C19

Jiang Fanxing’s latest wave of online hate came with such overwhelming force, it almost gave him the presence of a top-tier celebrity.

Everything about him—his looks, his acting skills, his resources, even his school, his Weibo account, and every breath he’d taken since childhood—was criticized as if it were wrong.

Many of the people who clicked into the trending hate searches were confused, having no idea who this artist even was or what work he’d done.

Most of the negative buzz came from the fans of Qiu Songsheng, with some fans of other male actors jumping in as well. They were angry that Jiang Fanxing, seen as someone who just had connections, suddenly parachuted in and stole opportunities from their idols—like how the originally cast third male lead was replaced.

People were also bashing Jiang Fanxing for entering the entertainment industry before graduating college, claiming he didn’t even write his thesis properly. Then there were wild rumors from his university days—saying he was a compulsive liar, that someone saw him in bed with a rich woman… then a rich man. The stories made no sense, painting him as if he could be selling himself one minute and acting the next, like he had 72 hours in a day.

Even passersby were left speechless. And Lin Rin—the one who started this whole smear campaign—was confused too, wondering when things had escalated this much.

“Didn’t we just buy a few trending hate topics to stir up Qiu Songsheng’s major fan groups a little?” Lin Rin asked his manager curiously. “Why does this feel like a full-scale wa-r? It’s almost as big as the scandals I used to have.”

“We really only did a few. But I asked around, and some other actors in the cast also secretly bought hate trends against him,” the manager said with a laugh. “Qiu Songsheng is so close to him. Qiao Qiao, Yang Hanguang, even the producer all treat him super politely. You think others aren’t jealous? With you and Qiu Songsheng not standing out in the show, the third male lead has a huge chance to shine. If they don’t try to shut him down now, when will they?”

Jiang Fanxing’s appearance and acting skills were obvious to anyone watching. Plus, he had Shen Tianqing’s full support. Even if he didn’t reach top-tier fame, he could definitely rise to be a trending actor. No one was going to let that happen easily. Once someone took the lead in attacking him, the others naturally followed.

“But the ones really pushing hard behind this are Qin Shi and Yi Zhu,” the manager said with a smirk. “They hate Shen Tianqing to the core. They couldn’t bring him down, so now they’re targeting the rookie he’s trying to promote.”

After losing their lawsuit, Qin Shi and Yi Zhu now faced massive compensation payments. Shen Tianqing, showing no sentiment or leniency, wasn’t going to go easy on them. With their backs against the wall and no better options, they were striking back the only way they could.

If they could sabotage the new artist Shen Tianqing was pushing, maybe Shen Tianqing would be forced to the negotiation table, even beg them to let the rookie go. That would give them leverage.

“…Those two are insane. Shen Tianqing is known for responding kindly only to soft approaches, not threats. If they had just apologized sincerely and pulled some strings to speak on their behalf, maybe the compensation could’ve been reduced,” the manager sighed. He was in the same industry and knew just how bad things had gotten for Shen Tianqing.

Two of the studio’s most profitable artists collapsed at once. Not only did all the initial investments go up in smoke, but every project in negotiation afterward fell through as well. It was enough to sink an entire company.

If it weren’t for Shen Tianqing’s good reputation, solid abilities, and the fact that this incident wasn’t even his fault, many people wouldn’t have stepped up to help. Had it been any other manager, they would’ve been down and out by now.

“This works out just fine,” Lin Rin sneered. “I really want to see whether Jiang Fanxing and Qiu Songsheng can keep up that ‘brotherly bond.’ The ones going after him the hardest this time are Qiu Songsheng’s diehard fans.”

Fans from idol survival shows were often young data-obsessed warriors. As long as a top fan stirred things up, they could easily be weaponized. The moment they saw someone getting too close to Qiu Songsheng, they assumed it was all just for publicity. Even if Qiu Songsheng himself tries to clarify things, they’d think it was just his studio forcing him to say it.

