Chapter Eighteen: The New Radish

“Yali, come to my office for a moment.”

Ice, who hadn’t gone far, had witnessed everything in the conference room and immediately sent Yali a message.

There can be no competition without injustice, and no motivation without competition; this was true for every team.

“Supervisor, you called me?”

Ice wore a gentle and friendly expression, though it didn’t quite match her usually cold and sharp demeanor, making it seem somewhat awkward. “Sit down, let’s have a casual chat.”

“Okay, supervisor.”

Yali felt nervous.

What was going on? Could it be that her earlier outburst at the connection had been overheard? Did connections really carry that much weight? Was the company going to take action against her? Surely not dismissal—after all, they had signed a one-year contract!

“Don’t be nervous. I just want to ask how you’ve been doing lately.”

While absentmindedly picking at her manicure, Yali quickly concocted an excuse. “Supervisor, I’ve been working hard to improve my skills. I know the intangible heritage track demands real talent. I’ve never slackened off! It’s just that the recent data… is indeed not very promising.”

Yali was not a true inheritor of intangible cultural heritage. On short video platforms, she branded herself as a “wheat straw carving” inheritor, merely leveraging this niche cultural title for attention.

Wheat straw carving, listed in the National Representative List of Intangible Cultural Heritage, is a traditional art also known as Xiantao wheat straw collage. It uses wheat straw as the primary material and tools such as knives, soldering irons, wax plates, and scissors to skillfully craft a form of collage art.

Yali was a native of Xiantao, Hunan, and had genuinely been interested in this craft initially. Wheat straw carving boasts clear layering, reasonable perspective, natural light effects, and rich decorative beauty, fully expressing the culture of Jingchu and the Jianghan water town. She had sincerely enjoyed studying it at night school.

With a foundation in Chinese painting and printmaking, Yali learned wheat straw patching, sketching, carving, soldering, pasting, mounting, and other professional techniques before starting to produce videos online claiming to be a wheat straw carving inheritor.

However, her popularity wasn’t due to extraordinary skill but because she rode the wave of a celebrity hit drama.

When a top-tier star’s drama aired, the internet was flooded with clips and secondary creations. Yali recreated classic scenes in wheat straw art, then AI-animated them. The combination of traditional culture and popular stars helped her gain some followers.

But celebrity fan interest surged and faded rapidly, and as the drama’s popularity waned, Yali’s video performance became dismal.

Ice held comprehensive data on Yali’s streaming account “Jingchu Tinglan,” including its history of rise.

“I’m sure you understand that intangible heritage crafts have their status precisely because they cannot be mastered to perfection in just a few months. At your current level, you won’t make a living from this profession.”

Yali hurriedly said, “Supervisor, I…”

Ice interrupted, “But I think you should be clearer: what you’ve been feeding on isn’t the heritage itself, but the traffic it brings.”

Yali was stunned, feeling a little guilty. “But there are so many marketing accounts piggybacking on celebrity traffic; it’s hard for me to stand out.”

“Then find another way to attract traffic.”

Ice handed Yali a plan. “Intangible heritage is your track, and your inheritor persona is established. But if you only rely on this persona to ride other trends, what’s the point of your persona?”

Yali was confused. The supervisor was the one who said she couldn’t make a living solely from heritage skills, yet also said she couldn’t just ride the name for traffic. It felt as if the supervisor had said it all.

But opening the plan, Yali immediately understood the supervisor’s meaning.

“You mean… since promoting intangible heritage isn’t enough, we should just undermine it?”

“It’s not my words, but the company’s position.” Ice crossed her hands and leaned on the desk. “What is our foundation? Traffic. To gain this traffic, we must have the courage to burn our boats and the resolve to go all in.

Why did Zhao Juan succeed? Was it because she was a good cyclist? No, it was because she had long legs and bared a lot. Why did Lin Ke rise? Was it due to professional skill? No, it was because she dared to throw caution to the wind and cared for nothing.

Now think again—where do you fall short?

Looking at the sky from inside your comfort zone will never let you take flight. Everyone can ridicule their ruthless methods now, but when they stand atop the mountain overlooking all, they will only receive cheers.”

The plan was full of evidence.

Those doing intangible heritage of Nuo opera had the best data not because the art was refined but because their videos included disclaimers like “This video is entirely fictional, do not imitate,” paired with bizarre supernatural talk.

Those doing Su embroidery had attention not because of the millennia-old cultural depth of each stitch but because the camera focused on the wrinkles of the inheritor, telling how these top Chinese luxury producers endured hardship and sweat, burying the blood and sweat of countless embroiderers.

This was the reality of breaking through the intangible heritage track.

“As for your wheat straw art—if so many people really liked it, it wouldn’t have become heritage at risk of disappearing. It’s precisely because it has a high threshold and few audiences that it has reached this point.”

The new plan from the content department still positioned Yali as a wheat straw carving inheritor, but her upcoming videos would show how difficult and useless it was to inherit this skill, demonstrating that the same effect could be achieved ten times more beautifully with a 3D printer.

She would solemnly proclaim the importance of passing down this noble art etched in bloodlines while helping viewers realize these so-called “arts” have long been out of step with the times, and doing such outdated things won’t make money.

Respect for agrarian civilization? Why don’t you just go back to farming?

Cultural threads seen in the details? Aren’t those cheap little trinkets selling for nine yuan with free shipping better?

Great cultural codes found in the ordinary? How much do they cost per pound, and why go to so much trouble?

“If inheriting isn’t a viable path, then let the netizens fully demystify your craft, critique it from a rational vantage point, stirring controversy. Controversy brings traffic.”

Yali lowered her head.

She truly loved wheat straw carving. But the supervisor was right—this didn’t make money.

After working hard all afternoon and taking her pieces to the night market, she couldn’t sell one for three yuan.

Ice’s tone deepened. “Yali, do you honestly respect Zhao Juan and Lin Ke? You have more culture, artistic cultivation, genuine skills, and understanding of Chinese traditional culture than they do. Yet your traffic doesn’t even reach a fraction of theirs.

Today, follow the company’s plan: put your handmade wheat straw art pieces in the display window, priced at 998 yuan, not a cent less. Naturally, some will attack your price as too high; others will compare them to twenty-yuan items from e-commerce platforms.

You just need to keep diligently making your art, keep lamenting how many hours and steps it took, how you picked the newly harvested, plump, worm-free wheat under the scorching sun. Let’s see how the traffic responds.”

It didn’t sound too difficult, and it seemed like she hadn’t really been doing much anyway.

In the end, Yali took the plan. “I understand, supervisor.”