I immersed myself in David's information with laser focus, unable to tear myself away. Fueled by coffee and determination, I worked through the night. Analysis consumed me.

  Sunday disappeared—I never left my bed, laptop perched on my thighs, digging deeper into the financial web.

  Chunting, attentive and supportive, brought meals throughout the day.

  We're partners in every sense—professionally and personally. Last year we merged, TechSpeed and Business Edge, me and him. Perfect union.

  We chose not to marry, but he gave me 51% controlling interest. We maintain discretion; our relationship remains private.

  After catching a few hours of sleep early Monday, I awoke at ten and immediately sold my entire A-Shares portfolio—every position closed. The more research I’d done, the more I trusted David. HiTV isn't the only company that's grossly overvalued. The market is about to collapse—and rapidly. I instructed Chunting to do the same.

  Back to work, another intense day of research. Chunting insisted I rest Tuesday morning. Now, at noon, my exposé is complete.

  The investigation proved simpler than anticipated—HiTV left an obvious trail of financial irregularities. My analysis revealed nine billion in debt, primarily to suppliers who've been forced to accept extended payment terms of nine months.

  The numbers are staggering: monthly losses of half a billion against 15 billion in revenue. They're hemorrhaging capital to chase market share. Their debt-to-asset ratio has ballooned to 150%—well beyond the 100% threshold that signals insolvency.

  Yet the stock market boom has emboldened their reckless spending.

  Consider their contract with Yimo Zhan, one of the Ruby Republic's premier directors: three hundred million for three years, purchasing all rights to his films during this period. The agreement contains no production requirements—Yimo could collect the entire sum without delivering a single frame of footage.

  For their US expansion, they've committed to acquiring an American TV manufacturer for 2.4 billion dollars—including a hundred million non-refundable deposit—when the most generous valuation places the company's worth at 1.2 billion.

  I study the finished article on my screen, weighing the implications of what I'm about to do.

  I've interviewed Hiting Jia twice. Unlike Yuan Ma, whose insights and wit make for compelling conversation, Hiting is uninspiring. He repeatedly references "biochemical reaction" without ever articulating what this means in business terms.

  His employees describe him as personable, and he compensates them generously. Yet none has cautioned his business strategy.

  Now he's constructed a corporate behemoth poised to cost investors billions.

  … …

  After meticulously proofreading the article three times, verifying every data point and citation, I seek Chunting's assessment.

  "Are you certain about this?" he asks, settling beside me.

  "Is it compelling?"

  "It's pure gold. And irrefutable." His confidence bolsters mine.

  "Then I'm publishing." My voice carries the weight of my conviction. "The sooner this house of cards collapses, the fewer people will get hurt."

  "You're making history, Erjuan," Chunting says with admiration. "One article toppling an empire—unprecedented in the Ruby Republic."

  His expression shifts to concern, brow furrowing. "But they'll fight viciously. Be prepared."

  His hands envelop mine, warming both my fingers and my resolve. He's built his reputation in media on integrity, compassion, and reliability. Where I have adversaries, he has allies. We complement each other perfectly—sword and shield.

  I squeeze his hands before withdrawing. With my left hand reaching for my phone, my right clicks "publish."

  "Lead with this on both TechSpeed and Business Edge," I direct. "Run it across all cross-promotion channels. Bid on HiTV search terms—Baidu only, and secure top-three placement."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I close my laptop and attempt to rest.

  That proves impossible. Within thirty minutes, my phone rings. It's Bing Zhou, HiTV's PR director.

  "Erjuan, have you lost your mind?" His voice nearly shatters my eardrum.

  I remain silent but stay on the line.

  He regains composure.

  "Why are you doing this to me? We've been loyal clients for four years. I personally advocated for TechSpeed's premium package. Why sabotage your own customer?"

  "Is any information in the article factually incorrect?" I ask, my voice calm and professional.

  He hesitates, then realizes he can't afford to. "Everything is wrong. You can't defame your own client. If you don't retract this, I'll ensure no one in the industry will work with you again."

  "We never promise our clients immunity from legitimate reporting. That would violate journalistic ethics. We guarantee only one thing: we publish facts."

  "Don't give me that ethical bullshit. You're not new to this industry. This is the Ruby Republic. Everyone has skeletons. Do you think Yuan Ma and Jun Lai are spotless? This hurts your business more than ours."

  "I appreciate your concern, but I have my own principles." My response is measured but firm.

