Who to Learn From

Automated Livestreaming

I recently learned about an automated livestreaming model—one that’s highly profitable for the company behind it.

The team built a system that turns any phone, account, and script into a 24/7 digital-human livestream. After basic setup and AI training, the account goes live around the clock.

Then they recruit partners nationwide. Partners buy their own phones and accounts (a cost they bear), and in return, share 10–30% of the revenue generated by those accounts with the system’s developers.

So the company earns twice: once from hardware/account procurement, and again from ongoing revenue shares.

A strong account can generate tens of thousands of RMB in GMV per day. Currently, there are roughly 40,000 such automated livestream rooms running daily. Minimum partner investment? Several hundred thousand RMB at a time.

It’s extremely lucrative—and this kind of operation is reportedly widespread in Hangzhou.

First Profitable Breakthrough

A friend introduced me to an influential entrepreneur who bought several hundred mu of land in Wangjing and transformed old factory buildings—dating back to the last century—into a cultural industry park.

The former factory zone now houses antique architecture and furniture collected from across China. The preserved historic residences serve as his personal “palace,” where he regularly hosts friends for meals and project discussions.

He operates across multiple sectors: health & wellness, livestreaming, vocational training, quality education, traditional culture—you name it.

How does he pull this off? Through resource dominance: leveraging strong networks to enter markets fast.

Take his children’s classical poetry memorization product—a simple set of physical flashcards plus animated videos. On paper, it’s unremarkable; many others offer similar things. Yet he confidently pushed it through kindergartens, enlisting 10,000 teachers as frontline sellers—and sales exploded.

His first real profit followed the same logic: school-by-school agent recruitment, then scaling up to campus-level distribution networks.

Private University Students

A friend and I visited a private university to prepare for an on-campus recruitment talk. We spoke with staff from the Career Services Office—and here’s what we observed:

Enrollment: ~20,000 students. Tuition averages ¥30,000/year → ¥120,000 over four years. Most students come from families with some financial means.
Living expenses add another ~¥300,000 over four years. Total cost per student? Roughly ¥400,000–¥450,000.
Motivation to earn money is generally low.
Post-graduation paths: ~50% pursue postgraduate studies or civil service exams; among the rest—many being only children—a significant portion plan to inherit family businesses. Only a small minority actively seek jobs.
Multiple attempts at student entrepreneurship incubation have failed completely. In one case, the school covered all startup costs—space, registration, tax filing—free of charge. Dozens of companies were registered after campus-wide promotion. Today, only a handful remain active—and none generate profit.
Why do they fail? Because the campus environment offers little beyond outdated theory and obsolete information. Everything else—market sense, execution discipline, real feedback—is missing.
Once, Career Services proposed forming a student talent agency to sign and place students on platforms—but leadership vetoed it, calling the idea “useless.”
Back in 2019, during our early startup days, we ran a similar campus outreach program. Dozens of students signed up. It also collapsed.
The consistent lesson? Collaborating with students works only when tasks are simple, standardized, and performance-based: data entry (¥5 per question), flyer distribution, or campus agent roles paid per successful referral.

Borrowing Money

My first experience borrowing money was in junior high.

My parents had both left town for work—and were nearly impossible to reach. I was living alone. One time, I was desperately short on cash and decided to ask a relative for ¥100 to get by.

I went into the city and found him. His family was the wealthiest in ours.

But when I asked to borrow the money, he immediately started itemizing my monthly expenses: water, electricity, gas, groceries, property fees…

That was his polite way of saying no.

I felt crushed. Wandering alone in a city square for hours, I realized something: I’d never ask anyone for money again—even later, when I lived for weeks eating only rice and pickled vegetables.

I call that dignity.

Poor people shouldn’t borrow from the rich—unless they’ve become rich themselves.

Relying on short videos for meaningful learning is a myth.

What short-video algorithms recommend isn’t knowledge—it’s reinforcement: content closely aligned with your current interests and cognitive comfort zone. In other words, you cannot break out of your “information cocoon” using these platforms.

Worse, every educational short video—especially those by “knowledge influencers”—serves a commercial goal.

Example: A creator claims they walked away from a million-RMB-per-year business to “focus”—and you’re moved to tears by their courage. But the real aim? To lure you into buying their new course or coaching program.

So the question isn’t what to learn—but who to learn from. That’s a serious skill.

If you’re unsure where to start, prioritize two channels:

Learn from great books: Seek out timeless, rigorously tested classics—not trending summaries.
Learn from exceptional people: Proactively seek deep, honest conversations with top practitioners across fields—not just influencers, but those who’ve built real things and weathered real consequences.

Short videos? Their highest and truest value is mental relaxation—not education.