Chapter 354: The Confident Tudou.com, the Tudou.com That Got Hammered

Tudou.com is a polarizing presence among today’s video websites, rivaling Youku for the top spot.

In fact, several years ago, thanks to its earlier founding and advantages like Yi’an’s resources, Tudou.com held absolute industry leadership.

But over the past two years, though still leading, it has been caught up by Youku, and in some areas even surpassed.

The reasons for this are numerous.

For instance, Tudou.com insists on diversified development, encourages user-generated content, and builds a community—essentially creating a video version of Weibo.

This has certainly earned Tudou.com many loyal users and video influencers, and is quite creative, but it also lacks strategic focus and scatters resources and energy.

Youku, by contrast, is simpler: from the start, its goal was to be a video playback platform, sparing no cost to improve user experience and invest in technology to satisfy viewers’ needs.

In other words, under equal content, Youku’s viewing experience is significantly better than Tudou’s.

Even though Tudou has many exclusive resources, it cannot withstand rampant piracy, Youku’s borderline tactics, and Youku’s technological edge in rapidly attracting and retaining users.

Another factor is fundraising ability: Wang Wei performs only adequately in this area, and due to various reasons, he remains suspicious of shareholders.

In contrast, Youku’s founder, Gu Lao, comes from a finance and investment background, with extensive capital connections and resources, making fundraising effortless for him and giving him more ammunition.

Another issue is copyright: Tudou.com made an absolute strategic misjudgment.

Success came through Yan Li; failure came through Yan Li!

Yan Li’s Yi’an provided massive exclusive hit resources, and his dedicated copyright operator, Yi’an, built Tudou.com a huge copyright library.

This caused Tudou.com to have lower awareness and intensity in copyright competition, often choosing to abandon content it deemed low-value.

Youku, however, because Yan Li and LeTV acquired vast amounts of copyright, had few copyrights left to compete for, so its urgency and willingness to pay high costs were greater, and it fought desperately for every copyright.

Yi’an Media’s copyright library mainly consists of old dramas and low-to-mid-tier cheap films, primarily for volume and filling the library.

The current popular film and TV resources led by Yi’an only occupy part of the market; the other part, which Tudou.com cannot compete for against Youku, is also a reason for Youku’s rapid rise.

Another most critical factor is the founder.

Youku’s Gu Lao is a classic professional manager, with a capitalist mindset, extremely goal-oriented, highly executable, deeply familiar with market rules, and skilled at integrating resources for hard battles.

In contrast, Wang Wei of Tudou.com has been evaluated by internet giants as a good product manager but not a good boss.

This man has strong literary traits, overly idealistic, yet places great value on money and authority, often contradicting himself, leaving Tudou.com permeated with a strong sense of indecision.

For example, Tudou.com strongly supports user-generated content and builds video communities—partly due to its original positioning, partly to break free from reliance on Yi’an’s resources.

Wang Wei knows perfectly well that Tudou.com cannot survive without Yi’an, so he seeks to enhance content diversity to avoid being controlled.

But knowing full well he cannot do without Yi’an, he still uses Yi’an’s resources as a safety net, unwilling to engage in direct confrontation with Youku, wasting his own advantages.

Moreover, under these circumstances, he refuses further binding with Yan Li, hoping to keep Tudou.com independent and at a high standing.

In terms of decision-making courage, execution, capital operations, strategic planning, and interpersonal cooperation, Wang Wei has numerous problems.

Including Yan Li’s recent targeting and outburst against Tudou.com, it’s not merely because Tudou.com refused equity swap—it’s because he has long been dissatisfied with Wang Wei.

Previously, Yan Li had hesitated over plotting against Tudou.com, feeling it was unethical, and even considered taking control yet leaving Wang Wei in charge.

But now he has completely abandoned this idea: leaving Tudou.com in Wang Wei’s hands will lead to disaster.

Once he gains absolute control of Tudou.com, Wang Wei must leave or be marginalized.

This move is not only about making an example of one to warn others; Yan Li wants to demonstrate his importance to Tudou.com, build his own momentum, and further infiltrate and control Tudou.com to lay groundwork for seizing power.

…

Shanghai, Tudou.com headquarters

After Yan Li’s series of moves, Tudou.com quickly realized the trouble.

First, Weibo’s traffic Yinliu dropped sharply!

For Tudou.com, Weibo is vital—it can advertise Tudou.com and its content in countless ways to attract users.

