Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

Chapter 161 Spying

"Reply with Y later!" a voice shouted in the media group, followed by a chorus of hyena-like, purely male laughter. The woman smiled hesitantly.

A voice speaking with a Northeastern accent asked, "What do you have to say about illegal publications like 'Stories of Ordinary People'?"

"What I want to say is that the main problem with those magazines isn't whether their content is vulgar, but that they violate the law. Vulgarity can be discussed, but illegality must be punished. Qingniao is willing to share our review mechanisms, copyright certificates, and channel management experience with any legitimate publishing institution free of charge. But I will not compromise with those who rely on theft, robbery, or violent distribution. Come on, speak up."

"I'm a reporter from Shanghai TV. We'd like to know if you've considered what would have happened to Qingniao if something serious had actually happened to Yang Zheng back then?"

Han Fei looked directly into the reporter's eyes, biting his lower lip: "I dare not think about it, nor do I want to. What I can tell you is that if it really happened, even if I had to shut down all my businesses and sell the publishing house, I would pursue this case to the end and bring the people behind it to justice. Money can be earned again, but life is gone forever. But thankfully, there are no 'what ifs.' Thank you to the relevant departments, and thank you to Yang Zheng for being tough enough."

A buzz of whispers arose among the reporters, and Han Fei realized that this was actually the first time he had ever thought about this question.

The reporter from Shanghai TV asked another question.

Han Fei watched the reporter's lips move, but a sudden thought struck him: this case wasn't over yet; the mastermind hadn't been uncovered. The planner hidden deeper within must have seen the news. Who was he? What was he doing now? Packing his bags, destroying ledgers? Or was he sitting on a sofa somewhere, acting as if nothing had happened, turning off the TV, picking up a teacup with such steady hands that not a single drop of tea was spilled? Would a truly seasoned black market operator do the opposite, personally coming to the scene, blending into the crowd, to observe what the person who ruined his plans looked like?

"Excuse me," Han Fei said, "could you please repeat that?"

Old Hei and Awei sat on a low wall, not far behind the crowded group of reporters, smoking and watching the scene. Awei announced that she smoked social cigarettes and took one from a pack that Old Hei had just bought.

Old Hei felt there was nothing he needed to socialize with; he just needed to rest. They saw the editor-in-chief, Han Fei, standing at the entrance of the publishing house, talking to the incessant flashing lights, his shadow dancing a victory dance on the publishing house wall.

"He won," Avi said. "The kid who got the government involved and used the media to create momentum and control public opinion won."

"And you even became a celebrity and established a brand image?" Lao Hei said with a smile.

"Yeah, it's like he made a superhero movie. Can you tell me how someone can be so calculating about their own interests while simultaneously behaving like a real hero?"

"What's so strange about that? He's included being a hero in his calculations. Being able to calculate it clearly and act it out convincingly, that's skill."

"To act when you can't even figure it out is truly laughable."

"That's true. He's the kind of opponent you have to deal with the most; you not only have to win, but you have to win spectacularly. But if you say that's because he's calculating and acts convincingly, then what about him is real?"

"Who cares! You insist on finding the real thing? Then go and lift up his chest and take a look. But in my opinion, even if it's fake inside, what if he can keep up the act for a lifetime? Then tell me, is it real or fake?"

Avi laughed heartily. "How about we grab a beer later?" Their eyes met, Avi's smile froze, her face and neck flushed red, "That's not what I meant..."

'

"It's okay, Vivian, you can celebrate for both of us. We've done our part."

"Even though they lost miserably in the end?"

"Lost? The ledgers were burned, the machines were sealed, and a few people went in. But so what?" Old Hei flicked away the cigarette in his hand, which flew across the night sky like a firefly. "Anyone who farms knows that if the crops on this land don't yield a good harvest this year, then just turn over the soil and plant a new crop next year. The land won't run away."

You mean...

""

"I didn't say anything," Old Black stood up. "This isn't something we can decide. Let's go, it's too bright in here."

