Chapter 934

Sounding the Battle Horn

The meeting room was silent for a few seconds.

Guo Xing looked down at the proposal he had worked on for three consecutive nights.

The data, budget, channels, and expectations were all correct, but Wang Donglai's words made her realize that a good publicity plan cannot just have a skeleton; it also needs a soul.

Empathy is the soul of this plan.

"I understand."

She looked up and said, "The core of publicity and distribution is empathy, not selling movies, but passing on the torch."

Wang Donglai nodded and sat down again.

"You guys can refine the specifics of how to implement it. For the segmented part, re-examine the emotional positioning of each segment. The timeline, rules, and review process for the cover song event need to be discussed and confirmed with Zhang Yizu. Zhou Qing will be responsible for the user experience on the streaming platform. Any uncertainties should be reported immediately, without waiting for the next report."

Guo Xing closed his notebook and was about to get up when he suddenly remembered something and said, "Boss, I have a question about the movie pricing. Does 'all' refer to box office revenue or net profit after deducting costs?"

"Box office revenue, costs and taxes are calculated separately and will not be deducted from donations."

Guo Xing quickly did some mental calculations.

According to this algorithm, for each movie ticket costing three yuan, the platform pays a few cents, and the remaining two yuan goes entirely into the Firefly Fund.

If ten million people watch it, that's more than twenty million.

If 100 million people watch it, that's over 200 million.

This amount of money is not insignificant compared to the anti-fraud campaigns, victim assistance, and legal aid that the Firefly Foundation is currently undertaking.

"I understand." She nodded.

Guo Xing and Zhou Qing got up and left.

At that moment, Zhang Ziyi came to Wang Donglai's office.

I just told him about AI-generated content.

"Boss, regarding AI music composition, I'm thinking of a bigger possibility."

His tone was somewhat cautious, as if he were probing: "Wa's abilities are not limited to composing music. Could you also open up these tool-like abilities, such as editing, dubbing, subtitling, and special effects, to creators on Douyin?"

Wang Dong looked at him but did not answer immediately.

Zhang Byte continued, "Currently, the content on Douyin is highly polarized. Top creators have teams and can produce high-quality content. However, mid-tier and lower-tier creators mostly work alone with just a phone, handling everything from shooting and editing to voice-over themselves. Their ideas are great, but their execution capabilities are lacking. If we could open up some of Wa's capabilities to them, the barrier to creation would be greatly lowered. With a lower barrier, there would be more good content, and with more good content, the platform's ecosystem would be better."

"This idea is worth exploring."

Wang Donglai was not surprised that Zhang Ziyi would say that, but he did not immediately agree. Instead, he raised a question: "But there are a few questions we need to think about first. First, which capabilities should be opened up? We definitely cannot open up all of Wa's capabilities, as they are our core assets. However, we can consider tool-like capabilities such as editing, music composition, and subtitles."

"Second, how will you charge? If it's free, how will you cover the costs? If it's paid, what will the price be? Will creators be willing to pay for it?"

"Third, and most importantly—how do we prevent abuse? AI tools can help good people create content, but they can also help bad people mass-produce vulgar, false, and infringing content. If it's used to create spam, how do we control it?"

Zhang Zuyi fell into thought and said, "Boss, I think our artificial intelligence technology is leading the world and can be used to develop many more possibilities, such as AI film and television creation, AI painting, AI programming, AI novel creation, and so on."

"Use AI to connect everything, and use it as a key to unlock more application scenarios."

"Returning to the Douyin platform, AI tools can also reverse-engineer content supply. Wacom can analyze user preferences and know what types of content are most popular at what times. This data is made available to creators—not telling them 'what will go viral,' but telling them 'what kind of users will like what you're making now, and when to release it for the best effect.' With tools and data, creators' efficiency will be raised to a new level, and the prosperity of the platform's content ecosystem will enter a whole new realm."

After Zhang finished speaking, he waited for Wang Donglai's reply.

Upon hearing this, Wang Donglai's lips curled into a cold smile.

"I understand what you mean. What you're saying is technically possible."

"It makes sense from a business perspective, but there's one question you haven't thought through: once this tool is released, who will be the first to be impacted?"

Zhang Yizu was stunned for a moment.

"Not a creator."

Wang Dong asked and answered himself: "It's those who make a living with professional skills—composers, editors, voice actors, special effects artists. Wa can learn their skills in seconds. There might be a difference in quality, but the gap is rapidly narrowing. And the cost? Wa's cost is one percent, one-thousandth, of theirs. If you were the client, which would you choose?"