Put simply, since Weibo’s rise, Tudou.com’s new users and related traffic have consistently suppressed Youku, saving substantial costs compared to Tudou’s previous advertising-driven traffic schemes.

Now that Weibo has halted traffic support for Tudou.com, the effect is immediate.

Tudou.com contacted Weibo, which replied simply: Tudou.com was previously a strategic ally of Weibo and naturally received various benefits.

Now that they are no longer allies, aside from existing contractual agreements, everything else will be handled formally.

If Tudou.com wants traffic or advertising, it must pay according to rules.

Also, paying doesn’t guarantee success—too many companies seek Weibo partnerships; Weibo’s ad slots are limited, first come, first served, highest bidder wins.

Previously, Tudou.com had priority; now it must either wait in line or pay more.

Second, all ongoing projects with Yi’an were halted—this is devastating.

Many of Yi’an’s produced and distributed projects are currently popular; without these hit TV dramas and films, Tudou.com’s monthly active users and traffic plummeted.

Unless Tudou.com scrambles for non-Yi’an projects, but how many can it grab in a short time, and how much extra will it cost?

Yi’an sells its projects to Tudou.com at no discount—just market price plus exclusivity, occasionally with a small concession.

The terms seem ordinary, but consider the fierce competition among today’s video websites.

Youku and others pay exorbitant prices for dramas—not only fighting fiercely for hot titles, but there is no such thing as market price; nearly all are bought at premiums, driving up online TV drama prices continuously.

Why does Tudou.com rely on Yi’an? Because it simply can’t compete, prices are too high, so it’s better to cooperate comfortably with Yi’an—no bidding, fair pricing.

But now that Yi’an has cut cooperation, the more comfortable Tudou.com was before, the more painful it is now.

Worse still, Yi’an Media has halted renewal of the copyright library contract.

Yi’an Media’s copyrights have always been leased to Tudou.com for 3–5 years, renewable upon expiration.

These copyrights are extremely numerous, providing over 75% of Tudou.com’s film and TV resources; the annual lease fees alone are substantial.

Tudou.com knows outsourcing its copyright library is risky and has long wanted to resolve this vulnerability, but Yi’an Media leases, never sells.

Yi’an Media is backed by Yan Li; Tudou.com cannot use forceful measures, so it has no choice but to keep leasing while trying to build its own library.

But limited by funds and the fact that most copyrights on the market have been acquired, Tudou’s own library progress is mediocre—it still depends on Yi’an’s copyright library.

Now the vulnerability has erupted, but since contracts are still valid, Tudou.com isn’t immediately affected.

But if renewal is delayed, over time, Tudou.com’s library resources will vanish in large quantities; within 1–3 years, it may drop by half.

This is digging up Tudou.com’s roots!

In the office, Wang Wei, overwhelmed by executives, finally snapped.

“Stop shouting.”

“What’s there to panic about? It’s not the end of the world yet.”

Wang Wei looked at the now-silent executives, frowned, and said calmly.

“Don’t rush. He’s applying pressure—I anticipated this when I refused him.”

“The more pressure he applies, the calmer and more composed we must be.”

“If we compromise every time he pressures us, Tudou.com will become nothing but a servant to Weibo and Yi’an.”

One executive questioned: “Then what if we don’t compromise? Can we stand firm?”

“Why not?”

Wang Wei replied: “Weibo and Yi’an were always cooperative benefits; losing them just puts us on equal footing with other sites. Our losses aren’t as severe as imagined.”

“The copyright library is deadly, but we still have time—we have chances to make up for it.”

“So, find ways to stall Yan Li, avoid escalating conflict or provoking him—deceive if you can, bluff if you can. Just buy me time.”

“From Yan Li’s attitude, it’s clear he’s holding back, doesn’t want to break ties—there’s room for negotiation.”

“The longer we stall, the more loss Yan Li incurs; he’ll start worrying our firm stance will harm his own interests. Then, when we make a small concession, we can resolve this crisis at minimal cost.”

“This is also a test for us—it might help us reduce dependence on Yi’an, lessen its control, and gain more autonomy.”

Another executive lacked confidence: “Will this work? The outside world is spreading rumors that Yan Li is leaving Tudou—shareholders have already called to inquire.”

Everyone understands Yan Li’s importance to Tudou.com; his personal prestige is a vital part of Tudou’s value.

If Yan Li exits Tudou.com, it will be a devastating blow, possibly triggering investor panic and mass exits—then Tudou.com’s situation will be utterly bleak.

“It’s just a pressure tactic—don’t panic.”

