Chapter 86

“You didn’t need to get involved in this mess.”

Seeing her best friend stand up for her so fiercely, Wen Xia felt both moved and worried, and immediately called across the border to urge her to stop arguing with the trolls.

Luo Quan smiled indifferently: “I just can’t stand these people’s thinking—that celebrities should be cowards in the face of public opinion, lie down and take the abuse.”

What, are celebrities not human? Can’t celebrities fight back against trolls? I’m going to fight back and see what kind of impact they can have on me.”

“But this will ruin your public image.”

“If the public is this way, I don’t want them!” Luo Quan’s tone was resolute—she had never been someone who liked to compromise; her refusal to yield under pressure was the best reflection of her character.

Wen Xia knew her temperament well and stopped trying to persuade her, only asking her to be a little more careful when fighting trolls, not to get too emotional and say the wrong things.

This concern was entirely unnecessary—though Luo Quan spoke her mind bluntly, she was by no means reckless; she knew perfectly well what she could and couldn’t say.

After the most intense round of clashes, Feng Luzhen’s fanbase seemed to calm down slightly.

Meanwhile, the director of Ghost Blows Out the Light and Tencent Interactive each posted a Weibo, offering clarification for Wen Xia.

Director Wang Lin:

“Feng Luzhen did audition for the female lead in Ghost Blows Out the Light, but she was never officially chosen. Later, after discussion, the entire production team unanimously agreed that Wen Xia was more suitable for the role. As for any so-called quid pro quo, these people are simply lying through their teeth—I’m a woman!!!”

Tencent Interactive:

“Wen Xia, one of the most accomplished idol stars in recent years, enjoys considerable fame both domestically and internationally, and has received numerous honors I won’t list here.”

“Her contract with our company is mutually beneficial and involves no extraneous transactions. Those spreading malicious slander, please watch your words— the internet is not a lawless zone!”

With the statements released, the truth became clear.

The so-called seduction of the director was pure nonsense—the director of Ghost Blows Out the Light is a woman in her early forties; sending a pretty boy to seduce her would make more sense.

So all those who followed the bandwagon to smear her? All brain-dead.

The keyboard warriors, badly humiliated, naturally refused to accept defeat so easily. Since they couldn’t damage Wen Xia, they immediately shifted their fire toward Luo Quan.

“I think Luo Quan should apologize—even if this was normal competition, what she said to Feng Luzhen was way too extreme!”

“As a public figure, she shows zero regard for her influence and dives into fights with ordinary people—it’s just so low-class!”

“Someone like this should not be allowed to stir up trouble in the entertainment industry—we’re all responsible.”

“Luo Quan, apologize! Just because you’re a celebrity, you can bully ordinary people online?”

………………

As this outcry grew louder, the trolls seemed to have forgotten how they had smeared Wen Xia earlier; now they positioned themselves as victims, standing on the moral high ground to freely condemn Luo Quan.

In everyone’s view, a celebrity like Luo Quan shouldn’t argue with ordinary people—she should endure insults with a calm, forgiving heart; daring to reply even once was her fault!

But would Luo Quan indulge these people? The answer was certainly not. Facing tens of thousands of comments demanding she apologize, she replied with just eight characters:

“Apologize? Apologize for what damn thing?!”

It was a crude phrase, yet not vulgar—perfect for shutting down these mindless trolls.

But for that one moment of satisfaction, Luo Quan received countless reports—each one claiming she committed personal attacks or posted harmful content.

When Luo Quan tried to check the comments again, she found she couldn’t open them—every single one of her previous Weibo posts and comments had been wiped clean, each replaced with the same message: “Content under review due to user reports.”

Luo Quan was about to appeal, but discovered her account had been forcibly deleted—she couldn’t log back in; the system displayed: “Account permanently suspended due to violations.”

“F***!” Since her reincarnation, Luo Quan had always been careful with her words—she’d never once cursed—but now she couldn’t hold back.

Soon, “Luo Quan’s account permanently banned” topped Weibo’s trending list, shooting straight to number one.

In the comment section, trolls rejoiced wildly, proudly recounting how they had stood firm and fearless against celebrity cyberbullying, united as one to win the victory—evil could no longer hurl abuse at ordinary people.

Of course, some did condemn the trolls’ behavior, but these people were quickly labeled as Luo Quan’s braindead fans and attacked en masse.

Some busybodies called today a historic day—the first victory of ordinary internet users against celebrity cyberbullying, common people defeating the privileged class, and so on.

“I’ll never use Weibo again—I’ll eat dog food!” Luo Quan posted a tweet in Chinese, expressing her fury.

