Chapter 55: Brothers, a Big Job is Here!

Bu Huang's logic was very simple.

First, this trivial matter couldn't nail Fang Xinghe; being smeared was something he'd been seeking.

Second, his new book would sell even better.

Third, multi-channel monetization was indeed affected, so what? He wouldn't earn it; he wasn't in a rush anyway.

Fourth, the fake fans were likely to cause trouble, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Fifth, theoretically, any "cyberbullying" capable of destroying a fourteen-year-old couldn't touch a water army boss who had already died once; he didn't care, but his fans would surely be heartbroken.

Sixth, he could retain at least two channels to speak out; if he wanted to curse someone, he still could, and curse dirtier and more satisfyingly.

So even if Nanfang got hold of his dirt, it was really just that much.

It wasn't that there was no impact at all, but that he could withstand it.

Yet he still replied very solemnly: "I know. Thank you, Sister Chunhua."

"Don't thank me yet. I'll contact the Director of the News Department at Capital TV immediately; he previously wanted that interview footage from me. Also, you can try having Ya Li ask CCTV. The news segment is definitely out, but a few programs might not be..."

Zhao Chunhua gave earnest instructions and then immediately rushed off to handle things.

She and Wang Yali were very similar; both possessed the straightforwardness, enthusiasm, and magnanimity of a big-city girl from the capital.

Although Fang Xinghe didn't hold high hopes for her solution, a warmth surged within his heart.

As for why he didn't hold high hopes...

Wasn't it obvious?

In this current era, no power could stop the media's wave after wave of long-term smears.

Public intellectuals of later generations: small fry spouting nonsense on half-dead platforms like Weibo, and run-dog trash living abroad picking up garbage.

Public intellectuals of the present: reporters, editors, members of the Writers' Association, university professors, economists, sociologists, freelance writers from all walks of life, celebrity directors, and those from Qingbei, Fudan, and Jiaotong...

Version T0, I'm not kidding you.

So, once they ganged up on someone, it was truly troublesome.

Only an endorsement from a level like the News Broadcast or Focus Interview could have any effect; other clarification methods were truly insufficient against their smears.

Moreover, regarding those so-called "other clarification methods," which side were they on, friend or foe? That was also unknown.

We could only wait and see.

Half an hour later, Zhao Chunhua called back, fuming.

"Capital TV is willing to arrange an exclusive interview for you, but you need to come to the capital. They will choose the topic, they will set the time, you must cooperate unconditionally, and you will have no autonomy..."

"That's impossible." Fang Xinghe refused decisively without a second thought.

A proper studio television program was not the same nature as Zhao Chunhua's interview.

When making a program at a TV station, autonomy was the most important thing.

Without autonomy, they could interrogate you however they wanted and edit you however they wanted, without consulting you at all.

The final product would be such absolute shit that no normal person could possibly imagine.

The artists who got screwed by Mango TV's malicious editing and came to Fang Xinghe wanting to buy clarification marketing weren't one or two; it was a whole damn nest, two nests!

Fang Xinghe would rather not appear on television than accept such manipulation.

"I knew you wouldn't accept it."

Zhao Chunhua sighed and said worriedly, "Director Luo was very enthusiastic before, but now... I feel he doesn't want to do a book topic anymore; he's very likely going after a big scoop."

Damn, so they were enemies, not friends.

But Fang Xinghe remained very calm: "Who leaked the news to them? A reporter just arrived at my place; how did your Capital TV already vaguely get the message? This transmission efficiency is suspicious."

"Oh my! That's right!"

A loud slap came from Zhao Chunhua's end; who knew what she was slapping that made such a loud noise.

"Wait a bit longer; I'll get Ya Li to investigate together!"

This time was even faster; in less than ten minutes, she replied again, her voice becoming tense: "I found out. The reporter going to your place is from the Nan Du Beijing Bureau. The source of the leak is Xinhua reporter Yang Xiao. The person who likely tipped off Old Luo is probably People's Daily editor Jiang Yaping..."

Fang Xinghe listened, stunned. How had these people gathered together?

