On the top floor of the macro-economic building.
Pouring rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, distorting the myriad lights of Binhai City below. Some hovercars zipped through the sky, their taillights glowing faintly like fireflies in the night. Wisps of dense clouds piled up over the sea, arcs of electricity flashing where the clouds collided, accompanied by a distant rumble of thunder, like the low growl of some colossal engine.
A long table of white porcelain was set with tea. Jiang Ye did not touch his teacup, merely staring blankly at the scene outside.
“Xu Yan is almost here, looking for a parking spot,” Feng Zhi Shuang walked over and sat beside Jiang Ye. She was dressed casually in a fluffy, long bathrobe, revealing two slender legs. “You like the view here so much, why don’t I let you have this place for your office?”
“Hey, I can work anytime, anywhere. I don’t need such a large space,” Jiang Ye picked up his teacup and took a sip. “I like watching cumulonimbus clouds, especially those vast, flat black clouds that make me feel like I’m witnessing a silent, immense destiny slowly descending.”
Feng Zhi Shuang’s eyes widened. “Heh, you’ve gotten even better at showing off in just a few days?”
“It’s genuine emotion!” Jiang Ye raised his hand, pointing at the black clouds above the sea. “Look, those clouds stretching for tens of kilometers, wherever they cover, there’s a torrential downpour. Under such massive clouds, people are just a pile of ants, completely powerless. At most, they can hold umbrellas and wear raincoats to shield themselves, looking at the rain-drenched city and praying for the clouds to pass quickly.”
“Actually, we could fire a star-annihilation cannon. Forget these rain clouds, the entire planet would shatter,” Xu Yan’s voice rang out from the doorway.
Jiang Ye and Feng Zhi Shuang both turned to look. Xu Yan entered with her hair wet, her skin pale like a fish’s belly after being soaked. She wore a gray suit and skirt, water droplets clinging to her calves, clearly having been drenched.
“I’ll go find you some dry clothes!” Feng Zhi Shuang jumped up and ran off. “Sit down first, sit down, have some hot tea!”
Xu Yan shook the water from her hair, like a white deer shaking its head after a rain. She then took off her suit jacket and sat beside Jiang Ye. Her white shirt underneath was also soaked, clinging to her skin, her black bra clearly visible.
“Oh dear, why didn’t you have an umbrella? You could have called me, and I could have brought one down for you,” Jiang Ye frowned.
“I couldn’t,” Xu Yan said. “There was a machine malfunction at the shale mine, and the workers were repairing it in the rain. I just returned from the site, and I needed them to see that I was also out in the rain, not observing them coldly from a warm, dry car.”
Feng Zhi Shuang returned with a towel and a dry bathrobe, also tossing a hairdryer to Jiang Ye. The hairdryer was wireless, fanless, and looked like a hollowed-out hammer.
Feng Zhi Shuang helped Xu Yan dry herself, while Jiang Ye tried to turn on the hairdryer. Indeed, hot air sprayed out, and he held it up to blow-dry Xu Yan’s hair.
After about five or six minutes of fussing, Xu Yan was finally dry, and the three of them sat down to formally discuss official business.
“Let me divide the tasks,” Feng Zhi Shuang said. “Next, I’ll talk about media matters, Xu Yan will be responsible for the quotes, and Jiang Ye, you’ll make the decisions.”
“Okay,” Xu Yan and Jiang Ye said in unison.
“First,” Feng Zhi Shuang looked at Jiang Ye. “I want to know what your limits are regarding the media?”
“What do you mean… what are the limits?”
“That is, how much freedom you allow the media on this planet, in other words, to what extent is freedom of speech permitted?” Feng Zhi Shuang continued. “For example, can television stations broadcast adult programs? Can news media criticize the military and police, or criticize you personally? What kind of information can be published online? Is it permissible for people to use foul language online? Where can advertisers place their advertisements? Can civilian organizations promote themselves? Can religions proselytize through various media? You need to draw the red lines for all of these.”
Jiang Ye scratched his head, looking troubled. “This is a matter of great importance. I need to consider it carefully.”