Because of that, his relationships with other members in the group weren’t great either. The other team members had practically been scared off by his fans. His management team had to spend a lot of energy just doing damage control. But since Qiu Songsheng hasn’t been famous for long, his team was still relatively inexperienced and far from truly capable.

The moment Qiu Songsheng heard that Jiang Fanxing was being viciously attacked online, he immediately knocked on the door of Jiang’s hotel room.

“Fanxing, this isn’t something I ordered. My fans are just young, a lot of them don’t know better. I’ll talk to them more in the super-topic forum and explain the truth… don’t be mad…”

Xiao Zhou opened the door and let him in—only for Qiu Songsheng to see Shen Tianqing and his whole team sitting around in Jiang Fanxing’s room, all glued to their phones.

Huh?

Qiu Songsheng was confused—why did everything look so… calm? Shouldn’t everyone be in panic mode trying to manage a crisis? When he was trending for negative reasons, his team had to work overtime for a full week.

“Brother Jiang, this troll is pretty good,” a PR girl said as she showed her phone to Jiang Fanxing. “The way he argues with people is super creative, and he’s got stamina—can go back and forth thousands of comments without a problem. I’ve already DMed him, and turns out he’s low on money right now. He said his teammates from the internet café can help take jobs too.”

Jiang Fanxing glanced at the guy’s comments and nodded. “He looks decent. Okay, send him a thousand first. As long as he trolls well, we can negotiate more.”

“Brother Jiang, look at this guy too, he’s brutal—curses so nastily he’s gotten banned multiple times already.”

“He’s in.”

…

The scene inside the room was nothing like what Qiu Songsheng had imagined. On the contrary, everyone seemed like they were enjoying themselves, faces full of joy and enthusiasm, like they were in the middle of some fun project.

Qiu Songsheng double-checked the door—was he in the wrong place?

How could this be?

How could someone be getting hated on like this… and still be this happy?

He asked, baffled, “Excuse me, what exactly are you guys doing? Shouldn’t you be trying to fight back against the hate?”

“What’s the point? They haven’t said anything real, just nasty words. I didn’t break any laws, didn’t dodge taxes, and I’m just playing the third male lead—nothing worth that much drama. It’s only the marketing accounts and trolls dragging my family into it that I won’t let off,” Jiang Fanxing replied, clearly annoyed. “As for the rest—do you know how many scholarships and awards I got in college? Our school’s official account is posting a statement soon.”

These fake, obviously baseless rumors weren’t even worth rebutting. Let them talk—for now. Once he blew up for real, then he’d deal with them properly.

“So what are you doing right now, then?” Qiu Songsheng asked, still confused.

“Looking for internet trolls,” Xiao Zhou answered cheerfully. “Mr. Qiu, do you remember any especially fierce and high-level anti-fans? Introduce them to us—we’ll pay them! No troll in their right mind would turn down a god of wealth, right?”

“Oh, oh, let me check. I know plenty,” Qiu Songsheng replied; subconsciously swept up in the vibe, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through contacts.

Jiang Fanxing wasn’t the stingy type. On the contrary, he was well aware of how much money he’d be making in the future, so when it came to spending now—he wasn’t holding back at all.

So marketing accounts are taking money to slander me, huh? Expecting me to hush it up by paying them off? Or maybe wait for me to sue and by the time the trial comes around, they give a lukewarm apology?

Heh. Think again.

Sure, lawsuits were the proper route, but these accounts weren’t scared. Lawsuits took time. Gathering evidence was slow. By the time the court ruled against them, it’d be too late—their traffic would already be harvested, their wallets fat, their vacations booked. These people knew the law was the bottom line of society, not a fast-acting solution for those who exploited loopholes.

So sometimes, to beat a demon, you had to got to use demon tools. If the law couldn’t get to them fast enough—then it was time to fight dirty.

You want to slander me? Fine. I’ll slander you right back.

And if those accounts didn’t like it, they were welcome to sue. Jiang Fanxing would be more than happy to play that game. But would they dare? Doubtful. By the time a lawsuit dragged on, Jiang Fanxing wouldn’t be the same unknown actor—he’d be much bigger. And could those accounts even win? Could they prove they didn’t take money to defame him? That their studios didn’t evade taxes? That they never fabricated or reposted malicious content?