Luo Quan had nearly three million followers on Twitter, mostly Japanese, with a small number from the U.S.; Chinese fans likely numbered no more than five hundred.

So when she posted a Chinese tweet, her followers didn’t understand and rushed to ask what had happened.

Soon, Chinese fans explained in the comments:

“Luo Quan stood up for her friend on Chinese Weibo; because her words were too intense, her account was permanently banned.”

Once explained, everyone understood. The fans didn’t react strongly—they were even happy, because from now on, Luo Quan’s only social platform would be Twitter, and she’d only need to care for them.

“What are you doing now?” Wen Xia called Luo Quan for the second time.

“I’m gazing at the stars…” Luo Quan rested her chin on her hands, her bright eyes shimmering with a thousand stars.

But her tone sounded somewhat low and melancholy.

“Why?” Wen Xia didn’t understand.

“In this filthy, fickle world, I want to see something pure and eternal.”

Wen Xia fell silent for a long time, then whispered: “It will pass.”

Then came a soft “beep”—she hung up.

Luo Quan had thought herself invincible, but in the end, she was still slightly wounded.

Earlier, she had fought the trolls with fiery passion, speaking her mind without compromise—how exhilarating she had felt then, how hollow she felt now.

In the end, one person alone could not stand against the tide of “public opinion”—celebrities facing slander and defamation should just stay silent and wait for the truth to emerge. That’s always how it was.

But just because it’s always been that way, does that make it right?

Luo Quan thought long and hard but couldn’t figure it out—and luckily, she was naturally easygoing. If she couldn’t figure it out, she simply let it go. Someone more prone to overthinking might have fallen into a logical loop, sinking into depression or becoming even more extreme.

This is why many celebrities suffer from some degree of mental health issues.

But Luo Quan took it lightly—if Weibo didn’t want her, fine, she’d just stop using it. Out of sight, out of mind; she had no reason to punish herself for others’ mistakes.

Problems don’t exist unless people create them.

Luo Quan never considered herself a fool.

And those true fools would never make her bow!

At that moment, Luo Quan’s phone rang again—a number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Hello, would you like a loan? We can offer you the lowest interest rates.”

“I’m rich.”

“But your voice sounds very young.”

“I’m young AND rich!”

Luo Quan hung up with a frosty expression—just when things couldn’t get worse, these people had timed their call perfectly to mess with her head!

Less than ten seconds later, the phone rang again. Luo Quan snatched it up angrily: “I’m worth a hundred million! I don’t need a loan! Don’t call again!”

“Is there some misunderstanding?” A voice completely different from the previous caller came through—the voice of a middle-aged man around forty, deep and resonant.

“Sorry…” Luo Quan slapped her forehead, realizing she’d been so angry she hadn’t even checked the caller ID.

“Someone just called me about a loan—I just hung up, and then you called. My apologies.”

“I see.” The man laughed. “I’m Cheng Rui, CEO of Bilibili. I’ve been searching everywhere to find your private number. I’d like to invite you to join Bilibili—I’ll offer you the highest market rate.”

Luo Quan’s first thought was whether this was some new scam—was this guy in cahoots with the loan guy?

“Is there a problem?” Cheng Rui, hearing no response, quickly asked.

“No… I just can’t believe you’re real.”

“I can send you an email. You can also verify this with Zhou Yangwen—I got your number from him.”

Hearing Zhou Yangwen’s name, Luo Quan immediately relaxed: “If you say so, I have no doubts. Let’s talk about joining—do you want me to post a short video announcing I’m here?”

Cheng Rui’s tone turned serious: “Do you know what kind of platform Bilibili is?”

Without hesitation, Luo Quan replied: “Of course—I know it’s China’s largest ACG fan hub, a paradise for otaku.”

It had also been her favorite website in her past life—she couldn’t sleep if she didn’t spend seven or eight hours a day scrolling through it.

“Your songs are extremely popular on Bilibili—many well-known cover singers have covered them, with very high view counts. So we want to invite you personally to join Bilibili.”

“You can use Bilibili as your main promotional channel in China. The young users here have high standards.”

Hearing this, Luo Quan remembered the insults she’d suffered on Weibo and thought: Without you, I can’t survive in China?!

On one hand, she had a fondness for Bilibili; on the other, she wanted to get back at Weibo. So she accepted Cheng Rui’s invitation to join Bilibili.

As Luo Quan continued gazing at the stars, her mood instantly lifted.

The most comforting thing about life is that every chapter ends—and today was no exception.

Tomorrow will be a brand-new, hopeful day!