Chapter 396: The Woman in Love

Both sides' hard steel were fired up, and they treated the Copyright Law as if it didn't exist, seeing who had deeper capital to endure and wear the other down—whomever survived, won.

Of course, this was under the condition that the top brass didn't step in.

As for other small video platforms, they were cannon fodder, incapable of decisive influence.

Although they also pirated Dad Where Are We Going, their harm was nowhere near as severe as Youku's.

Youku's audience was simply too vast, with tens of millions watching content daily.

Precisely because of its massive audience, Youku's daily revenue had dropped while expenses rose due to Chang'e Technology's actions.

Bandwidth costs remained unchanged, but membership and advertising revenue had declined—or compensation was due—these were real, tangible expenses.

Video platforms rely entirely on membership and advertising revenue!

And video platforms are already in a money-burning phase; this struggle between the two sides had dragged down Youku's stock price in the United States.

Its market cap, originally around 29 billion, had evaporated roughly 3 billion, and its stock price had fallen accordingly—massive losses indeed.

For publicly traded companies, financial health is directly reflected in the stock market.

In contrast, Chang'e Technology was backed by Hero Glory and the newly secured loan.

Without Liu Tianxian's insistence on borrowing over a billion extra, they might not have weathered this crisis, for Chang'e Technology had already agreed on a purchase price with Shengda Literature.

They would acquire 100% of Shengda Literature's equity for 4.9 billion.

And the 4.9 billion had to be paid in full within two months; it was now November, and payment had to be completed before 2014.

A 4.2 billion loan had arrived, with another 2.1 billion still pending; half the initial payment—2.45 billion—was due to Shengda now, and the other 2.45 billion would be paid in December.

That meant they were now in the payment and handover phase; after the acquisition was formally completed, it would be announced to the public.

Liu Tianxian had shown foresight, knowing Fang Hong would need funds for growth and might encounter difficulties, so she had unilaterally authorized extra borrowing.

Just as Chang'e and Youku were locked in stalemate, Alibaba suddenly announced: "Strategically investing in Youku at $30.5 per share, totaling $1.22 billion, acquiring 16.5% of its shares."

The news immediately ignited domestic and international financial and internet circles, and even the film and television industry was affected.

Youku's stock price rose 19% before market open that day.

This signaled Youku would become a division of the Alibaba Group, giving Youku immense confidence.

Youku's official statement read: "Anti-piracy has always been Youku's unwavering principle; we are willing to work with peers to uphold copyright health, have no intention of making enemies, but if certain companies act unreasonably, we will choose to fight to the end."

This was clearly a declaration of war—meaning: if you want war, then let there be war.

Suddenly flush with cash, their confidence exploded.

After this statement, media and bystanders waited eagerly for Chang'e Technology's response—but Chang'e Technology remained silent, choosing to play dead.

This truly was a case of weakness against strength; Alibaba didn't just give money—it gave resources, meaning any platform under the Alibaba Group could break through barriers for Youku.

Even companies invested in by Alibaba Group could break through barriers and connect with Youku.

Just Alipay alone could enable flexible settlement among producers, users, and Youku for all content.

With Alibaba stepping in, Chang'e either gets worn down to death, abandons the Chang'e Video division, or this will forever drag down its development.

It's simple: who has that much money to keep pouring in? Before, no one cared what you did; now, someone is openly targeting you.

Journalists, seeing Chang'e Technology's silence, scoured everywhere for its responsible officials to interview—but found no one, as if they had vanished.

Some journalists turned their gaze to Nanshan Must-Win Guest, wondering if Tencent would enter the fray, since this company had always been Alibaba's archrival.

You take this side, I take that side—always like this!

In response to journalists, Tencent's spokesperson said: "We have been closely monitoring the situation and hope both sides will settle peacefully and sit down for negotiations."

They didn't support either side—just brushed it off.

