Chapter 505

The box office performance of "Xinurufang" was strong, but its critical reception was not very good—just barely passing the passing line.

Audiences complained about all sorts of things: the movie wasn't funny, the plot had serious flaws, and it was extremely vulgar.

Someone even said: "After Shen Teng's character slept with the woman disguised as Avatar, everything else was just this lowbrow feeling of wanting to sleep with someone but not quite doing it, or almost doing it but falling short."

In short, everyone had something to say, and every kind of evaluation existed.

On the third day, when "Xinurufang"'s box office was still at 99.28 million, an article suddenly surfaced online.

"Renowned female actress exposes being abused by male star: he hits hard, just like his on-screen roles!"

The exposé claimed this person came from a deeply troubled family, lived in a village after moving to Beijing, suffered constant scorn, and was deeply insecure, presenting a gentle, refined public image.

Few actors have built such an image, and with "Xinurufang" currently in theaters and at its peak popularity, it was the perfect moment to draw maximum attention.

Instantly, netizens began pointing fingers at him.

Some even asked the whistleblower: "How old is he?"

"Almost forty," the blogger replied.

This instantly sparked a storm, strongly pointing to Zhang Songwen—he was exactly 38, almost forty.

But it wasn't over; another whistleblower claimed Zhang Songwen had made over 200 charitable donations, each for only ten yuan.

Of course, this was revealed through online donation records, complete with screenshots of his past donations.

This was awkwardly damning—people only made money in the past few years; what's wrong with donating ten yuan? He didn't have much income before.

Fang Hong, who donates not a single cent, should be sent straight to the Eighteenth Layer of Hell.

This time, netizens stood by Zhang Songwen: "His early donations of ten yuan were still heartfelt—I donate ten yuan every time too; none of us are rich."

"He never publicly announced his donations or used them for propaganda; I ask you, all those great moralists who see through the truth—how much have you donated? You haven't even done what you mock others for—what right do you have to mock them?"

"Donating is just a gesture, entirely voluntary—who cares how much someone gives?"

"Dare you release the Charity Bazaar donation list? I bet 90% of the stars who went didn't donate."

"."

The black hand, seeing this wasn't working, leaked more: Zhang Songwen engaged in sexual quid pro quo and gambling.

Again, it was the same female actress who exposed him: two years ago, she paid him 150,000 yuan to learn performance, stayed in his bungalow, and discovered his poor-person image was fake—he had a driver and an assistant; he wasn't poor, he was stingy.

He also had a bad temper, yelled at investors on set, and exploited his connections to seduce young women.

The article said all this, but no one knew what was true or false; netizens were confused, and Zhang Songwen made no response.

These little essays came one after another, written with vivid detail, and reporters even released audio recordings of the actress's interview to prove authenticity.

The scandal exploded, with truth and falsehood hard to distinguish, and everyone felt Zhang Songwen's personal conduct was flawed.

Domestic violence, stinginess, his image collapsing, about to be ruined!

This made Liu Tianxian feel strange; she looked down at Fang Hong, who was using her thigh as a pillow while reading materials, and asked: "What's going on with Zhang Songwen?"

"He pissed someone off," Fang Hong said, comfortable with her soft thigh under his head.

"Who did he piss off?" Liu Tianxian slid her hand inside his shirt through his collar.

"Whoever has a conflict of interest with you, you piss off," Fang Hong said casually.

"Yan Zi? Ali?" Liu Tianxian guessed.

"Probably. Their box office was bad, so they're retaliating," Fang Hong said.

It wasn't just retaliation—they wanted to uproot this nail, destroying all the years of cultivation behind his future films.

You should know that Zhang Songwen has another film coming: "Wuqing!"

If this movie can't be released, hundreds of millions in investment will vanish—losses will be enormous.

"But what about him personally—did he really do those things? Sexual quid pro quo, domestic violence, yelling at investors?" Liu Tianxian stroked his chest.

"How would I know? I'm not his wife or a female actress. But look—he ever dare yell at me?" Fang Hong turned a page of documents, seemingly unconcerned.

In truth, these leaks are child's play—pick any star from the entertainment industry, magnify their past actions, and they'd all seem utterly evil.

No evidence of sexual quid pro quo; the accuser isn't even his wife—how can you call it domestic violence?

As for yelling at investors—who's that stupid?

"You're supposed to be close to him—how can you not even know what he's done?" Liu Tianxian scoffed.

Too cold and Wuqing—he's known him for years and knows nothing about him.

"What do you mean close? We're just business partners, superior and subordinate. Why should I care what he does in his private life?"

No sooner had Fang Hong finished speaking than he gasped, clutching his chest as if in pain: "Why are you pinching me?"

"I'll pinch you to death," Liu Tianxian said.

"Why don't you pinch yourself?" Fang Hong was speechless.

"I only pinch yours—I like it," Liu Tianxian said, smug, and pinched again.

She pinched it until it stood firm.

"I can't deal with you."

Fang Hong stopped lying on her leg, fidgeting, then sat up and drew a line between them: "From here on, don't touch me."

"Then get far away," Liu Tianxian pushed him, then pulled out her phone and called Zhang Songwen.

