21. Reprint

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PS: Looking for recommendations and bookmarks.
The socks Zhang Tan bought for Xiaobai were very stretchy, and they fit her perfectly.
After having her change into them, Xiaobai wanted to keep the torn ones instead of throwing them away. She tucked the holey socks into her pocket, saying she wanted to take them home because they were her little treasures.
Zhang Tan immediately stepped away from her; the socks smelled bad after playing soccer, or as Xiaobai put it, they "reeked."
“Gah gah gah~~~” Xiaobai laughed like a goose when she saw Zhang Tan exaggeratedly pinching his nose and walking away, then raised her hand to ask to wash them.
“Go wash them yourself.”
Xiaobai stood on a small stool by the sink and started washing the socks.
Her movements were quick and practiced—clearly, she had done this before.
After washing, she hung the socks out on the balcony to dry, and Zhang Tan went downstairs with her to play soccer.
The second child to join the school was the chubby Luo Zikang—the one who had fought with Xiaobai.
Luo Zikang was eager to join in, but Xiaobai scolded him without mercy.
“What do you want, you silly kid? Don’t come over here…”
Her fierce words scared Luo Zikang off, so he could only watch but not play.
Other kids were allowed to join, but Luo Zikang was the only one excluded.
“I want to play, too,” Luo Zikang shouted in protest.
Xiaobai raised her voice even more, “You can just go shovel dirt! You silly kid, scram! You can’t play.”
Though he was noticeably bigger, Luo Zikang was completely dominated by Xiaobai, who had far more presence and spirit.
At seven in the evening, the staff gathered the children to play games together, and Zhang Tan and Xiaobai wrapped up for the day.
Xiaobai was reluctant to stop, promising Zhang Tan they would come play again tomorrow, then went off to play games and watch TV with the other kids.
Back home, Zhang Tan took a shower. When he came out, his phone was ringing; the caller ID showed “Tang Yu,” instantly bringing to mind all the information he knew about her.
She was one of his ex-girlfriends, someone long since parted from.
Zhang Tan ignored the call, and after ringing a few more times, it went to voicemail.
He had no intention of maintaining contact with such fair-weather friends; instead, he planned to rebuild himself and start a fresh life.
Sitting on the sofa, he methodically cleared out his entire phone contact list from memory.
After finishing, he turned on his computer to check the video he had posted yesterday.
At first glance, the comment section was packed—not about “balconies” or “boundless magic” anymore.
“Although I like the movie ‘The Chaser,’ the author made some good points. Analyzing it this way, the movie does seem quite simple.”
“Thanks to the author, I think I finally understand it.”
“Viewers only care if they enjoy it, not whether it has depth.”
“If the box office is high, they say it lacks depth; if it has depth, they say it won’t sell—there’s always something to complain about.”
“Very good analysis.”
“Loved it, loved it.”
“Thanks, I laughed out loud.”
…
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There were 321 comments, mixed between praise and criticism.
Zhang Tan never expected to receive overwhelming praise. With “The Chaser” so popular now, going against the grain and pointing out its flaws was sure to offend many.
However, as long as the analysis was objective, it would attract a rational audience.
The video reached 60,000 views, had over 500 bullet comments, more than 1,000 likes, over 800 bookmarks, and more than 100 shares.
Overall, achieving those numbers in just one day met Zhang Tan’s expectations and was very encouraging.
Most importantly, over 4,000 people had followed his “Astonishing” account.
“Many of the points in this film analysis I’ve seen on other sites. I thought the author plagiarized, but then I found the same account name, ‘Astonishing.’ It must be the same person. Didn’t expect a video version, and it’s even more detailed and comprehensive. Nice, following now.”
Someone had found the original written review Zhang Tan posted on a film review website—it was the embryo of this video.
With that in mind, Zhang Tan logged into the review site, found his earlier article, and added a note directing readers to the more detailed video analysis on the Xili website.
After finishing these tasks, Zhang Tan explored the charts—checking out other popular videos on film channels to see how they were made and to learn from them.
He noticed many newly released videos had only single-digit views and pitifully few comments—that was the usual state for new creators. His first video already had 60,000 views, likely due not just to quality but also riding the wave of a hot topic. “The Chaser” was hugely popular now!
Being on the rising trend meant even a pig could fly—but a fat pig wouldn’t; only the quality content, like a flying piglet, could soar.
After summarizing his thoughts, Zhang Tan began work on his next video. The movie was “A Slight Mistake,” an urban romance film, also a popular release this year with modest box office success and good reputation—a small-budget art film.
Making a good urban romance in China was truly rare.
Romantic films were a major genre with many produced, but few were good; the clichés had been exhausted.
Someone once summarized that Chinese romance movies had two major themes: infidelity and abortion—almost as if youth and love couldn’t be depicted without those elements.
