The police came to confirm that Han Qin was the anonymous whistleblower on the Tianya Forum.
As soon as Zheng Zhihe’s lawyer’s letter was sent to the forum, the forum was quite cooperative, quickly providing the IP address of the anonymous whistleblower.
Zheng Zhihe, upon obtaining the IP, did not immediately add a defendant but first filed a police report. He needed to confirm who was using this forum account. Wen Ying suspected it was Han Qin, and Zheng Zhihe thought the same, but the law doesn’t rely on guesses, it requires evidence.
If Han Qin used an office computer, proving she was the one spreading rumours would take some effort, so they’d have to proceed step by step.
But for such a matter, how could Han Qin use the editorial department’s computer? If someone saw, it would be clear she was personally attacking “The Fish Against the Current”. Han Qin posted from home after work.
Seeing Youth Idol gain popularity on the forum, Han Qin posted anonymously. As a magazine editor-in-chief, she was skilled at wordplay, and sure enough, she steered public opinion, tarnishing Youth Idol’s reputation on the forum. She then switched accounts to stir up an investigation into Youth Idol’s publication. Watching netizens boycott its release, Han Qin felt smug.
To protect her image, Han Qin kept this secret satisfaction to herself, fearing discovery by colleagues or subordinates. She was cautious, always posting from home.
When “LittleFishItself” replied, begging her to let it go, Han Qin nearly laughed out loud at her computer.
“LittleFishItself” was likely “The Fish Against the Current”, with weak arguments and feeble rebuttals.
However, the netizens who previously criticised “The Fish Against the Current” for poor character now helped LittleFish uncover her identity. LittleFish kept addressing her as “Editor Han”, and some overly bored forum users dug up Aige’s editorial staff list, finding Han Qin’s name.
At first, Han Qin was a bit worried.
She even prepared a counterstrategy in case LittleFish persisted.
Unexpectedly, after her identity was exposed, “LittleFishItself” stopped posting entirely, seemingly unwilling to take action.
Indeed, netizens had found that Aige had an editor-in-chief named Han Qin, but they couldn’t prove the anonymous poster was her.
Han Qin’s heart settled back into place.
The court summons listed Aige as the defendant, which had nothing to do with Han Qin.
She never expected that while netizens couldn’t pin her as the poster, the police could find her!
Wen Ying might not be a big figure, but her status as a minor was sometimes useful. Han Qin, a magazine editor-in-chief, had led a cyberbullying campaign against a minor.
The police confirmed Han Qin’s identity, allowing Zheng Zhihe to add her as a defendant. This was a battle over reputation rights. In 2005, the state regulated the online environment, but there were no specific penalties for keyboard warriors.
Even if there were, those were authorities targeting keyboard warriors, not individuals suing them.
Zheng Zhihe, after taking the case, pushed forward actively and even consulted his mentor, who believed the case could lead to a published paper.
Who says the internet is a lawless place?
Who says minors have no reputation rights?
As long as someone is willing to defend their rights and can identify the rumourmonger, they can sue!
After confirming the anonymous forum user was Han Qin, the court issued her another summons. The first summons angered her, the second embarrassed her.
The things she hid from her leaders, colleagues, and subordinates were suddenly exposed.
Han Qin felt some in the editorial department were pointing fingers behind her back.
This time, when the chief editor spoke to Han Qin, the tone was far less friendly.
Han Qin argued, “I posted it, but everything I said was true, and the posts were made after Rongcheng Publishing Group’s hype.”
The chief editor looked at Han Qin, tone heavy with implication:
“It doesn’t seem like ordinary hype. Even if it was arranged by Rongcheng Publishing Group, their confidence suggests some backing, doesn’t it? You need to handle this properly. Never mind anything else, if you lose the lawsuit, it’ll be embarrassing for you and even more so for the magazine.”
Backing?
Without the chief editor’s hint, Han Qin had already considered it.
Confidence requires a foundation. What was Zou Weijun’s foundation?
Han Qin turned her attention to Xiao Ni.
When in Rongcheng, Xiao Ni didn’t follow Han Qin’s instructions to persuade Wen Ying to sign.
Back at the office, Han Qin gave Xiao Ni the cold shoulder.
Originally, Xiao Ni was an editor handling manuscript submissions and reviews, but now she was demoted to a proofreader.
Proofreading was tedious compared to reviewing manuscripts. While review editors had promotion paths, proofreaders rarely did.
Xiao Ni handed over her editorial duties, and Han Qin temporarily took over her editorial QQ account.
Han Qin had seen plenty of workplace newbies like Xiao Ni. If she didn’t subdue her thoroughly, Han Qin’s years as editor-in-chief would be for nothing!
In a typical company, Han Qin’s actions might have driven Xiao Ni to resign, but Han Qin knew Xiao Ni wouldn’t quit. At Aige, an editor’s salary wasn’t high, but for someone like Xiao Ni, hired through exams, it was practically a golden rice bowl.
Unless she was foolish, Xiao Ni wouldn’t resign over being sidelined.
Xiao Ni quietly accepted Han Qin’s arrangements.
Could Xiao Ni’s compliance be a facade, secretly colluding with Rongcheng, giving Zou Weijun such confidence, explaining her lack of resistance?
But Xiao Ni didn’t know about Han Qin’s online posts.
Discovering such a major risk, Han Qin couldn’t sit still and confronted Xiao Ni.
She played the emotional card with Xiao Ni.
When Xiao Ni joined Aige, she was assigned to Han Qin’s team.
Though domineering, Han Qin was capable, and Xiao Ni, a new editor, was trained by her.
Before the Rongcheng trip, Han Qin and Xiao Ni got along well as superior and subordinate. Though Han Qin rejected Xiao Ni’s suggestion to raise Wen Ying’s fee, an editor-in-chief had the right and duty to make such calls. New editors, soft-hearted, often pushed for author raises, but the editor-in-chief had to balance things.
One was tough, the other gentle, playing good cop and bad cop, working well together.
Han Qin called Xiao Ni to a private spot, pouring her heart out.
“I was definitely upset because I had high hopes for you! Your behaviour in Rongcheng let personal feelings affect work, which is unprofessional. That’s why I moved you to proofreading, hoping you’d reflect. I’ve been watching you this whole time.”
Han Qin not only acknowledged Xiao Ni’s “reflection” but also planned to move her back to reviewing manuscripts.
As long as Xiao Ni resumed editing, finding good authors wouldn’t be hard.
Han Qin reviewed the past and outlined the future, her words polished as expected of an editor-in-chief, easily overwhelming most newbies.
But honest Xiao Ni didn’t buy into Han Qin’s promises. She looked up and asked:
“Did you really post on the forum?”
Xiao Ni’s eyes were clear, and Han Qin, caught in their gaze, was momentarily speechless.