Han Fei pinched the sides of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes tightly. Including the two hours he slept last night, he had only slept six hours in the past three days, and he knew it would be a long time before he could sleep again. In his dream, he saw streets, a map appeared before his eyes, and he saw the names of various districts in Shanghai: Fuzhou Road, Songjiang Town, Beizhuqiao Village,

Jiaotong University Affiliated Hospital. He also dreamt of telephone ringing, many overlapping rings, like the static on the switchboard he heard when making calls at the post office as a child. He knew it was the private jet Fang Jing had left him, or it could be Zhang Qiming calling, or Xu Cheng. He couldn't tell. He only knew the phone was ringing, but he couldn't find his cell phone. He searched all his pockets, only pulling out a handful of cigarette butts and a crumpled mobile phone bill; the numbers on the bill were falling down like sand in an hourglass.

The last reporter finally left in front of him.

Han Fei stretched his stiff neck from side to side, stepped down the stairs, and walked towards Alfa Romeo, which was parked in front of the publishing house. He took out his phone, intending to call Zhang Ruiyi down, but someone called out to him.

"President Han," a man said. This man appeared out of nowhere and was now standing directly in front of him.

The man, dressed in a dark gray jacket and white shirt, appeared to be in his thirties. He wasn't carrying a recorder or camera, and despite it being late at night and the street in front of the publishing house being quite dark, he was still wearing a sun hat. Han Fei recognized the man immediately.

"Hello," Han Fei said, a strange feeling welling up inside him, as if he were walking in a strange city and suddenly bumped into a mirror, only to see his past self reflected in it. He had only seen this round face in his previous life—in the backend system of Qidian.com, in the editorial training materials, and in group photos on various industry forums. Moreover, this person was Han Fei's boss in his previous life.

Wu Wenhui, founder of Qidian.com, is the pioneer of the paid online literature reading model and a person who has changed the way countless people read and write.

"Wu Wenhui, from Qidian.com. I apologize for bothering you, President Han, I hope you don't mind?" Wu Wenhui shook hands with Han Fei. His hand was covered with a layer of black hair.

"Mr. Wu," Han Fei blurted out, then realized he should have cleared his throat before speaking, "It's so late, what brings you here..."

2

"I read the reports about you," Wu Wenhui chuckled a few times. "I knew those reporters wouldn't let you off the hook tonight, so I thought I'd come and try my luck. I didn't expect to actually get caught up in it."

"What do you need me for?"

Wu Wenhui glanced at the publishing house's door: "President Han, I know you must have said a lot tonight, but I bet you haven't had dinner yet."

Han Fei looked at him with a surprised expression.

"We were like that back then," Wu Wenhui said. "I know a restaurant nearby that's open until 2 a.m. Let's go, it's on me. We can eat and chat at the same time, without wasting time."

Han Fei noticed that Wu Wenhui's way of speaking was peculiar; it wasn't an invitation, a request, or even a persuasion. He was simply stating the fact that "you're hungry" and "I know where to eat." This unhurried pace reminded Han Fei of the most seasoned writers. They never rush editors to look at their manuscripts; they simply toss the manuscript over and casually toss it in with a comment like, "I've written something; take a look when you have a moment."

He gazed at the distant darkness, thinking that at this moment, Shengda was evaluating the acquisition of Qidian.com, and Chen Tianjiao's so-called "Online Disney" needed content copyrights. Games were the cash cow, but content was the moat. Han Fei had heard this logic countless times in his previous life.

Qingniao Reading is a hit in the mobile paid reading market, and it has just won a pilot program with Guangdong Mobile, plus it's generating a lot of buzz. For Shengda, which is building a "content empire," such a platform is practically a ready-made piece of the puzzle.

Could it be that Chen Tianjiao has his eye on Qingniao and sent Wu Wenhui, who is about to become one of his own, to explore the industry under the guise of peer exchange, to see what kind of person Qingniao's founder is, to hear his judgment on the future of the industry, or even to test Qingniao's acquireability?

Although eight years after Shengda acquired Qidian.com, the founding team of Qidian collectively left to establish a new platform and engaged in a years-long legal battle with Shengda, those past grievances and conflicts were far from being resolved at this point in time. Wu Wenhui was likely still immersed in his ideal of "making money with dignity in online literature," and may not have a sufficiently clear understanding of the fangs of capital. In this light, Wu Wenhui is indeed very likely willing to act as Chen Tianjiao's "messenger."

