Chapter 482: I Can Do It Too

Short videos are Fang Hong's core strategy; without them, Chang'e Technology will always remain a second-tier internet company, unable to reach the top tier.

So he still pays close attention to it.

The next day, Fang Hong received Wu Wenfei, who now held the position of Chief Executive Officer of Tencent Literature.

The two sat facing each other in an office; Fang Hong picked up the teapot and poured tea into Wu's cup, then got straight to the point: "I heard you wanted to see me."

"Yes, I'd like to discuss my shares," Wu Wenfei said, slightly stunned that the Principal had poured tea for him himself.

The man wore glasses and was somewhat overweight, with a face full of heavy, fleshy features.

"You can choose to sell them to me; or you can choose to stay and become CEO here—your decision," Fang Hong said bluntly, giving him the choice.

In truth, even without this man, literature could find a suitable manager—as long as he didn't mess things up.

This made Wu Wenfei pause slightly; the Principal was too direct, but given his status, there was no need for pretense.

"If I choose to become CEO here, will literature operate independently?" Wu Wenfei asked.

"Yes, as a subsidiary of Chang'e Technology, independently developed and operated—but you may still leverage Chang'e's resources and channels," Fang Hong nodded.

"Are there any constraints that might hinder your execution strategy?" Wu Wenfei asked again.

At Tencent, they assigned him a director to supervise his work—big companies have big-company problems.

"Of course we'll keep an eye on you—what if your strategy harms development?"

Fang Hong had to guard against it; who knew if the man truly wanted to develop literature, or if he was a corporate spy?

He added again: "But if your development ideas are sound, we won't obstruct you—we just want this done right from the start."

"Alright, I'll think about it and give you an answer," Wu Wenfei said, understanding.

Fang Hong stood up and saw him off: "If you decide to sell your shares, just contact our CFO directly—she'll assess and offer you a market price."

"Thank you, Principal."

Wu Wenfei shook his hand and warned: "The anti-pornography and anti-illegal content crackdown in online literature is severe right now—Tencent's Genesis has already been investigated; you should be careful too."

"Understood, thank you," Fang Hong nodded.

Wu Wenfei felt the Principal was quite friendly, not the domineering figure he'd heard about, so he offered the warning.

They had no grudge or rivalry—why be domineering?

And this year's online literature market was indeed turbulent, as this was the most severe year of the anti-pornography crackdown.

Lately, inspection teams had frequently arrived at Chang'e Technology, demanding self-audits from its Bilibili and literature divisions.

Fang Hong personally received one such team—they wore black suits, polished shoes, and badges on their chests, clearly authoritative and formal.

For this crackdown, many writers received frantic, screaming messages from editors:

"Any content even remotely related to pornography, politics, or violence—delete it immediately!"

"Time is tight, no time to reply to each of your QQ messages—follow the strictest standards, check your own stories immediately; you know best what you wrote—waiting to discuss with me is a waste of time!"

This anti-pornography campaign had been ongoing since April of this year; all videos and online novels with pornographic content were being restricted, taken down, or even shut down entirely.

Many literature sites had been crushed—like Duo Ku Literature, which had temporarily shut down.

That site belonged to Baidu's brand.

Why? Because too many authors wrote porn.

Every single literature platform now, without exception, had pornographic content; some were even porn sites outright.

Even book titles adding "sister-in-law" or "doctor" paired with a seductive image could trigger countless old perverts.

Many innocent terms were also wrongly flagged—like "water and milk blending" or "pervert."

So this crackdown was extremely fierce.

Some had even been sent to labor camps for it—the founder of the danmei novel site had been arrested.

It was brutally strict; insiders called it the Great Purge.

Chang'e Literature was inevitably affected—there was no choice but to cooperate: take down what needed to be taken down, block what needed to be blocked.

Not just online novels—any unregistered websites were also targeted.

Because those sites were filled with pornographic and sexy images; this era of the internet was truly an age of demons running wild.

But it was also the era of the strictest regulation and crackdown.

This was best—clear out the trash, force competitors to focus on their own survival under the audit, and avoid unnecessary struggles.

Of course, the audits came one after another, without pause.

One day, Fang Hong invited Sun Tongyu—the father of Alibaba's Tmall—to consult him on e-commerce design.

