Chapter 1: This Broken, Dilapidated Domestic Entertainment Industry—You All Need Me So Much

"Good. A broken, dilapidated era, a broken, dilapidated home, and a brand-new, fresh-faced me..."

Fang Xinghe lay half-reclined on a sofa with holes in it, glancing around the cramped living room.

The room was utterly dilapidated, with mold patches covering every corner; on a 1950s-style family wooden cabinet sat a 18-inch spherical-screen color TV, branded with a name he'd never heard: Peony.

Its abysmal resolution, hissing white noise, and the nauseating dialogue from the drama assaulted the Z-generation teen's mind and body from all sides.

"Acting like a foot, lines like sewage, plot like nonsense—also, who the hell dug this lead actor out of some digital trash bin?"

Fang Xinghe held back again and again, but finally only lasted three minutes before he banished this 1998 version of "The Legend of the Condor Heroes" into the "Never Again" subfolder—look at it one more time, and I'll gouge out my own eyes!

Even setting aside the era's influence and the plot, this lead actor was ugly enough to offend him.

If he were still alive in 2030, Fang Xinghe would definitely start a poll in his group: Would Huang Bo make a better lead in this drama?

"Tsk. Who the hell's childhood moonlight was this garbage?"

As he walked over to change the channel, Fang Xinghe's sigh suddenly choked—on screen, Yang Guo's grotesquely distorted face lunged forward and screamed "Auntie!" at some nameless black-clad woman; the boy felt as if lightning had struck his stomach, and he nearly vomited.

If even a semi-professional like me finds this absurd, you really have some chops.

The generational gap made Fang Xinghe, who had no childhood filter, find everything distasteful.

In his past life, he was a pure Z-generation member born in 2005; diagnosed with leukemia in high school, he became a network public opinion monitoring and repair chief engineer to earn money and ease his family's burden.

Okay, technically you could just call him a troll boss.

By the time his body finally gave out, Director Fang was already a reputable player in the entertainment industry, ranked among the top five and eyeing the top three, even owning a genuine robot factory in South Vietnam—he had a real talent for stirring up chaos.

Getting sick was common; there were plenty of unlucky bastards, not worth a second thought.

What made Fang Xinghe truly special was that, until his very last breath, he never gave up fighting.

Isn't life wonderful?

Then his intense willpower triggered a miracle: an angelic system father carried his consciousness to November 1998, merging it with a thirteen-year-old boy of the same name.

Little Fang was also a tragic child—his father ran off, his mother died, leaving only a monstrous uncle.

The family owned two crumbling rooms and a small courtyard; when his mother was critically ill and writhing in pain, she refused to sell the house, leaving him his final place to live.

But Little Fang thought he wasn't living a miserable life.

His school waived all tuition fees, and teachers often invited him over for meals.

He had a few good buddies who always listened to him.

Even two little beauties occasionally showed concern, making others envious.

Of course, there were minor annoyances—six months ago, rumors spread that the neighborhood was slated for demolition; the uncle immediately came over to cause trouble, each time more disgusting than the last.

Little Fang endured it twice; the third time, he grabbed a kitchen knife and chased the man out.

Then that scumbag tried to apply for some bullshit guardianship rights; this kid quietly got half a bucket of gasoline and planned to grill his uncle and his entire family—but just as he'd splashed half of it, a neighbor on night shift pinned him down; his grand scheme collapsed halfway.

Luckily, Little Fang was only thirteen and hadn't actually lit the fire; the uncles gave him a stern scolding and let it go.

"Hey, you're a tough one—just like me!"

Fang Xinghe sincerely praised him, and in his spirit, he seemed to hear a shy, soft laugh—the last traces of their consciousness merged seamlessly, never to be divided again.

Little Fang died of high fever; as he was dying, Fang Xinghe's consciousness came through, and both unlucky bastards gained a second life.

Fang Xinghe cherished this rebirth deeply, even though the era before him was so alien, so dilapidated.

Smartphones wouldn't appear for another ten years?

Comprehensive infrastructure renewal might take even longer.

Good food, fun things, beautiful things—nothing existed in this era, but that also meant opportunity: the chance to become the richest man with your eyes closed.

