Silent Control and an Unexpected Echo
In a high-rise apartment in the city center, Lin Feng stood in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city below, where the lights were just coming on and the traffic was flowing. The huge wave of online discussions about the "Patient" Feng Jianguo was constantly updating on his tablet computer in various forms of push notifications and pop-ups.
He looked at the sensational news headlines, the chaotic arguments between supporters and opponents on Quick Sound, and then at the almost one-sided, sentimental accusations and absurd "ignoring the facts" rhetoric on Little Red Sweet Potato...
He was completely stunned.
The feeling was strange. It was as if he had meticulously planned and silently orchestrated a storm, which swept away all his targets exactly as he had envisioned. But after the storm, the sky did not return to calm. Instead, more, more chaotic, and more unpredictable strange phenomena appeared, and these phenomena had no direct relation to him, the "storm maker."
"It wasn't me." Lin Feng clearly conveyed this message to all his core assassins in his mind. He believed that the best and most advantageous outcome for him was to let the matter fade from public view with Feng Jianguo's natural death. Now, the overwhelming public opinion, which was fermenting in all sorts of uncontrollable directions, had completely disrupted his rhythm.
Almost without much discussion, the core members of the consciousness network— Lawyer Zhou, Hacker K, and Old Chen, the private detective in charge of external intelligence integration—quickly reached a nearly unanimous conclusion.
Lawyer Zhou (Consciousness Communication): "Boss, there are only two possibilities for the source of the leak. One is that the victim's family, especially relatives of Sun Tingting or Zhang Qian, chose to disclose some information to the media or social media in a state of extreme grief or to seek more attention. The other is... internal personnel within the system. Police officers involved in the case, medical staff, and even people inside the detention center or court who had access to relevant information could all have leaked the information. Driven by profit, or simply out of a desire to show off or vent."
Hacker K (communicating with the audience, speaking in a cold and efficient tone): "We've initially traced the information flow. The first batch of accounts that ignited the topic had scattered IP addresses, and their content was mostly pieced together and guesswork, but the core details were highly accurate, suggesting that fragmented information leaked from an internal source and was later processed and amplified by multiple parties. Should we delve deeper into tracing the source?"
Lin Feng pondered for a moment. Was tracing the source meaningful? Perhaps, but the risks were also present. If his henchmen left traces during the investigation, it might backfire. The urgent task was not to stop the flood that had already breached its banks, but to guide its flow; at the very least, to prevent some foul tributaries from polluting the entire environment.
He thought of the extreme opinions on Little Red Sweet Potato that distorted the truth and incited confrontation, especially the post with the staged photo of a "widow" with a heart-shaped candle and the cry of "ignoring the facts." Such opinions were not only foolish but also dangerous. They were like poison gas bombs dropped into a chaotic public opinion field, eroding basic rationality and logic.
"K," Lin Feng commanded in his mind, "We don't need to investigate the source for now. But deal with those accounts on Little Red Sweet Potato that are jumping around the most and making the most outrageous statements. Let them 'see the light of day'."
He didn't specify how to handle it, but Hacker K understood instantly. "Got it. Open the box, make it public. Make sure the information is delivered 'accurately'." For K, obtaining the real identities of these people hiding behind screens and speaking out recklessly, and then "displaying" them, was not difficult.
"In addition," Lin Feng paused, thinking of Old Feng now lying in the hospital bed. He admired the other man's determination to abandon everything in order to practice his own concept of "fairness".
Feng Jianguo was willing to complete this task not only because of Lin Feng's orders, but also because he wanted to put his own sense of justice into practice.
He has no attachment to this world anymore. His parents have passed away, and his relatives are estranged. His only concern is probably his daughter, who no longer recognizes him but has also suffered because of him.
"We'll launch a medical crowdfunding campaign online for Feng Jianguo under the name of an anonymous charity," Lin Feng added. "The reason given is that he has terminal stomach cancer and is critically ill, and we hope to raise funds for his orphaned daughter's future education and living expenses. We'll inject the 800,000 yuan we previously prepared into this fund in installments through anonymous donations."
He hoped that in the final moments of Old Feng's life, he wouldn't have to worry about his daughter's future.
"Yes," Hacker K replied succinctly, then cut off the communication and went to work on a new task.
The next day, a dramatic reversal unfolded on the internet.
The day before, several well-known "opinion leader" accounts on Little Red Sweet Potato were righteously advocating "girls help girls," denouncing "patriarchal oppression," and even defending Sun Tingting and Zhang Qian's "minor mistakes." Suddenly, they all mysteriously "exposed" themselves.
