After three consecutive teaser silhouettes, the official Weibo account of On Screen finally revealed its long-awaited mystery guest, just when fan anticipation had reached its peak.
“He is the moon shining bright in the cold night,
He is the lone eagle soaring over the wilderness,
He is the youth walking atop the snowy peaks—
He is On Screen’s mid-season special guest—Lu Lincheng.”
The name Lu Lincheng alone hit like a bomb, but paired with Liang Yan, the mid-season champion, it exploded like an atomic blast—obliterating Lu Lincheng’s fandom in an instant.
The comment section under On Screen’s official post immediately erupted.
[The production team has completely lost their shame just to chase clout! Ballball you guys, be human for once!]
[Lu Lincheng just got rid of that leech Liang Yan, and now you’re sticking her back onto him? M, this was all rigged for her to win, wasn’t it?]
[Has Zhuo Yang lost her mind—or is she just going through menopause? Why would she let Lincheng take on such a trashy show?]
[Clearly the show set this up to let Liang Yan win and drag Lu Lincheng down. Total black-box operation.]
[Objectively speaking, Liang Yan performed really well in the last two rounds. She deserved first place.]
[Oh, please. As if I haven’t seen her in those cringe dramas before. With her dead-fish acting, there’s no way she earned that win.]
[Didn’t she just make headlines for cutting ties with her mom? And some people still pity her? Like mother, like daughter, I guess.]
[She clung to Lu Lincheng for two whole years—now that they’re divorced, she’s still pulling stunts to stay attached? Can a woman have some self-respect?]
In the face of this tidal wave of vitriol, a small number of Liang Yan’s fans fought desperately to defend her—though their voices were faint and their tone painfully polite.
[Liang Yan’s acting has really improved. Please, if you doubt it, just watch her short performances in the last two episodes.]
[Supporting Liang Yan.]
[She didn’t even know who the guest would be—it was all arranged by the production team. Please stop the personal attacks.]
Unfortunately, the difference in numbers was overwhelming. Liang Yan’s small fanbase was crushed under the weight of the backlash—the scene was brutal.
Until finally, one hot-tempered “Wolf Fang” fan couldn’t hold back any longer. After hours of calmly explaining to deaf ears, she scrolled down to Liang Yan’s latest selfie—now flooded with hateful comments, some too vile to look at—and, furious, she posted a Weibo of her own:
[M, you think we want Liang Yan tied to her ex-husband again? Why should she take the blame for the production team’s choices! And do you really think anyone can force Lu Lincheng to appear on a show he doesn’t want to? Sure, he’s amazing—Triple Gold Award winner, top-tier star—but can’t divorced people just live their separate lives? Who decided every woman has to be desperate for a man?]
The raging fandom fell silent.
When Liang Yan saw that post, her eyes immediately filled with tears.
Yes. Sometimes, it didn’t matter what the truth was, or who was right or wrong. If your status didn’t measure up, even when you did nothing wrong, the mere appearance of your name beside someone more famous made you look like you were “clinging.”
She had always thought that the little fans in the “Wolf Fang Gathering” were only there for the hype—that beyond her looks, she had nothing worth following. She’d been dragged through the mud over her divorce from Lu Lincheng and her public break with Chen Xueyun; she’d had no good press at all. Yet here they were—fans willing to stand up for her when things went bad.
She was no longer that pitiful, isolated Liang Yan who, after losing her memory, faced endless insults alone.
Sniffling, Liang Yan steadied herself and texted Jiang Mu on WeChat: she wanted to withdraw from the show.
She didn’t want to be seen as clinging anymore.
Jiang Mu hesitated.
[…Are you sure? Have you really thought this through?]
[I’ve thought about it.] Liang Yan replied.
[Maybe think again? You finally ranked first mid-season. The show’s just starting to blow up—your popularity will only grow. You’re the frontrunner for the championship. If you win, you’ll get to star in a major primetime drama on Fruit Channel.]
[And what about the endorsement prize? It’s a beauty brand—great exposure and a hefty payout.]
[You still owe that eight million, don’t forget.]
[Besides…] Jiang Mu paused. [Your old wish was to act alongside Lu Lincheng one day.]
Liang Yan frowned.
[You mean that wish from the three years I lost my memory?]
[Yeah. I’m just afraid you’ll regret this if you remember someday.]
Liang Yan’s fingers tightened around her phone. After a long pause, she pouted in frustration and typed back:
[No regrets. I’ve already acted with him once.]
Jiang Mu: [???]
[When exactly did that happen?]
Liang Yan: [Every time we were in bed. I called out his name with conviction.]
Jiang Mu: [………………]
An hour later, Liang Yan posted on Weibo, officially announcing her withdrawal from On Screen.
Her statement was sincere and graceful. She expressed her deep fondness for the show, her gratitude toward the production staff and her co-stars, and her appreciation for all the fans who had come to know and support her through the program. She wrote that she had learned and gained a lot from the experience, but due to personal reasons, she did not want her presence to bring any negative emotions to others. Finally, she wished On Screen continued success.