Zhao Chunhua's worried voice continued to come through the microphone.

"Now it's trouble! Many media outlets are waiting for the interview results; the news has spread... Why are so many people idle, spending so much effort to mess with you? Are they sick!"

This wasn't just the level of wanting to eat blood-stained buns; it was a major move determined not to stop until Fang Xinghe was ruined.

She couldn't figure it out.

But Fang Xinghe, on the contrary, slowly figured it out.

At present, the concept and distinction of the "Unpreventable Faction" had not yet appeared domestically, but in reality, they already existed.

According to public data from later years, the "assistance" of the International Monetary Fund to the domestic cultural circle had already reached a large scale in the early 1990s.

Let's not mention more; just looking at the Unpreventable Faction, it was actually not a fixed group divided by region, but a kind of... attribute derived from Southern Media.

In Fang Xinghe's era, the entire group was abandoned by their masters; with information made public, netizens discovered that many unrelated people were drawing the same salary.

So it was nothing strange that they huddled together behind the scenes; they were all good buddies.

What truly made Fang Xinghe feel nauseous was that now, right now, at this moment, this bunch actually represented the force of progress.

I really want to fuck their whole families...

Of course, I'd have to let them pull out their dicks first.

Actually, Zhao Chunhua wasn't unaware of the Unpreventable Faction's tenacity, but she always believed that although Fang Xinghe was rebellious, he still counted as an "insider" of the cultural circle.

The cultural circle included the literary world; his articles were written so well, how could he not count?

Alright, let's say he does.

But she obviously underestimated the Unpreventable Faction's determination to kill Fang Xinghe, because while both were rebellious, Han Han's anger was directed at the environment, whereas Fang Xinghe's anger was directed at them; who should be supported was self-evident.

From this, a more important question derived...

Fang Xinghe blocked the way.

They had long tried to cultivate a group of progressive new youth possessing "leading power" and sharing their "aspirations," capable of becoming idols for teenagers.

They invested tremendous effort, launching major evaluations whenever an opportunity arose.

Indeed, they promoted many genuine positive figures, but only those with Western-leaning ideologies received exaggerated praise beyond the norm.

From the initial "50 Public Intellectuals Influencing Huaxia," to the "Top Ten Youth Leaders," then to the "Annual Huaxia Youth Leaders," how many disgusting things had they churned out in between?

Pull up the list—good heavens, it's eye-watering.

Lu Taijun, who directed "Nanjing Nanjing," exactly who did he lead?

Zhang Ziyi, who posted nude photos on foreign beaches, exactly who did she move?

Gao Xiaojin, who raved madly about foreign superiority, exactly who did he influence?

Han Han in his youth perfectly met their requirements, so from the moment he debuted, the related hype and promotion never stopped.

But, the situation in this lifetime is quite different.

With Fang Xinghe blocking the front, who would look at the little Han behind him?

It's not that Han Han isn't strong, but that Fang Xinghe is simply out of their league.

When there was no opportunity, they could only hold their noses and endure; now that they've finally found one, of course they'll exert every ounce of strength they have.

Anyway, exploiting Fang Xinghe brings both sales and heat, so let's make it big!

Thus, it wasn't just Zhao Chunhua who was at a loss; Wang Yali was also unusually panicked.

She called proactively: "Xinghe, I'm afraid your situation can't be suppressed. Many media outlets are reserving space, waiting for the interview results. Back then, I promised to help you settle this, but it seems I blew my own horn too big..."

"It's fine. I have a handle on things."

Fang Xinghe calmly comforted her. His deep, steady voice eased Wang Yali's heart: "Have you thought of a solution?"

"Mm. Don't worry about me. We won't lose."

Wang Yali let out a huge sigh of relief: "Alright then. Chunhua and I will discuss it again and see how we can help."

Fang Xinghe didn't persuade her further. Whatever. Anyway, no matter how they thrashed about, they couldn't win.

Yes, we won't lose, but we also won't win.

It's not just because most channels of expression are in their hands, nor just because most people skilled at speaking stand on their side; the most crucial core logic is... they have no shame.