Their accounts suddenly posted a series of new text and image notes. The content was no longer emotional venting, but rather their own unedited ID photos, partially blurred home address information, and even some disgusting screenshots of private chat logs.
These photos present a stark contrast to the carefully cultivated personas of "refined independent women" and "victims awakening" they usually portray. There is no soft lighting, no filters, no angles, only the plain and even somewhat rough real faces in their ID photos, and the vulgar, snobbish, or foolish remarks in their chat logs that are completely contrary to their public image.
This sudden "self-opening" was like a bomb being dropped into a cesspool, instantly creating a stench and leaving all the onlookers dumbfounded.
On the Quick Sound platform, netizens who were previously engaged in a heated debate about Feng Jianguo's rights and wrongs were instantly drawn to this even bigger scandal. A wave of gleeful mockery swept in once again:
"My goodness! When I saw those photos of her in a white dress with candles that she posted yesterday, along with that melancholic writing, I thought she was some ethereal fairy! And this is it? Is she a 'slightly chubby' girl who weighs 180 pounds? (No offense to fat people, just the contrast...)" This comment included a comparison between her professionally edited photos and her ID photo, and garnered hundreds of thousands of likes.
"Hahaha, I can't laugh anymore! Who said there were direct flights across the country yesterday? If this is the kind of 'quality,' I wouldn't even pay for a tricycle ride, let alone a plane ticket!"
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! This must be photoshopped! How could my goddess (whom I just followed yesterday) look like this?! Her notes are so thoughtful, so fragile and in need of protection!" A user who had clearly just been "tricked" lamented.
Someone immediately replied to him, "You turtle, wake up! Get lost, stop embarrassing yourself here."
One netizen even made a pointed comment:
"See? These people are like insects and Rat hiding under a stone slab. They usually hide behind the anonymity of the internet, making a lot of noise and spreading poison without restraint. But once someone moves the stone slab and lets the sunlight in, they immediately reveal their true colors, scatter and flee, not daring to utter a single fart."
Sure enough, after a huge wave of ridicule and condemnation, the accounts that were "opened" quickly deleted all their content, then sheepishly canceled their accounts and "left the internet."
The extreme and distorted atmosphere of discourse that they had previously dominated has temporarily subsided on Little Red Sweet Potato. Although similar voices have not been eradicated, at least their most arrogant arrogance has been severely suppressed.
A few days later, lawyer Zhou Wenyuan came to Lin Feng's apartment again to report on the situation.
"Boss, Feng Jianguo's online crowdfunding account has been closed," Lawyer Zhou said, handing over a simple report.
"Hmm, how much did you raise?" Lin Feng asked casually. He estimated it was around 800,000 yuan, which he had invested himself, and maybe some scattered donations from netizens who didn't know the truth, so the total wouldn't exceed 900,000 yuan.
Lawyer Zhou adjusted his gold-rimmed Glasses, a somewhat peculiar expression on his face, and clearly stated a number:
2.17 million.
"How much did you say?" Lin Feng looked up, somewhat doubting whether he had misheard.
"2.17 million," Lawyer Zhou repeated, his tone certain.
Upon hearing this, Lin Feng subconsciously scratched his head. He had previously calculated that the total amount of anonymous donations from his assassins, based on their disguised identities and financial capabilities, should be around 800,000. This was a figure he had personally confirmed.
Where did the extra 1.3 million come from?
He pondered for a moment, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the sofa armrest. Having ruled out the additional assassins, and the possibility of Feng Jianguo having any unknown relatives or friends (K had investigated and found virtually none), the only explanation was...
He figured it out.
They are the silent, vast number of netizens.
It is those who argue on Quick Sound about "knights-errant" versus "madmen," those who despise extreme opinions on Little Red Sweet Potato, those who may not fully agree with Feng Jianguo's methods but sympathize with his plight, or those who are simply moved by the story of "a terminally ill father raising funds for his daughter."
With each transfer of a few yuan, tens of yuan, or hundreds of yuan, they cast their silent votes, which accumulated into this unexpected sum of over 1.3 million yuan.
This sum of money far exceeded Lin Feng's expectations.
It is cold because it comes from the "posthumous name" of a murderer; yet it is also warm because it carries the complex and unspeakable emotions and choices of countless strangers.
Lin Feng stared out the window, remaining silent for a long time. 2.17 million. This number, like a pebble thrown into a lake, caused ripples in his heart that he himself had not anticipated.
Among the articles on the mobile phone that raised funds for Old Feng through crowdfunding, there was a comment that received multiple likes and was pinned to the top:
Those who carry firewood for the masses should not be left to freeze to death in the wind and snow.