The times are changing rapidly.
Industries that once developed at lightning speed have suddenly fallen into decline.
Gao Hu switched careers to become a livestreaming influencer, with Chang Fu giving him preferential treatment and resources.
He quickly rose to fame, and numerous news stories about him began circulating online.
All of them painted a positive picture, generally praising him as a former titan of the food and beverage industry embarking on a new entrepreneurial journey.
This new identity garnered considerable public anticipation.
Whether Gao Hu liked it or not, he now had to bear the consequences of his past recklessness.
For someone with his status to become an influencer, it wasn't just falling from grace—it was a substantial blow to his dignity.
At the very least, Chang Fu absolutely wouldn't stoop to such a thing. When meeting with his entrepreneur friends, a casual remark like, "You're doing pretty well as an influencer," would be enough to make him cringe in embarrassment.
It couldn't be helped; they were managers of the influencer economy. Who among them would actually jump in to do the job themselves?
Chen Pingsheng still allocated quite a few resources to Gao Hu, appointing several promising small influencers to help him establish his venture.
What comes next depends entirely on his own efforts.
More and more entrepreneurs are pivoting to livestreaming this year, with TikTok planning to invest ten billion in viewership to support the pioneering era's influencer icons.
Industry death knell Luo Chuizi.
Even Yu Minhong, who had thrived in the education and training sector, confirmed that he was formally switching to livestreaming.
He was forced to make this move due to shifts in industry policy; there was no other choice.
Every one of these individuals was a renowned entrepreneur within the country, yet now they were all turning to livestreaming.
Doesn't that speak volumes about how booming the livestreaming industry is?
Secretary Zhang Wanyi's daily dilemma was figuring out how to spend the overwhelming amount of money she received. It was perfectly normal for listed companies to go several years without distributing dividends.
Especially under Wu City's economic backdrop, where the entire Tengying Group had already publicly announced it wouldn't distribute shareholder dividends this year.
The money on her side flowed in non-stop, utterly unspendable.
Moreover, the short video industry remained completely unaffected and continued to grow rapidly.
If they'd known this earlier, Teng You Media would have easily surpassed the trillion mark if listed this year.
There would have been no need to bundle supermarkets with Clothes Warehouse No. 9.
Even a single influencer management agency was making this much. TikTok Group? That was undoubtedly a goldmine.
He still held 3.5% of the shares—a tremendous fortune in itself.
All he needed to do was wait for the company to go public to cash out later.
Countless industries were clearly gravitating toward short video platforms. Gao Hu, starting with livestreaming, had seen swift initial success.
As the days passed, late March arrived.
Chen Pingsheng visited his spoiled brat at school.
He participated in some parent meetings solely as a regular parent. Follow current novels on novel[f]ire.net
Chen An'an was in the second term of her first year of middle school. Perhaps she hadn't had enough of mischief as a child—her rebellious phase was causing headaches for her classmates.
From time to time, she dragged Xiao Wenwen and Hu Tao to perform on the streets.
Chen An'an didn't see her actions as nonsense. She was just overflowing with a sense of justice.
When she encountered something she couldn't stand, she'd prefer to resolve it with her fists instead of her tongue.
If fists couldn't solve it, she wouldn't bother speaking up either.
Compared to Er Piya, she didn't display much of the "pampered princess" demeanor.
As for Little Third Chen Lu, Su Xiaoxi still indulged him by dragging him all over the place to hang out.
At this point, news from Wu City began circulating.
Restrictions were about to be lifted soon, allowing people inside to come out and those outside to go in.
The actual situation, however, remained far from optimistic.
Sitting in the headquarters office, Chen Pingsheng welcomed two business associates before Tang Jing came in to report.
This little secretary of his had quite a temper and knew perfectly well how to show cold disdain to anyone harboring inappropriate intentions toward her.
Since she'd become his secretary, such incidents had stopped completely.
"Boss, here's a summary of this year's intern applications."
Tang Jing handed him a personnel statistics document. Since moving to Magic City, campus recruitment had been initiated annually.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't bother looking.
But starting last year, campus recruitment once again featured significant placements for individuals with connections.
This was a clear indication that many people were starting to meddle in human resource allocations.
Scanning briefly through the newly recruited college students, there were hardly any "impoverished students" left.
In this era, there were practically no "college impoverished students."
The truly destitute had mostly dropped out before graduating high school.
Nowadays, poverty wasn't about lacking food but rather about unaffordable marriages and housing!
That was the root of pain for most people.
The group had dedicated significant efforts to this area, with over 80% of recruits coming from universities outside the city.
The remaining 20% were from Golden Mountain.
There was no avoiding this. Since the headquarters was based in Golden Mountain, it had to meet local employment quotas.
Overall, recruitment had gone very well.
"No complaints about interns being assigned to shared apartments, right?"
"How could there be complaints?"
Tang Jing boasted, "Getting free studio apartments to stay in is already excellent treatment. It's just that the limited number of apartments means only pairs can share a unit."
"Hmm… You rose through the ranks as an intern yourself. Keep an extra eye on their situation. Often, the management quality of a company is reflected in how it handles interns."
"I think it's great! Maybe it's because I'm particularly pretty—when I was an intern, my superiors used to invite me to dinner after work. I never went, though."
"Which is why you kept getting transferred from department to department."
"Hmph. Back then, those folks tried to threaten me, so I jotted all their names in my little notebook. Now that I'm the top secretary and internal governor, they can only tremble in regret for ever daring to mess with me."
Chen Pingsheng chuckled, "So you've used the authority I gave you to demote all of them."
Tang Jing showed no hesitation, "Boss, I'm your top secretary! How could you tolerate anyone bullying me back then? When I was an intern, they were smug. Now that I'm in charge, I only need to blow them a breath, and they'll regret it for ten years."
Tang Jing had a vindictive streak. She truly kept a notebook and had moved those who had once eyed her beauty down the ranks.
This was completely normal; after all, when she had been an intern, her superiors would often imply:
"If you don't have dinner with me alone, you won't get a full-time position."
Now that she'd climbed the ladder, those who had crossed her were naturally demoted.
Chen Pingsheng was aware, as some had raised complaints to him.
But he hadn't intervened, as he despised such behavior himself.
Especially when corporate authority was exploited to coerce young women.
In a way, Tang Jing's actions served as a warning to everyone and prompted the company to issue another internal notice.
The message was clear: any further attempts to harass female interns would have serious consequences once reported.
At minimum, dismissal; at worst, a full corporate investigation.
The ramifications would be severe. Tang Jing had, in essence, secured justice for all female interns.
No matter where you were, even the best systems could never entirely eliminate the private desires that came with power.