Chapter 65

She claimed she was fully focused on preparing for the new semester and wouldn’t attend any media events, but in the end, she still caved.

On August 21, Luo Quan and Wen Xia were invited to the Sina Weibo Night.

Every summer, Sina hosts Weibo Night at the end of summer; last year it was in Shanghai, this year it’s in Jingcheng.

Originally, Luo Quan didn’t plan to go, but she thought about it—Weibo is practically the king of domestic media traffic, and Weibo Night draws enormous attention; only major stars get invited.

Being invited this time means they still recognize her popularity—it’s a sign of respect. If she refused, it might cause some negative impact domestically. Besides, with Wen Xia accompanying her, she ultimately decided to go.

Without an invitation, Purezi could only pitifully stay home, waiting for the two girls to bring her some Chinese local specialties as compensation.

The venue for Weibo Night is the National Convention Center, starting at 8 p.m.

Luo Quan and Wen Xia booked their tickets two days in advance and arrived at the Capital International Airport at 12:30 p.m.

As soon as they stepped out of the passenger exit, a gentle female broadcast voice mixed with endless noise flooded Luo Quan’s ears—this familiar Mandarin, these familiar Chinese characters—she felt unexpectedly moved.

Luo Quan whispered: “Home really is the best.”

“What’s best?” Wen Xia turned, puzzled.

“Nothing…” Luo Quan shook her head, curious: “Why aren’t any fans here to meet us? I thought stars always get welcomed by crowds at the airport—do we just not have enough clout?”

Wen Xia chuckled: “Fans aren’t paparazzi. Unless the star announces it, who’d even know which flight they’re on?”

The two girls wore sunglasses, criticizing the pretentiousness of domestic stars as they moved with the crowd toward the exit.

They hadn’t walked two steps when a massive wave of people surged toward them.

“What’s going on? Don’t push!” Wen Xia raised her hands to shield her face and quickly sidestepped, only to find more people crowding in from all sides.

“What’s happening?” Luo Quan frowned, her tone sharp.

These people weren’t passengers—this was a one-way exit-only corridor; no one would push inward.

“Wang Yan! Wang Yan!”

“Yanyan, I love you!”

Several girls screamed a female star’s name, their eyes fixed on another exit—where the crowd was even thicker than where Luo Quan and Wen Xia stood.

“That must be the star who leaked her whereabouts,” Wen Xia swam through the crowd, but as a girl, her strength was negligible—she was like a mayfly trying to shake a tree.

“Who the hell is Wang Yan? This crowd’s insane—there must be five or six hundred people here!” Luo Quan was in a bad mood, her voice loud and sharp.

Wen Xia pushed through the crowd, sighing: “A young actress. She had a popular ancient costume palace drama this year—second-tier domestic female star.”

Luo Quan sneered: “No wonder. The most pretentious people are always those stuck in the middle—silent when full, noisy when half-empty!”

“Who are you talking about?” A female fan beside Luo Quan turned, glaring at her.

Luo Quan’s face was expressionless: “I didn’t say you. Why are you so worked up?”

“What did Wang Yan do to you? If you don’t like her, just leave quietly!”

Are they really throwing fan-culture slogans at me? Luo Quan snapped: “You’re blocking our path—how am I supposed to walk? Why not meet her outside the airport? You’re chasing stars here and acting like it’s your right? It’s ridiculous!”

“Exactly! I hate these fucking stans—they’re all asking for it!” A grumpy man behind Luo Quan erupted. Other passengers joined in, voicing their complaints.

But the fans clearly ignored the criticism. The girl who’d argued with Luo Quan even pulled out her phone and pointed it at her: “I’m one of the moderators for Wang Yan’s super topic. Say what you just said again—I guarantee you’ll trend tonight!”

Facing the camera, Luo Quan wasn’t fazed: “Say it ten times? Fine! She’s a mediocre star—why can’t she just leave quietly? Why arrange all these people to meet her? You think more fans equals more popularity?”

The fan remained calm: “Dare you take off your sunglasses? What’s the point of hiding?”

“You people are obsessed with fandom,” Luo Quan laughed bitterly. “So you want to doxx me after I take off my sunglasses?”

“I’m just curious what kind of face someone so bitter and cruel has. Your real face must be ugly—otherwise why wear sunglasses in broad daylight?”

Luo Quan and Wen Xia exchanged glances, speechless.

With people like this, normal logic won’t work.

“Since we’re stuck anyway, I’ll play along.” Luo Quan removed her sunglasses.

Luo Quan never flaunted her appearance, but today was an exception: “Does my face not meet your standards?”

The fan just held up her phone, silent.

Another fan shouted: “So you’re foreign? This is China! Our stars don’t need foreigners to judge them!”

“You’re not entirely useless—at least you’re patriotic. But causing public congestion deserves criticism.” Luo Quan pulled out her ID from her bag: “Also, I’m a pure-blooded Chinese citizen. Don’t try to use nationality against me!”

The fans fell silent. The super topic moderator reluctantly put away her phone and turned away.

Luo Quan put her sunglasses back on, puzzled—no one recognized her. She assumed her appearance was highly distinctive, but apparently she’d overestimated her fame in China.

Then again—fourteen billion people. How could everyone know a new female singer with a foreign face?

Soon, a group of black-clad bodyguards emerged from the corridor. These tall, muscular men easily parted the crowd, and the fans obediently stepped aside.

Amid the bodyguards and agents, Wang Yan, masked and head down, walked out of the corridor. Fans called out to her; hidden paparazzi aimed their cameras.

As Wang Yan left, the crowd gradually dispersed, and the corridor returned to normal.

“If any super topic moderator dares to meet a star at the airport again, I’ll fire her!” Luo Quan planted her hands on her hips and swore fiercely, watching the frenzied fans.