Chapter 88

P.S. The chapter title was written wrong—this is Chapter 89, the previous one was Chapter 88, but it doesn’t matter.

The controversy sparked by the dispute over the female lead in Ghost Blows Out the Light has finally ended.

Feng Luzhen successfully portrayed herself as a pitiful actress oppressed by capital, winning a flood of sympathy and public favor; reportedly, another production team has already approached her.

On the other hand, Wen Xia’s side, thanks to timely clarifications from the director and production team, saw all rumors about her collapse on their own, and those who had previously fueled the rumors all posted Weibo apologies.

Moreover, Ghost Blows Out the Light: The City of the Dead has already drawn massive attention even before filming began, given its funding by Penguin Dad, and the costume, makeup, and special effects are certainly unlikely to be subpar; coupled with the director and lead actor’s stellar reputations in the industry, and the addition of Wen Xia—a celebrity with both popularity and beauty—the drama is highly anticipated.

This entire storm ultimately resulted in a win-win situation for Feng Luzhen and Wen Xia, something no one had anticipated.

But Luo Quan, who had meddled in the middle, was probably the unluckiest: she became the target of Feng Luzhen’s fans redirecting their anger, and her extreme remarks triggered widespread online backlash and reports.

Ordinary people can insult and defame celebrities without any consequences, because the law doesn’t punish the masses. But when celebrities retaliate, it’s unacceptable—you’re a public figure, you must mind your image and impact; say something slightly harsher, and it becomes cyberbullying of ordinary people.

Before Luo Quan, few celebrities dared to launch broadside attacks on their haters on Weibo; after her, no one will dare do it again.

Because the precedent is right there: Luo Quan vented her anger, but her account was permanently banned, and due to her tweets, Weibo doesn’t seem inclined to unban her at all.

But if Zhang the butcher is gone, do we stop eating pork with hair on it?

Although Weibo is indeed the largest social media platform in China, as long as you have ability, you can still gain fame on another platform.

For instance, right now, Luo Quan used just one song to win a standing ovation on Bilibili, and her popularity is skyrocketing.

It’s not that Luo Quan is truly a dimension above other celebrities—she’s just better suited to Bilibili; simply the persona of a Japanese singer already puts her far ahead of domestic stars.

Anyway, Luo Quan has barely stabilized her footing in China, but she has no intention of touching Weibo again; she’ll focus entirely on her Bilibili account and be a daily-uploading UP owner—how nice would that be?

If Luo Quan’s Bilibili fans knew she was this kind of UP owner, they’d probably immediately make a Guichu video of her.

Before long, it was the weekend, and Luo Quan arrived at the Aileshe clubhouse as agreed with Kamaya Suzune.

Calling it a clubhouse is misleading—it’s more like a hall, about the same size as the gymnasium where Luo Quan held her book signing, but a conspicuous red line runs down the center, its purpose unknown.

“This is our club’s clubhouse—how spacious, right?” Kamaya Suzune spread her arms, looking proud.

“Why is it so big?”

“Because our president is rich—he and the karate club president pooled money to rent this abandoned gymnasium for both clubs’ use.”

Luo Quan was startled: “So there’s another karate club sharing this space with us?”

“Yes, and Sato Shuichi and Keimiyama Masaru are both karate club members; reportedly, besides the president, three others in the club have already reached green belt level!”

Luo Quan nodded thoughtfully: “Green belt… that’s not bad.”

Kamaya Suzune widened her eyes: “Not bad? That’s already on the threshold of black belt! With steady, diligent practice, they’ll definitely become black belts—how many ordinary people at their age have the perseverance to stick with it this long?”

“That’s impressive,” Luo Quan offered her professional fake smile. Would I tell you my karate rank?

“So this red line is to separate the two clubs’ activity zones?” Luo Quan pointed to the red line on the floor.

Kamaya Suzune nodded: “Right, but you don’t need to worry too much—occasionally crossing over isn’t a big deal… Oh, the president’s here!”

Luo Quan turned to see a handsome man with shoulder-length hair standing beside her, appearing out of nowhere.

“Let me introduce myself—I’m the president of Aileshe and the band’s guitarist, Yunjing Xiao!”

The handsome man didn’t extend his hand, only tilted his head with a bright smile.

Luo Quan’s eyes lit up: “You have a band?”

Yunjing Xiao smiled: “We formed it just for fun, but we’ve been struggling because we still need a lead singer who can hold the stage.”

“Is this position just conveniently left open for me?”

Yunjing Xiao said nothing; Luo Quan understood perfectly—everything was left unsaid.

Under Yunjing Xiao’s guidance, the three walked toward where the club members had gathered.

