The current content on Rabbit Tail Live Streaming was mainly divided into two categories. One was knowledge-oriented educational content in cooperation with the Useful APP, where scholars both livestreamed and recorded videos. These scholars didn’t want to go to other platforms, and other platforms had little motivation to poach them. The other category was esports match broadcasts, which had already formed a stable viewer base—there were no streamers to poach.

Of course, some streamers who were dissatisfied with the current situation would still be poached, but as things stood, these streamers weren’t Rabbit Tail’s main content or core competitiveness anyway.

Mr. Pei’s attitude had always been: if you want to poach them, go ahead, I absolutely won’t stop you. The contracts were completely unrestricted, allowing freedom of movement.

So, the streamers who remained after all the poaching were basically those who streamed as a hobby or out of passion. They had grown accustomed to the environment, and Rabbit Tail wasn’t stingy—they paid quite generously, so things had entered a relatively stable state.

Although other platforms offered seemingly high prices when poaching, they also came with many additional terms. One careless mistake could leave streamers with nowhere to complain if they got scammed.

So many streamers decided to stay in their own little corner, focusing on their content and maintaining a relatively free state.

The viewers were even more so—those who couldn’t adapt had already left, while those who had adapted to hanging around in focus mode or study mode every day had developed extreme loyalty to the platform. It was no easy task for other platforms to steal them away.

Of course, it was equally difficult for Rabbit Tail to steal viewers from other platforms.

During the phase when other streaming platforms were engaged in a crazy money-burning war, they didn’t cast their gaze here. Rabbit Tail had become like an isolated island, far from the centers of conflict.

Pei Qian pondered that the timing should be about right.

The reason he had insisted on withdrawing from the money-burning war earlier was that he feared burning money at that critical juncture. What if they quickly crushed other platforms and became a giant?

After all, most of the streaming platforms at that time were just starting out and were quite immature. Pei Qian was afraid of accidentally hitting too hard.

Now, YiYi Live and Wolf Fang Live had emerged as the leaders—they had money, streamers, and viewers… they had become two incredibly powerful behemoths.

After a period of observation, Pei Qian had confirmed that Rabbit Tail Live Streaming was safe.

This meant he could confidently burn money on Rabbit Tail without worrying about accidentally harming competitors or suddenly turning a profit.

Of course, how exactly to spend the money without disrupting this balance would require careful consideration.

Thinking about this, Pei Qian slightly regretted that Chen Yufeng wasn’t around.

If Chen Yufeng were here, he could help eliminate one wrong answer, because whatever direction Chen Yufeng wanted to develop would definitely be the wrong one.

But now it was a holiday, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to disturb him with a phone call.

However, he could ask his good brother Ma Yang, since they had worked together for so long. Ma Yang was someone easily persuaded, so he must have heard many of Chen Yufeng’s suggestions and ideas.

After some consideration, Pei Qian said, “Old Ma, if Rabbit Tail were to receive another large sum of funding, where do you think Chen Yufeng would spend this money? And where would you plan to spend it?”

Hearing this, Ma Yang temporarily stopped his chewing jaws, took a sip of his drink, and said, “Chen Yufeng would definitely use the money to recruit more scholars to teach, and might even create something like ‘Rabbit Tail Open Courses.’ He’s been nagging me about this, saying something about… leveraging comparative advantages and turning Rabbit Tail into a true knowledge platform.”

Pei Qian nodded—this was indeed something Chen Yufeng would do.

Currently, Rabbit Tail had only these two main directions. It would be difficult to come up with new ideas for the esports broadcasting side, so the only option would be to continue enriching the knowledge content and create differentiated competition.

Well then, this wrong answer could be eliminated.

Since knowledge content was Rabbit Tail’s strength, they should abandon this strength and use their weakness to challenge the larger streaming platforms.

This way, the probability of failure would be greater.

Pei Qian nodded, “As expected, still the same lack of vision. What about you? What do you think?”

Hearing this, Ma Yang clearly became excited, “I think we shouldn’t hesitate—we should go head-to-head with big platforms like YiYi Live and Wolf Fang Live! Why don’t we burn money to poach their streamers?”

Pei Qian was silent for a moment, “Hmm… your thinking is on the right track, but the specific approach needs further discussion.”

Theoretically, this method would burn money effectively. After all, Rabbit Tail’s contracts wouldn’t bind the streamers. It was easy for other platforms to poach Rabbit Tail’s streamers, but difficult for Rabbit Tail to poach streamers from other platforms.

Poaching at high prices, only to have them easily poached back—this back-and-forth would certainly burn money like water.

But the key problem was that breach of contract penalties were not easy to handle.

Some platforms set unreasonable, essentially astronomical breach of contract penalties for their streamers. Rabbit Tail couldn’t possibly pay these amounts.

