Meanwhile, Pei Qian was watching the Rabbit Tail streaming platform’s broadcast, his head filled with question marks.

Who was this old professor?

What was he talking about?

Oh, right. Previously, Yu Ping’an had called and mentioned that Rabbit Tail streaming wanted people from the Useful App, hoping to get those young lecturers and scholars to start educational streams on Rabbit Tail.

Had it been arranged so quickly?

This efficiency was simply too high!

Pei Qian had thought these young lecturers and scholars would need at least a month of preparation time before officially joining Rabbit Tail, but it turned out they needed no preparation at all. As soon as Rabbit Tail went online, these people had already started lecturing!

If the presence of these young lecturers and scholars on the platform wasn’t particularly surprising to Pei Qian, the next question perplexed him greatly.

Why were so many people watching?

These were lectures, for heaven’s sake! How was it possible that the number of viewers kept increasing? The danmu comments were becoming more and more frequent? Some viewers were even sending gifts?

Judging from the audience’s reactions, they seemed quite receptive!

Although the platform’s overall traffic was low, the atmosphere in all streaming rooms was excellent. Unlike other streaming platforms, there were no trolling, baiting, or abusive comments. The viewers all seemed remarkably well-behaved.

Most frightening of all, even the promotional video had taken on a positive meaning!

Sensing that something was amiss, Pei Qian immediately called Old Ma.

“Hello? Qian-ge? How is it? Rabbit Tail streaming is doing pretty well, right? Try sending a gift—you’ll get carrots and vegetables. That carrot icon, I’m telling you, it’s super cute!”

Ma Yang’s voice brimmed with excitement, though his focus seemed to have severely diverged from Pei Qian’s concerns.

Pei Qian ignored Ma Yang’s tangent and asked directly: “Who came up with the idea of inviting these young lecturers and scholars to Rabbit Tail?”

Ma Yang was confused: “Wasn’t that your idea?”

Pei Qian: “?”

What the hell do you mean it was my idea?!

When did I ever suggest that?!

Pei Qian was shocked: “When did I say that?”

Ma Yang explained: “Didn’t you give me that promotional video earlier, Qian-ge? Wasn’t the content of the video hinting that Rabbit Tail shouldn’t just be for entertainment, but should also allow viewers to gain something while watching?”

Pei Qian was left speechless, momentarily at a loss for how to respond.

So it turned out that Old Ma had misinterpreted the promotional video!

In other words, the root of the problem actually lay with Meng Chang?

But this clearly wasn’t Meng Chang’s intention either—it could only be described as an accidental result.

Should he blame Old Ma? Or Meng Chang?

Neither seemed right.

Pei Qian felt helpless. In the end, this situation wasn’t anyone’s fault—it was just a beautiful misunderstanding.

Pei Qian abandoned that topic and after some thought asked: “So… have the compensation packages for these young lecturers and scholars been settled?”

Ma Yang promptly replied: “All settled, Qian-ge, don’t worry. They get fixed salaries as long as they maintain their streaming hours, plus high commission rates on viewer gifts. The terms are definitely solid! All contracts have already been signed.”

Pei Qian: “…”

The efficiency was truly remarkable.

Pei Qian had originally wanted to ask if there was any room for reconsideration, but he hadn’t expected that the contracts were already finalized. Thinking carefully, one had to honor contractual obligations. There was no justifiable reason to prevent them from streaming now.

After a moment of silence, Pei Qian said: “Alright then, let’s leave it at that. I’m hanging up.”

Although Pei Qian had known in advance that these young lecturers and scholars would be coming to Rabbit Tail, he never imagined they would arrive so quickly, and with such good results!

If these people had come a week or even a month after Rabbit Tail’s official launch, the platform would have lost most of its heat by then, naturally resulting in fewer viewers and minimal impact.

But the current situation was that these people had arrived just as Rabbit Tail launched, especially with industry leaders like Professor Kong Zhemin at the helm. This immediately branded Rabbit Tail as a “professional learning platform” in everyone’s minds—a label that couldn’t be erased!

One careless move had produced far-reaching consequences.

However, after some thought, Pei Qian realized there wasn’t much he could do at this point.

He could only acknowledge that Rabbit Tail’s start had exceeded his expectations, gaining attention and heat through differentiated operation compared to other streaming platforms. But could this heat be sustained? Pei Qian thought probably not.

Most viewers were likely just curious about the novelty, as educational content on streaming platforms was uncommon.

Once their three-minute enthusiasm faded, they would surely return to other platforms to watch gaming streams and dancing girls.

With this in mind, Pei Qian felt that though Rabbit Tail’s opening wasn’t going smoothly, it was far from irredeemable. He would continue to observe before making further decisions.

At least for now, Rabbit Tail only had heat, absolutely no profit.

Rabbit Tail’s expenditures were too high, including bandwidth costs, employee salaries, and wages for these young lecturers and scholars… while revenue consisted of just that tiny bit of gift money, most of which went to the streamers anyway.

So in the short term, there was absolutely no possibility of profit—nothing to worry about.

As for the culprit Meng Chang…

Never mind. He probably wasn’t feeling great either. After all, with Rabbit Tail’s good start, his promotional video deserved much of the credit, meaning he could forget about any commission.

Pei Qian believed that Meng Chang hadn’t intentionally tried to sabotage him, so there was no need to call and hold him accountable.

Just then, Pei Qian’s phone rang—it was Zhang Yuan calling.

Pei Qian: “Hm?”

He was surprised. What could the Esports Department want?

The GPL matches were proceeding smoothly. Could there be news about the ICL organized by Longyu Group?

Pei Qian immediately answered the call.