This man had left Alibaba in 2008; the reason, it seemed, was a disagreement in business philosophy with Jack Ma.

That was normal—just look at how Tmall later funneled traffic to Tmall; Alibaba abandoned tier-three, four, five cities and rural areas, shifting toward premium markets.

"Honestly, General Manager Fang, even if I taught you the methods, you wouldn't have a good executor—someone with real e-commerce intuition. This isn't something you learn from books or by being taught—it requires flexible application," Sun Tongyu said calmly and without deference.

He'd met every kind of big shot—he certainly didn't hold the Principal in awe.

"Then I'll invite you to be the executor—what do you think?" Fang Hong leaned forward.

"I could be your consultant, sure—but if you want me to run your e-commerce, honestly, if I were to do it, it'd just be another Tmall, stuck in Tmall's model; but copying it won't succeed," Sun Tongyu said reasonably.

If copying could guarantee success, there'd be countless imitators—many already copied Tmall, including Tencent—and none succeeded.

And he himself couldn't escape Tmall's model—he needed something new to spark innovation.

In his past life, his advice to Pinduoduo was based on his prior Tmall experience—not because Pinduoduo was his creation; he was one of the designers, but not decisive.

If he'd been decisive, the founder wouldn't have been left out of the name.

Pinduoduo's founding members were three: Huang Zheng, Chen Lei, Sun Qin.

"Alright, thank you," Fang Hong said simply; if not, fine—he'd just do live-stream commerce later.

Later, Douyin's e-commerce wasn't much worse than Pinduoduo—the gap was tiny.

"But I can give you some suggestions and ideas," Sun Tongyu said.

Everyone invited him; he had to say something.

"You speak." Fang Hong had just risen to his feet, then stopped.

"You could build a social e-commerce platform focused on tier-three, -four, and -five cities. Alibaba is shifting toward premium markets, so this segment will surely be vacant," Sun Tongyu said.

"That's true," Fang Hong replied, merely offering flattery.

He knew perfectly well Alibaba was moving upscale—and that Pinduoduo would exploit the gap.

He just needed an e-commerce designer; if none existed, so be it. He didn't know whether Pinduoduo could even get a foothold. Pinduoduo had resources and capital—Duan Yongping, Ding Lei, Wang Wei—all of them were connected to that side.

Duan Yongping was the founder of BBK, as well as the founder of OPPO and VIVO—his channels and resources were formidable.

Ding Lei was the founder of NetEase; his resources and technology spoke for themselves.

Wang Wei needed no introduction—he was the boss of Shunfeng Logistics.

So any entrepreneur who could grow large always had formidable connections and resources; otherwise, breaking through bottlenecks was nearly impossible.

Fang Hong wanted to enter e-commerce because Alibaba had been too aggressive this year, fully acquiring UC You Shi to form its Mobile Business Group.

UC was currently a software with over 100 million daily active users, wildly popular—far surpassing Toutiao.

Even combined, all of Chang'e Technology's platforms didn't reach 100 million daily actives; monthly actives were only in the hundreds of millions.

Meanwhile, Alibaba was also building Ali Pictures, Alibaba Sports, Alibaba Games, Alibaba Literature, and more—launching direct challenges into Fang Hong's domains.

If Fang Hong didn't move fast and challenge them in their own territory, he'd never catch up.

Time flew quickly into August, and Xiu Chun Dao began its Propaganda campaign.

Original text in view!

The reason this film had low box office in its original timeline was inadequate promotion; in this life, its slogan directly declared: "The First New-Generation Wuxia Film!"

It launched relentless promotional blitzes across Bilibili, Toutiao, Weibo, QQ Space, and more.

Major cinemas hung banners and illuminated billboards.

Tu Piao Piao already had ground promotion staff, so promotional posters for this film appeared at train stations, elevators, and subways in every major city.

The poster showed Xie Miao, bloodied, carrying Nazha on his back, with Wang Qianyuan and several other actors dressed as Jin Yi Wei behind them.

Though there were no big stars, no particularly renowned actors, no one becomes famous overnight—everyone has a starting phase.

Now Yutu had multiple channels: Tu Piao Piao and all Chang'e Technology's apps.

