The Allure and the Illusion Inside the Get-Rich-Quick Scheme Promoted on Zhihu Video
发布时间:2025-10-10/span> 文章来源:天津热线

**Dateline: Beijing, October 26, 2023** In the sprawling digital landscape of China’s internet, where side hustles and gig economy opportunities proliferate, a tantalizing promise has been circulating with increasing frequency. On platforms like Zhihu Video, Bilibili, and Douyin, a specific genre of content has captured the imagination of millions: videos claiming that specific, often unnamed, software applications can generate a steady income of 300 yuan per day simply by watching advertisements. The proposition is seductively simple—download an app, let your phone run videos or complete minor tasks, and watch the money roll in with minimal effort. But as our investigation reveals, the reality behind this viral trend is a complex web of partial truths, exaggerated claims, and significant risks that often leave users with more frustration than profit. The phenomenon first gained mainstream traction in early 2023. Users scrolling through their Zhihu Video feeds, a platform known for its longer-form, often informative content, began encountering slickly produced testimonials. These videos, typically featuring screen recordings of a smartphone interface, would showcase a dashboard with a rapidly accumulating balance. The narrators, often using digitally altered voices to maintain anonymity, would explain in excited tones how they had discovered this "secret" method to earn passive income. "I made 300 RMB today without even touching my phone!" one popular video exclaimed. "This is the side hustle your future self will thank you for." The comments sections would be flooded with users pleading for a link to the software or asking for an "invitation code," a common gating mechanism for such apps. To understand the mechanics, our team downloaded and tested over a dozen applications frequently promoted in these videos. The core model is consistent across most platforms. Users are indeed paid, in small fractions of a yuan, to perform tasks. These tasks primarily include watching a 30 to 60-second advertisement, completing a survey, downloading and testing another application, or playing a mobile game to a certain level. The initial experience can be encouraging. A new user might earn 5 to 10 yuan within the first hour, a "welcome bonus" designed to create a sense of immediate reward and validate the platform's legitimacy. However, the path from this initial success to the promised 300 yuan per day is where the illusion begins to crumble. The primary barrier is a rapidly diminishing returns system. After the initial bonuses are exhausted, the payout for each task plummets. Where a user might have earned 0.5 yuan for watching an ad at first, they may later receive only 0.01 yuan. To reach the 300-yuan threshold, a user would need to complete thousands of these micro-tasks. Simple math reveals the staggering time investment required: at a rate of 0.01 yuan per task, one would need to complete 30,000 tasks. Even if each task took only 30 seconds, that would amount to 900,000 seconds, or 250 hours of non-stop engagement—an impossible feat for a single day. "This is a classic case of the 'earnings ceiling' tactic," explained Dr. Lin Wei, a professor of Digital Media Economics at Renmin University. "The business model of these apps is not to distribute wealth but to sell user engagement to advertisers. Your attention is the real product. The promise of 300 yuan is a marketing hook, a psychological trigger that exploits financial anxiety. In reality, the vast majority of users will never reach that amount. The system is algorithmically designed to ensure that, often by throttling the availability of high-paying tasks or implementing opaque withdrawal thresholds." The withdrawal threshold is perhaps the most critical and problematic component of these schemes. While the apps proudly display a user's accumulating balance, that money is often locked behind a minimum withdrawal amount, typically ranging from 30 to 100 yuan. Users spend hours, sometimes days, working their balance up to, for example, 29.5 yuan, only to find that high-paying tasks have suddenly vanished, leaving them with an account balance that is frustratingly close to, yet forever just short of, the required threshold. This creates a "sunk cost fallacy," where users, having already invested significant time, feel compelled to continue in the hope of finally cashing out. Furthermore, the security and privacy risks associated with these applications are substantial. To register, users often must provide a phone number and sometimes even link a social media account or provide ID verification for larger withdrawals. The permissions these apps request are frequently excessive, including access to storage, phone calls, and other sensitive data. Cybersecurity experts warn that this information can be aggregated, sold to third-party data brokers, or, in worst-case scenarios, used for identity theft or phishing campaigns. "The 'earn money by watching ads' ecosystem is rife with malware and data-harvesting operations," stated a security analyst from Qihoo 360 who wished to remain anonymous as he was not authorized to speak publicly. "We have seen numerous cases where these apps serve as trojans, embedding code that can lock a device, mine for cryptocurrency in the background, or subscribe the user to premium SMS services without their knowledge. The few yuan a user might earn is insignificant compared to the value of their personal data or the cost of a compromised device." Interviews with individuals who have engaged with these platforms paint a picture of disillusionment. "I saw a video on Zhihu and thought I’d finally found an easy way to make some extra cash for my family," shared Zhang Lei, a university student in Wuhan. "For the first two days, I made about 20 yuan. I was excited. But then, it became a grind. I was spending 4-5 hours a day just to make 2 or 3 yuan. I felt like my time and my phone's battery were being stolen. I gave up when I reached 48 yuan and couldn't get any more tasks to reach the 50-yuan cash-out point." Another user, a mother in Shanghai named Ms. Chen, expressed regret. "I didn't just waste time; I'm now worried about the data I gave them. I used my primary phone number, and since then, I've been getting a flood of spam calls and texts about loans and other scams. It's not worth it." The creators of the promotional videos are, in many cases, another cog in this machinery. Their primary source of income is often not the app itself, but the commission they receive from referring new users. This creates a multi-level marketing (MLM) dynamic, where the most viable way to earn significant money is not by using the app, but by creating compelling content that convinces others to join under your referral code. This explains the proliferation of these videos—they are, in essence, sophisticated advertisements for a referral program, and the promise of 300 yuan a day is the bait. In response to growing user complaints, Zhihu has begun to take action. A platform representative stated, "We have a strict policy against misleading content and fraudulent advertising. Our moderation team uses a combination of AI and human review to identify and remove videos that make exaggerated financial claims about such software. We encourage our users to report any content that seems deceptive." Despite these efforts, new videos continue to appear, often using coded language and disclaimers to evade automated detection. The enduring appeal of these schemes speaks to a broader societal context. In an economy facing headwinds, with a competitive job market for graduates and rising costs of living, the desire for accessible supplementary income is powerful. The narrative of easy money taps directly into this anxiety. The software that promises 300 yuan a day is a digital-age mirage, offering a vision of financial relief that, upon closer inspection, dissolves into a time-consuming, potentially risky, and ultimately unprofitable endeavor. The conclusion, echoed by economists, cybersecurity professionals, and disillusioned users alike, is unequivocal. While it is technically true that one can earn *some* money from these applications, the viral claim of consistently earning 300 yuan per day is a gross exaggeration, a marketing fantasy designed to harvest user engagement and data. For the average person, the return on investment—measured in time, energy, and potential risk—is profoundly negative. In the relentless search for easy money, the oldest rule of the internet still holds true: if it seems too good to be true, it almost certainly is.

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