Fang Xinghe sincerely wanted to make money, big money—and he believed he absolutely could.

But after getting to know the system that brought him back... change the plan. Must change. Immediately!

【Star God Auxiliary System (Damaged Version)】

【This system is dedicated to making the host the most brilliant star】

【When fans marvel at your brilliance, the system extracts special energy from positive emotions to enhance attributes and abilities】

【Fans: 15】

【Starlight Value: 126】

【You have a newborn gift package. Please claim it】

【Attribute Panel】

Appearance Attributes: Beauty 75, Physique 66

Physical Attributes: Strength 52, Speed 79, Endurance 55, Agility 73, Flexibility 68

Hidden Attributes: Coordination 71, Perception 58, Recovery 73, Immunity 54, Health 60

Artistic Attributes:...

Personal Abilities:...

When he saw the word "Health," Fang Xinghe's dream of becoming a billionaire instantly rolled out of his mind; a new vow thundered in his ears: No one will stop me from becoming a great artist!

Those who've never died can never understand the terror of life and death; those who often fall ill might grasp one-tenth of it.

To live is the primal desire at the biological gene level.

Though Fang Xinghe wasn't in a hurry to max out his Health, he would inevitably max it out—and replenish it year after year.

It's 1998; Fang Xinghe is thirteen and a half. He wants to stride boldly through life until he's 150, to see the scenery of the century after next.

And what's wrong with being an all-powerful god?

As long as Starlight Value is high enough, even the dumbest person can live an extraordinary, unparalleled life—far more interesting than the dull path of copying a billionaire.

Decided: I'm taking the Star Path!

So Fang Xinghe enthusiastically began planning.

The first step, of course, is to understand how Starlight Value accumulates and activates, to determine his pace.

First is the accumulation mechanism.

According to the system's explanation: anyone has five different levels of favor toward an idol, namely—

superficial fans, steadfast supporters, fanatical toxic solo stans, die-hard blood-pumped fans, and those who constantly think of them.

Favor from passersby doesn't count as fandom; this applies universally.

Under identical conditions, each level of favor brings Fang Xinghe roughly 1, 3, 10, 30, or 100 Star Points.

Second is the activation mechanism.

That is: under what circumstances will fans contribute large amounts of Star Points to an idol?

When they produce good works, or when something makes them highly discussable.

The head of the water army fully understands the logic; the information he possesses is a dimensional strike against this era.

Having roughly sorted out the sources of Star Points, Fang Xinghe began to ponder the second step: which path to take?

He truly didn't understand the current era, possessing only a high-level view without details; staying home and guessing blindly was clearly not a good plan, so he grabbed his keys and loose change, slipped on his cotton shoes, and walked out the door.

November in the Northeast was already very cold; snowflakes drifted in the sky, and the unlit alley was a blanket of pure white, with the warm breath exhaled condensing into frost unique to the 20th century.

This was not without its own romance.

Everything Fang Xinghe saw felt fresh; the paint-peeling iron gate and the crumbling courtyard wall brought a sense of intimacy through their decay.

Adapting to life in '98 on a material level wasn't difficult; no matter how inconvenient it was, it was a hundred times better than lying in bed waiting to die.

If someone gave me 500 years of lifespan and let me return to the Ming Dynasty to live the dull life of three palaces, six courtyards, and seventy-two concubines, I would still be willing.

What was truly hard to get used to was the spiritual emptiness.

For a Gen Z person to watch various old-fashioned crazy dramas on an 18-inch color TV was simply a form of torture, so he really wanted to find something to do for himself as soon as possible.

He closed the big iron gate, checked the direction, and headed toward No. 3 Middle School.

The small courtyard wasn't far from the school; the house seemed ready to be demolished, though he didn't know how much compensation he could get.

Do I lack money?

Fang Xinghe thought carefully; he indeed didn't have big money, but it seemed he truly didn't lack small money.

Originally, he had over 1,700 yuan in savings; a few days ago, his uncle had pinched his nose and compensated him with another 2,000—that scumbag was truly terrified, not even daring to look directly at the little Fang, whose face was full of furious resentment and whose whole body radiated a wolf-like ferocity.

Speaking of money, 3,700 yuan was probably considered a huge sum in 1998, right?