For instance, with rumors, a crowd rushes up all at once, blackening you until you stink.

You clearly have evidence, but there's nowhere to publish it.

You finally find a place to publish it, but it's quickly drowned out by their wolf-pack tactics.

You persistently clarify, and eventually the readers see it, but in truth, the readers don't want to see the truth; it's not fun or exciting, so rumors still abound everywhere.

You only want an apology, but unfortunately, they are best at pretending not to see.

You take up the weapon of law and sue them in court, but alas, it's still utterly useless.

In the very end...

"Fine, sorry, I was wrong."

They wave their hands impatiently, leave a single apology, then turn and walk out, shifting their gaze to the next victim, completely forgetting you like trash.

Your value ends there. You are not worthy of consuming their time, not worthy of being cursed, not even worthy of a single direct glance.

And after they return, they can still continue to enjoy the cheers, applause, and adoration of that fixed audience.

You won, but are you happy?

Anyway, just thinking about it makes Fang Xinghe feel very unhappy.

As a high-level water-head in the era of entertainment to death, he knows all too well how that public intellectual thug playbook works.

To speak the blunt truth, against this bunch of bastards, no one can win.

It's useless to open any cheat; because the most fundamental logic is—there's a huge audience that believes them, believes the air outside is sweet, and believes their own poor situation is because our country isn't good enough.

Even if you slaughter all the public intellectuals, the new batch that comes up will still cater to the audience for economic gain.

Once the audience is coaxed into happiness, they will still believe their rumors.

This problem couldn't be completely solved even by 2030, because among 1.4 billion people, one ten-thousandth of an idiot is enough to leave anyone helpless.

The "Gege" ones don't take money from outside; relying solely on domestic idiots to support them is enough for financial freedom.

Now it will only be more brutal. Is Fang Xinghe going to use his head to fight against hundreds of millions of public intellectual believers?

One spittle from each person would be enough to drown him.

So he can only become more thuggish—don't care about the readers, don't worry about reputation, just chase the ringleader and keep hammering away.

Whether we can win or not is one thing; whether we can hurt them is another.

In the final analysis, this situation comes down to mindset. Whoever has the stronger mindset, whoever cares less about being cursed, whoever can be stubborn to the very end, that person stands invincible.

Moreover, why should I play within your framework?

You decide how to fight, but when to start fighting and when to end it—I decide!

Fang Xinghe took out his phone and dialed Brother Long's pager number—the thug he'd chatted with in the bathhouse.

How coincidental; just moments ago he was nearly pinned down by those two "spiritual little sisters," and now he turned around and sought out the "Brother Long" they mentioned. Fate is truly wonderful.

He had the paging service send a message: I am Fang Xinghe. Please call back if there's business.

Less than three minutes passed before the phone rang. Upon answering, a breathless, excited voice came through the receiver from Xiao Long.

"Fang Shao, it's me, Xiao Long! What's up? You're looking for me?"

"Brother Long..."

"No, no, no! Call me Xiao Long! Just Xiao Long! In front of you, how can I be a 'bro'? Am I worthy?!"

Xiao Long isn't great with words, but he knows his place.

He not only lowered his stance sufficiently, but he genuinely hoped to be able to help Fang Xinghe.

That pride of being able to slap one's chest and say, "Fang Xinghe is my fellow townsman; we always soak in the same bathhouse," when going out of town to handle business, had become rare thirty years later, yet at this moment it remained simple and pure.

"If you need something, just say the word. If I can do it, I'll do it immediately; if I can't, I'll figure out a way to make it happen!"

Fang Xinghe didn't stand on ceremony any longer and gave orders: "Help me dig up two people. Reporters from the capital, from the Nandu Daily. They might be going to interview my uncle today. Do you know where he lives?"

"Know it, know it! The area at the end of Zhanqian Street!"

Xiao Long was extremely excited, howling as he asked: "I know all the hotels over there! After we dig them up, what then? Should I find two little girls to set them up with a fairy trap? Against these outsiders with proper jobs, that trick works like a charm!"

Ha!

Fang Xinghe almost laughed at him; this guy was truly interesting and had ideas.

