"—Very clever. They knew the video wasn't important, the topic wasn't important, and neither were the cause or the outcome."
"The real issue was that as long as the official website that could substantiate this claim existed for even one day, this topic could never be buried through mere cold-treatment PR—"
In the courtyard before the house, Li Yun sat in the little Throne pavilion overgrown with ivy. The tablet still lay before him, and a faintly strange expression crossed his face.
"When someone was bound to see the truth, yet the evidence couldn't be hidden away—and they refused to tell contradictory lies that would slap themselves in the face—then what other options were there?"
Anyone who spent time online knew that public opinion on the internet was often a chaotic mixture of truth and falsehood, something completely uncontrollable. That was why so many people maintained the attitude of "just look at it, don't take it too seriously" toward online information.
But all of that rested on one premise—there was no concrete evidence!
In this internet age, where everything seemed capable of being faked and even evidence itself could be forged, that ordinarily would not have been such a big problem.
But what if that "evidence" could not be forged, and could even make those examining it truly realize that fact?
Perhaps things would naturally develop as they had now—
"—Within this vast universe, amid endless rivers of stars, lie the dreams and ideals of every human being. And as we gaze upon this boundless world, we sometimes wonder: could it truly be that only on this tiny planet beneath our feet does the spark of life and civilization exist?"
He wore a white lab coat over dark trousers, with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses hanging from his chest. His