Such vulgarity.
“A Slight Mistake” avoided those pitfalls; the entire film was fresh and slightly melancholic, reflecting what ordinary youth and love should genuinely feel like.
Zhang Tan first wrote the script, then recorded the content, spending Saturday night and all of Sunday to finish the second video and upload it to the site.
With experience from the first time, he improved many details: writing a more engaging description, proper video tags, and focusing on every detail.
By 6 p.m., the second video surpassed 10,000 views and gathered over 100 comments—much better than the first video’s early performance.
Everything required time and accumulation; it couldn’t be rushed.
Zhang Tan’s mindset was much better this time; he didn’t keep refreshing to check data and turned off the website to focus on other things.
Meanwhile, on Weibo, film critic influencer “Banxian’er” was preparing a new post.
With 8 million followers and a team behind him, he released a new content piece every two days, richly illustrated.
Usually, the new content draft would be ready by now, and this time was no exception—but the draft didn’t pass review. “Banxian’er,” whose real name was Yang Jinxian, was very strict with content quality and had a sharp sense of the market.
Initially, he managed the Weibo account alone but gradually built a team as followers grew, allowing more time to think about content.
The longer he worked, the harder it was to come up with fresh ideas, and preparing material took longer.
Worried about content, Yang Jinxian brainstormed with his three writers.
“We have to publish by 8 p.m., and we’re still stuck. No matter how we rush, it’s impossible to finish in time.”
Yang Jinxian was stressed, facing this situation for the first time. He subtly assessed his team, realizing their thinking had become stagnant and that fresh blood was needed.
Someone suggested, “Why don’t we just use this draft? Even if it’s not great, it’s better than nothing.”
Yang Jinxian was tempted but time was tight.
Then another member said, “I saw a pretty innovative movie analysis video on the Xili website. Maybe we can borrow from it?”
Yang Jinxian immediately asked, “Which video?”
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Several major domestic sites, including Xili, monitored the film and TV sections. This circle was neither very small nor very large—just a handful were well-known.
“Show me.”
“No point in famous creators, that’s meaningless.”
“This is a newcomer; it’s his first video.”
The speaker placed his phone on the table, facing Yang Jinxian.
“Analysis of ‘The Chaser’?” Yang Jinxian said, “Let’s see.”
Halfway through, Yang Jinxian was very interested and wanted to borrow some of the ideas. But after finishing, he changed his mind. On one hand, there wasn’t enough time to write the draft; on the other, borrowing too much could risk accusations of plagiarism.
After thinking it over, he said, “Can we contact the author? If we use his content for this issue, whatever it costs, ask him.”
Zhang Tan didn’t expect anyone to reach out to him.
He had cooked dinner and was about to go downstairs when, unable to resist, he checked the response to his newly uploaded video—and saw the inquiry from Yang Jinxian’s team.
They introduced themselves, asked if they could quote his content, and inquired about any required fees.
Zhang Tan looked up “Banxian’er” on Weibo—8 million followers, genuine.
He thought for a moment and replied, “I really like Banxian’er’s content. You can authorize your team to repost this analysis video free of charge, but please clearly credit the author and my UP account in a prominent place.”
At the other end, staff members looked at Zhang Tan’s reply and told Yang Jinxian, “He’s a sensible person.”
Yang Jinxian said, “Tell him it’s fine. Let’s be friends. If we need help in the future, we’ll do our best.”
Having obtained Zhang Tan’s authorization, they hurried to convert the video into text and images.
Yang Jinxian stopped them, saying, “Don’t convert it, just repost the video directly.”
Thus, the latest “Banxian’er” release was Zhang Tan’s video.
“What’s going on? Why is Banxian’er posting a video? And not one he made himself?”
“Is this a friendly plug? Banxian’er’s getting lazier.”
“Astonishing? His voice is really warm.”
“This is really well said.”
“Finally, someone who knows their stuff. There are too many blindly praising ‘The Chaser’ now. It’s okay to praise, but not blindly.”
“No wonder Banxian’er recommended this video—it’s genuinely good.”
“This is a new UP creator on Xiaoyu site called Astonishing. I’ve watched it, was about to recommend it myself.”
…
By 10 p.m., Zhang Tan’s video views on the Xili site began to soar. The effect of an 8-million-follower influencer’s recommendation was staggering—even if only 500,000 watched that night, that was half a million views.
Weibo and Xili sites were integrated; videos reposted on Weibo counted views and data on both platforms.
Before going to work the next day, Zhang Tan checked the data again and was shocked to see the views on “The Chaser” video had surged to 430,000, and his followers had skyrocketed to over 80,000!
All this happened overnight.
Moreover, his account received an official recommendation message: given his rapid data growth and good content quality, the Xili website would feature his “The Chaser” analysis video on the homepage film channel.
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