Lin Wanwan was awakened again by the vibration of her phone.
Squinting, she fumbled for her phone. As the screen lit up, she was nearly stunned by the flood of messages.
Weibo private messages: 999+
Comments: 999+
Mentions: 999+
She blinked, fully awake now.
Opening the trending list!
#Lin Wanwan Qinghai-Tibet Grassland# (3rd place)
#Lin Wanwan B5# (5th place)
#Lin Wanwan Lip-syncing# (7th place)
Wait. Lip-syncing? What on earth?
She rubbed her eyes, making sure she hadn’t misread.
#Lin Wanwan Lip-syncing#, followed by an orange “Hot” tag.
Clicking into the trending topic, the top post was from a blogger named “Director of the Entertainment Industry Anti-Fraud Office,” with over three million followers and verified as a “well-known music blogger.” The latest video had already surpassed five million views.
The video’s title: “Frame-by-Frame Analysis: Is Lin Wanwan’s ‘Qinghai-Tibet Grassland’ Real or Fake?”
In the video, the blogger slowed down her performance from last night tenfold, analyzing it frame by frame: “Look here, when she hits the high note, her Adam’s apple doesn’t vibrate at all—this isn’t scientifically possible!”
“Now look at her mouth shape. For the B5 note, her lips should be slightly parted, but hers are closed too tightly!”
“And her breath control—listen, it’s too steady, unnaturally steady. I have reason to suspect this was post-production editing by the show’s team, or even a pre-recorded track!”
Bullet comments scrolled by:
“That makes sense…”
“I thought it was too exaggerated too. How could anyone be that good?”
“So it’s all scripted again?”
“I knew it! How could a lazy, washed-up star suddenly become a prodigy?”
“Lip-syncing confirmed. Time to quit the industry!”
After watching, Lin Wanwan froze for three seconds, then she smiled. Not a bitter smile, but one that said, “Interesting.”
【Eye of Truth】activated.
She stared at the blogger’s face on the screen, and information appeared:
【Director of the Entertainment Industry Anti-Fraud Office】
Real name: Zhao Dezhu
Occupation: Professional anti-fan leader, works for money
Current emotions: 【Pride 87%】, 【Excitement 74%】, 【Anticipation 91%】. Inner thoughts: “This video earned me five hundred thousand. Lin Wanwan is definitely finished.”
After seeing this, Lin Wanwan understood: someone had paid to buy her a trending scandal.
She scrolled to the video’s comment section and found public opinion already split into two factions:
Skeptics:
“I knew she couldn’t be that good!”
“Does the show’s team even consider logic when promoting someone?”
“Do you know what B5 means? Even national-level singers might not hit it consistently!”
Supporters:
“Are you deaf? How could that voice be fake?”
“Were all five hundred audience members at the scene deaf?”
“How much did the blogger get paid? Count me in!”
The two sides were arguing fiercely, and the topic was heating up.
Meanwhile, Wang Hai stared at the trending list, his scalp tingling.
“What’s going on?!” He slammed his phone on the table. “Everything was fine last night!”
His assistant cautiously replied, “It’s Zhao Dezhu, that professional anti-fan. Someone must be backing him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but to hire him, it would cost at least this much.” The assistant gestured with his fingers.
Wang Hai took a sharp breath.
Five hundred thousand! Someone was going all out to ruin Lin Wanwan.
He hesitated for a moment, picking up his phone to call Lin Wanwan. But just as he dialed, he hung up.
“Let’s see how she handles this herself,” he muttered. “That girl shouldn’t disappoint me.”
Without any warning or buildup, Lin Wanwan went live directly.
The title had only four words: “Let’s chat for five cents.”
In three seconds, 100,000 people flooded into the livestream.
Thirty seconds, 500,000.
One minute, 1.2 million.
Comments were flying across the screen:
“She’s here, she’s here!”
“Sis, explain quickly!”
“Is the lip-syncing real?”
“I believe in you!”
“Prove it by singing it again!”
Lin Wanwan looked at the comments and smiled.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup today, her face bare, her hair tied up casually, wearing pajamas as she leaned against the headboard.
“So many people miss me?” She yawned. “Alright, let’s chat for five cents.”
The comments erupted in laughter:
“This sis really doesn’t care”
“She’s trending number one! And she’s still this calm!”
“I’m impressed! Hahahaha!”
She picked up her phone, scrolled to Zhao Dezhu’s video, and held it up to the camera.