Wang Wei believed Yan Li wouldn’t leave Tudou.com: Tudou.com is still the industry leader, Yan Li remains a major shareholder, has poured countless resources and effort into it, and Tudou.com complements his business empire.

This is merely a disagreement—negotiation can resolve it; no need to respond so fiercely.

“I’ll call him personally to ease tensions; Boss Xiong and Boss Xu will also reach out—I’m sure he won’t ignore our courtesy.”

Wang Wei kept boosting morale: “Don’t back down—once you yield, you’ll never rise again. We’re called Tudou, but we’re not real potatoes anyone can squeeze and squish at will.”

…

Hengdian, Yi’an Park

Yan Li brushed his teeth while reviewing the latest intelligence on Tudou.com’s response.

“Feigning submission to buy time?”

“Looks like my tactics were still too gentle—pressure isn’t enough.”

Yan Li rinsed his mouth, unsurprised: though he had opinions about Wang Wei, the man had brought Tudou.com this far—he couldn’t be a fool.

Tudou.com’s scale remains substantial; even without Weibo and Yi’an’s support, it won’t collapse immediately.

Hmm, better make Tudou.com feel the pain of losing Yi’an and becoming its enemy before applying maximum pressure.

After brushing his teeth and shaving, Yan Li changed clothes and went to the gym.

Hengdian is crowded and noisy; Yi’an Park has a ready-made gym, so Yan Li often chooses indoor exercise.

After finishing his workout, Qin Lan had already woken up and was applying makeup. She saw him, eyes filled with grievance, voice hoarse:

“It’s all your fault—how am I supposed to film today? Everyone will look at me like this.”

“Don’t blame me alone—I told you to rest more, but you kept talking nonstop.”

Qin Lan, whether due to age or not, had become increasingly talkative, never stopping.

With so many members of the “Teddy Sisters” crew on set for “The Beauty’s Heart Strategy,” she finally had someone to chat with—on-screen lines never ended, off-screen chatter never ceased.

Since Yan Li came to visit the set these past two days, she’d chattered endlessly about everything, her throat nearly gone.

Of course, Yan Li had to admit he bore some responsibility—he’d used a bit too much force.

But Qin Lan dumped all the blame on him—he absolutely refused to accept it.

Qin Lan rolled her eyes at him, then sent a text to her assistant asking for throat-soothing medicine.

Yan Li then took a shower, turned on his computer, and arranged matters for Tudou.com.

He instructed Yi’an’s distribution department to sell the online streaming rights for The Hidden Stage to Yi’an Media, which would then negotiate cooperation with Youku or Ku6.

Then arrange Weibo follow-up to support the promotional campaign for The Hidden Stage.

This drama was Yi’an’s key project for April—originally Tudou.com’s big weapon, now turned into a weapon against Tudou.com.

Wang Wei assumed Yan Li would consider Tudou.com’s equity interests, merely pausing cooperation but not aiding the enemy.

Yan Li did have reservations, but now that he understood Wang Wei’s thinking, he wouldn’t follow his plan.

Instead, he would adopt an even more aggressive stance, making it clear that Tudou.com must either comply or become Yan Li’s enemy.

Yi’an’s cooperation with Youku and other Tudou.com rivals was the first step; later, other strikes—like Weibo—could appear at any moment.

Yan Li thought for a moment, then leaked information to Weibo.

They could release relevant details to the public, exposing that Yi’an and Tudou.com had begun to break apart, and shift all blame onto Wang Wei and Tudou.com.

Wang Wei stubbornly insisted on his own way; Tudou.com forgot its debt of gratitude, ignored Yi’an’s and Weibo’s interests, refused cooperation, only took and gave nothing back—Yan Li had reached his limit and severed all ties with Tudou.com.

Seize the moral high ground!

Launch a public opinion war!

Yan Li held Weibo, this public opinion platform, and himself enjoyed greater public favor—he couldn’t afford to mess up these two cards.

“Let’s leave it like this for now and see how things develop.”

Yan Li still hadn’t gone all out against Tudou.com—he was mainly aiming to intimidate and pressure.

Otherwise, Weibo’s moves wouldn’t have been this gentle; as the largest public opinion platform, Weibo had countless tactics.

Not to mention, over the years Tudou.com had done plenty of shady things—just stir up the narrative, and it would sink into a negative vortex.

Meanwhile, leverage Yi’an’s power and influence in the entertainment circle to surround and crush Tudou.com.

Even if it didn’t prevent Tudou.com from acquiring resources, it could raise the difficulty and cost, draining its funds.

