Last night, a corn seller caused 20 million people to have insomnia collectively.

It's not about a failed product launch. On National Memorial Day, he held a copy of "The Nanjing Massacre" and spoke for four hours. The number in the top left corner of the screen kept climbing to 20 million. You watched as the barrage changed from "Buy the book" to a silent "Remember."
As he spoke, he suddenly paused, looked into the camera, and said, "Sorry, I need a thirty-second pause." Then he took off his glasses, and only a blurry halo remained in the lens.
That thirty seconds was the deafening silence shared by 20 million people.
Afterward, the data showed that the book's sales skyrocketed by 300%. But more touching than the numbers was the comment section, where post-90s and post-00s users flooded the screen with words: "For the first time, the names in the history textbooks made me cry like a child."
He broke a certain pattern—patriotism isn't about shouting loud slogans, but when you say "December 13, 1937," your throat tightens on its own. He gave history warmth and a heartbeat.
Now, his live series "Red Memories in Textbooks" has directly entered primary and secondary school classrooms. You see, true dissemination has never been about lofty preaching. It's about him kneeling down, pointing at the mountains and rivers, and saying to you, "Look, this is where we come from."
The highest resonance isn't making you passionately share. It's him gently placing a question mark in your heart, and you answering with your entire soul. Dong Yuhui is never just selling knowledge; he's dredging up a nation's submerged memories.