“This, I’ve seen it.”
“Pretty thorough analysis, you worked hard.”
Comments started flooding in: “And then? And then?”
She paused and smiled.
“But—”
She put down her phone, looked into the camera, her eyes shining: “Since he said I lip-synced, I’ll just sing it again.”
The comments exploded instantly:
“????”
“Right now?!”
“For real?!”
“Holy shit holy shit holy shit!”
Lin Wanwan got out of bed and walked to the window.
The sunlight was just right, spilling over her.
She took a deep breath, faced the phone camera, and began singing a cappella.
It was still the chorus of “Qinghai-Tibet Grassland,” still that B5 note, still that spine-tingling power.
She finished in twenty seconds.
She returned to bed, wrapped herself in the blanket, and said to the camera: “Alright, go ahead and compare. Audio tracks, waveforms, spectrograms—analyze whatever you want.”
“If you still think it’s fake—”
She yawned:
“Then I’ll sing it again.”
The livestream went completely wild!
“I’m fucking kneeling!”
“A cappella! No accompaniment! Still that note!”
“The waveform comparison is out! It’s identical to last night’s!”
“How could this possibly be lip-syncing!”
“Blogger! Come out and take your beating!”
“@HeadOfEntertainmentAntiFakeOffice get out here!”
Real-time trending topics:
#LinWanwanA Cappella# (1st place)
#SlappingDownLipSyncAllegations# (2nd place)
#BloggerComeOutAndTakeYourBeating# (4th place)
At that moment, Zhao Dezhu also went live, trying to save face.
But as soon as he started streaming, the comments were all:
“Come out and take your beating!”
“She sang it again!”
“What do you have to say now!”
His face turned green, and he forced himself to say: “This… this doesn’t prove anything either, what if it was pre-recorded…”
Before he could finish, the comments flooded the screen:
“Pre-recorded? She didn’t even change her pajamas!”
“You try recording one like that for me?”
“Stop making excuses, were you paid to do this?”
Right then, an unexpected person appeared.
Zhang Yadong, a top-tier producer with thirty years in the industry who had worked with countless superstars, posted a message on Weibo that instantly shot to the top of the trending list: “Just compared the two audio clips. Same person, same pitch, same timbre, same breath control. The difference? The first one had stage reverb, the second was a cappella in a bedroom. Lip-syncing? Doesn’t exist. This is talent built on twenty years of skill. If this is lip-syncing, then my thirty years in this business were wasted.”
Attached was a spectrogram comparison of the two audio clips—almost identical.
Once this Weibo post went up, public opinion completely reversed.
“Even Zhang Yadong has spoken!”
“Certified by the national team!”
“This sister is truly a master!”
“Where’s Zhao Dezhu? Come out and apologize!”
The number of viewers in Zhao Dezhu’s live stream plummeted from three million to three hundred thousand. With a livid face, he hastily ended the broadcast.
Before one wave settled, another rose.
Lin Wanwan was lying in bed scrolling through comments when her phone suddenly vibrated. It wasn’t a private message but a text: “Ms. Lin Wanwan, you have been sued by our company for breach of contract. The court summons will be delivered today. Please prepare to respond to the lawsuit. Signed: Star Glory Media Legal Department.”
She froze.
Star Glory Media was the original owner’s signed company—the one that had shelved her for three years, leaving her with a million in debt. Now they were suing her for breach of contract?
[System Notification]
[Detected host’s emotional fluctuations]
[Triggered side quest: Contract Battle]
[Quest description: Faced with an unfair contract, will you swallow your anger or confront it head-on?]
[Recommended option: Confront]
Lin Wanwan smiled.
Just as netizens were still discussing the lip-syncing controversy, a new hot search suddenly surged:
#Lin Wanwan Sued#
Clicking in revealed a press release from Star Glory Media:
“During Ms. Lin Wanwan’s contract period with our company, she participated in a variety show without authorization, seriously violating the contract. Our company has initiated legal proceedings to protect our legitimate rights.”
Accompanying the post was a cover image of a contract with the bold words “Exclusive Artist Management Contract.”
The comments section erupted in an uproar:
“??? She breached the contract?”
“Wasn’t she shelved for three years?”
“Participated in a variety show without authorization? Didn’t the company arrange it?”
“What is this company doing?”
At that moment, another Weibo post surged to the top of the hot searches.