They couldn’t prove any of that. And so—they wouldn’t dare.

But Jiang Fanxing dared.

What was money? He’d throw in all the cash he made recently, plus everything the studio promised him. He was determined to make them feel the pain of being slandered, to make it hurt.

Because he knew—if he didn’t make these rabid dogs bleed now, they’d only come back for more when he really got famous.

So why not take care of it all in one clean sweep?

Practically every infamous internet troll online got a job offer from Niannian Studio.

Get paid to curse? And the targets are marketing accounts?

How… noble—no, thrilling!

Niannian Studio even promised full legal support if any of the accounts tried to fight back. The trolls wouldn’t need to spend a dime. All they had to do was spam the accounts until they shut up. Pay was calculated by the number of attacks, with bonuses for likes and engagement.

The trolls were stunned—when did justice get this lucrative?

Turning down money would be foolish. After all, they were flaming people for free most of the time. Now they could do it with pay and no risk?

 

“Live or die, bring it on!”

The trolls were hyped. They upgraded their keyboards, formed massive group chats, stayed up all night digging dirt on the marketing accounts—and went straight for their jugulars.

Every insult, every post, every weakness—they turned into cash.

And by the second day of the smear campaign against Jiang Fanxing… things started to shift. Just a little. But noticeably.

First, the official account of University A and the official Weibo of the Wan Sheng drama crew both issued clarifications debunking some of the utterly ridiculous rumors about Jiang Fanxing. They confirmed that he was an outstanding student with good character, had many female fans at school, was active in charity work, and had even won second place in a national debate competition.

The production team also shared a post from screenwriter Suisui Ping’an praising Jiang Fanxing, stating that he was chosen from the very start for the third male lead role, and that no other actors had ever been considered for the part.

Right after that, the marketing accounts that had been steering the smear campaign against Jiang suddenly found themselves swarmed by a group of professional trolls.

And these trolls? Their tactics were next-level. They came at these marketing accounts with the precision of seasoned roast masters. It was like they were breathing down their necks.

Some heavyweights even joined in to expose which PR firms these trash-tier marketing accounts belonged to, and listed out all the celebrities they’d slandered before—none of whom had ever received an apology. The trolls roasted them hard, but in a way that never used actual profanity. Just creative burns.

Shen Tianqing jumped right in and bought trending topic placements for the best troll comebacks. Hashtags like:

– #TheStandUpComedyOfPRAccounts

– #EyesOpenedToday

– #HowDoWeSaveYou

He didn’t just buy one or two—he bought over a hundred trending slots. A full-on digital siege. Every major celebrity’s supertopic had screenshots of these marketing accounts’ past offenses pinned for maximum exposure. He made sure no one could scroll without seeing the receipts.

Naturally, the internet exploded.

Because let’s be real: some vague rumors about Jiang Fanxing, a third male lead, weren’t all that interesting. But these notorious marketing accounts? The ones who’ve been the puppet masters of gossip and scandal for years?

Now they were the drama.

And everyone in the fandom world wanted a front-row seat.

Jiang Fanxing may have been a nobody to some, but these marketing accounts were public enemies. Almost every fan group had a bone to pick with them. And now someone was handing them the perfect opportunity to vent.

Cue the fan army group bonding session.

“OMG, this guy’s roast is killer. The account said Jiang Fanxing had a plastic surgery face, ruining the aesthetic standard of the industry. Dude replied, ‘Why didn’t you join the industry then? Couldn’t find a good surgeon?’ DEAD.”

“Another one said Jiang Fanxing was cozying up to a rich woman. Top comment was, ‘Are you camping under her bed to shake it for her?’ BAHAHA I’m crying.”

“This is like getting stabbed with a tiny knife—constant, sharp, and hilarious.”

“No no, this is like a cow doing push-ups… absolute bull-level power.”

“This one’s gold—the account accused Jiang Fanxing of getting into University A through connections. A lawyer who actually graduated from A replied, ‘See you in court.’”