Soon after, “Liang Yan withdraws from On Screen” shot up the trending list.
The comments under her post were filled with teary-eyed messages from fans:
[Yanyan, stay strong!]
[Even if you don’t compete, you’ll always be our handsome Liang!]
[So cool, so bold—ugh, Liang Yingjun, you big dummy, when are you gonna marry me?!]
[What’s next for you, Yanyan? We’ll support you no matter what!]
Reactions under entertainment news posts about her withdrawal were mixed:
[The show clearly set her up. Still, she’s got guts—quitting just like that.]
[More like her plan backfired, and she had no choice. Thought she could ride Lu Lincheng’s fame, huh?]
[Even after all that, she still wished the show success. That’s… surprisingly classy.]
[So decisive. Damn it, I think I might be starting to stan her…]
[What about Lu Lincheng? Did he not know his partner was his ex-wife? Shouldn’t he have avoided that situation?]
[The fans are already going after Lu Lincheng’s manager.]
After posting the announcement, Liang Yan still felt uneasy. Jiang Mu was busy negotiating with the production team and fending off reporters trying to get an interview.
Quitting meant losing the endorsement deal, her only source of exposure, and any potential acting opportunities.
To say she wasn’t disappointed or disheartened would’ve been a lie.
She stared at her phone for a long time, then scrolled back to find the Weibo post from the fan who had stood up for her against Lu Lincheng’s fandom—the one that had solidified her decision to leave the show.
After a moment’s hesitation, Liang Yan messaged the fan from her main account:
[Hello~]
The user “Crashing into Walls for YanYan” instantly replied with a flurry of messages:
[Holy crap, is this real?!]
[Wait—this isn’t a fake account, right?]
[Oh my god, it’s really you! Liang Yan actually DM’d me! I’m not dreaming! I love you, Liang Yan!]
Liang Yan could easily imagine the fan’s adorable reaction and smiled as she replied:
[It’s not a fake account—it’s really me.]
Crashing into Walls for YanYan: [Waaah, my goddess just messaged me. I could cry right now.]
Liang Yan: [Thank you for what you said today. Really. You risked being attacked by Lu Lincheng’s fans to defend me.]
Crashing into Walls for YanYan: [I’d do anything for you, Yanyan.]
Liang Yan bit her lip and typed:
[Can I ask… why do you like me?]
[Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve your support.]
The previously excitable fan suddenly went quiet for a while before replying:
[I’m kind of like you. But I was sent straight to an orphanage.]
[My biological parents abandoned me at birth because I was a girl. The director called recently—apparently someone claiming to be my parents is asking about me. But I admire what you did, Yanyan. You gave me the courage to say no. I don’t want to see them again.]
[Some wounds can’t be erased with a single apology.]
[I’m in college now. I tutor kids every week to help pay my tuition. I want to earn money like you do—you used yours to give back to your school; I want to use mine to care for my adoptive parents.]
[To me, they’re my real mom and dad.]
[Don’t give up, Yanyan. One day, your light will be seen.]
[Yanyan, keep going! You’re my inspiration!]
Liang Yan read the fan’s words carefully, line by line, and the sorrow she’d felt over being forced to withdraw from the show melted away.
How could she possibly deserve such warm, kind-hearted fans?
Only by becoming better—stronger, more capable—could she ever be worthy of their love.
Her determination reignited. Thinking of the live-streaming offer Jiang Mu had mentioned earlier—the one she’d turned down in disdain—she reached over and poked Jiang Mu’s arm.
“This time, I won’t be picky. Whatever job comes up, I’ll take it.”
After Liang Yan’s withdrawal, the On Screen production team nervously called to ask whether Lu Lincheng still intended to remain as a guest performer.
Zhuo Yang, his manager, was already fuming after seeing the barrage of hate comments from Lu Lincheng’s fans on her own Weibo—accusing her of forcing him into bad shows. The whole mess, combined with her confusion over his sudden irrational behavior, had driven her to take a leave of absence.
Lu Lincheng answered the call himself, his voice calm and even.
“I’ll keep participating.”
The production staff hadn’t expected him to stay on after Liang Yan’s departure. They stammered out several excited thank-you’s.
“Mm.”
Lu Lincheng ended the call and set his phone down.
His gaze drifted to Liang Yan’s heartfelt Weibo announcement—the one where she vowed to quit.
For a moment, a memory surfaced.
Liang Yan sitting across from him, holding the movie script he’d left on the coffee table, clasping her hands together in mock solemnity as she made a wish.
“The biggest dream of Liang Yan’s acting career,” she’d declared, “is to one day star in a film with Lu Lincheng.”
“I don’t even need to be the female lead—just a side character who dies early is fine.”
***
Author has something to say:
How to completely shatter a man’s dignity —
Liang Yan: [Every time we were in bed, I called his name with great enthusiasm.]