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

Dean Xu stopped spinning his carbon pen, the tip lightly tapping the table with a soft "click." Director Wang and Deputy Director Sun's eyes simultaneously locked onto the young man opposite them.

The air in the office returned to that subtle stillness.

Zhao Shuyao did not answer immediately. He picked up the celadon teacup in front of him, lowered his head and took a sip of the warm tea. He tasted a faint bitterness on his tongue, followed by a sweet aftertaste.

In the time it took to raise the cup, bow the head, and drink the tea, he already knew how to answer.

To be honest, he has too many things he wants to do. Engaging in online verbal battles with a few uncultured actors and public intellectuals using a few tattered county gazetteers is just a small test of his abilities.

If conditions permit, he would like to visit the Chinatowns across the ocean, and even bring video equipment to thoroughly expose those old-fashioned people who hide overseas and run the so-called "Manchurian Friendship Association," who wear yellow jackets every day and dream of being aristocrats, and use capital to brainwash the domestic culture.

Showing young people in China their hypocritical lifestyles and financial networks in their entirety would be the real way to get to the bottom of things.

But saying that is too audacious and doesn't fit the image of an "outstanding young person" who is about to graduate. Once it's said, these three school leaders who are looking for stability will probably have trouble sleeping tonight.

Zhao Shuyao put down his teacup, rested his wrist naturally on the sofa armrest, and looked up to meet the gazes of the three people.

"Dean Xu, to be honest, regarding the future, my current plan is probably to first become a simple history popular science blogger." Zhao Shuyao's tone was calm, without a trace of the passion of a declaration, but it revealed a kind of determination after careful consideration.

Dean Xu raised his eyebrows slightly, which, to the dean of a top-tier 985 university, sounded somewhat like he was neglecting his duties.

Zhao Shuyao keenly noticed the change in the other person's micro-expression and immediately continued with the second half of the logic: "People often say that liberal arts students face unemployment after graduation. It seems that the only options are to take the civil service exam to get a government job or to squeeze into clerical positions in companies."

"But I've always felt that the greatest weapon for liberal arts students is not to cater to any particular job, but our understanding of how the world works."

Leaning forward and looking into Dean Xu's eyes, he said, "I want to use my expertise and the historical materials I've read to sort out some historical contexts and change the minds of some people that have been deliberately distorted by capital. Even if I have a suitable opportunity to do other work in the future, I will never leave the foundation of cultural popularization."

Zhao Shuyao smiled, a smile tinged with the idealism typical of intellectuals: "Using a keyboard and historical materials to measure the backbone of China, this may be the last obsession of me, a liberal arts student who studies history."

This statement was extremely clever. It didn't talk about money or traffic, but instead elevated the profession of self-media blogger to the level of "liberal arts students changing the world," which was both romantic and maintained absolute independence.

Across from them, the three leaders paused for a moment in surprise.

Dean Xu had prepared a whole host of words of advice, and had even planned out the recommendation quotas for several key cultural institutions in the province, but Zhao Shuyao's words, "the obsession of liberal arts students," left him speechless.

Deputy Director Sun reacted the fastest. Looking at Zhao Shuyao, a look of realization flashed in his eyes. This kid was not the kind of person who would stay at home and do nothing. What he was going to do was definitely not something that could be tolerated by sitting at his desk drinking tea and reading newspapers.

Since we can't stop them or recruit them, we can only settle for second best and keep this thread running.

"You rascal, your head is full of grand theories about practical application," Deputy Director Sun said, pointing at Zhao Shuyao. His tone relaxed completely, carrying a hint of elder's leniency. "But who says the system and your ideals are necessarily in conflict?"

Deputy Director Sun sat up straight and presented a very convincing example: "You should be quite familiar with Shi Yue, the author of 'Those Things About the Ming Dynasty,' right?"

"Of course I'm familiar with him, Senior Mingyue from back then." Zhao Shuyao nodded.

"When he wrote that phenomenal masterpiece, wasn't he also sitting in the customs office, writing it in his spare time?" Deputy Director Sun spread his hands.

"Our current policy is very inclusive. You can have your own vast world, but the school's doors will always be open to you. So, you don't need to rush to reject or reject the school's resources right now."

Deputy Director Sun finally made the decision: "It's only March now, and there are still a few months until your graduation defense. Let's not make any absolute statements. Let's sit down and talk again after you get your diploma in June. In these few months, you can do some popular science and make some videos. We old men will remember what you said today."

Upon hearing this, Director Wang and Dean Xu nodded in agreement, and relieved smiles returned to their faces.

Sitting on the sofa, Zhao Shuyao understood perfectly. The school office leaders had made their point clear: Dongda University was not going to easily let go of him, a "living advertisement" with the endorsement of national media.

