[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo":3,"chapter-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-12":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Becoming a Goddess in Tokyo",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2338996,4573,"Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve: The Mire","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-12",12,"\u003Cp>“This is my place—kind of plain, but you’ll have to put up with it for now,” Luo Quan said, opening the door and kicking off her shoes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You live alone in Tokyo?” Wen Xia walked in, pulling her suitcase behind her, curious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan went into the bedroom and turned on the air conditioner. “I used to live with my mom, but she’s been traveling on some small island in the Pacific lately.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Want a Coke?” Luo Quan opened the fridge, pulled out two cans of Pepsi, and held them up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia waved her hand. “Just mineral water. Coke makes you gain weight.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan smirked. “I drink it every day and I’m only a hundred jin.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She swapped one can of Coke for a bottle of mineral water and tossed it to Wen Xia.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia shot her a glare, cheeks puffed. “You’re just trying to annoy me. Wait till you hit one hundred and fifty jin—I’ll laugh myself to death!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After finishing her Coke, Luo Quan burped. “By the way, you still haven’t answered my earlier question.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What question?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How come you suddenly quit your group? I heard you were a really successful girl group leader—thirty million fans in China, made it into the World’s Top 100 Beauties.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I couldn’t keep going in Korea, so I came back,” Wen Xia set down her water bottle and lowered her voice slightly. “Around March, I heard from a friend that the government was planning to restrict Korean content. Soon, all Korean groups and individuals would be banned from performing in China—not just idols, but even Korean dramas and movies would be heavily restricted. The crackdown was way bigger than anyone expected.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan wasn’t surprised—she’d lived through this event in her past life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The timeline of this world was nearly identical to her past life, with only minor differences in dates—sometimes two or three years off, sometimes just two or three months. In her past life, the Korea restriction order was announced in September 2016, just a few days from now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But shouldn’t that affect you less?” Luo Quan still didn’t understand. “You’re a Korean girl group—your biggest market should be Korea, right? As long as your Korean fans buy your music, isn’t that enough?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Korea restriction is only one reason. There’s another, bigger one,” Wen Xia suddenly grew hesitant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan blinked. “What’s wrong? Keep going.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia’s cheeks flushed red. “You can’t laugh at me—I haven’t told anyone else about this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“After all these years, do you think I’d laugh at you?” Luo Quan raised four fingers in a vow. “I swear—I won’t laugh, no matter what you say.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia took a deep breath, finally deciding to speak. “You know about Korea’s chaebols—they control the entire entertainment industry. I thought it was just isolated cases, but I never imagined it would happen to me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Wen Xia spoke vaguely, Luo Quan was sharp enough to guess her meaning immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You were… pressured?” Luo Quan whispered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re the one who got pressured!” Wen Xia lunged at Luo Quan, pinning her to the tatami mat. They rolled around on the floor, and surprisingly, the slightly shorter Wen Xia ended up on top.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan struggled uselessly, then gave up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan hadn’t meant anything by it—she’d just asked instinctively. She hadn’t realized how deeply Wen Xia felt about it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But then again, who wouldn’t?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia got off Luo Quan and sighed softly. “I was called in by my manager. I thought it was just a dinner with some official—something my teammates had all been through. But before the food even arrived, that fat pig started hinting at things. I sensed something wrong and left right away.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I was so naive to go there at all. If those people had been even more ruthless…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia crouched on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, head bowed low, shoulders trembling uncontrollably.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan had heard rumors about how deep the entertainment industry’s corruption ran—hidden rules, unspoken pressures—but actual revelations were rare. Even in Korea, the epicenter of such abuse, public awareness had only recently surged—and only after many female artists had paid with their lives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thought that this girl had nearly suffered the same thing made Luo Quan’s heart feel like a steel blade had been driven through it. She wasn’t good with words of comfort, so she simply sat beside Wen Xia and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feeling her friend’s embrace, Wen Xia’s mood eased slightly. She forced a bright smile. “I’m not that fragile. I’m just scared—and worried about my teammates. They don’t have the means to escape this swamp like I did.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan didn’t know what to say. This heavy question had no answer. She changed the subject. “Since you’ve escaped, just forget about it for now… By the way, teach me some tips on dealing with reporters and cameras. I might be on TV tomorrow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia smiled. “You’re asking the right person. When I was a trainee in Korea, I got special training for this—I know it inside out…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Talking about her field, Wen Xia transformed—she began pouring out every possible scenario reporters might throw at her, and how to handle them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The conversation drifted into Korean entertainment gossip. No girl could resist celebrity rumors—not even Wen Xia, who lived in the industry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unfortunately, Luo Quan barely knew any of the stars in this world. The names Wen Xia mentioned meant nothing to her. She just nodded with a practiced fake smile, playing along to help Wen Xia lift her spirits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before they knew it, it was afternoon. The Sony website page for Luo Quan’s album release had entered its countdown.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pre-orders had begun. Both Luo Quan and Wen Xia bought one copy, but the remaining stock suggested pre-sales weren’t going well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sony’s release strategy combined online and offline sales: an initial print of 100,000 copies, with 60,000 distributed to physical stores based on demand, and 40,000 sold online.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The online version cost more due to shipping fees, but pre-orders had only reached 863 copies. Add Luo Quan and Wen Xia’s two, and it was 865.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was far below Luo Quan’s expectations. Weren’t they supposed to be a smash hit? How could sales be this low?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Luo Quan anxious, constantly refreshing the pre-order page, Wen Xia said, “Japan’s music market is always cautious. You’re unknown, and this is your first album. Eight hundred pre-orders is already impressive.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Your songs are top quality. Once they hit the market, demand will outstrip supply—it’s just a matter of time.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I hope so,” Luo Quan muttered, putting down her phone and immediately doing eye exercises to calm herself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after finishing, she picked up her phone again and refreshed the page—sales had increased by twenty copies. That lifted her spirits slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Too anxious to cook, Luo Quan ordered two takeout meals for dinner, then hugged her phone, waiting impatiently for midnight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing her friend’s forehead slick with sweat, Wen Xia felt both amused and sympathetic. “Should I post on Weibo and ask my fans to support you? I think they’ll love these songs.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Absolutely not!” Luo Quan refused without hesitation. “I want to see if I can make it in Japan’s music market on my own. This matters.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia asked curiously, “What if you can’t make it? What’s your plan?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If I can’t make it here, I’ll go back to China,” Luo Quan thought of the melody of “Cat Call”—a song like that would go viral overnight in China.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Luo Quan waited with eager anticipation, the clock struck midnight on July 19th. Her album officially launched, and its three songs went live on iTunes and other major online music platforms.\u003C\u002Fp>",1301,"2026-06-20T22:54:01.657Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","2a029e320fd00bf58d527c3828e668b88de1c6de0544f960b5f52e1884de3be5","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-13","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-11",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fbecoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-cover.jpg"]