First, if it were just a few individual cases, negotiations might be possible, but if they broadly poached streamers and paid breach penalties, the System would absolutely never approve. Second, Pei Qian himself didn’t want to just hand money over to these streaming platforms, as he didn’t have a good impression of them.

With that money, wouldn’t it be better to provide benefits to their own platform’s viewers?

Moreover, poaching big streamers could cause widespread and far-reaching impacts—too much commotion would also generate a lot of buzz, which went against Pei Qian’s direction of “silently burning big money.”

Pei Qian took a sip of his drink and said, “There’s not much point in aggressively poaching streamers from other platforms. In my view, rather than poaching streamers, we should be cultivating streamers.”

“Go online and find people who have the potential to become streamers, or new streamers who are currently just hobbyists and haven’t signed long-term, formal contracts with other platforms. Gradually bring them into our platform.”

“Besides this, the funding can also be used to expand advertising and develop new features for the website.”

As the saying goes, don’t put all your eggs in one basket.

This money would be split into three parts: one part for cultivating streamers, one part for advertising, and one part for developing platform features.

The so-called “cultivation of streamers” might sound nice, but in reality, the results would definitely be minimal.

Because Rabbit Tail wouldn’t sign those binding contracts, streamers would come and go freely. Most cultivated streamers would eventually be poached by other platforms.

After all that cultivation, they’d likely end up with nothing.

Ma Yang nodded, expressing deep agreement, “Yes, you’re always so clear-headed, Brother Qian.”

“But… when you talk about developing platform features, what specific features do you mean?”

Pei Qian thought to himself, how the hell would I know!

I just said it that way. If I had specific ideas, wouldn’t I have told you already?

“Think about this yourself,” Pei Qian said. “The only requirement is that it shouldn’t be related to the current academic content.”

He wasn’t particularly worried that Ma Yang would come up with some especially explosive ideas. After all, platform features ultimately served the streamers, and if there weren’t particularly excellent streamers to begin with, what would be the point of new features?

As long as they didn’t touch the current academic content, there shouldn’t be any major problems.

Ma Yang’s long face was filled with confusion, clearly showing he had no clue at the moment.

“Brother Qian, I really can’t think of anything… How about you assign me an assistant? I think Chen Yufeng is sometimes too dense, coming up with all these bad ideas. I need more opinions.”

Pei Qian was drinking juice and nearly spat it out.

Well, well, Old Ma, you’re actually complaining about Chen Yufeng now?

Impressive, truly worthy of your reputation.

But on second thought, Old Ma’s suggestion was indeed worth considering.

It was well known that Old Ma’s ideas were easily influenced by others—basically anyone could persuade him.

When Old Ma first took charge of Rabbit Tail, there were several occasions when he almost made profit-generating mistakes due to Chen Yufeng’s persuasion.

Having only one voice in Old Ma’s ear was ultimately a very unsafe situation.

Moreover, Pei Qian just happened to have someone who urgently needed to be “reassigned”…

With this in mind, he had an idea.

“You make a good point. I’ll transfer another person to help you.”

“Hu Xianbin from the game department, what do you think?”

Upon hearing this, a smile immediately appeared on Ma Yang’s long face, “Really? That would be great!”

“Although this Hu Xianbin’s wisdom doesn’t reach a ten-thousandth of yours, Brother Qian, among the managers, he’s a promising talent! But… isn’t he the lead designer in the game department? Being transferred to the streaming side, wouldn’t that be a demotion? Is that appropriate?”

Pei Qian waved his hand, “Hey, what’s all this talk about promotions and demotions? We at Tengda don’t care about that—it’s just a different position.”

“Every employee should be mentally prepared to be transferred to other positions at any time!”

“Moreover, his various benefits and treatment will improve compared to before.”

“He’s just coming to help for a while. As for how his work will be arranged in the future, we can plan for that in the long term. It’s not like he’ll be permanently tied to Rabbit Tail.”

Actually, Pei Qian was a bit concerned. After all, Hu Xianbin had been a lead designer at Tengda, and his ability was quite outstanding among the managers. Would bringing him to Rabbit Tail make the platform take off?

But with just one month left before Hu Xianbin would be “set free,” in order to keep Yu Fei in the lead designer position, he had to quickly find a new place for Hu Xianbin.

After much consideration, going elsewhere would carry the same risks, and there weren’t any good positions available, so he had no choice but to arrange for him to go to Rabbit Tail.

On one hand, Rabbit Tail was now managed by three people—Ma Yang, Chen Yufeng, and Hu Xianbin could check and balance each other. With Ma Yang caught in the middle, constantly being brainwashed by the other two, Rabbit Tail might end up in an indecisive state. On the other hand, if Pei Qian noticed something going wrong, he could find a new place for Hu Xianbin and transfer him promptly.

All things considered, in the current situation, this was a relatively reasonable arrangement.

Since Yu Fei had already taken over and was doing quite well, they absolutely couldn’t let Hu Xianbin return to Tengda’s game department!