“Then there’s one saying these accounts have toilet bowls for mouths, always spewing crap.”

“Or the one saying their mouths are like burst sewage pipes…”

“This is art. I’ve hated these accounts forever. They’re deleting comments faster than they can read them.”

“Come on, turn on the comment section if you’ve got the guts!”

“This is too funny, I’m literally wheezing.”

“These people are now my new happiness source.”

—

Jiang Fanxing wasn’t even that well-known yet. To most seasoned fandom members, he was just a rising newbie—no real threat to their own faves. But the marketing accounts? Oh, they had history.

They’d taken money to drag down people’s idols countless times. Now that someone was publicly dragging them, fans were more than happy to jump in and kick them while they were down.

It started with paid trolls.

But as the buzz grew?

The real, everyday netizens joined in.

And those people knew how to roast with soul. They came out swinging with jokes that left people laughing so hard they couldn’t sit up straight.

Never underestimate the creativity of netizens when it came to turning drama into memes.

Countless celebrities had become walking memes themselves—and many even embraced it to boost their popularity.

This time, Shen Tianqing played his hand masterfully, redirecting all the fan hostility toward the marketing accounts.

Qiu Songsheng seized the moment and started a livestream, clarifying that he too was a newbie on set and genuinely close with Jiang Fanxing. His effort managed to calm down some of the more confused and aggressive fans, at least for now.

But the ones who really suffered?

The marketing accounts.

All they did was take some cash to post a few smear pieces on a rising nobody—just another day on the job.

They had no idea they’d be swarmed by a legion of elite trolls.

Now, their comment sections were warzones.

Their DMs were full of colorful family “greetings.”

And someone even mailed a dead rat to their office.

That was when fear started to set in.

So when Qin Shi and Yi Zhu came back to them with more business, they balked.

“Nope, not taking it. We took that last order from you guys and lost a ton of followers—and real ones too!”

“If you want us to keep going, pay more. Otherwise, we’ll see you in court!”

Qin Shi and Yi Zhu were dumbfounded. They’d worked with Shen Tianqing for years—they knew this wasn’t his style.

So who was running the show this time?

They never expected the marketing accounts to turn around and start extorting them.

But what could they do? They’d already lost lawsuits, owed money to studios and brand partners—they were broke.

Feeding these greedy accounts? Not happening.

What followed was yet another viral storm online—a full-on wage dispute spectacle.

And netizens?

They loved it.

“Wait a second—so this was all internal drama and you guys just dragged us into your mess as weapons?”

Fans were livid.

Qiu Songsheng’s war-fans, once rabidly anti-Jiang Fanxing, started to realize they’d been used.

Worse yet, they’d been weaponized by some flop-tier celebs. The embarrassment was real.

Apologies soon began pouring into Jiang Fanxing’s Weibo comments. But that was a story for another time.

Because in the entertainment world, no wave lasted long.

Give it a few hours, and the crowd would move on to a new scandal.

Still, in the midst of all this internet bloodbath, paparazzi footage of Jiang Fanxing painted a completely different picture:

Quiet, focused, on-set, diligently acting—like nothing online had touched him at all.

It was impressive enough to earn respect from even the harshest critics.

“If this guy doesn’t blow up, it’ll be a crime against karma.”

“Take more pics—he might be big one day.”

Sister Zhang and Qiao Qiao had originally planned to lend him a hand. But after seeing the internet blow up the next day with nonstop roasts aimed at marketing accounts, they both wisely zipped their lips.

This wasn’t someone who needed saving.

This was someone who was going to w-ar —and doing it without flinching.

Of course, that kind of confidence only worked when you were clean. If Jiang Fanxing had any real dirt, those marketing accounts would’ve dug up his underwear color by now.

“Tch, he’s not even scared of me,” Director Zhu Guofu scoffed, clearly amused. “He comes at me with comebacks every day—what’s a few trolls on the internet gonna do to him? This guy’s got guts. If this were ancient times, he’d be leading a rebellion. Definitely emperor material.”