Zhang Yizi frowned slightly.

He had thought about this issue before, but every time he did, his thoughts would automatically jump to the conclusion that "technological progress is unstoppable, and it is better to adapt than to resist it."

This is an instinct he developed after years of working in the internet industry. He saw the trend, got on board first, and then figured out how to solve the problems that arose.

"Technological progress is indeed unstoppable."

Wang Donglai's tone remained calm, but every word was like a nail, driven into Zhang Yizu's ingrained thought patterns.

"But the direction and speed of technological progress can be chosen. To what extent, at what pace, to whom, how much to charge, and how much to charge—every decision involves a redistribution of interests."

"Composers, editors, voice actors, and special effects artists—these aren't abstract concepts. They are real people with mortgages, children to send to school, and elderly parents to care for. The launch of a new feature in Wa might mean hundreds or thousands of people losing their source of income. You say you want to open it up to creators so more people can produce good content—that's true. But have you considered what will happen to those who are replaced?"

Zhang Yizu fell silent.

"Boss, I've thought about this issue."

He spoke after a moment, his voice lower than before: "Technological progress eliminates outdated productive forces; this is a fundamental law since the Industrial Revolution. The spinning wheel replaced the hand-cranked spinning wheel, the automobile replaced the horse-drawn carriage, and the digital camera replaced film. Every technological revolution causes some people to lose their jobs, but it also creates many more new jobs. AI will be no exception—it will eliminate some jobs, but it will also create new ones. For example, the operation, maintenance, and optimization of AI tools, and the creation of new types of content based on AI tools. In the long run, the employment structure will adjust, but the total number of jobs will not decrease."

You're right.

Wang Donglai nodded, not denying it, but continued, "But there's a difference. How many years did it take for the Industrial Revolution to eliminate the hand-cranked spinning wheel? Decades. How many years did it take for the automobile to eliminate the horse-drawn carriage? Also decades. Decades are enough time for a generation to learn new skills and find new ways out. How long did it take for AI to eliminate voice actors? From Nuwa's ability to mimic human voices to now, less than a year. The speed is different, and the time left for people to adapt and transform is different. In a year, a person can't even finish the training for changing careers."

Zhang Yizu's lips moved, but he didn't say anything.

Wang Donglai's point was something he hadn't seriously considered.

He always thinks about problems from a technical and business perspective—how much has efficiency been improved, how much have costs been reduced, and how big is the market.

But these weren't the things Wang Donglai cared about, or rather, they weren't the only things he cared about.

What he cares about are the people behind technological progress.

"Boss, what about AI short dramas?"

Zhang Yizu took a different approach. He didn't want to be blocked on this issue because deep down he still felt that opening up AI tools was the right thing to do; he just needed to find a logic that Wang Donglai could accept.

"With our technology and AI tools, the time it takes to produce a short drama, from script to finished product, can be reduced to one-tenth of the traditional method, and the cost to one-twentieth. Although the picture quality is not yet comparable to that of a professional team, it is already watchable. If this trend continues, one person will be able to produce a short drama in the future, and the barriers to entry in the film and television industry will be completely broken down." Wang Donglai's expression became more serious.

He knew Zhang was testing him, trying to figure out whether he was opposing AI itself or a specific application method.

"That's a good question."

Instead of directly rejecting the idea as before, Wang Donglai added an analytical tone, saying, "In some industries, the positive value of technological disruption outweighs the negative impact. Take film and television production, for example. This industry inherently suffers from a high concentration of resources. Good directors, screenwriters, actors, and production teams are all absorbed by top projects. Creators below the mid-level have no chance at all. AI tools can break this situation, giving more creative but resource-poor people the opportunity to create their own works. This kind of disruption is more beneficial than harmful."

"But some industries are different."

"Take voice acting for example. This industry isn't about resource concentration. Most voice actors are just ordinary workers who make a living with their skills. Their income is neither high nor low. They don't have a monopoly or excessive profits. The impact of AI on them is pure replacement—it doesn't create new opportunities, it just replaces people with machines. Efficiency increases, costs decrease, and profits rise, but those people lose their livelihoods. This kind of disruption does more harm than good."

Zhang Yizu listened, tapping his fingers lightly on his knee.

He suddenly understood what Wang Donglai was talking about.