"Okay," Han Fei said, "but I need to make a phone call first."

"I'll wait for you," Wu Wenhui said.

Han Fei took out his car keys, stopped in front of the Alfa Romeo, and then dialed Zhang Ruiyi's mobile phone number.

"Have all the reporters left?" Zhang Ruiyi asked.

"Let's go. Get out now. I've left the car keys in the car. You can drive home first. I have something urgent to take care of and need to go out with someone."

"What's up? Who's looking for you?"

"We're from Qidian.com, people in the industry, just chatting for a bit. You go back and rest now, see you tomorrow."

The sound of papers turning over came from the other end of the phone.

"Then how will you get back later?"

"I'll just take a taxi."

"Alright then," Zhang Ruiyi said. "You go first. I'll be right down."

It was nearly 2 a.m., and the shops and restaurants near Fuzhou Road had all pulled down their gray roller shutters, except for the Indian restaurant, which was still open.

"I used to come here often. The glass noodles here are more authentic than any I've ever had," Wu Wenhui said, looking at Han Fei.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Han Fei asked, stuffing a glistening glass noodle into his mouth from the white soup bowl. Ever since they started working at this shop, Han Fei had been waiting for Wu Wenhui to get down to business, but Wu Wenhui had been rambling on and on.

"I've already eaten," Wu Wenhui said with a smile. "I was just worried you wouldn't sit down, so I suggested we eat and chat at the same time."

Han Fei stopped chewing and looked at Wu Wenhui. "You're very good at making people relax," he said, "but you make them feel uneasy."

Wu Wenhui chuckled crookedly, "President Han, you're the first person to say that about me. Everyone else just says the first half..."

.

"That's because they weren't vigilant enough. You specifically went to the publishing house at this time and waited there until midnight; you didn't just do it to treat me to a bowl of glass noodles, did you?"

"Shengda is in talks with us about an acquisition."

Han Fei nodded, surprised that Wu Wenhui would be so direct.

"By saying that, you're basically telling me that you might be here on a mission."

"I know," Wu Wenhui said, "so I'm telling you this not because I'm going to act as a mouthpiece for Shengda."

"Oh? Why is that?"

Wu Wenhui looked down at the dining table: "President Han, have you ever heard how Qidian started?"

"Hmm," Han Fei said, his mouth full of vermicelli, "I've heard of it."

"Two years ago, a few of us pooled together 5,000 yuan, rented a server, and set up a forum. Back then, nobody believed that online literature could be paid for. Some people said we were scammers, some said we were stifling the seeds of literature, and others said that our thing wouldn't last more than three months."

Han Fei nodded and focused on eating his glass noodles.

"We survived for three months, then a year, then two. Now we have tens of thousands of paying users and monthly revenue of hundreds of thousands, and we've established a firm foothold in the industry. But do you know what I fear most, what I think about every night before I go to sleep?"

"I'm afraid all of this is fake."

This was the first time Han Fei had seen a look of surprise in Wu Wenhui's eyes.

"I'm afraid I'll wake up tomorrow and find that yesterday's data was wrong," Han Fei said. "I'm afraid I don't actually understand the content at all, and I just got lucky and caught the wave. I'm afraid those who criticize what we're doing as not literature or not presentable are right."

I'm afraid that one day users will suddenly stop reading, I'm afraid that authors will suddenly stop writing, I'm afraid that the server will suddenly crash, and I'm afraid that I don't deserve everything I have today.

Wu Wenhui raised a thick eyebrow and looked at Han Fei with great interest: "This is the first time we've met, and you've already told me everything that's on my mind."

Han Fei stretched out his arms, raised them above his head, and drank the soup in the bowl in one gulp. "Because these are also things I think about every night."

Wu Wenhui nodded slowly, a smile appearing on his face: "President Han, Shengda does indeed have designs on Qingniao. Recently, when President Chen was discussing the acquisition with us, he mentioned Qingniao more than once. He said that Qidian is the answer for PCs, while Qingniao is the answer for mobile devices. If we can hold both of these answers, Shengda's content empire will be complete."