A bowl of noodles at the school gate cost only one yuan and twenty cents; it was truly damn amazing.

So, Fang Xinghe, who didn't lack small money, conscientiously slipped into a computer room at the school's back gate.

"Turn it on."

"Offline is three yuan, online is ten." The internet cafe attendant lazily lay on the counter, not even lifting his head.

Fang Xinghe slapped down ten yuan: "Online."

The attendant lifted his head, and the instant he clearly saw who had come, a brilliant and sycophantic smile immediately appeared on his face; he hurriedly pushed the money back.

"Oh my, it's Fang Shao! Why pay? Sit anywhere you like; I'll dial the connection for you right away!"

The internet cafe was packed with little brats playing offline games or watching others play offline games; many looked over upon hearing the voice, and upon seeing Fang Xinghe, half of them immediately lowered their heads.

It was somewhat like a street-clearing tiger...

When Fang Xinghe walked to the area capable of connecting to the internet, nearby whispers seemed to be describing legends.

"That's Fang Shao, the ruthless guy from the second year of junior high; a few days ago he almost wiped out his uncle's entire family!"

"Damn! That fierce?"

"He was fierce long ago; last semester he led the Thirteen Eagles to sweep through the third year of junior high; you didn't know that?"

"Damn! So cool! Does Big Brother Fang still take underlings?"

"He doesn't, but he collects protection fees; pay the money and he'll protect you; if you get into trouble with older delinquents, remember to find him; he's super effective!"

"Damn! An idol!"

Fang Xinghe hurriedly sat in the corner; damn it, if he listened any longer, he'd almost get embarrassed cancer...

But why did he feel a little bit of pleasure in his heart?

In my past life, I was a useless trash who could be blown over by a breath; could it be that deep down I'm still a bit chuunibyou?

Thinking about it, Fang Xinghe attributed the sin to Little Fang—I couldn't be that kind of person; it's all that wild kid's fault.

But then again, a black-hearted sly fox fused with a wild wolf cub; such a combination was unexpectedly thrilling.

Fang Xinghe happily turned on the machine; after a long minute, the Win95 interface that appeared on the screen left him numb.

This, this, this... well, although I'm not familiar with it, it's passable.

But after opening the IE browser, he was numb again.

The only places one could go online to were BBS and chat rooms; Sina had just launched its news function, QQ was nowhere to be found, and NetEase had just switched from a personal homepage hosting site.

Fang Xinghe truly felt the gap between eras.

A nameless heaviness crashed onto his head and pressed on his shoulders; it didn't hurt, it just prompted a sigh.

"This is 1998, before all the legends known to later generations truly began..."

Under the guidance of desktop documents, Fang Xinghe clumsily wandered around the Xici Hutong BBS, then browsed Sina News, finally collecting some information related to the entertainment industry, before pulling at his face and going home.

This year, 60% of the information in the entertainment industry was related to "Titanic"; the big ship was still crashing into the entire Chinese society.

It was released in April; it's already November, yet the movie is still playing in theaters, and people are still discussing it.

Of the remaining small portion of traffic, more than 60% was hotly discussing the kings and queens of Hong Kong, Taiwan, Japan, and Korea.

What about domestic entertainment?

It seemed to exist, but actually didn't.

A sense of indignation arose spontaneously.

How could a true Gen Z Hua Xia kid from thirty years later tolerate this?

In his era, everything from Hong Kong, Taiwan, Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia had long been plowed flat by the Hua Liu wave; web novels, mobile games, xianxia, ancient romance, domineering CEO dramas swept across the eight wastelands, and even Hollywood was struck into holding meetings to reflect: "What kind of nation is this?" he couldn't help but ask.

At that time, Fang Xinghe had not realized anything was wrong, taking everything for granted, but returning to this era, he suddenly could not accept it emotionally.

Well, it wasn't just emotionally; actually, he couldn't accept it aesthetically either.

He felt a bit angry, a fire suddenly flaring up in his heart.

This society simply doesn't care who becomes the richest man, this nation's magnificent and grand future doesn't need a half-baked prophet, yet this shabby, dilapidated domestic entertainment industry...

You guys need me so damn much!