“Mr. Pei, there’s something I need to report to you. Several vice presidents from various streaming platforms have called me. They know Rabbit Tail has launched and they’re a bit nervous. They want to know if our previously signed GPL broadcasting rights will be affected.”

GPL broadcasting rights?

Pei Qian was momentarily stunned, then understood.

Currently, GPL broadcasting rights had been sold to several major streaming platforms. Although none had exclusive rights, they could all broadcast GPL independently without interfering with each other.

But Rabbit Tail’s launch had clearly sent a dangerous message to these platforms.

Industry insiders had access to information that ordinary viewers couldn’t obtain. After learning that Rabbit Tail was Pei Qian’s enterprise, they naturally became highly concerned.

Because ultimately, the GPL broadcasting rights were still in Mr. Pei’s hands!

If Mr. Pei chose to breach the contracts and declare that only Rabbit Tail could broadcast GPL matches…

Of course, this possibility wasn’t high.

But don’t forget, these platforms also had numerous streamers broadcasting GOG and other Tenda games. After the GPL Spring Tournament, there would still be the Summer Tournament, Global Invitational, and next year’s Spring Tournament!

If Mr. Pei were determined to reclaim all this content and make it exclusive to Rabbit Tail, it would be a massive blow to all streaming platforms.

Their content would be unprecedentedly weakened, while Rabbit Tail’s content would be directly tied to Tenda games, becoming unprecedentedly strengthened.

Admittedly, such a strong-armed, tyrannical approach would also harm Tenda, since other streaming platforms also brought heat to Tenda’s games. Banning other streaming platforms to monopolize the market would significantly reduce the actual heat generated.

But these streaming platforms knew well that Mr. Pei had always been unconventional. Such a move wasn’t entirely out of the question.

So they were all extremely nervous and could only call Zhang Yuan.

And Zhang Yuan couldn’t answer, forcing him to escalate the inquiry.

Pei Qian was silent for a moment.

To be honest, he was tempted.

Currently, GPL had signed broadcasting contracts with several streaming platforms. If he breached these contracts… how large would the penalties be!

But on second thought, he decided against it. This money would be outside his plan. Compared to the previous broadcasting contracts worth tens of millions, the breach penalties would be at least three to five times higher. With expenses for various ventures already allocated, it wouldn’t be easy to produce such a large sum at once.

Moreover, Pei Qian didn’t want to compete with other streaming platforms for heat.

He had never intended for Rabbit Tail to become the industry leader among streaming platforms; he only wanted to maintain an unpopular, niche platform that would continuously burn money.

That being the case, it made even less sense to make GPL exclusive.

Seeking quick results to burn money, only to accidentally burn all competitors and earn even more money instead—Pei Qian wasn’t foolish enough to make such a mistake.

With this in mind, Pei Qian said: “Tell them that Rabbit Tail’s development direction differs from theirs and won’t constitute direct competition. They have nothing to worry about. The broadcasting rights for GOG and GPL won’t be affected, and they can continue streaming with confidence.”

Every word Pei Qian spoke was true. “Won’t constitute direct competition” meant that Rabbit Tail wasn’t after heat or money—it simply wanted to spend on bandwidth costs. Indeed, it wouldn’t compete with other streaming platforms.

Zhang Yuan said: “Understood, Mr. Pei. I’ll inform them right away.”

…

Yangcheng City, ZZ Streaming headquarters.

“Alright, Mr. Zhang, I understand. Thank you!”

Company Vice President Liu Liang hung up Zhang Yuan’s call. While breathing a sigh of relief, he also felt somewhat puzzled.

ZZ Streaming’s cooperation with Tenda dated back to the ZZ Cup Creative Competition in August last year. At that time, ZZ Streaming had just received substantial funding and was developing rapidly. They had collaborated with DGE Club and other GOG clubs, generating significant heat for their platform.

Since then, ZZ Streaming had successfully obtained broadcasting rights from Tenda for both the Global Invitational and the GPL Spring Tournament. Naturally, Liu Liang and Zhang Yuan had established a good working relationship.

Despite this, Liu Liang’s recent work hadn’t been going smoothly.

Currently, the streaming industry was becoming a red ocean, with the influx of massive capital putting pressure on these established streaming platforms. Many new platforms entered the market by spending large sums to poach streamers and engage in price wars, sometimes even buying fake accounts to smear and report other platforms. Liu Liang was exhausted dealing with these issues, overwhelmed every day.

So when he heard that Mr. Pei had also created Rabbit Tail Streaming, Liu Liang was terrified.

If Mr. Pei joined the streaming platform war, it would be catastrophic!

Money was just one aspect. The key was that Tenda currently had several wildly popular games. If Tenda declared that other streaming platforms couldn’t broadcast their games, these platforms would have no recourse—they could only comply.

That’s why Liu Liang immediately called Zhang Yuan, wanting to gauge Mr. Pei’s attitude.

Now that Zhang Yuan had called back, saying Mr. Pei had no intention of “killing a thousand enemies while losing eight hundred of his own,” Liu Liang could finally relax.

Yet simultaneously, Liu Liang had a new question.

According to Zhang Yuan on the phone, Mr. Pei personally said that “Rabbit Tail and other streaming platforms have different development directions and don’t constitute direct competition,” telling them not to worry.

So the question arose:

Compared to other streaming platforms, how exactly was Rabbit Tail’s development direction different? Why didn’t it constitute competition?

As everyone knew, Mr. Pei was a business genius. He often didn’t cater to user demands but rather knew how to create demand, even foreseeing certain industry development trends.

If Rabbit Tail had a different development direction compared to other streaming platforms, did that mean Mr. Pei wasn’t optimistic about the current direction of the streaming industry and had alternative views on its future development?

This seemed to be a question worth deeply investigating!