They'd known each other for years; though they didn't meet often, they were familiar—they'd collaborated on many films.

The call connected quickly; Liu Tianxian asked: "Song Wen, are you okay?"

"Fine, nothing serious," Zhang Songwen replied, voice weary—clearly affected by public opinion.

"It's nothing much—just one of my former students; I taught her acting, and sometimes when demonstrating scenes, I get impatient, like a driving instructor who gets frustrated seeing you keep failing." Zhang Songwen explained.

"It's nothing much—just one of my former students. I taught her acting; sometimes when demonstrating, I get impatient, like when you learn to drive—your instructor gets frustrated when you keep failing."

Just like directors—when your acting keeps falling short, they scream at your whole family.

Teaching acting is essentially directing—naturally, tempers flare. Everyone has tempers; no one's a saint.

【61】 Directors get angry, people accept it; actors or stars show any temper, and it's magnified.

"Others say you used quid pro quo and abused her—did any of that happen?" Liu Tianxian asked curiously.

Please... collect this book, number 6191!

Before, she never interfered in such matters—everyone has their own life—but since she regarded Zhang Songwen as a friend and had even taught him, she felt compelled to ask.

"I taught her acting; some contact was inevitable. Whatever she says is right, as long as there was contact, it's right—I have nothing to say."

Zhang Songwen's emotions grew slightly agitated: "I don't want to explain things like this. Let people say whatever they want—I just want to walk my own path."

Liu Tianxian glanced at Fang Hong; Fang Hong was listening too, sensing the tone sounded almost wounded, yet he hadn't actually said anything—what he said was as good as nothing.

"Alright then, I didn't mean anything by it—I just asked out of concern." Liu Tianxian didn't press further.

She had been through it herself and could deeply understand such restless emotions.

But she couldn't judge whether Zhang Songwen was truly wronged.

"I know, sorry, Tianxian—I'm a bit emotional." Zhang Songwen's tone carried regret; he knew his attitude had been poor just now.

It wasn't Liu Tianxian's fault—she was only looking out for him.

"It's fine. Take care of yourself. Fang Hong said you should rest well during this time, adjust your mindset, and don't let outside public opinion affect you." Liu Tianxian took it upon herself to say.

She glanced at Fang Hong, who looked distinctly displeased—she had no idea when he'd ever said that.

"Thank you, Tianxian." Zhang Songwen was grateful.

After chatting for a while, they hung up. Fang Hong immediately said: "When did I ever tell him to rest well?"

"Oh come on, she's feeling down right now—just let her stay home and adjust her mindset." Liu Tianxian placed her phone on the coffee table.

"You always get to be the good person," Fang Hong said.

"What do you mean 'you'? I said you should tell him to rest more—can you even listen properly?"

Liu Tianxian hit him, then added: "But come to think of it, he seems to be wronged."

"Who knows?" Fang Hong said.

"Hey, I just realized—you don't seem to care about the truth at all," Liu Tianxian said, puzzled.

"Actually, what the truth is doesn't matter to me. It's not a big deal. Who's a saint? Who hasn't made mistakes or done shady things? Take me—for example, if you wanted to dig, I've got a mountain of dirt too."

Fang Hong's words made Liu Tianxian feel they made perfect sense.

This man, if you wanted to pick faults, was even worse than Zhang Songwen—he hit people, drugged them, incited feminist rage, destroyed lives—like in the Incense Sect incident, where he drove the Shoe Polisher into silence, and Fa Ge, whom he'd driven into total seclusion.

He often cursed his opponents as idiots—each of these incidents, if exposed and amplified, would reveal an extremely vile character.

To readers with high moral standards, he's trash, scum!

Fang Hong spoke again: "The key point is, Zhang Songwen is just a pawn this time—a pawn the other side is willing to sacrifice. They're targeting me. They're targeting Yutu. You understand, right?"

"By taking him down, you lose a major general, waste years of effort, and your upcoming movie suffers heavy damage—right?" Liu Tianxian was sharp.

"Yes, my wife is very smart." Fang Hong reached out and pinched her cheek.

"You promised—right here, this section—why are you reaching over?" Liu Tianxian slapped his hand away and redrew a line exactly where Fang Hong had marked.

She looked utterly serious.

Fang Hong chuckled, then lunged forward, pinning her onto the sofa, pressing his body against her soft form, grinning at her face-to-face: "Now there's no line."

"You're such a jerk," Liu Tianxian laughed.

Just now he insisted on keeping his distance, and now he's clinging again—what else could it be but being a jerk?

"This isn't being a jerk—it's cherishing you," Fang Hong said, then kissed her small lips.

"I don't cherish you at all."

Liu Tianxian punched him, then turned serious: "Hey, I'm serious—what are you planning to do?"

"What do you mean, what am I planning to do?" Fang Hong was confused.

"You figured out who's targeting you—aren't you going to strike back? That's not like you," Liu Tianxian said.

"Of course I'll strike back—it's just you smear me, I smear you. Who doesn't have dirt? Yan Zi's dirt is way more than Zhang Songwen's."

(End of Chapter)