Chapter Thirty-One: The Turning of the Tide

Temporary Office of ZeYue.

Though the fierce battle among the three major companies had escalated into a life-or-death struggle behind the scenes, on the surface, Zhao Zejun and President Wu showed no sign of animosity; instead, they appeared unusually cordial.

“President Zhao, meeting you feels like fate delayed. Had I known you two years earlier, I would never have let such talent slip away,” President Wu said, carefully examining Zhao Zejun before giving a sincere thumbs-up. “Since its founding, ZeYue has implemented a dazzling array of measures. The title ‘Godfather of Online Novels’ is truly well-deserved.”

“President Wu, you flatter me,” Zhao Zejun replied, personally brewing a cup of tea and placing it before Wu. “I have long admired you as well. To be frank, the layout of the ZeYue website was greatly inspired by Qidian.”

“Haha, President Zhao, you are a true connoisseur. ZeYue has outshined its predecessor, surpassing even Qidian,” Wu nodded approvingly.

“Whether it’s blue or green, red lotus, white lotus root, or green lotus leaf, the three teachings have always been one family,” Zhao Zejun smiled faintly. “As long as the industry thrives, all of us practitioners will rise with the tide.”

Hearing this, President Wu was slightly taken aback.

His impression of ZeYue had always been one of ferocity and cunning.

It was like a starving wolf, mercilessly tearing apart every prey, devouring flesh and bone alike, yet never reckless.

Clearly, ZeYue’s style mirrored that of the young yet formidable leader before him.

Yet Zhao Zejun’s words made Wu see him in a new light. The young entrepreneur was not blinded by short-term achievements; his vision extended beyond mere profit to the health of the entire industry.

His breadth of vision was far greater than Kong Decheng’s, no wonder Huanjian appeared riddled with flaws—seemingly mighty, but actually vulnerable—when facing ZeYue.

With both thunderous tactics and a global perspective, having such a figure emerge in the industry was a blessing for the entire field, but undoubtedly a nightmare for competitors.

Zhao Zejun cleared his throat, breaking Wu’s train of thought. “President Wu, what brings you here this time?”

Wu fixed a deep gaze on Zhao Zejun. His initial plan to reveal his hand outright was too hasty. He needed to understand what this young wolf truly sought.

Did he desire a vast prairie brimming with endless prey, or did he intend to devour every rival hunter on that prairie? Did he want the industry to flourish, or to crush all competitors?

After a brief pause, Wu said, “President Zhao, you and I are pioneers in this industry. Recently, I’ve been troubled by a question and would like to hear your thoughts.”

“Please, let’s discuss it together.”

“Since the term ‘online novel’ truly came into use, and up until today, where online novels have become a part of the internet economy, it’s been three or four years. All this time, I’ve been pondering how this endeavor can not only survive but also grow.”

Zhao Zejun’s gaze slightly lowered as he stared at his teacup, a subtle, wry smile playing on his lips.

“Right now, the online novel industry is at its peak. On the stage, all parties are performing with singing, acting, and dancing—what a lively scene. Why would you have such worries, President Wu?”

Seeing Zhao’s playful expression, Wu chuckled softly. “President Zhao, that doesn’t sound like it comes from your true heart.”

“President Wu, what do you think?” Zhao countered. “If you want to draw me out, you have to offer something substantial first.”

Wu sighed and set down his teacup. “To be honest, I believe this current prosperity is purely a bubble inflated by our three websites. It’s not conducive to the long-term development of the online novel industry.”

Zhao Zejun feigned ignorance. “Why call it a bubble? Look—traffic has increased, there are more authors and readers, website valuations have soared.”

“President Zhao, do you truly believe that a high website valuation means the online novel industry is thriving?”

Wu smiled, then spoke earnestly. “Three years ago, what sustained online novels? I’m not referring to the authors, but to us practitioners and operators.”

Zhao nodded, indicating his understanding.

Wu continued, “Back then, there were only occasional book publications and selling traffic to websites. To be frank, making money in this business was mostly a hobby. After three or four years of development, the industry remains unchanged—still the same. Oh, and your pioneering of the tipping model.”

“Tipping is just a nice embellishment,” Zhao waved his hand dismissively.

“Exactly. An industry may seem to flourish outwardly, yet if it cannot find a sustainable profit model and relies solely on capital influx, when that capital realizes the industry doesn’t make money and withdraws rapidly, that is a bubble. Prolonged like this, it will utterly destroy the online novel industry and its entrepreneurs.”

Zhao Zejun’s eyes brightened. At this point, combining his previous insight and his skill at reading people, he had roughly guessed the real topic behind Wu’s visit.

“Well said, President Wu! You hit the nail on the head!”

Zhao Zejun’s demeanor suddenly shifted one hundred and eighty degrees. “President Wu, since you are frank, I won’t hold back either. I share this worry. Our three companies—yours, mine, and Huanjian—have been fiercely competing, dividing the earnings among the novelists. The vitality of the industry comes entirely from our pockets. Once our wallets run dry, and if the industry cannot find new growth points, it will surely wither.”

Wu pounded his thigh. “Absolutely true!”

“But to be fair, this money-burning war was started by me,” Zhao said with a smile.

“The arrow is on the string; there’s no choice but to shoot. I understand. If ZeYue didn’t burn money, it would never have snatched market share so quickly from Qidian and Huanjian. Our two companies were forced to respond by your pressure,” Wu said, waving his hand with a refined air. “It’s not what we wished for, but we had no choice. I hope we can find a path to mutual benefit.”

Zhao nodded inwardly. Mutual benefit was essential. But if ZeYue hadn’t burned money early on, inflicting unbearable pain on the other two and seizing nearly a third of the online novel market, neither Qidian nor Huanjian would have come seeking cooperation with ZeYue.

“President Zhao, do you think, given the rampant piracy nowadays, a paid subscription system for online novels is feasible? The mainstream view in the industry is that charging readers will drive away many and destroy the foundation,” Wu probed cautiously, not directly proposing a joint charging scheme.

The idea of charging for online novels was not new. Wu’s approach allowed Zhao not to dismiss it outright or reveal Qidian’s strategic intentions.

At this point, Zhao fully understood Wu’s true purpose.

Good! If you don’t come to me, I will come to you.

The time to implement a paid system for online novels had arrived—indeed, it was urgent and could not be delayed. But with three strong players, if only ZeYue charged, it would be a huge risk.

If their opinions could spark consensus, Qidian would soon become ZeYue’s ally. Otherwise, the three-way war would rage on endlessly.

Zhao Zejun lowered his eyes slightly and said calmly, “President Wu, a paid subscription system has pros and cons, but in my view, it won’t destroy the foundation as rumored; on the contrary, its benefits outweigh the drawbacks.”

“I’ve long heard President Zhao is the godfather of the novel industry, a true expert. I’m eager to hear your details.”