He refused special privileges and showed backbone. The University of Tokyo just needs this kind of backbone to decorate its image. As long as he doesn't cause political trouble by crossing the red line, the school will not only not restrict him, but will even back him up at critical moments, so that the words "University of Tokyo Student" will always be printed on his banner.

This is an open strategy, and also the smartest win-win situation.

"Thank you, Director Sun, and thank you, Director Wang and Dean Xu, for your understanding." Zhao Shuyao bowed slightly, his tone sincere and without a trace of hypocrisy. "No matter where I go in the future, I will never forget that it was Dongda University behind me that gave me a desk where I could quietly research historical materials."

"A sedan chair is carried by many people," Zhao Shuyao's words were a great compliment to the school.

The atmosphere was completely harmonious. After the business was over, the conversation naturally turned to some slightly private concerns.

Dean Xu picked up his teacup, gently blew on the steam, and watched the tea leaves swaying in the water. He casually asked, "Actually, Director Sun was right. You're in the eye of the storm right now. I saw on the news that the pop diva who's been singing online publicly expressed a lot of dissatisfaction with you during an interview this morning?"

Director Wang immediately chimed in, his brow furrowing slightly: "And then there's Mr. A, who wrote the long article, Shuyao. It's common for writers to belittle each other, but behind these two are quite a few deeply entrenched entertainment industry capitals and old-fashioned cultural circles."

"You've been going head-to-head with them these past few days. Have you thought about how to clean up the mess? After all, we're in academia. If we really get into a bottomless quagmire with them, you'll be the one who suffers."

Seeing the worry in the eyes of the two leaders, Zhao Shuyao knew that it was genuine concern. For traditional scholars, there is a natural sense of fear when facing capital that controls huge voice resources. They often can't win an argument with reasoning against those who resort to tantrums.

However, Zhao Shuyao is not a traditional scholar.

"Don't worry, leaders. Since I dared to overturn their table, I'm not afraid of them throwing dishes at people." Zhao Shuyao's gentle demeanor faded slightly, and a confident, even slightly humorous, smile appeared on his lips.

She shifted to a more relaxed sitting posture: "I watched the interview video of that diva this morning. She said I didn't understand her status and didn't have even a tenth of her wealth. To be honest, I was especially happy when I saw that part."

"Happy?" Director Wang was stunned. What was there to be happy about being called poor to his face?

"Of course I'm happy." Zhao Shuyao's eyes revealed the composure of an old hunter watching a fox reveal its tail. "As a public figure, the worst thing is to have no moral flaws. Since she has put her 'huge wealth' on the table as a weapon to attack others, then don't blame me for checking whether the tax records behind her wealth are as clean as her tone of voice."

Zhao Shuyao tapped his fingers twice on the sofa armrest: "I'm a person who values ​​evidence. I've already asked a friend to investigate those studios registered under her name in remote tax-free zones."

"As for how to confront her, please allow me to keep it a secret from the leaders for now. Cultured people believe in revealing the truth when the truth is revealed. I'll let her enjoy the feeling of being 'high and mighty' on the trending topics for a few more days."

These words, spoken casually, made the hearts of the three people opposite on the sofa jump. They originally thought Zhao Shuyao was just a hothead who took history seriously, but they didn't expect that this kid would directly target the most critical issue in the entertainment industry—taxation.

This is no ordinary scholar; he is clearly a shrewd and experienced strategist.

"And what about Mr. A?" Dean Xu couldn't help but ask. Compared to the singer, he was more wary of this public intellectual who had considerable influence in the cultural circle.

"Him?" Upon hearing this name, Zhao Shuyao couldn't help but chuckle, his tone revealing pure cultural contempt. "That Mr. A with the folding fan, there's really no need to worry about him. He's just a bum dressed in a cultural robe, the material underneath is all nihilism that can be torn at a touch."

Zhao Shuyao paused, his eyes becoming extremely penetrating: "If he wants to debate with me, he'd better check what his nationality is first, and while he's at it, wipe away the history of his past as a 'middleman' who worked as a sewing machine operator for some 'improper behavior'."

"I don't need to use profanity; just the self-contradictory nonsense he wrote is enough to nail him to the pillar of historical shame. For a man like him, playing dead now is the most sensible decision he's ever made."

Clean and concise, without a single vulgar word, yet it belittled those two internet tycoons to the point that they were less than rotten cabbages in the Dongda University cafeteria.

The three leaders in the office exchanged glances, then simultaneously smiled with relief. They were completely at ease. This young man in front of them didn't need them to worry about the so-called "quagmire battle" at all, because he had a completely different script in his hands.

"Good, good, we're relieved to hear that." Dean Xu put down his teacup, glanced at his watch, and stood up. "It's almost midnight. You still have your paper to revise, so we won't keep you any longer."

"Leaders, please wait a moment." Zhao Shuyao stood up, nodded politely again, and turned to walk towards the solid wood door of the office.