“Director Zhu, that’s… high praise. Honestly, I thought you’d be gloating at a time like this,” Sister Zhang teased. “Didn’t expect you to be this tsundere.”

Zhu Goufu snorted, but didn’t deny it.

“What kind of nonsense is this?” Zhu Guofu frowned. “I still can’t stand him. This time he’s really offended those marketing accounts and the media companies behind them. If he makes even a small mistake in the future, he’ll be targeted for sure. He better fend for himself.”

Sister Zhang smiled without saying anything.

In truth, she felt quite satisfied now.

Hmph, those marketing accounts made a living off fabricating scandals or revealing the private lives of celebrities for clicks, and now they expected to get paid to keep quiet? They were playing both sides of the game and it’d been infuriating for a long time.

Now that someone finally went after them, she couldn’t be happier. She might not be able to do much herself, but privately enjoying the drama and liking a few posts was no problem at all.

 

Jiang Fanxing’s move really opened people’s eyes. Now, the entire internet remembered this new rookie. The online movement triggered by his confrontation with marketing accounts even got a nickname from netizens.

 

“That day, Jiang Fanxing had no idea the gears of fate had started to turn—he was about to become the fuse for the meme revolution.”

Naturally, Jiang Fanxing entered a lot of people’s radars. His performance during the incident left everyone stunned.

Forget Qiu Songsheng—even Lin Rin couldn’t come up with a better strategy in the moment.

Especially Qiu Songsheng, who now admired him even more and started getting ambitious. But the assistants who normally fawned over him and flattered him were quick to pour cold water on his plan:

“This kind of move works for Jiang Fanxing, but not for you, Xiao Qiu.”

“Yeah, Jiang Fanxing’s still a newbie. There’s no dirt on him, he barely knows any actresses, and no one’s trying to ride his popularity. But you? Everything you do is under scrutiny.”

“Exactly. You’re an idol—idols have to be perfect. Jiang Fanxing doesn’t play by those rules. You can’t do the same.”

“He’s only able to get away with it now. It looks cool, but he’ll definitely be held accountable later. We’re not copying him.”

…

Qiu Songsheng deflated.

Thinking about it, his own tricks really weren’t on the same level. He couldn’t even handle being criticized—he handed over all his social accounts to his assistants. How could he possibly smile and fight back against haters like Jiang Fanxing?

He just didn’t have that kind of brain. It was honestly kind of sad.

Even Lin Rin backed off. He had only started stirring things up, thinking Jiang Fanxing was just some easy-to-push-around rookie. Who would’ve guessed the guy would just flip the whole table? Jiang Fanxing had nothing to lose, and Lin Rin knew better than to go head-to-head with someone like that.

These days, it was always the guy with nothing to lose who was the scariest.

“Clean up any traces from before. Don’t let it be found.” Lin Rin, for all his temper and pettiness, had one strength—he knew how to read the room. He understood who he could mess with and who he couldn’t.

On set, for instance, he never dared act up in front of Qiao Qiao or Zhu Guofu. In fact, he was always polite and friendly to Qiao Qiao. If not for that, with his terrible acting, Qiao Qiao would’ve lost her temper long ago. The only reason she didn’t was because Lin Rin knew how to play the game.

In the entertainment industry, people like Lin Rin—two-faced and cunning—were everywhere. But who really cared? That was just how the game was played.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t do much to begin with.” The manager also felt a bit shaken—sometimes, it was these reckless types who could flip the whole table. How many top celebrities had ended up destroyed—either by their own assistants or by complete nobodies?

Better safe than sorry. Just keep your head down and play it safe.

As for Jiang Fanxing, the man at the center of the whole storm—he was totally relaxed.

All he had to do now was remind Shen Tianqing to pay the freelancers.

At first, the haters were bracing for the studio to stall on payments like so many others did. Some even prepped to chase their wages. But to their surprise, not only did the studio pay on time, they even pre-registered and paid labor tax on their behalf, issued proper invoices, and transferred the money professionally.

It was classy—completely different from those celebrity studios that constantly delayed final payments.