Ear Emperor, one of the most authoritative music critics in the industry with twenty million followers, posted a lengthy statement:
“A few words about the Lin Wanwan incident:
Her singing skills are genuine, no doubt about it. Teacher Zhang Yadong has already proven this.
I’ve seen her contract. Three years, a 1:9 split, with the artist taking 10%. No base salary, no social security. For these three years, she indeed had no public activities and indeed accumulated a million in debt.
Now she’s being sued for breach of contract. What’s the basis? Clause 27 of the contract: ‘The artist shall not participate in any public activities without the company’s consent.’
But here’s the problem—her participation in ‘Strive, Artists!’ was arranged by the company. If the company’s arrangement counts as ‘without authorization,’ then I don’t understand this logic.
One final word: The law is the law, and reason is reason. But some contracts, when signed, are not equal from the start.”
As soon as this Weibo post went live, public opinion exploded completely.
“A 1:9 split?! Isn’t this a slave contract?”
“No work for three years, a million in debt, and now she’s being sued?”
“Is this company trying to destroy her?”
“Support Lin Wanwan! This lawsuit must be fought!”
A court vehicle stopped at the entrance of the program group’s location. A staff member, holding a document folder, walked into the dormitory area.
Lin Wanwan was already waiting at the door.
She took the document folder, opened it, and glanced inside. Then, she smiled at the following VJ: “It’s here.”
The VJ was taken aback. “You… you already knew?”
She didn’t answer, simply holding the summons up to the camera for everyone to clearly see the words:
“Defendant: Lin Wanwan. Case: Breach of Contract. Court Date: Next Monday, 9:00 AM.”
The live stream’s bullet comments instantly exploded:
“Holy shit, it’s really here!”
“Court next Monday?!”
“So soon?!”
“This company came prepared!”
Lin Wanwan put away the summons notice and said to the camera, “Next Monday at 9 AM, Jiangcheng Court. Those who want to come can come; those who don’t, you can watch the livestream.”
She paused, then smiled. “Actually, I also want everyone to see… what exactly does this contract look like?”
At this moment, the trending searches were completely dominated by Lin Wanwan:
#LinWanwanSued (Explosive)
#One-NineSplitContract (Hot)
#LinWanwanCourtHearingNextMonday (New)
#StarlightMediaSlaveContract (New)
The topic’s read count skyrocketed to one billion.
Countless people began digging up Starlight Media’s dark history:
“This company has signed so many newcomers, all with this kind of contract!”
“I have a friend who signed with them—three years without work, and now owes the company five hundred thousand!”
“This isn’t a talent agency, it’s a slave owner!”
Starlight Media’s official Weibo account was completely overrun in the comments section.
Under every post, netizens were demanding answers:
“What does a one-nine split mean?”
“Why are you suing Lin Wanwan?”
“Dare to publicly release the full contract?”
Starlight Media remained silent, offering no response.
【3 PM · Lin Wanwan’s Latest Post】
Lin Wanwan posted a Weibo update with a picture of a handwritten note: “Next Monday, see you at Jiangcheng Court. Bring your contract, bring your lawyers, bring your reasons; I’ll bring my three years of sleepless nights, three years of half-empty meals, three years of unfinished songs, and… one million yuan of unclear debt.”
This Weibo post instantly surpassed one million reposts.
The comments section was flooded with support:
“Stay strong, sis!”
“We’re with you!”
“Next Monday, see you at the entrance of Jiangcheng Court!”
“What about the livestream? Can we livestream it?”
“Courts don’t allow livestreaming, right…”
“Then we’ll go in person!”
Just then, Lin Wanwan received a private message. The sender’s profile picture was blank, the username a string of random characters, and the content was just one sentence: “I have the evidence you need. I’ll contact you before next Monday.”
She stared at the private message, narrowing her eyes.
【Eye of Truth】 activated.
But the sender’s profile picture was blank, revealing no information.
The System prompted: 【The other party is using encryption methods; their true identity cannot be viewed】
Lin Wanwan remained silent for a few seconds, then replied, “Who are you?”
The other party responded, “Someone who was once trapped by this contract too.” Then the profile picture turned gray—the user had logged off.
Lin Wanwan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
At this moment, the trending searches updated:
#SeeYouInCourtNextMonday (Rank 1)
#LinWanwanOneNineSplit (Rank 2)
#StarlightMediaSilent (Rank 4)
The show’s livestream room hit a new record, surpassing eight million concurrent viewers.
Everyone was waiting—waiting for next Monday to arrive, waiting for an answer, waiting for an outcome.