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Chapter 942: The Crazy Race

~10 min read 1,978 words

Probably because there was someone to hold the scene this time, the highly anticipated scramble for the center position never happened.

Luo Quan remained firmly in the center; other stars had no intention of competing with her.

On one hand, the status gap was too great—though Luo Quan rarely promoted any fake hierarchy, just her numerous Best Actress awards at home and abroad already set her apart.

Not to mention her own stunning looks, and tonight’s Baisha Charity Night lighting exposed every flaw in the female stars’ faces.

If anyone still dared to move closer now, wouldn’t that create a glaring contrast?

So around Luo Quan, besides Wen Xia and Su Yu, no one had the courage to push forward.

But if no one dared crowd near Luo Quan, there was still room to squeeze into others’ spots.

The top female stars still fought hard for relatively central positions, though not as fiercely as before.

Once everyone was in place, Shu Mang finally shouted, “Look at the camera, say cheese!”

Two flashes sounded, the photo was done, and this charity gala, featuring half the entertainment industry’s top stars, was forever captured.

After the photo, the exhausted stars dropped their fake smiles and went home.

Those who still wanted to expand their social circles stayed behind to chat.

But mostly, it was female stars talking to female stars—in this era where any rumor can be spun into a trend, a male and female star speaking two sentences could be twisted into a romance.

“Let’s go home, Luoluo, I’m hungry,” Wen Xia rubbed her stomach, looking pitiful.

Though she’d eaten some bread before coming, hours had passed, and as someone who trained in martial arts, that bread was long digested.

“I’ve already ordered takeout—six dishes, two soups. We’ll probably get home just as it arrives.” Luo Quan was hungry too, so she’d prepared in advance.

As for the post-Baisha Charity Night interviews, neither had much interest—they just wanted to get home and fill their stomachs.

For the reporters waiting eagerly, missing Luo Quan’s exclusive interview was truly regrettable.

But for Fashion Baisha, tonight’s charity gala was undeniably a success—not only did it claim nearly half of Weibo’s trending topics, but live-streaming views also hit a new historical high.

This was crucial for Fashion Baisha’s continued expansion of influence.

And tonight’s high viewership was largely thanks to Luo Quan: first her two hit songs drew countless fans, then her five-million-yuan donation sparked nationwide debate.

The traffic was fully maximized.

But Luo Quan’s fans, after seeing the entertainment public accounts’ compiled list of celebrity donations, couldn’t hold back anymore and started joking in the comments:

“I never thought five million could top the list.”

“This time Luo Quan donated relatively little, yet she still looked so generous compared to others.”

“Though donations are voluntary, can these stars who make millions per minute really give nothing?”

“It seems anyone willing to donate fifty thousand is already a moral role model—others won’t give a single cent.”

“Stop talking, or we’ll be accused of moral coercion.”

“Everyone says celebrities do charity just for show, just for reputation—but if they won’t even do the show…”

“Zhen Zhen and Guai Ling both donated fifty thousand.”

…………

Clearly, netizens had strong opinions about this year’s list of donating celebrities.

Ever since the public learned celebrities earn over two million per day, everyone finally grasped just how much they make.

That two-million-a-day celebrity wasn’t even a top-tier star—barely a second-tier one, but she was exceptionally good at stirring drama, so her traffic was higher.

In pure income, she was definitely less than first-tier or top-tier stars.

If even top second-tier stars earn over two million a day, what about those even more popular? Wouldn’t their monthly income be nearing a hundred million?

If everyone were like Luo Quan—talented and moral—earning more would be fine.

But how many Luo Quans are there in the entertainment industry?

Most are morally corrupt, even breaking laws.

Just this year alone, how many first-tier and top-tier stars have been arrested?

These are only the ones exposed—the hidden ones are surely more.

So netizens were furious: why do people like this earn wealth they could never dream of in a lifetime, yet enjoy it all so comfortably?

There’s no place to argue about this—only when it hits trending topics and everyone sees it can they vent freely.

Unfortunately, verbal criticism alone achieves nothing.

So far, every fallen artist was exposed for their illegal acts, not because of netizen criticism.

The only good news is, we can boycott these immoral traffic stars through box office performance.

Make every one of their trash movies and TV dramas flop, and they’ll naturally fade away.

Once faded, no one will fund them anymore, and they won’t keep popping up to disgust us.

After dinner at home, Luo Quan booked her flight back to Hengdian.

Since practicing the Great Heavenly Immortal Scripture, her energy had improved steadily—she barely dreamed at night and needed only three or four hours of sleep to fully recharge.

She felt that if she kept practicing, she might reach a spiritual state where sleep was unnecessary.

With no sleepiness at all, Luo Quan turned on her computer for a live stream, ready to chat with everyone.

“Oh, you’re so diligent tonight? After the gala, you’re still streaming?”

Fans hadn’t expected to see Luo Quan live—by habit, she’d already be scrolling on her phone in bed, not taking time to stream.

In response to the teasing, Luo Quan smiled slightly: “Can’t sleep at night? I’ll stream for you. Aren’t you all awake too?”

“It’s only twelve. For me, the night’s just beginning.”

“On night shift, just clocked out.”

“Clock out and come straight to watch Luo Quan’s stream? Arrested on the spot!”

“Since everyone’s awake, let’s chat—what do you think about tonight’s celebrity donation amounts?”