“If there’s a next time, count us in—we’ll give you a discount.”

“Yeah yeah, if anyone hires us to go after you again, we’ll try not to take the job. Thanks for showing me I could actually have a side hustle.”

“Hope your studio thrives. Trust me, I’ve been in this business for years—you look like someone who’s going to make it.”

…

“See? Everyone’s afraid of me now.” Jiang Fanxing said smugly, while Xiao Zhou lowered his head even more.

He was just a lowly assistant, only good for running errands—nothing more.

Truth be told, he really wanted to leave like the rest of the crew, but unfortunately, he couldn’t.

Shen Tianqing just stared silently at Jiang Fanxing, saying nothing.

What was there to say? Signing this artist… was it a stroke of insane luck or total disaster? Who knew? Either way, every few days felt like a roller coaster ride. Maybe Jiang Fanxing didn’t come to join the entertainment industry—maybe he came to reform it. Ever since signing him, Shen felt like he’d been fighting off heavenly tribulations nonstop.

“Come on, Brother Shen, smile a little, don’t be such a downer. This time we totally crushed it. Honestly, those trolls were just dumb. I’m a nobody—no fame, no fanbase—and they tried to drag me down? All they did was hand me a spotlight. Now everyone knows my name. And how much did we even spend hiring those trolls? If we’d gone for a full-blown PR campaign, it would’ve cost us way more.”

“You can only pull a stunt like this once. Next time, it won’t work. You need to watch your words and behavior more carefully, or else…”

“Why? As long as I’m not breaking the law or crossing any moral lines, I’m good, right?” Jiang Fanxing pushed back. “What, you think if I stay quiet and follow the rules, they’ll leave me alone? No way. They’ll still find something to bash—like whether I step through the door with my left foot or right. Or they’ll just straight-up invent a scandal out of thin air. I don’t want to live walking on eggshells. I said from the beginning—I want to be the kind of celebrity who can’t be canceled.”

Better to start with low expectations—that way, he’d have room to grow, to flip public opinion, to rise.

What he learned growing up was simple: don’t be too perfect.

The public was always hypocritical.

If you started out at 90%, even if you hit 100% one day, they’d expect 101% next. If you did well, it was “as you should.” If you slipped, it was “how dare you.” But if you started at 60%, even the smallest improvement made fans go wild.

It was the same with career-driven fans. Those weak-performing artists? One tiny improvement and it was press releases galore, fans pouring out praise like it was free. But the truly talented ones? Take Qiao Qiao, for instance—she only turned to costume dramas and lead roles because she couldn’t get better movie scripts. That was the best option in the current market, but fans still accused her of stagnation or regression.

Jiang Fanxing had no intention of becoming a “perfect celebrity” like Qiao Qiao.

To him, the most important thing in life was being happy.

He didn’t have any burning ambition to be at the top of the entertainment industry. For him, this was just a job. As long as he could make good money, retire comfortably, and later on do some charity work—helping lonely elders, children in need, or even fulfilling a few fan wishes—that would mean more than any fame.

At the very least, his fans could say they stanned someone who never got “canceled” and who even helped them with legal issues someday. How enviable would that be to other fandoms?

In a way, Jiang Fanxing was someone easily satisfied with life, without big ambitions.

He just wanted to be an ordinary rich guy—live it up under the city lights, have cats and dogs, and enjoy a fun and carefree life.

“But the problem is, you still don’t have any actual work out yet. You’ve got about ten more days of shooting left for Wan Sheng, and I was originally planning to get you on a talent competition show for some exposure,” Shen Tianqing said, glancing at Jiang Fanxing’s horrified face with obvious satisfaction. “But now, you’re already plenty recognizable.”

Jiang Fanxing let out a huge sigh of relief. Only he knew how panicked he got the moment he heard “talent show.”

He’d already been dieting and acting—now they wanted him to dance and sing too? Seriously?

Right now, his dancing was at the level where he’d just figured out where his limbs were. Go on a show like that and he’d be crowned “King of the Double-Flop”—flop at singing, flop at dancing?