  "Is that your final position? You'll regret this." His threat hangs in the air.

  Nothing I haven't anticipated.

  I wait for him to disconnect first—I never hang up on clients. Though he won't remain one for long.

  Five minutes later, my VP of Sales informs me that HiTV has terminated our contract. Storm Video followed suit.

  Me-Tiny's departure was unexpected, but the exodus stops there. No other major accounts withdraw.

  I check our analytics dashboard. The article has already surpassed 100 thousand views—a significant benchmark in the Ruby Republic. Journalists proudly list "100 thousand club" articles on their résumés.

  This one reached that milestone in just one hour.

  In a nation of one billion, that might seem unimpressive. But in a media landscape where genuine news rarely surfaces, it's extraordinary.

  My phone rings again—Hiting himself this time.

  "Erjuan, how have you been? We haven't spoken since last year's International Internet Conference, if my memory serves correctly."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you for your time then. I valued our conversation." My tone remains professional and composed.

  "Do you have twenty minutes? I'd like to invite you to my office. I can offer an exclusive interview and tour our new headquarters."

  "I'd appreciate that. When would work?"

  "Right now." He clearly has matters he prefers to discuss in person. Urgently.

  "I apologize, but could we reschedule for tomorrow?" I deflect.

  "My calendar is full tomorrow. Where are you? I can send my driver." His persistence is telling.

  "I truly can't meet at the moment, but I'm happy to arrange another time."

  "What a shame, Erjuan. I thought we might have a productive 'biochemical reaction.'" He disconnects.

  My next call comes from Legal. HiTV has served notice and published a rebuttal on their website, threatening to sue for defamation. Hiting has taken to Weibo, denouncing my article as baseless and malicious.

  Several news outlets have begun circulating rumors about me. One focuses on my relationship with Chunting. While we prefer privacy, we have nothing to hide—I'm single, he's divorced, we share a home. This hardly constitutes scandal.

  The next caller is Shuli He. I began my career at her company, TaiXing Media, before founding TechSpeed. She remains my mentor and role model.

  "I read your exposé," she says after brief pleasantries. "Congratulations. Exceptional work. I'm proud of you."

  "Thank you. Your approval means everything."

  "May we republish?"

  "Absolutely. We're granting reprint rights to anyone interested."

  "Prepare yourself. They're drafting a comprehensive rebuttal. Watch Me-Tiny carefully—they acquired several media outlets last year."

  "I thought they compete with HiTV."

  Shuli laughs. "They despise each other, but they're cut from the same mold. You've exposed one; they fear they're next."

  I nod silently. The veteran's wisdom proves invaluable.

  "Thank you, Boss." That's what I called her when I worked for her. "I really appreciate it."

  She laughs again. "Keep up the good work, Erjuan. The torch is now yours."

  After our call, I return to research, anticipating their counterarguments. I analyze which figures they might distort, what data they could misrepresent, what falsehoods they might fabricate.

  I once admired Internet companies, captivated by their success stories and innovative business approaches.

  Terms like "disruption" and "Internet+" resonated deeply with me while causing anxiety among traditional businesses.

  Now I recognize them as a plague. They infect every industry they enter, bringing excessive competition, exploitation of partners throughout the supply chain, and deceptive accounting practices.

  … …

  The stock market responded cautiously at first. My article's impact wasn't reflected in trading until the final half hour, when HiTV's share price experienced a modest decline.

  I'm grateful for the industry's broad support. Even fierce competitors stand with me—journalists protect their own.

  Republications of my article cover far more online real estate, overshadowing their attempts at character assassination.

  My WeChat overflows with messages—mostly congratulations and support, with some jarring noises. One message stands out. It's from John Crawford: Watch out for Jun Lai. If you need help, don't hesitate to call me.

  Everything proceeds as expected. I'm winning this battle of truth, but I must remain vigilant.

  By 6:00 PM, a lengthy rebuttal appears on a Me-Tiny affiliated platform—clearly HiTV's commissioned work masquerading as independent analysis. It attempts to refute my article point by point, citing HiTV's financial statements and internal metrics.

  The piece is skillfully crafted and makes some compelling arguments. But I've done exhaustive research.

  One hour later, my follow-up article goes live.

  I welcome this debate. It generates broader public interest and provides opportunities to further expose their financial ruin.

  Everything was proceeding perfectly until 9:36 PM, when a single phone call upended my world.