The post, with its shocking title, was gaining traction rapidly. By the time Wen Ying clicked it, there were already plenty of comments.
Yu Tianlin had seized the perfect moment, place, and opportunity.
It was still the National Day holiday. For those not at school, work, or travelling, browsing the internet was a great way to unwind, so the forum was buzzing with users.
As Wen Ying predicted, many of the commenters were Li Mengjiao’s fans, storming in with metaphorical 40-metre-long swords, ready to obliterate the rumourmonger, only to find they’d been duped by a clickbait title. The post wasn’t about Li Mengjiao at all.
What’s this about?
Someone replied that Hunan TV was holding a ratings celebration for *The Princess’s New Clothes* today.
So, the talent show star Xu Mei was caught cheating at the celebration, nabbed by the wronged wife?!
This gossip was a bit hard to swallow.
Xu Mei had always projected an intellectual image, a university graduate. This scandal clashed starkly with her established persona.
Professor Fang wasn’t unknown either—she was a judge on last year’s talent show!
“So Xu Mei seduced Fang’s husband? Fang’s practically her mentor, having picked her out last year. She even went for her mentor’s husband!”
“The person above doesn’t know, does she? Fang’s now Xu Mei’s agent…”
Plenty of people spilled the tea, laying out the story with clear twists and turns, making it addictive to follow.
Li Mengjiao’s fans were livid.
They’d drawn their 40-metre swords, and now they were supposed to sheath them without a fight? Though the post didn’t slander Li Mengjiao, the title was clearly riding her popularity, misleading people!
Her fans flooded the post with curses, pushing its comment count sky-high.
Xu Mei’s fanbase, though smaller, wasn’t having it either. Claiming she seduced her agent’s husband based on a few photos? Her fans surged in, joining the fray against the poster.
The poster was getting enough flak to build a house, but they didn’t care, replying at high speed, trading barbs with fans to keep the post hot and visible.
“Yu Tianlin is just…”
Wen Ying didn’t finish her sentence.
Absolutely brilliant!
The comment was half-criticism, half-admiration—condemning Yu Tianlin’s character but marvelling at his tactics.
Buying internet trolls to stir up trouble wasn’t rare a decade later. Some said a star who hadn’t bought a trending topic wasn’t a top star. Take Weibo: it started by inviting celebrities to join, but by the time Wen Ying was reborn, stars were spending hundreds of thousands to millions yearly on it.
Some said the top spenders shelled out tens of millions, though Wen Ying wasn’t sure if that was true.
Buying trends and trolls was common in the future, but this was 2005, and Yu Tianlin was already pulling these moves. Wen Ying had to give him credit.
“Why are you staring at me?” Yuan Fenghui asked, thinking she had something on her face.
“Nothing, just admiring you more,” Wen Ying replied.
Every industry had shared traits and unique aspects. Wen Ying felt she had much to learn from Yuan Fenghui.
Seeing the post’s content, Wang Shuang felt sorry for Xu Mei’s bad luck but also relieved, while a sense of crisis crept in.
Today, Xu Mei was the target. They could watch the drama, but what if Li Mengjiao was next?
They needed some strategies.
Calling the police was one option, but some issues were too ambiguous for the police to handle.
If Li Mengjiao were in Xu Mei’s shoes, how would they save her?
Wang Shuang earnestly asked for advice, but Yuan Fenghui refused to answer, telling him to think for himself.
Thick-skinned as ever, Wang Shuang pestered Xie Qian, who was reading on the sofa.
Xie Qian closed his book, staring at Wang Shuang, wondering if he’d lost all attachment to this world.
Too few exam papers? Not enough study guides?
Wen Ying yanked Wang Shuang back to the computer by his collar.
“Three strategies—best, middle, worst. Which one do you want to hear?”
“The worst one first,” Wang Shuang said.
Not just him, everyone pricked up their ears to hear Wen Ying.
“The worst strategy is to get someone to delete the post. It’s still early, with not too many netizens discussing it, so the impact is small. But if the opponent is prepared, deleting the post doesn’t solve the root issue. They can just post again with a new account. Deleting without clarifying makes you look guilty, like the post was true!”
The police couldn’t solve everything.
Idiots like Han Qin, who didn’t even change IP addresses, were rare. Finding the poster wasn’t guaranteed.
By the time you’ve spent effort, the rumour’s spread, the damage is done, and later clarifications are useless. Some netizens won’t see them, forever linking Xu Mei to the scandal.
Even if Xu Mei survives this, it could haunt her entire career.
“The middle strategy is to ignore the post and have someone post new gossip about another star. Xu Mei’s not a big name, so a juicier scandal could overshadow hers, minimising its impact and buying time to resolve it.”
Before Wen Ying could mention the best strategy, Wang Shuang refreshed the page and found the post gone.
“They went with the worst strategy and deleted it?”
As if proving Wen Ying right, new posts popped up.
Not just on Tianya but also on Baidu Tieba, new posts kept appearing, impossible to delete them all.
Xu Mei’s fans, who’d been cursing earlier, were now stunned.
What’s the point of just deleting posts?
Someone needed to explain the truth.
The new posts not only reposted the photos but also exposed Station Chief Duan as Fang’s husband.
That stirred up a real storm.
Even some of Xu Mei’s fans wavered.
So it was a big shot like that.
What seemed absurd earlier now felt plausible.
Wen Ying muttered, “It’s over. They used the worst strategy, and now even the best one won’t work. Xu Mei’s truly unlucky.”
No one asked what the best strategy was.
Li Mengjiao stayed quiet, as did Yun Chen and Zhang Yangning.
They didn’t like Xu Mei, but seeing her smeared like this gave them a chilling sense of shared vulnerability.
Xu Mei had done nothing, yet she was saddled with this mess.
The industry’s darkness, the fight for profit, and human ugliness were laid bare, revealing just the tip of the iceberg with raw, visceral impact. Even the mature Yun Chen questioned himself: *Do I really want to work in this industry?*
The darkness that came with the glamour.
They were in their career’s ascent, protected by Yuan Fenghui, still pure… but years from now, would they become another Yu Tianlin?
The mood was heavy when a knock came at the door.
Yuan Fenghui opened it to find Zhang Guangzhen outside, rubbing his hands, “I was wondering, does Tianjiao need a scriptwriter?”
