Chapter 92: The Thank You Festival

After what happened, the band could no longer continue, so Yun Jingxiao told the members to go home, and An Shi Yu and Luo Quan happened to be heading in the same direction.

“So, what exactly is the grudge between you and Iwasaki Eiji that makes him target you so fiercely?” Luo Quan asked An Shi Yu curiously on the way.

There is no love without reason, just as there is no hatred without cause—An Shi Yu must have done something to provoke Iwasaki Eiji’s hostility.

“To be honest, it was my own stupidity,” An Shi Yu sighed softly, his eyes looking somewhat desolate.

“There was a girl in the Aileshe named Haruko—very cute, and I really liked her. We got along perfectly, whether in hobbies or habits, as if we were destined for each other—at least, that’s how I felt back then.

But two weekends ago, the captain of the karate club, Aozora, invited all Aileshe members to go to a karaoke bar for drinks. Everyone got along well then, so we gladly accepted, and Haruko was among those invited.

Since there were so many people, Aozora booked two rooms, but Haruko, who should have been in our room, somehow ended up in Aozora’s room.

At first I didn’t pay much attention—I just did my own thing. Later, after drinking a bit, I decided to take advantage of the alcohol to confess to Haruko.

When I went to the neighboring room, Haruko had just gone to the bathroom, and Iwasaki Eiji was secretly putting white powder into her drink. I was the only one who saw it.

When Haruko came back, before I could say anything, she picked up the glass to drink. I had no choice but to knock it out of her hand. Iwasaki Eiji immediately flew into a rage and moved to hit me, but Aozora intervened just in time; otherwise, I might have ended up in the hospital that night.

Ever since then, Iwasaki Eiji has constantly harassed me. I’ve never told anyone the truth, but Yun Jing and everyone else have stood up for me—and you, Quan, thank you so much for defending me today.”

“So that’s what happened. Iwasaki Eiji is truly a scumbag,” Luo Quan realized. “By the way, what about Haruko? You should’ve told her.”

“I told her that very night, and warned her to stay away from people like Iwasaki Eiji.”

“And then? Was she moved? Did she get together with you?”

“I got screamed at until I was covered in insults…”

“Of course,” Luo Quan sneered. “You had your own room in your own club, yet you went to another club’s room—what else could you possibly have wanted?”

An Shi Yu could only smile bitterly: “She said I shouldn’t act like a stalker harassing her—that the white powder Iwasaki Eiji put in her drink was probably just harmless fun, and I made a fool of myself by knocking it over and making her look bad!”

I told her I meant no harm—I just didn’t want her to get hurt.

She said whatever happened to her was none of my business, and that I shouldn’t think I could have any romantic hopes just because I’d spoken to her a few times.

Then she just left…”

Luo Quan scoffed: “Haruko must have been furious—she’d just lost a perfect chance to latch onto a rich guy, and you ruined it.”

An Shi Yu hesitated: “Maybe… Haruko had some reason?”

Luo Quan was stunned: “You’re not still fantasizing about her, are you? She made it crystal clear—she doesn’t want any ambiguous relationship with you, and she’s got someone better now.”

An Shi Yu broke into a cold sweat but still wouldn’t give in: “Maybe… maybe there was some misunderstanding?”

Luo Quan fell silent. Suddenly, she felt one saying described An Shi Yu perfectly: Women don’t even need to lie to a lickspittle—they just need to say a few words, and the lickspittle will invent reasons to deceive himself.

“An Shi-san, we have a saying: A lickspittle dies a miserable death! If you keep fantasizing about Haruko, your fate will be terrible.”

Speaking too deeply to someone you barely know is an offense, so Luo Quan didn’t press further—she’d said enough.

“Let’s part here. Don’t worry about what Iwasaki Eiji might do to me—just take care of yourself.”

They parted at the school gate. An Shi Yu stared at Luo Quan’s back, lost in thought, as if remembering something.

Perhaps out of caution for Luo Quan’s current fame, Iwasaki Eiji took no further action after his threats—he stopped attending karate club activities and vanished from the Komaoka campus.

For the first few days, Luo Quan remained vigilant, always walking on busy streets to and from school, never alone. Perhaps her vigilance kept Iwasaki Eiji, hidden in the shadows, from finding an opening.