“Then let’s discuss media facility construction first,” Feng Zhi Shuang said. “We’ll need television and radio stations, right?”
Xu Yan immediately quoted a price. “One hundred million for a television station, ten million for a radio station. This includes the building and equipment.”
Jiang Ye was puzzled. “Are there still televisions and radios these days? Who listens to the radio anymore?”
“Of course, they do! Car radios are very important, radios can be added in elevators, and some elderly people who can’t see TV clearly need to listen to the radio. In short, radio stations still have a large audience,” Feng Zhi Shuang said. “You can arrange the programs for radio and television. If the radio station or television station produces new programs, you can also require them to apply in advance for review.”
“Okay,” Jiang Ye nodded. “I don’t have many requirements for programs. News programs and weather forecasts. For other programs, let them produce them themselves, but they all need to be reviewed by me.”
“What about the personnel for the television and radio stations?” Xu Yan asked. “Will you recruit from major cities, or will you assign some of your trusted confidantes?”
“Recruit. The military doesn’t have enough manpower, so I can’t assign anyone for now,” Jiang Ye said. “I can’t give all the power to one group of people; it needs to be separated. You don’t need to worry about the personnel for the television and radio stations; I’ll recruit them myself.”
“Alright, then the television and radio stations are settled,” Feng Zhi Shuang nodded. “Next is the internet. We still need to spend 12 billion to buy two satellites to bring in more internet companies. Local websites and apps can be developed, and websites from other planets can also be introduced.”
“No problem, I’ll give you the funds later,” Jiang Ye nodded. “For internet information, I want to set up age restrictions, so that different age groups can see different ranges of information. Is this feasible?”
“Very feasible. Most planets are like this,” Feng Zhi Shuang nodded. “We need to establish an internet censorship bureau. We don’t need to build a separate building; it can be placed in the macro-economic building. There are many vacant floors. This censorship bureau will be directly controlled by you, and you can change the strictness of internet censorship through them at any time. The two supercomputers in the building are prepared for this agency.”
“Okay,” Jiang Ye nodded. “I will also personally recruit the personnel for this part.”
“Finally, there are newspapers and book publishing,” Feng Zhi Shuang said. “Although the market for newspapers and books has always been sluggish, it is still an indispensable part. Especially for some university students, intellectuals, and social elites, they tend to prefer newspapers and books. I suggest that there should be a newspaper and publishing house directly under your jurisdiction, acting as your mouthpiece. If you need to discuss or announce anything, you can voice it through these newspapers and publishing houses, directly reaching the intellectual class.”
“Based on my work experience, this part is actually very important,” Xu Yan said. “Most planets’ practice is to limit newspaper distribution, only offering subscriptions to people with social status. The price of books is maintained at around five thousand yuan, preventing knowledge from flowing to the lower classes through pricing, while also giving the upper elite a sense of security through knowledge monopoly, building trust between you.”
“Five thousand yuan level?” Jiang Ye was shocked. “Does that mean a book costs five thousand yuan?”
“Yes, most books in the book market are priced at five thousand. In fact, the printing cost is less than a hundred, mainly covering publisher profits, author royalties, interstellar copyrights, and taxes,” Xu Yan said. “The religious books on Planet Ha’er are thick leather-bound volumes the size of cabinet doors, each costing over 100,000 yuan. Usually, each family keeps one or two for ceremonies. Textbooks on Planet Nan are generally priced at six thousand, while literature, biographies, finance, and skill-based books average around four thousand yuan. On Planet Jiedian, knowledge-based books and literary novels are relatively cheaper, costing about a thousand yuan, with some deluxe editions selling for five thousand yuan.”
“There are also affordable books, a few shelves in each bookstore, priced below five hundred yuan. There are various reasons for this, such as tax-exempt books, unsold books, pirated books, etc. These affordable books have to be read in secret at home; reading them in public would be met with ridicule,” Feng Zhi Shuang added with a smile.
Jiang Ye was stunned. Was Cen Yemeng’s bookstore really that valuable? No wonder she said the books weren’t selling well; at such exorbitant prices, how many people could afford them?