He is not against technological progress; he is distinguishing between different types of technological progress.

Some technological advancements break monopolies and unleash creativity.

Some technological advancements replace the skills that ordinary people rely on for a living, resulting only in lower costs and higher profits.

The former is worth promoting, while the latter needs to be put on hold.

To further confirm this, Zhang Byte asked again, "Boss, what is the standard for this 'distinction' you mentioned? How do you determine whether an industry should be disrupted by AI?"

Wang Donglai thought about it.

This was clearly not the first time he had thought about this question, and he answered it almost without pausing.

"Three questions. First, is there an unreasonable concentration of resources in this industry? If a few people control most of the resources and opportunities, it would be a good thing if AI could break this concentration."

"Second, do practitioners in this industry have the ability to transform? If they have enough skills and learning ability, they can absorb the impact of AI and then they can do it faster. If they have no other way out besides this skill, then it will be slower."

"Third, and most importantly—where do the profits released after AI makes its way go? Do they become more inclusive services and a fairer distribution, or do they all end up in the pockets of capital?"

After listening, Zhang Yizu frowned and remained silent for a long time.

He recalled his earlier business plan—an AI tool that charges based on usage, generating a continuous cash flow, and becoming the infrastructure for the entire content industry.

Looking back now, that plan answered "how to make money" from beginning to end, without ever answering "how to distribute the money after it's made".

He didn't ignore it intentionally; it's just that his way of thinking is stuck there.

Seeing technology, thinking about business, and calculating profits—this is an instinct ingrained in his bones as a native of Fujian.

"Boss, I think I understand now. My previous thinking was only about how big it could be, without considering how to do it properly."

Wang Dong looked at him, but there was no reproach in his eyes. He had always known that Zhang Yizu was a typical programmer and businessman. He was not without higher awareness and understanding, but it was just not in his nature.

"The release of Wa's abilities cannot be rushed. We should wait until we have a complete plan before taking action."

"Profit should not be the primary goal. This doesn't mean we shouldn't pursue profit, but rather that it shouldn't be our top priority. The priority is people—those who will be affected by technology, those who need us to buy them time and create opportunities for them. Profit is a result, not a goal."

Zhang nodded and turned to leave.

The office fell silent again.

Wang Donglai leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a while.

These past few days have been packed with things to do—the teaching materials for Galaxy Education need to be reviewed, the material formula for the thorium-based molten salt reactor needs to be adjusted, the test data for the entire rocket landing on the moon needs to be verified, and now there's also the publicity for "All or Nothing".

He needs to make decisions on everything, and every decision involves the allocation of a large amount of resources.

I stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the construction site in Tangdu City was bustling with activity.

The steel boom of the tower crane slowly rotates high in the air, like a giant clock, recording the growth of this city.

In fact, Wang Donglai already had a plan in mind for using AI technology to disrupt and reshape the entertainment industry.

In this industry, there are too many people who do things that are detrimental to their livelihood.

Old Deng, occupying a high position, even brought his own stool in, forming cliques.

There is also capital outside that is creating traffic stars to harvest fans.

When a set of rules has become rotten to the core, following the rules itself becomes a compromise.

So this time, he doesn't intend to comply.

Skipping theatrical releases is not because there is a problem with the theaters themselves, but because the existing distribution system can no longer accommodate a film that truly wants to address social issues.

Its operating logic is commercial: box office expectations determine the number of screenings, the number of screenings determines the number of shows, and the number of shows determines the box office.

This is a self-reinforcing closed loop.

A film without big stars, dealing with sensitive topics, and produced by a single company was doomed from the start within this closed loop.

Then let's change to a closed loop.

The logic behind Douyin's spread is not like that.

Its core lies in whether the content itself can evoke emotions and interaction from users.

Whether a video goes viral depends not on who the production company is, or whether any celebrities endorse it, but solely on whether users are willing to like, comment, and share it.

This logic applies more to "All or Nothing"—its strength lies not in its cast, but in its authenticity.

I donated all three yuan.

This pricing itself is a communication strategy—it's not a commercial price, it's a public welfare price.

When a viewer spends three yuan to buy a movie ticket, he doesn't feel like he's "consuming"; he feels like he's "participating."

This sense of participation is more effective than any promotional method in stimulating sharing and discussion.

This time, with the release of "All or Nothing," the battle cry for the domestic entertainment industry will be sounded. (End of Chapter)