40: Chapter 40 Buying a TV Station

Lin Feng said he wanted to buy a TV station, and everyone thought he was joking.

Frank was the first to ask: "Do you know how much a TV station costs?"

Lin Feng shook his head.

Chen Yao was the second to ask: "Do you know how to operate a TV station?"

Lin Feng shook his head.

Alex was the third to ask: "Do you know what qualifications are needed to buy a TV station?"

Lin Feng still shook his head.

Tommy was laughing so hard on the side he couldn't straighten up: "Brother, you don't know anything, and you dare to buy one?"

Lin Feng, biting on a straw, said slowly:

"If I don't know, I can learn. If I can't learn, I can find people. If I can't find people—"

He pointed at the group of people in front of him:

"Aren't you all people?"

Everyone fell silent.

Then the old man spoke:

"Lin Feng, you are truly a lunatic."

Lin Feng nodded: "I know."

Lin Feng spent three days researching how many TV stations in the United States were for sale.

The result: quite a lot.

Traditional TV stations were being crushed by streaming media, with ratings dropping year after year and advertising revenue shrinking annually; there were plenty who wanted to sell.

He picked three and asked David Chen to help find out the details.

Three days later, David called back:

"None of the three are any good. One has too much debt, one is in a location that's too remote, and the boss of one is a lunatic."

Lin Feng asked: "How crazy is the lunatic one?"

David was silent for a second, then said:

"That station is in Denver, called KOLD-TV. The boss is an eighty-year-old man named Harold. He wanted to sell ten years ago, but every time someone came to talk, he would curse them away."

Lin Feng raised an eyebrow: "Curse them for what?"

David said: "He curses them for not understanding television. He has run a TV station for fifty years and thinks the programs he makes are the best, and everyone else is trash."

Lin Feng laughed.

"This is the one."

A week later, Lin Feng took Frank and flew to Denver.

The KOLD-TV office building was dilapidated and old, and the sign at the entrance had lost half its color.

The receptionist was a woman in her sixties. Seeing them come in, she didn't even look up:

"Who are you looking for?"

Lin Feng said: "Looking for Harold."

The woman looked up at him: "Here to buy the TV station?"

Lin Feng nodded.

The woman pointed upstairs: "The innermost room on the third floor. Be careful, he's in a bad mood today."

The office at the far end of the third floor had the door open.

A white-haired old man sat behind the desk, cursing at the computer screen:

"What kind of garbage news is this?! Who wrote this?! Get in here!"

Lin Feng knocked on the door.

The old man turned to look at him, his eyes like knives:

"Who are you?"

Lin Feng walked in and sat opposite him.

"My name is Lin Feng. I've come to buy your TV station."

The old man stared at him for three seconds.

Then he laughed. A mocking laugh.

"Another young person who doesn't know the immensity of heaven and earth. Do you know how many years I've been running this station?"

Lin Feng shook his head.

"Fifty-two years!" The old man slapped the table. "I've been in this business for fifty-two years! Do you know what television is? Do you know how to make news? Do you know—"

Lin Feng interrupted him:

"I don't know."

The old man froze.

Lin Feng continued: "I don't know what television is, I don't know how to make news, and I don't know how hard it is to operate a TV station."

He looked at the old man and said earnestly:

"But I do know one thing."

The old man raised an eyebrow: "What thing?"

Lin Feng said: "You know. And you've been holding it in for fifty-two years, with no one listening to you."

The old man fell silent.

Lin Feng continued: "You cursed away so many buyers, not because you didn't want to sell. It's because you were afraid they would turn your station into trash."

The old man's eyes changed.

Lin Feng stood up, walked to the window, and pointed to the street downstairs:

"Do the people on this street still watch your station?"

The old man didn't speak.

Lin Feng turned to look at him:

"They don't watch. Because they have mobile phones, computers, and TikTok. The things you've been making for fifty-two years, no one watches anymore."