No thanks.

The studio already had Chen Kele, who was perfectly cut out for that kind of path. There was no need to compete internally. Better to leave him that lane.

“Good, then it’s settled. I heard from Qiu Songsheng that those talent shows don’t even feed you properly—it’s salad or salad, and even he, who diets all year round, said he was starving. Eating a spoonful of rice felt like a New Year’s feast. And then they take your phones, cram everyone into dorms, and make you perform fake brotherhood under 24/7 surveillance… That’s basically hell on Earth!”

There was no way Jiang Fanxing could survive that. It felt more like slow suic-ide.

“You’ve been hanging around Qiu Songsheng a lot lately. Hmm… Didn’t you used to be okay with faking CPs? He’d actually make a pretty good marketing partner…” Shen Tianqing, the ace manager, jumped at the opportunity like a true strategist. Qiu Songsheng was silly but popular—why not milk it?

Faking a couple pairing was a tried-and-true fan magnet. Plenty of top stars rose that way. Nowadays, people didn’t care much about their own love lives—they preferred to watch others fall in love.

Of course, fake was fine. Real was not.

“Brother Shen, be human, please. Did you forget we already have Chen Kele? You can’t just drain the same naive sweet boy again and again!” Jiang Fanxing was speechless. He didn’t mind much himself, but if Chen Kele’s secret identity ever got exposed, the three of them might end up in a love-triangle w-ar.

No, no thanks.

Let’s just go with something easier.

“I’ll go find you some good scripts—you can take your pick now that you’ve got the momentum. Or maybe get you some guest spots on popular variety shows. That’s easy enough for me to pull off. Also, Qin Shi and Yi Zhu had quite a bit of fashion resources. They lost some, but I still have the connections. You could start going to shows, borrowing outfits, that’s no problem at all.”

If it were any other up-and-coming celeb hearing Shen Tianqing generously offer such high-quality gigs—ones with recognizable names—they’d be over the moon.

Shen Tianqing wasn’t a stingy guy.

Since Jiang Fanxing had signed on when the studio was at its lowest point—and even brought Chen Kele along—he already proved he was someone worth investing in. Now that they finally had extra resources, focusing them all on pushing Jiang Fanxing was more than worth it.

No matter what Jiang Fanxing wanted—variety show, drama, fashion collab—Shen Tianqing could get it, and not just that, but with decent pay too. You had to know, most newbies took these gigs for free just for exposure.

“Mm, not really interested,” Jiang Fanxing said right away, bored. “I finally finished filming—can’t I get a few days off?”

Shen Tianqing gave him a once-over and waved to Xiao Zhou.

“Go bring the scale. I think he’s gained weight since joining the crew. Those boxed lunches must be too good.”

Of course he had—he’d been secretly eating Qiu Songsheng’s lunch too. How could he not gain weight?

Xiao Zhou looked like he was about to cry. He’d tried to stop Jiang Fanxing, okay? But could he really stop him?

Plus, a lot of Jiang Fanxing’s big scenes coming up were emotionally intense and physically exhausting, so when he ate more, he said it was for energy. The food would be delivered, and he’d straight-up snatch it from others—Xiao Zhou had lost that battle more than once.

Shameful day for assistants everywhere.

“Sorry, Brother Shen, I didn’t manage him well,” Xiao Zhou quickly took the blame like a pro, not even mentioning the lunch-stealing.

Jiang Fanxing was touched. Xiao Zhou really knew how to handle people—when the time came for promotions and bonuses, this guy was definitely on the list.

 

“Clearly one assistant isn’t enough. Once I get some time, I’ll personally watch you.” Shen Tianqing’s eyes turned sharp in an instant. “Other stuff I can let slide, but right now? You’re young and good-looking. If you don’t work on your body, how are you gonna attract fans? What, wait till you’re old and wrinkly, then try to do a glow-up comeback? Tonight’s dinner is off limits. I’ll be watching you.”

Shen Tianqing had a sharp eye — just one look and he could probably tell exactly how many grams Jiang Fanxing had gained. The man could’ve been a legendary butcher in ancient times—no scale needed, just one squeeze to know the weight.

