor, saying that he was a pitiful person, a puppet swept up by the times. Well then, let's look at the historical facts."

"There are many kinds of puppets. One kind would rather die than live in dishonor. Another kind would willingly become a dog for their enemy in order to restore their family and clan. Puyi not only became one, but he did it with extreme dedication."

At this moment, Zhao Shuyao's thinking became incredibly clear, and he quickly cut to the core of the comparative strategy of dimensional reduction.

"When we look back at the history of the Ming Dynasty three hundred years ago, Emperor Chongzhen had countless opportunities to flee south when the rebel army was at the gates of the city, and even countless opportunities to choose compromise and negotiation."

"But what did he leave behind? 'Let the traitors tear my body apart, but do not harm a single commoner.' The last white silk ribbon was hung on the old crooked-necked tree on Coal Hill. What he upheld was the last bit of imperial integrity of the Ming Dynasty. He valued the dignity of the entire country more than his own life."

"On the other hand, the Qing Dynasty's Xuantong Emperor had countless opportunities to prove that he was forced into it. Even his hunger strike under the bayonets of the Kwantung Army could have given their more than two-hundred-year-old regime a slightly more dignified end."

The fingers strike the keyboard with increased force.

"But what did he do? He sold off national treasures from the Forbidden City, recognized the enemy as his father, acknowledged the Japanese Emperor as his 'father,' and even shamelessly expressed his willingness to be the most loyal subject of the Great Japanese Empire. Was this also forced upon him? This is clearly weakness at his core and extreme selfishness!"

"By comparing these two last emperors, we can see through an underlying logic." Zhao Shuyao concluded, "The ruling group of the Manchu Qing Dynasty, from beginning to end, only cared about their Aisin Gioro family and their own dragon throne and wealth."

"As for this land, and the 400 million people on it, in their eyes, they are nothing more than bargaining chips that can be given up at any time, or even used to keep them alive."

After formatting the layout, inserting images, and verifying the text, Zhao Shuyao clicked "Publish".

Just as I clicked "Done," my phone, which was on the desktop, vibrated.

The caller ID showed a landline number with an area code. Zhao Shuyao glanced at the area code: 025, the area code for Jiangnan Province, the capital of his hometown.

Slide to answer.

"Hello, is this Zhao Shuyao from the History Department of Northeastern University?" A female voice came from the other end of the phone, speaking quickly with a formulaic enthusiasm typical of the workplace. The sound of typing and the surrounding noise could be faintly heard.

"Yes, this is me. May I ask who this is?" Zhao Shuyao leaned back in his chair, his voice steady.

"Hello, Zhao! I'm Liu, the chief editor of the 'Cultural Vision' program on Jiangnan Provincial TV." The female editor quickly introduced herself, her tone carrying a hint of self-importance.

"We saw your recent series of videos on historical analysis online, and the traffic is very impressive. Our team is currently planning a special program on 'Classical Culture and Modern Young People'."

Director Liu paused briefly before offering what he considered a very tempting offer: "We would like to formally invite you as a non-celebrity guest to participate in the recording of our show next Friday."

"This is Jiangnan TV's prime-time weekend slot, and you'll be sharing the stage with some of the country's top hosts and leading actors from popular historical dramas. This is not only an excellent exposure opportunity, but we'll also pay you a very generous appearance fee. Can you coordinate the schedule with us?"

Variety shows on Jiangnan TV.

After listening, Zhao Shuyao immediately sketched out the operating trajectory of this satellite TV station over the past few years in his mind. It is undeniable that as a first-tier provincial satellite TV station, they have a very wide audience, but what are they best at? They use scripts to create conflict and use harsh judges or highly controversial topics to win ratings.

A so-called cultural program put a history student who has recently become a hot topic online and is highly controversial together with a bunch of entertainment stars.

This isn't about exploring culture at all; it's about creating a chaotic scene to boost viewership.

Zhao Shuyao's lips curled up slightly, he was not angry but amused. In his eyes, this so-called traffic trap was really too low-level.

"Director Liu, right?" Zhao Shuyao's tone was extremely polite, even carrying a hint of the humility typical of a student. "I'm really sorry, thank you for your high regard for me, but I'm currently a third-year graduate student, and my graduation thesis is in a critical revision stage. My supervisor is keeping a close eye on it, and I really can't coordinate the time to travel these thousands of kilometers."

"Oh dear, Zhao, when can't you write your thesis?" Director Liu clearly hadn't expected a student to refuse such a large platform, and his tone immediately became urgent, even carrying a hint of lecturing.

"You need to understand, this is prime time on a top-tier TV station. This can double your fan base. Many self-media creators spend money and pull strings but still can't get on this stage. You can just share the stage with those celebrities, exchange a few words, and you'll generate buzz, right? This is for your future development."

"It is indeed a good opportunity." Zhao Shuyao refused to accept her promise and remained unmoved. "But I'm just an ordinary history student. I only have so much knowledge. If I go to the scene and say something wrong, or if my views don't align with those big stars, it will not only ruin your station's reputation, but also make it seem like I've wasted my education. A cultured person should do something that reflects cultural refinement, don't you think?"

The soft nail was pressed right up to my throat.

Director Liu was silent for two seconds on the other end of the phone. She could hear the resistance and sarcasm hidden in the other person's words.

"Since Zhao is so busy, we won't force you. We can work together again in the future." Director Liu's tone turned cold instantly, with a hint of displeasure, and he hung up the phone.

Hearing the dial tone on his phone, Zhao Shuyao threw it back onto the table.

Go and be a background figure for those celebrities who have to count their lines in their scripts? Do they really think they're one of those internet celebrities who are desperately trying to get into the world of fame and fortune?

Over the next two or three days, as Zhao Shuyao's popularity on the internet continued to grow, invitations from stations like Jiangnan TV came one after another.

There were talk shows on local TV stations, stand-up comedy shows on online video platforms, and even an MCN agency that offered a million-dollar guarantee to take over the operation of his account.

Zhao Shuyao refused them all and turned them down.

This composure was unbelievable to his roommate Yang Wei, but Zhao Shuyao was very clear that when he stood up to expose the sham history of the Qing Dynasty, he had already touched an extremely large chain of interests.

To be effective, one must first be strong. At this critical juncture, any attempt to gain short-term benefits by showing one's face in public will become a weakness that others can exploit.

Time flies, and it's already the fourth day since the CCTV interview.

Early morning, the rubberized running track on the playground.

Zhao Shuyao completed a five-kilometer jog, returned to his dormitory with a slight sweat, took a cold shower, changed into dry clothes, pulled out a chair, and casually opened the web version of Toutiao.

The page had just finished loading when the little bell icon in the upper right corner, representing message notifications, started flashing so frequently it looked like it was infected with a virus.

The number of "@Northeastern University History Department Idlers" has directly exceeded the display limit.

Zhao Shuyao's hand, which was holding the water glass, stopped in mid-air, and he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Based on his account's current daily active users, even if yesterday's article about Puyi had a huge surge in traffic, it's impossible for it to generate such a terrifying amount of interaction overnight. This isn't organic traffic feedback; it's clearly an organized and targeted attack.

Put down the water glass, hold the mouse in your right hand, and click to enter the notification list.

The top row is filled with entertainment marketing accounts and entertainment bloggers, all bearing the gold V certification logo, frantically reposting the same long image and text.