“Honestly, Zhen Zhen and Guai Ling both donated fifty thousand. Are those who donated zero yuan truly indifferent to their reputation?”

“Probably these people know they’re terrible, and know we know they’re terrible, so they just give up—after all, even if they donate, we won’t necessarily praise them.”

“Makes sense.”

………………

Fans’ thoughts were insightful; after reading them, Luo Quan replied: “Actually, I already addressed this topic at the Baisha Charity Night.”

“Everyone has their own way of doing charity—it doesn’t have to be through Baisha. Maybe some are quietly donating millions anonymously, and we just don’t know.”

Hearing this, fans couldn’t hold back:

“Haha, only Luobao knows how to drop subtle burns.”

“This one burn hit a lot of people, but without naming names—letting them figure it out themselves.”

“Some celebrity: I’m suing you for defamation!”

“Judge: What did Luo Quan say?”

“Celebrity: She described everything I’ve done—it’s so insulting!”

“Only Luobao dares speak like this. Anyone else would be banned or sued.”

“Do celebrity legal notices even have power anymore? I feel they’re no different from confessions.”

“True—seven out of ten celebrities who send legal notices are already dead, and one’s been sewing in prison for nearly a year.”

………………

Emotions need release, and Luo Quan is fans’ best voice.

As a celebrity with massive influence, she never fears offending anyone—she speaks out directly when she sees something wrong.

Because her voice reaches so many, netizens feel her blunt words are genuinely cathartic.

After all, what they say, those “aloof” celebrities simply don’t care about.

But when Luo Quan calls it out, those celebrities not only see it—they know exactly who it’s aimed at.

And they can’t retaliate, can’t threaten with legal notices, only endure it.

The satisfaction is unmatched.

The only pity is, you can only do this once for each issue—you can’t keep dragging it out forever.

After all, it’s just about not donating at a charity gala—not a crime against heaven or earth—so fans switched topics.

Recently, “The Ferryman” was heavily criticized, but that had already been discussed; now the hottest topic in film and TV is the box office collapse.

The summer season has ended completely, down a full 50% compared to previous years—an unprecedented drop in a decade.

Last year, China’s box office was thriving, even surpassing the U.S. to become the world’s largest market—yet this year, it’s fallen this far.

Many wonder: is this a coincidence, or a sign that China’s box office has begun its decline?

“Luobao, can you talk about China’s recent summer box office crash?” Luo Quan read out a comment.

After thinking, she looked into the camera: “Actually, it’s normal. In my view, the crash is what the market should’ve been all along—the previous years of constant growth were the real problem.”

This fresh perspective surprised fans—they’d expected her to repeat the usual complaints: too many bad films, bad driving out good, overly strict censorship.

Most updaters say the same, but Luo Quan’s view was completely different from the mainstream.

Facing a flood of “why?”, Luo Quan took a deep breath: “First, these views are purely my own—and total nonsense, with zero evidence.”

Before stating her opinion, she gave herself a few disclaimers, then explained:

“Think carefully: worldwide, movie box offices are declining—many theaters in developed countries have closed from lack of customers. Yet here, we’re still booming, breaking records every year.”

But aside from one or two massive hits annually, every other film is mediocre—yet still rakes in billions, even the universally panned ones earn hundreds of millions.”

Doesn’t this seem deeply problematic?”

Some things seem fine until you think about them.

But once you examine them closely, they feel deeply off.

The global economy is in decline, nearing crisis levels; theater business has long been in steep decline, and worldwide box office is plummeting.

Moreover, this decline had existed for a long time, yet only China seemed completely unaffected, soaring steadily forward.

Could it be because domestic films are so good that they’ve drawn foreigners to watch them at home?

This is clearly nonsense.

Then the question arises: where did all this box office growth come from?

This is a question worth deep thought.

Luo Quan saw many fans still didn’t understand, so she put it more plainly:

“It’s normal for top-tier films to attract massive box office revenue; those earning four or five billion do have exceptional qualities.

But even shoddy, poorly made trash films manage to earn four or five hundred million, or seven or eight hundred million.

Compared to films earning one or two billion, such results are clearly flops, because their investments are roughly the same—if box office matches investment, they lose big money.

But does the final product justify the hundreds of millions invested and years of preparation in promotion?

They spent a hundred million to shoot a film with fifty-cent special effects—where did the money go?

Not to mention the occasional scandals of box office fraud and ghost audiences.

Everyone assumes investors pump money into promotion just to make box office numbers look good.

But have you ever considered they’re spending money just to spend it?”

If you still don’t understand after this, it means you’re still in school and haven’t been exposed to society.

Anyone who’s watched a few Hong Kong films knows exactly what this behavior is.

It’s simple: it’s “money laundering.”

Many fans had already typed this out directly in the comments.

Budebushuo , Luoquanzhemeyifenxihou , Dajiadouyouleyizhonghuorankailangdeganjue 。

“So, all that past prosperity was fake—someone else was injecting money, making box office seem explosive?”

“Then why is it declining now?”

“Dumb. The entertainment industry started its clean-up campaign last year—inspections were brutal. Who dares launder money now without getting caught immediately?”

“No way! That’s why box office crashed this year—everything finally adds up.”

“So does this summer season reflect the true state of our film market?”

“Probably.”

“Then what about Luo Quan’s new film? Will its box office collapse?”

………………

Luo Quan saw the comments and smiled in surprise.

End of Chapter

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