Yunjing Xiao said as they walked: “About ten people regularly come to the clubhouse; other members prioritize academics and are just nominal members. Those who come often are all passionate about music—we sing together frequently and sometimes record videos to upload to YouTube.”

Luo Quan asked curiously: “How many views do they get?”

Yunjing Xiao shook his head: “Just average. Before you, I was always the lead singer, but my voice is terrible, so no one listens to our songs.”

“With such a big club, isn’t there anyone else who can be lead singer?”

Kamaya Suzune sighed: “Xia Zi actually has excellent vocal potential, but because she studied opera for years, her singing now carries an opera tone—it’s unpleasant.”

“Really?” Luo Quan paused, then turned to Yunjing Xiao: “Sing something for me later—I’ll see what the problem is.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the other Aileshe members noticed Luo Quan approaching and dropped their books, cheering and rushing over.

“Is that really Quanquan in person?!”

“Suzune said she got you to join our club—I didn’t believe her, but it’s true!”

“I never thought I’d get this close to my goddess!”

“Our president’s band finally has a reliable lead singer—my ears are saved!”

“Who said that last line? Is my singing really that terrifying?” Yunjing Xiao laughed and scolded.

The members burst into laughter; the hall was filled with cheerful energy.

Luo Quan smiled: “You get along really well with your members.”

Yunjing Xiao looked smug: “It’s nothing special—mainly because my personal charm is off the charts, so they all adore me～～～”

Luo Quan: Such self-absorption…

“By the way, let me introduce you—this is our band’s drummer, Anshi You… You, stop hiding!” Yunjing Xiao dragged the slender Anshi You out from the crowd.

Anshi You’s skin was extremely pale, nearly matching Luo Quan’s fairness; his features were unusually delicate, his timid gaze making him seem like a sensitive shy plant, radiating a fragile, pitiable softness.

“Are you male or female?” Luo Quan studied Anshi You’s face intently, trying to determine his gender—but his features were so soft, it was genuinely hard to tell.

“I’m… I’m male,” Anshi You avoided Luo Quan’s eyes; as soon as he spoke, his cheeks flushed crimson.

“Don’t be so shy—we’re going to be bandmates now,” Luo Quan slapped his shoulder; Anshi You shrank back, visibly tense.

Yunjing Xiao explained: “You has always been introverted since childhood—don’t mind him, he’ll loosen up once he gets used to you.”

“Sorry I’m late!” Gongye Xiazi rushed in, breathless from outside: “I had to finish a paper, so I’m a bit late—sorry.”

“Alright, our band is now complete,” Yunjing Xiao stepped forward, holding his guitar and flipping his long hair back with his right hand: “Let me reintroduce myself—I’m the band’s guitarist.”

Kamaya Suzune: “I’m the keyboardist.”

Gongye Xiazi: “I’m the violinist.”

Anshi You: “I… I’m the drummer.”

“You’ve got great energy,” Luo Quan didn’t hold back her praise. “Now, President Yunjing, please sing a song for us—I need to see what your problem is.”

At these words, the members’ expressions changed instantly.

“No way, you’re serious?”

“I just got over my ear infection…”

“The death screech is coming!”

“Hey, do you really have to be like this?” Yunjing Xiao complained.

Luo Quan also found it amusing: “Yeah, that’s overdoing it.”

Kamaya Suzune had somehow already put on earplugs: “Wait until you hear him sing—you’ll understand.”

Luo Quan encouraged Yunjing Xiao: “Ignore them—just sing.”

“Then I’ll be rude,” Yunjing Xiao bowed to Luo Quan, pulled the microphone close to his mouth.

The accompaniment began—it was Luo Quan’s “First Love.”

When Yunjing Xiao opened his mouth, Luo Quan finally understood why the members had kept their distance.

Yunjing Xiao’s voice was like a broken gong—completely off-key, every note out of tune; worse, his volume was deafening, with built-in surround sound, assaulting Luo Quan’s auditory nerves from all 360 degrees.

By the end, it escalated into a roar, like a demon’s bellow.

“Stop!” Before Yunjing Xiao finished, Luo Quan screamed with all her might.

The noise cut off abruptly; Yunjing Xiao stared at Luo Quan, utterly innocent.

“Damn, you almost killed me,” Luo Quan massaged her throbbing temples, thinking how close she’d come to disaster.

A warm love song turned into a funeral dirge—Yunjing Xiao was truly a talent.

Yunjing Xiao sighed: “I told you I couldn’t sing.”

Luo Quan looked up, exhausted: “Although your voice isn’t suited for gentle Japanese ballads, you’re not completely incapable of singing.”