On August 7, Xiu Chun Dao held a media premiere at UME International Cineplex.

The premiere attracted numerous media outlets, as well as students from the Beijing Film Academy's Finance Class and film fans.

The theater was fairly lively, since Xie Miao, Nazha, Wang Qianyuan, and Zhou Yiwei weren't big stars—only moderately known actors.

They were being interviewed by reporters, all questions centered on the film.

For instance: What was the romantic relationship between Nazha and Xie Miao in the film? After all, theirs was a tragic love story.

At that moment, Fang Hong walked in holding Liu Tianxian's hand—suddenly appearing, triggering continuous "Aaaah!" cheers from the crowd.

Camera shutters clicked incessantly: "Kaka."

The atmosphere instantly grew livelier; reporters rushed forward with microphones.

Liu Tianxian said: "I came just to support the film. Fang Hong said it was great, so I came. I hope everyone supports this movie."

A reporter asked: "Are you two getting married soon?"

"Today, we focus only on the film. Nothing else," Liu Tianxian replied succinctly, raising a hand to block the question.

She couldn't steal the film's spotlight—just appearing was enough to draw attention.

The reporters were disappointed but let her go, turning instead to question the film's creators—after all, everyone invited had been paid.

Audience members and ordinary netizens took photos of Liu Tianxian and Fang Hong with their phones and posted them online, claiming Liu Tianxian had appeared at the Xiu Chun Dao premiere.

Their appearance was genuinely unexpected.

But neither cared—they simply sat down in their own seats.

Online, however, erupted in excitement.

"Aaaah, why wasn't there any news? If I'd known, I'd have gone to see the movie—and seen Xixi!"

"They probably came secretly; it wasn't an official event."

"Look at how they're holding hands—ah, my goddess."

"Oh no, they're really dating."

"Wow, Xixi looks stunning without makeup!"

"."

Whenever Liu Tianxian appeared, online discussions exploded—and she even accidentally trended on hot search.

#Liu Tianxian and Principal Appear at Xiu Chun Dao Premiere! # This hot search was deliberately steered by a Propaganda team—mainly to focus attention on the film, not derail public discourse.

Xiu Chun Dao's release window had no strong competing films, and no one targeted it.

Targeting cost money; if the investment couldn't be recouped, targeting made no sense.

Besides, the worst anyone could do was shift public attention to Liu Tianxian and Fang Hong's relationship—yet that couldn't hurt them much, at most slightly lowering box office. Not worth it.

After the theater's noise faded, lights dimmed, and the film began—still the familiar Chang'e Holding Rabbit, unchanged for years.

"Do you think Chang'e is Liu Tianxian?" someone whispered.

"Kinda looks like it. Online people have dug into it—they say Chang'e's face was modeled after Liu Tianxian's, but back then Principal was weak, so the imitation was crude."

"That explains it—I always thought she looked like her."

"Now Principal's rich, yet he won't update it—so stingy."

"."

The film's opening narration played on the big screen: "During the Tianqi era of the Ming Dynasty, the eunuch Wei Zhongxian served as Director of the Eastern Depot, corrupting court affairs for eight years."

"At the time, seven out of ten high-ranking officials were Wei Zhongxian's allies, historically known as the Eunuch Party."

The opening establishes the background and conflict: Chongzhen is ordering the arrest of the Eunuch Party and Wei Zhongxian.

Then the screen shows night patrols and the protagonist in a Flying Fish Suit.

The protagonist, Shen Lian, portrayed by Xie Miao, has a cold expression; during the arrest of Eunuch Party remnants, his movements are clean and precise, his blade flashes sharply, making viewers feel exhilarated.

"This movie is pretty good," Liu Tianxian tilted her head.

She was deeply absorbed; the plot was tense, especially as the protagonist, while acting with decisive brutality, spared a little girl—proving he was kind and possessed a sense of justice.

This instantly revealed the protagonist's charm.

"I polished this script for two years and spent a long time securing investment funds; luckily, the Principal was willing to invest," Lu Yang said, sitting beside Fang Hong.

Yet his gaze passed over Fang Hong.

"It's just too much of a man's drama—if there were more female roles, I could play them too," Liu Tianxian joked.

(End of Chapter)