Young Master Cao is very well-behaved, honest, clever, and also easily bullied.

"2009."

"Hello!"

Day 694 of Young Master Cao's privileged second-generation life.

Blissful!

Opened his eyes.

Continued his daily self-reflection.

Damn it, all the system's fault!

Done!

...

Stretched lazily—what a satisfying sleep.

Because,

last night, he had been trading insults online with Little Cannon until midnight.

Little Cannon was so much older.

Staying up that late with a lovely wife at home—wasn’t he afraid of dropping dead?

But Cao Cheng felt refreshed, body and soul.

These days, forget about making money or investment acumen—even in the art of verbal sparring, Cao Cheng was several levels above.

A few well-aimed zingers could cause widespread damage and go viral.

Sometimes, they even became memes.

Like yesterday...

Little Cannon was stubborn as hell.

Relying on his status as a big-shot director from the "Jing Circle," he dared to challenge capital itself.

The two of them had engaged in a heated war of words in the entertainment section of a popular forum.

This forum was already buzzing.

Especially last year...

Well.

Back in '08, the entertainment section had gained notoriety thanks to a certain scandal involving a certain "Teacher Chen," which brought in waves of gossip-hungry fans.

Now, with a famous director and a billionaire publicly trading barbs, fans were eating it up, occasionally chiming in with their own two cents.

Cao Cheng had been making waves lately.

At first, he had piggybacked on Little Cannon’s fame, but now? Unnecessary.

A month ago, the "Forbes China Rich List" was updated, and Cao Cheng topped it with $4.3 billion.

No mistake.

Number one.

The youngest chart-topper ever.

This actually differed slightly from the "Hurun Rich List," where he ranked fourth.

But either way, it proved Young Master Cao was loaded—and that wasn’t even counting family wealth.

If the Ren family’s assets were factored in, the Cao clan would dominate both lists.

...

Of course,

status aside,

the point was, he was famous now—no need to ride anyone else’s coattails.

Cao Cheng almost blurted out the line: "I am the elite."

And yet, Little Cannon remained stubborn.

A month after the Forbes update, he still didn’t back down.

Just yesterday,

he fired back in the forum, declaring: "Don’t think having money makes you special. In the entertainment industry, in film, you’re just a wet-behind-the-ears brat with a lot to learn..."

"As your elder, let me give you some advice."

"Stick to music—at least there, you might save some face."

"If you dare step into film, one of my holiday blockbusters could crush you. Take 'If You Are the One,' which I directed—it’s in theaters now. Final numbers aren’t in yet, but at this rate, it’ll clear 300 million."

"I admit you’ve got some cash."

"But... can you invest in a 300-million-yuan movie in this industry?"

"Ha! No offense, kid, but you’re still wet behind the ears!"

"Watch and learn. Stop yapping and jumping around like a clown."

"You’re about the same age as my kid, but if you were mine, I’d break your legs."

"..."

Well-reasoned.

It earned him plenty of support from forum users.

Many praised the movie too.

And the box office was indeed impressive, especially for the time.

Cao Cheng wasn’t angry after reading it—in fact, he privately admired it: "Gotta hand it to Little Cannon. He might not fully grasp the art of viral feuds, but he’s got that promotional instinct. Sneaking in an ad mid-rant? Smooth, you old fox."

But.

Cao Cheng wasn’t about to take it lying down.

Little Cannon had gone straight for the low blow, mocking his youth—how could Cao Cheng let that slide?

Especially on the last day of 2008—this called for a perfect clapback to end the year.

Even if he privately respected the old man’s hustle, online, no mercy.

Cao Cheng fired back swiftly:

"Listen, Cannon, this whole 'elder' act is weak."

"At my age, you were fetching coffee as some art assistant, earning peanuts."

"If we’re comparing ages, why not see who lives longer? Oh wait, that’s no fun, is it?"

"So cut the 'wise elder' crap. You’ve wasted all these years—I wouldn’t even bother competing with you."

"Now, about your movie—300 million is impressive?"

"Sure, before I showed up, it was!"

"But now that I’m here? Tough luck."

"Directors like you—the 'big fish in a tiny pond' types—are headed for extinction."

"It’s a new era. We can’t keep scraping the bottom of the barrel, propping up mediocrity like you."

"I’m entering this industry to overhaul talent agencies, scripts, production teams—hell, even producers and directors. Time to boot out the hacks who got lucky riding trends."

"Here’s some free advice: think before you speak, or your teeth might rot faster than your career."

"Drop the condescending act—it doesn’t suit you."

"And quit acting tough when you’re packing a pea-shooter."

"Wanna compare? Still functional down there?"

"If not, where’s all that confidence coming from?"

"Maybe drink more goji tea."

"..."

"HAHAHA..."

The moment he posted,

since Little Cannon had gone low, Cao Cheng had to match the energy.

Instantly, it became a viral roast.

The term "meme" wasn’t mainstream yet, but the phrases spread like wildfire.

Soon,

rumors swirled—was Little Cannon... ahem... "dysfunctional"?

Little Cannon was livid.