But...

"No need. Once you find them, notify me to come over. Don't touch them."

"Oh..."

Xiao Long's voice was full of regret, but that didn't affect his eagerness to work at all.

"Then Young Master Fang, just wait for my good news. If it goes fast, I'll be done in half an hour!"

"Good. I owe you one."

Fang Xinghe, who had only mixed with society online, was naturally adept at such things—Xiao Fang's personality was naturally open to all, and Fang had long dealt with the entertainment circle; stacked together, he was truly a natural-born boss body.

No mention of payment, but the single phrase "I owe you one" instantly pumped Xiao Long full of chicken blood.

This guy threw down the phone, and amidst the boss's furious cursing of "F*** your mother," he sprinted back to the small drinking shop, raised his arm and shouted: "Stop f***ing drinking! Big job's here! Everyone up, follow me!"

A table of boys and girls, county-town hooligans with various hair colors, looked up at the sound, their eyes gleaming.

"What job, Brother Long? How much can we earn?"

These guys, not yet twenty, were f***ing broke; hearing "big job," their eyeballs turned a greedy green.

"Earn your mother! I never talked money!"

Brother Long was extremely heroic, slammed the table hard, raised his right thumb, and pointed it at his own nose.

"This job is for Young Master Fang!"

The boys were stunned, momentarily unable to react, but those girls suddenly let out a gasp: "Which Young Master Fang? Fang Xinghe?!"

"Duh!"

Brother Long was awesome, his chin nearly poking the ceiling, sneering with an attitude that blew the sky away.

"I told you guys long ago I'm super close with Young Master Fang, and none of you f***ing believed me. Now, what do you say?"

"Holy sh*t!"

"Oh my god!"

"Bro, is it really Young Master Fang asking you to do a job?!"

The boys' and girls' eyeballs began to glow blue; everyone stood up.

Brother Long pounded his chest hard: "Do a good job, and Young Master Fang will come over personally! Be quick and decisive. Do it or not?!"

"Do it, do it, do it!"

"Then what's there to say? Just tell me who to do!"

Two guys jumped out with a whoosh; looking closely, they all had spiky hairstyles, their hair originally probably red but now faded somewhat, half-yellow half-red, with earrings on their ears identical to Fang Xinghe's.

"Let's go, go do the person!"

The girls were even more excited; there were four in total, and by sheer coincidence, two of them were exactly the Tiger Girl who had wanted to gang-rape Fang Xinghe.

The most wild one picked up a wine bottle, pointed at Brother Long: "If I don't see Fang Xinghe today, one of us is definitely going to die! What are we doing? Spit it out!"

"Right! I'd even be okay with sleeping with him!"

"Dream on, you f***er! Look at your dead look!"

"Shut the f*** up, all of you, follow me!"

Brother Long waved his hand, strutting proudly, leading them out; all the way, he looked at everyone with his chin up and eyes slanted.

Just one word: Cocky!

This was Fang Xinghe's influence in this small county town.

This small town had been too transparent for far too long.

Trapped in this small town, young hooligans from thirteen or fourteen to their twenties desperately needed a peer role model who could truly be called an idol.

A mere high school entrance exam top scorer didn't qualify; what did a good boy know about brotherhood?

A mere family-exterminating killer didn't qualify either; that could only make people fear him. What did he know about the confusion of small-town youth?

Only Fang Xinghe qualified. He truly carved out his own sky through his own efforts, then freely splashed across that sky, writing out one sentence after another of quotes that thrilled teenagers across the nation.

Admiring Fang Xinghe because they couldn't understand the essays or learn the textbooks sounded stupid.

But in their numb, trapped dreams, being as awesome as Young Master Fang was almost the only beam of light illuminating the path ahead.

Once spoken aloud, this would sound even stupider.

So they never said it; they just unconsciously lightened their steps and lowered their voices when passing No. 3 Middle School, fearing to wake the person in the sky.

Now, finally having the chance to do something for Young Master Fang and meet him personally, they all reacted with stress.

If Young Master Fang says do someone, then do them; frown once, and I am the one you've raised!