Meanwhile, Tencent's senior management was already discussing whether to invest in Chang'e Technology; the company looked promising.

If they acquired Chang'e Technology, game platforms, Toutiao, Bilibili—all these promising divisions—would effectively be absorbed into their hands.

They didn't even consider whether Chang'e would accept—they were already discussing it, so confident.

In the original timeline, Alibaba didn't invest in Youku until April or May next year; Fang Hong's appearance had altered this trajectory.

After all, Jack Ma remembered the Principal, remembered being outmaneuvered by the Principal during The Demons' Tale—it left a deep impression.

After decades dominating the business world, this was the first time anyone—not even Tencent—had made him look foolish, and by a smaller player.

This time, let the Principal witness what real capital power looks like—spending over a billion dollars in one go!

Before absolute strength, all schemes and tricks are futile.

This incident made Fang Hong realize he could no longer follow his past memories rigidly; many things, many people's attitudes toward him, had already shifted slightly.

Of course, his vision was still useful—only the process of events had changed.

Chang'e's senior management didn't hold any meetings, acting as if nothing had happened, continuing development according to the original strategy.

The more critical the moment, the more they must hold steady—cannot let others see their anxiety; must project absolute confidence.

If senior management loses morale, it's essentially over.

Shanghai, Vogue Modern All-Night City event venue!

Liu Tianxian, as the closing guest, fair-skinned and beautiful, wore a high-end custom gown, walking the long red carpet amid a shower of falling petals.

She exuded confidence, grace, and swayed with captivating charm.

Flashing lights illuminated the scene; fans on both sides held up light boards and posters, shouting incessantly.

This was the immense success her works had achieved over four consecutive years—only possible at the peak of both critical acclaim and popularity.

Thus, her closing appearance was entirely natural.

2010: Those Years; 2011: The Genius; 2012: Lucy; 2013: Now You See Me.

Each year brought a blockbuster, granting her massive popularity and value; though she never won awards, this couldn't obscure the fact that she was the top-grossing female actress in the domestic entertainment industry.

Nor could it obscure the fact that she was the top idol of the domestic entertainment industry.

This year, she graced the cover of Vogue's Golden September issue and achieved a clean sweep of China's three major magazines; her smile also appeared on the cover of the United States' Newsweek.

Such achievements had left her contemporaries far behind.

Liu Tianxian, dragging her long gown, walked down the red carpet under the gaze of thousands, waving goodbye to the fans present.

After the red carpet show ended, her beautiful photos were instantly uploaded online for fans to admire, lick the screen, and scream.

Next came the post-show interview segment—every female celebrity who attended had this segment, and Liu Tianxian did too.

She changed into an outfit: a long ponytail, a large square pink sunglasses, a white T-shirt, and jeans.

She looked casual and rebellious, exuding a cool, edgy vibe. In a corridor, just as Liu Tianxian was about to walk away, a female interviewer ran up: "Sister, wait a moment—we still have a few more questions."

"Still not done?" Liu Tianxian turned back.

"Not yet," the interviewer said.

"Ask then," Liu Tianxian said.

"Let's begin," the interviewer asked: "How do you help someone get through hardship?"

"Walk a few more steps with them," Liu Tianxian said.

"If a box could hold your worries, how big a box would you say it needs?" the interviewer asked.

"At least a shipping container," Liu Tianxian said.

"Is that for your own worries, or someone else's? Anyone's can fit," the interviewer asked.

"Put them all in together—crumple our worries into one," Liu Tianxian said.

"Then what do you do with the box?" the interviewer asked.

"Throw it away, or mail it to someone you dislike—let them suffer too."

"."

This was clearly a pre-rehearsed script; Fang Hong's name was never mentioned, yet every sentence revolved around facing hardship together with Fang Hong.

After the interview, Liu Tianxian got into a business car, pulled out her phone from the back seat, and called Fang Hong in Beijing—the call connected quickly.