You’re the one with a pea-shooter, you little—

Spouting rhymes like you’re prepping for a poetry slam?

Kids these days—no respect.

And you’re a damn billionaire—since when do they trash-talk like this?

Zero shame, huh?

...

That was last night.

The year-end showdown of 2008, making waves everywhere.

Which was why, waking up today, Young Master Cao felt invigorated.

Especially since Little Cannon provided endless emotional fuel.

The bigger the name, the juicier the drama.

The entertainment world? A goldmine.

Young Master Cao had no regrets diving in!

After freshening up,

he headed downstairs.

The whole household was in the living room.

New Year’s Day.

A rare family gathering.

Old Cao and Ren's mother were back too.

Before Ren's mother could dote on her son, Old Cao spoke first.

Pointing at Cao Cheng, he scolded: "What the hell were you spouting online? Have some self-awareness—you’re not some nobody anymore. Clean up your act. 'Pea-shooter'? 'Acting tough'? Have you no shame?"

"..."

"..."

The sisters stifled giggles.

Clearly, they’d all seen last night’s showdown.

Probably gone even more viral by now.

They always kept tabs on Cao Cheng’s antics.

Even Ren's mother chimed in: "Son, your status is different now. Some things... really shouldn’t be said so recklessly."

"..." Cao Cheng chuckled, shaking his head.

So, it turns out that status can be a burden?

This mindset of theirs is actually a limitation, a restraint ingrained in the Chinese people's reserved nature over millennia.

There’s always this belief that a person’s actions must match their position.

If their behavior doesn’t align, it comes off as frivolous.

But,

Cao Cheng has seen too much of the world to be shackled by such notions.

Besides, his sole aim is to harvest emotional energy—why would he hold back?

Even if he were the richest man in the world,

or someday ascended to an even more exalted status, he wouldn’t hesitate to jump into a public spat if needed.

Of course,

that’s just hypothetical.

By then, he might have other ways to gather emotions.

And perhaps no one would dare talk back to him anyway.

Truth be told, the young master Cao hasn’t yet grown into an indomitable force. Otherwise, even if he wanted to pick a fight, he’d struggle to find opponents.

Moreover,

everything Cao Cheng does is primarily for emotional energy.

Take the top spot on the rich list, for instance.

He could’ve paid to keep it hidden—staying low-key, as they say.

But Cao Cheng didn’t. In fact, he’d prefer a higher ranking.

It’s not about showing off.

It’s just that greater fame means easier emotional harvesting.

Haven’t you noticed? Since topping the rich list, emotions have been pouring in from all over the world—even from abroad.

Some emotions stem from hatred toward the "thief," others from admiration for the "Eastern God," the stock market prodigy of the East.

And, of course, there’s the classic "resentment of the rich" directed at wealthy elites.

So,

Cao Cheng needs the list.

He needs those awe-inspiring titles attached to his name.

...

Ren's mother still dotes on him.

After speaking up for Old Cao and lightly reprimanding Cao Cheng,

she watched to see if Old Cao had more to say.

But she cut him off: "Alright, alright. Our son isn’t clueless. One reminder is enough."

Old Cao rolled his eyes. "You’re spoiling him."

Ren's mother sniffed. "So what if I am? It got us a richest man in the country, didn’t it? What’s wrong with that?"

"..." Old Cao had no comeback.

...

Then came the gift-giving.

The usual fare.

This household lacks nothing in material goods.

What’s left are either extravagantly expensive items or heartfelt, handmade gestures.

After receiving the luxury watches, cars, and other high-end presents,

Ren's mother took Cao Cheng’s hand and led him aside.

The warmth in her grip was pure love.

Cao Cheng harbored no ulterior motives—just deep respect. (Don’t believe me? Fine!)

"Son, I may not understand everything you’re doing, but publicly feuding with a famous director online could tarnish your image among certain decision-makers. That’s not good. You should be more careful."

Her voice was gentle. "Old Cao might sound harsh, but he cares about you. So do I, and so do your sisters."

Ren's mother felt she knew Cao Cheng well.

But her perception of him differed from others’.

In her presence, the young master Cao rarely acted out.

So,

she always saw him as obedient, well-behaved, clever—and a bit too easy to bully.

Ah, the filter of a devoted stepmother!

"Mom,"

"don’t worry. I know what I’m doing."

Cao Cheng smiled, guiding her to sit while massaging her shoulders.

He absolutely wasn’t trying to establish a family tradition.

Nor was he subtly conditioning everyone to accept mutual massages at home as normal.

This wasn’t psychology.

Absolutely not!

And he certainly wasn’t paving the way for future shoulder rubs in return.

He simply respected Ren's mother.

She seemed tired, and her shoulders needed loosening.

As his fingers worked—skillfully, not manipulatively—he explained:

"The entertainment industry operates differently. Public feuds might seem messy, but they’re an effective, low-cost marketing tool."

"As for the decision-makers forming a bad impression? You’re overthinking it, Mom."

"Between a hot-headed young richest man and a low-key, calculating one—which do you think is easier to control?"

"..." Ren's mother’s eyes flickered upward.