The old man's eyes grew red.

Lin Feng walked back to him and squatted down—not sitting, but squatting, so he was at eye level with him:

"Harold, I didn't come to buy your building. I came to buy your brain."

The old man froze.

Lin Feng said: "The TV station belongs to me, you make the content. Whatever you want to make, make it, I won't stop you. But there is one condition—"

He paused:

"You have to make the people watching it laugh."

The old man stared at him for a long time.

Then he asked: "Are you the one from the fried chicken shop?"

Lin Feng nodded.

The old man asked again: "That car factory in Detroit, was that you too?"

Lin Feng nodded again.

The old man was silent for three seconds.

Then he laughed.

"You fucking lunatic."

Lin Feng nodded: "I know."

A week later, the deal was completed.

KOLD-TV was renamed: JOY TV.

The new station logo was a smiley face, with four words underneath:

[Joy Channel]

Harold stood in the newly renovated office, looking at the sign, stunned for a long time.

Lin Feng walked over and squatted next to him.

"Regret it?"

Harold shook his head.

Lin Feng asked: "Then what are you thinking about?"

Harold was silent for a second, then said:

"I'm thinking, fifty-two years, finally someone is willing to listen to me speak."

Lin Feng laughed.

"It's not about listening to you speak. It's about letting you speak."

On the first day of broadcasting, Harold made a program himself.

It was called "Harold's Truths."

The seventy-year-old man sat in front of the camera and said to the audience:

"My name is Harold, and I've been in television for fifty-two years. The programs I made before were all things others told me to do. Starting today, I will only do what I want to do."

He paused:

"The first thing I want to say today—those people cursing Lin Feng, have you ever been to Detroit?"

After the program aired, the ratings broke KOLD-TV's historical record.

Comment section:

"Who is this old man? Too daring to speak!"

"He's really not afraid of death."

"He's right, of those people cursing Lin Feng, how many have been to the scene?"

"What station is JOY TV? I want to watch it every day!"

Harold sat in the office, scrolling through the comments, his eyes red.

Lin Feng pushed the door open and handed him some fried chicken.

"Eat if you're hungry."

Harold looked up at him:

"Lin Feng, do you know how many years it's been since someone praised me?"

Lin Feng shook his head.

Harold said: "Twenty years."

Lin Feng was silent for a second.

Then he said:

"Then for the next twenty years, someone will praise you every day."

Harold froze.

Then he laughed.

It was a laugh he hadn't laughed in a long time.

A month later, JOY TV's ratings had increased fivefold.

Harold made programs every day, cursing the people who deserved to be cursed, praising the things that deserved to be praised, and laughing like a child.

Lin Feng would occasionally visit his program as a guest, squatting on a chair, biting on a straw, chatting with the old man.

In one episode, Harold asked him:

"Lin Feng, what exactly do you want to do?"

Lin Feng thought for a moment and said earnestly:

"Let more people have a voice."

Harold froze.

Lin Feng continued: "You have things you want to say, held in for fifty-two years. Those three thousand workers in Detroit have things they want to say, and no one listens. The group of people in my shop have things they want to say, and no one listened to them before either."

He looked into the camera, word by word:

"JOY TV is for them to speak."

After the program aired, a viewer wrote a letter:

[My name is Mary, sixty-five years old, living alone. I used to watch TV every day and felt the world was very noisy. Now I watch JOY TV and feel that the world has someone speaking for me. Thank you.]

Harold framed the letter and hung it on the office wall.

Lin Feng came to see it and laughed.

"Harold."

Harold turned to look at him.

Lin Feng said: "You did it."

Harold was stunned for a moment: "Did what?"

Lin Feng pointed to the letter:

"Make people not feel lonely."

Harold stared at the letter for a long time.

Then he lowered his head and cried.

Not a sad cry.

It was that kind of cry, held in for fifty-two years, finally being understood.

[Chapter 40 End]