Or perhaps Iwasaki Eiji had only blustered to save face and never intended to act at all?

With so many days passing without incident, Luo Quan’s nerves inevitably relaxed.

Today, however, was a big day for her.

September 10: “Coming of Age” had been on sale for twenty days, with sales surpassing six million copies, breaking the highest album sales record in Asia in the past decade—a terrifying figure that left countless industry insiders speechless; some even called it “the divine work that revived Japan’s music market!”

In the past decade, no singer had ever achieved pre-sales of millions before their album even dropped, and no album had ever received such overwhelming love.

Luo Quan’s national recognition had now reached an astonishing level—calling her a major female singer was no longer enough.

Compared to legendary divas famous across Asia, the only gap between Luo Quan and them was that she had never held a concert.

Many fans believed that, given her current status, if she ever held a concert, the Tokyo Dome would be the only fitting venue.

As one of Tokyo’s landmark buildings, the Tokyo Dome has always been the dream stage for singers; the Japanese entertainment industry has long held that only those who have performed at the Tokyo Dome can be called top-tier stars!

And Luo Quan was just one concert away from being deified.

With her current popularity, any concert would sell out instantly—tickets wouldn’t be a problem—but she needed the right timing to make this concert a milestone in her artistic career.

For now, Luo Quan wouldn’t hold a concert anytime soon—first, she had to organize the Fan Appreciation Festival.

To commemorate “Coming of Age” reaching six million sales, Suoni Company organized a special Fan Appreciation Festival.

This was also Luo Quan’s first public appearance in the media in nearly a month.

Although she attended Todai every day, the university’s strict policies kept paparazzi from intruding, and Luo Quan herself seemed to dislike facing cameras—so to ordinary Japanese citizens, she remained a mysterious figure.

If these citizens frequently visited Bilibili, they wouldn’t think so—Luo Quan uploads videos of her daily life to her Bilibili page every single day.

She doesn’t know how to edit—she just films whatever strikes her as interesting, then uploads everything to Bilibili at night in one go.

Crucially, her Bilibili fans still love it—they follow her daily life like a drama series. Each video is only two or three minutes long, yet often gets 600,000 to 700,000 views.

Luo Quan herself named the series “Luo Quan’s Boring Life”—it dominates Bilibili’s trending list daily and has become a must-watch for every Bilibili user.

Compared to her wild activity in China, Luo Quan in Japan is extremely low-key.

She lives a two-point life: apartment to school and back. In her free time, she never shops. Her hundreds of millions in yen sit in the bank earning interest—bank clerks call her almost daily, asking if she wants financial services.

Luo Quan understands none of this and dares not let bank professionals manage her affairs, so she declines every invitation.

Given her current wealth, her simple lifestyle is unimaginable.

Mainly because she never lived a luxurious life before—she has no idea what real wealth looks like, so now that she has money, she doesn’t know how to enjoy it.

Yet precisely because of this simple lifestyle, her reputation both at school and online is extremely high.

Everyone in Japan knows Luo Quan is rich, but at school she never wears luxury brands, never wears designer watches, never wears makeup—she just rotates through her few Adidas shirts, changing every four days.

If lucky, you might see her in a white dress—she only owns these few outfits, so students joke she has only five clothes total.

In her videos, you can see her home’s décor and furniture are all ordinary, just like most households—many items are even less valuable than the iPhone she uses to film them.

One could say Luo Quan has embodied the principle of “wealth cannot corrupt” to the extreme—and her recent donation of tens of millions of yen to earthquake victims has elevated her image among the Japanese public to an extraordinary height.

The title “Goddess of the Japanese People” is fully deserved by Luo Quan.

If Luo Quan knew what people thought of her, she’d probably find it funny and frustrating.

She too had dreamed of a lavish life—having so much money and not enjoying it would be a waste, wouldn’t it?

But the truth is, she came from the bottom of society; her idea of wealth was limited to eating Kobe beef every meal and drinking Lafite wine—and she’s tried both, and they’re just not tasty.

Her horizons limit her ability to appreciate luxury—something money alone cannot buy, unless someone guides her.

But for now, it seems Luo Quan will have to maintain her “poor goddess” image for a long time yet.