"Hey, baby, what are you doing?"

"Just got home and eating. What about you, Xiao Feifei?" Fang Hong placed his phone on the table, turned on speakerphone so he could eat easily.

His mother, Xu Liyun, sitting beside him, couldn't help laughing at the words "baby."

She never expected her son to be so sweet and clingy on the phone with Liu Tianxian.

"Why are you getting home so late for dinner?" Liu Tianxian asked, concerned—it was already nine or ten at night.

"Work's busy," Fang Hong said.

"Oh my, my baby, I feel so sorry for you," Liu Tianxian's voice turned soft and syrupy.

Xu Liyun covered her mouth, laughing uncontrollably—these two were utterly nauseating. This wasn't the Liu Tianxian she usually saw; normally, Liu Tianxian was lively but seemed quite proper.

Maybe all women in love act like this.

"Then kiss me to comfort me," Fang Hong said.

"Mwah mwah," Liu Tianxian kissed the phone twice.

Xu Liyun beside her couldn't hold back anymore—she burst into loud "Ha ha" laughter.

"What was that sound?" Liu Tianxian became alert.

"My mom's beside me," Fang Hong laughed too.

"You—I—" Liu Tianxian instantly froze, flustered, not knowing what to say, feeling utterly humiliated—how could she ever face anyone now?

She wanted to scold Fang Hong—how could he let his mom hear their conversation?

"Xixi!" Xu Liyun called out.

"Auntie!" Liu Tianxian adjusted her voice, becoming serious.

Xu Liyun asked kindly: "Are you doing well out there?"

"I'm fine, Auntie. The weather's getting cold—you should wear more and keep warm," Liu Tianxian replied warmly.

"Mm-hmm, you too."

Xu Liyun felt warm inside and added again: "Xixi, I didn't hear a thing—keep chatting."

With a smiling face, she patted her son's shoulder, encouraging him to continue, not disturbing the couple's affection.

She'd just wanted to chat with her son after he came home for dinner, never expecting to stumble upon this—how deeply they truly cared for each other.

Liu Tianxian felt both embarrassed and hurt, wanting to say something, yet stayed silent, unable to face his mother now.

Fang Hong put down his chopsticks and picked up his phone: "My mom's gone."

"You're so careless—how could you let your mom hear us? I'm so ashamed," Liu Tianxian complained.

"It's fine—every couple acts like this. I'm teased by my mom too. I even saw a news story about a seventy-year-old grandmother who acted just like us—it's perfectly normal," Fang Hong laughed.

"You've seen a seventy-year-old grandmother in love?" Liu Tianxian was speechless, thinking he was making it up.

"I have—her ex-boyfriend posted their chat logs," Fang Hong burst into "Ha ha" laughter.

"How perverted are you, spying on people's privacy?" Liu Tianxian assumed he'd been peeking at others' private messages or explicit videos.

"You misunderstand—I didn't look at anyone's private stuff. It was reported in the news—I read the article," Fang Hong explained.

"Where did you read it? I never saw it," Liu Tianxian asked, puzzled.

"You'll see it someday in the future."

Fang Hong casually said that, then changed the subject: "When are you coming back?"

"I'm going back tomorrow—everything here is done. Miss me?" Liu Tianxian cooed.

"Of course I miss you—I can't sleep a single night without thinking of you," Fang Hong said.

"Get lost—you're probably sleeping better than anyone."

As Liu Tianxian spoke, the driver ahead signaled her. She nodded, then said into the phone: "Hey, I've arrived at the hotel."

"Good," Fang Hong said, then added: "When I sleep, I think of you—before I know it, I fall asleep. Isn't that amazing?"

"Hehe, so you're saying I'm giving you Hypnosis?" Liu Tianxian smiled as her Assistant pulled open the car door; she stepped out into the cold wind and pulled her coat tighter.

The Assistant picked up her bag and luggage.

(End of Chapter)