“Brother Shen, let’s talk about this…” Jiang Fanxing immediately changed his tone, all his previous smugness gone. “Those gigs you mentioned earlier—I’ll take them! Who needs vacation, really?”

Flexibility, after all, was a survival skill.

This was a strategic retreat—not a defeat. He had a right to eat, okay?

The entertainment world was one where hunger was just part of the job—unless you were a comedian. They could eat. But he was young and beautiful—going full comedy this early wouldn’t work. And he wasn’t even funny!

He was full of respect. Shen Tianqing had turned the tables just like that.

Xiao Zhou nodded to himself silently. Looked like Jiang Fanxing wanted to be the king of the studio, but for now, there was still one hurdle in the way. But once Jiang Fanxing made it big, that hurdle would be gone.

So for now, staying loyal to Jiang Fanxing was clearly the better career move.

“We’ve got a travel variety show, a couple of outdoor sports ones, and a popular farming-themed show. All of them are trending. Got a preference?” Shen Tianqing, now satisfied, moved on. Young guys burned calories fast. A couple of skipped meals and some cardio, and he’d be back in shape.

“Travel show’s a no from me. I’ve seen those— it’s a drama central.”

“Outdoor sports? C’mon, look at me—I’m all soft-spoken and delicate. I’d snap during a rock climb.”

“Farming… sorry, the only vegetables I know are the ones already cooked.”

Jiang Fanxing shot down all three options, one by one, with zero hesitation.

“You’re getting picky now?” Shen Tianqing sneered, clearly losing patience. “Do you even realize these variety shows are top-tier? They come with built-in fanbases! Without serious skills, you wouldn’t even get a foot in the door. I was actually worried you’d flop on screen!”

 

“Then how about a dating show?” Jiang Fanxing offered, completely shameless.

Shen Tianqing’s face instantly darkened again.

“Brother Shen! Brother Shen! He didn’t mean it like that!” Xiao Zhou jumped in faster than a flash, bear-hugging Shen Tianqing to prevent an imminent explosion.

“Dating show? You want to go on a dating show? Are you saying you want to date on TV?” Shen Tianqing fired back one question after another, his voice rising. This guy was daydreaming in broad daylight! Did he think his current job was too easy or what?

Yi Zhu had crashed and burned precisely because of a relationship scandal.

Things were finally looking up—this was the time to avoid even mentioning celebrity dating. Shen Tianqing still had PTSD from the last time and wasn’t about to let that happen again.

 

“Wait wait wait, don’t get mad! I didn’t mean dating myself,” Jiang Fanxing rushed to explain. “I mean the kind where I watch others date—you know, I’d be in the observation room, drink some tea, eat some snacks, drop a few spicy comments here and there. That kind. Super chill.”

“…You’re twenty. You’ve barely had any real relationships. You think you’re qualified to analyze other people’s emotional drama on national TV?” Shen Tianqing narrowed his eyes. “Do you even understand the subtleties of romantic push-and-pull? What are you gonna do, read off the teleprompter while chewing on popcorn?”

Dating show mentors weren’t just for decoration. They had to dissect every glance, every hesitation, guide the audience to ship CPs like pros. It took skill —and Jiang Fanxing, with all his smart mouth and cluelessness, wasn’t exactly relationship guru material. He was single! What a waste of a good face!

Ahem. Jiang Fanxing stood up, cleared his throat like a seasoned speaker about to drop credentials.

Standing tall, he declared proudly:

“Standing before you is the four-year undefeated campus heartthrob of A University, the undisputed king of the entire university town. I have received no fewer than two hundred confessions from seniors and juniors, male and female alike. I’ve successfully helped three roommates find true love, and personally planned over twenty confession operations with a success rate of over ninety percent. I am known far and wide as—Jiang Fanxing, the Love Strategist of A University!”

A dating show mentor? Please. That was light work.

He was born for this role.

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TN:

I’m excited for dating mentor Jiang. I can taste the dramaaaaa 🤣