Not to mention many of Tudou.com’s shareholders and capital partners were friendly with Yan Li, plus pressure from official policies—if they became mortal enemies, Yan Li might not kill Tudou.com outright, but he could cripple it.

“Who upset you this time?”

Without warning, Qin Lan leaned over and rubbed her hands on Yan Li’s forehead.

“You’re radiating hostility—stop frowning. Wrinkles make you look old.”

Having been with Yan Li so long, Qin Lan still sensed his moods keenly—especially strong ones were hard to miss.

Just by looking at his expression, she knew he’d locked horns with someone again.

“Just a minor hiccup.”

Yan Li didn’t want to elaborate, checked the time: “It’s almost half past seven. Didn’t you have a shoot this morning?”

Qin Lan had many female lead roles—she often woke up at four or five to get makeup done, and for the past few days she’d been heading to the dressing room by six or seven.

“Yu Zheng said the set isn’t ready, so they moved the shoot to the afternoon.”

Yan Li immediately understood: “Can’t even shoot properly, just scheming like this.”

What set isn’t ready? It was clearly to please the boss and boss lady—if the schedule hadn’t been fixed, Qin Lan would’ve been off the hook long ago.

“Don’t talk like that—she’s just being thoughtful.”

But the production delays cost me money—and now I owe him a favor!?

Yan Li grumbled but said nothing; Qin Lan had been busy these past few days, and he hardly dared to bother her at night.

With half a day off, Qin Lan didn’t want to sit around indoors—she dragged Yan Li out for a walk, even revisiting the small grove where they first met.

This had become their routine whenever they came to Hengdian—even taking photos as keepsakes.

Hengdian was developing rapidly, changing daily—this little grove might vanish any day, and at least they’d have photos to remember it by.

After wandering around for a long while, they nearly ran into a pack of paparazzi.

Yan Li watched the paparazzi’s retreating backs: “These guys aren’t from the mainland—seem like they’re from Hong Kong.”

He’d dealt with both mainland and Hong Kong paparazzi; the mainland ones were more low-key, while Hong Kong’s were far more brazen, with different dress and demeanor.

“There’ve been more paparazzi these past few days—didn’t Zhou Xingchi cause that [Big Star Gate] scandal? All sorts of reporters showed up; earlier, some even came to our set to interview Lao Ba (Ying Cai’er).”

Yan Li understood—back in March, the boss of China Star, Madame Xiang, suddenly launched a public attack on Zhou Xingchi, sparking massive debate.

The media hyped it, netizens argued fiercely, artists who’d worked with Zhou all spoke out for various reasons, divided into anti-Zhou, pro-Zhou, ambiguous, and neutral camps; netizens clashed endlessly, and the divorce battle over custody of the daughter became the biggest hot topic of March to April.

Zhou Xingchi and Jia Jingwen’s situation had nothing to do with Yan Li, but he’d still been involved to some degree.

There was no choice—this was massive heat, and Weibo couldn’t ignore it or afford to let it go.

As for which side Yan Li and Weibo supported, it wasn’t hard to decide—they backed whoever the users and public favored.

So Weibo, regarding Zhou’s case, had several major V-accounts and online influencers lead a campaign to debunk rumors and rally support for Zhou Xingchi.

Unfortunately, Zhou Xingchi didn’t respond—he probably wanted to let it cool down; otherwise, Weibo had planned to give him an exclusive interview.

Jia Jingwen was far more cooperative—she wanted to regain custody of her daughter and needed public opinion advantage.

Weibo not only provided interviews and public opinion support but also gave her a platform to speak—now she had far more supporters on the mainland than in Taiwan.

Of course, there were downsides: Jia Jingwen gained public sympathy, but beyond the “good mother” image, her personal halo shattered completely.

Taiwan media had countless flaws, but their investigative power was truly formidable—they dug up every private detail.

She endured humiliation marrying into a wealthy family, suffered cruelty from her mother-in-law, endured her husband’s infidelity, forced smiles, swallowed her anger—only to be thrown out years later, stripped of everything, forced to pay her in-laws 26 million to gain custody of her daughter, and banned from remarrying for five years.

Once, Jia Jingwen was a beloved ancient-drama goddess, one of the few actresses from Taiwan who could rival mainland top actresses, making it into the top 32 in two consecutive Weibo Goddess elections; her marriage into wealth was envied by all, and she’d often released articles portraying herself as a wealthy madam.

Now, the goddess and wealthy madam illusions were gone—only humiliation and public sympathy remained.