“Luckily, the fruit knife didn’t hit anything vital.”
Ying Shi sat blankly on the hospital bed, listening to the doctor making rounds, feeling a sense of unreality, as if she were still in a dream.
She was certain she had been stabbed in the abdomen—the pain at that moment had been instantaneous, engulfing her entire body.
But now, all that remained on her stomach was a shallow scratch.
The doctor said she had lost consciousness because she had hit her head after being pushed, resulting in a mild concussion.
Although she still needed to be observed, her condition was much better.
As for the person who had stabbed her, Ying Shi had more or less figured out what had happened.
She was twenty years old, a sophomore majoring in finance at N University. Her grades were average, and she spent her free time watching dramas.
Frustrated by some of the shows she had watched lately, she started an account online, mainly to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of popular films and TV series.
In her own understanding, she was a “film and TV blogger.” In the eyes of various fandoms, she was a “shady marketing account.”
But heaven as her witness, she never took money to trash anyone unfairly. Every video she made was a labor of love, expressing her true thoughts.
When evaluating films or TV series, it was inevitable to comment on the actors’ looks and acting skills.
Ying Shi had watched both of the recently popular historical costume dramas. She had made an “initial viewing experience” video for each, and in both, she had pointed out shortcomings in the leading actors’ appearances.
One of the leading actors was passable in terms of acting skills. When paired with a role that suited him and supplemented with proper dubbing, his other shortcomings could be overlooked, allowing the audience to stay engaged without being pulled out of the story.
Unfortunately, the current controversy over “actors using dubbed voices” had led many popular stars to insist on using their original voices, making these already awkward idol dramas even worse.
As for the other one—he was the source of this intentional injury incident.
This male star went by the name Li Yinan. He started as an internet celebrity, originally a comedy blogger who made humorous videos. Later, he signed with an entertainment agency, appeared on a few online variety shows, and gained a bit of fame.
It wasn’t until he joined a Battle Royale reality show on Ice and Snow Video as a regular cast member that he began to accumulate fans and recognition.
In Ying Shi’s view, the fact that Li Yinan initially chose the “comedy” niche showed that he was well aware that his looks were nothing extraordinary.
But after gaining popularity, he began repeatedly asserting his “visual appeal,” insisting on starring as the male lead in idol dramas time and time again.
Whenever netizens pointed out that his looks weren’t up to par, his fans would swarm like locusts, claiming the critics were just haters while arguing that the male lead’s character wasn’t even supposed to be handsome.
Apart from his appearance, Li Yinan’s acting skills were also a weak point. His bizarre, over-the-top way of performing made it truly impossible for Ying Shi to tell what emotions he was trying to convey.
In the end, Ying Shi stated in her video that “the number one requirement for idol dramas is good looks.” Regardless of whether the character was explicitly written as a beauty or not, unless they were specifically described as “ugly,” actors with outstanding visuals should be cast.
As a result, his fans bombarded her with abuse—barrage comments, reviews, and private messages all became virtually unreadable.
This was also what Ying Shi found most puzzling—why did he have so many fans, and all of them genuinely believed that their idol’s acting skills and looks were top-tier?
Fandoms really were a place where people lost their minds.
At first, it was just online harassment. Ying Shi didn’t take it to heart—being a film and TV blogger meant getting attacked was inevitable.
But she never expected those brainless fans to doxx[1]Doxxing (or doxing) is the act of publicly revealing someone’s private personal information—such as their real name, home address, phone number, workplace, or other identifying details—without … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2018652_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2018652_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); her, track her down in person, and come at her with a knife.
What she found even harder to understand was that after waking up, she opened her phone, logged into Weibo, and saw that Li Yinan’s fans were holding a raffle to celebrate. They believed the deranged fan was some kind of avenger, and that the “shady marketing account” deserved to be stabbed as karma.
Ying Shi was certainly not one to back down. She took screenshots of all the comments from Li Yinan’s fans on the feed, as well as screenshots of the raffle event in their supertopic.
Then she tagged the “Li Yinan” topic and directly posted: “You are—” accompanied by a picture of a lotus root.[2]In Chinese internet slang, lotus root (藕 / ǒu) is used because its pronunciation is similar to “呕” (ǒu), which means “to vomit” or is used as an exclamation of disgust (“ugh”).
So … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2018652_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2018652_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });
Immediately after, she posted another Weibo, briefly stating that her drama review video had contained no offensive language, and that even when mentioning the actor, she had used phrases like “his looks are a subject of debate.” In contrast, his fans had used this as a pretext to hurl all kinds of abuse at her, with language so vile it was unbearable to look at.
She then mentioned how Li Yinan’s fans had reacted after her injury, posing the question: as a public figure with influence over fans whose fanbase showed a complete lack of legal awareness, was there an issue of improper management on the part of this public figure?
She posted screenshot after screenshot, along with the homepages of these accounts, making it clear that each one was a major fan with influence in the supertopic.
Then came a string of @ mentions—no one was left out, from the official accounts of relevant regulatory authorities to the star himself and his studio’s V-accounts.
【I can lift the traffic restriction on your posts and get this issue more visibility.】
Ying Shi was startled by the sudden system voice. She had almost forgotten that after being stabbed, she had been bound to an unknown entity that called itself the “Film and Television Industry Protection System.”
The system told her that she had already died, and if she wanted to extend her life, she would have to complete corresponding tasks.
“Binding with the system” had given her three days of life—which was why the hospital examination had found her “lucky.”
It was a pity that the person who had stabbed her to death might receive a lighter punishment as a result.
Ying Shi didn’t know how this system worked. All she knew was that it could extend her life, control online traffic, and provide her with a massive sum of money as funding for film and television production.
What was even more absurd was that all of this would be legalized.
In everyone else’s eyes, she had simply been injured and hospitalized, and then her fortunes had reversed—she was found by relatives abroad and inherited a massive fortune.
“Lift the view limit. Li Yinan has plenty of rival fans and haters too. Let the public opinion ferment. Let him taste the backlash of online traffic as well.”
Ying Shi didn’t buy the nonsense that “he didn’t know anything, it was just individual fan behavior.” A celebrity’s fans reveal the celebrity’s character the most. Ethical celebrities restrain their fans; only those who treat fans as tools let them run wild, attacking anyone and everyone.
Ying Shi put down her phone and temporarily ignored the storm brewing online.
“So the current task is to produce a television series?”
【It is to produce a high-quality television series.】
“What is the criteria for ‘high-quality’?”
【The system will conduct a series of evaluations based on audience feedback.】
This explanation was too vague, but since the system explicitly mentioned “audience feedback,” it was clear that producing a television series that audiences loved was the key.
“But I have less than three days of life left. How am I supposed to complete the task?”
【The host can earn points through actions such as acquiring a film and television company, initiating a production project, and selecting actors. Points can be exchanged for life at a rate of 1 point per hour.】
“Acquiring a film and television company?” Ying Shi was stunned. She had thought she would be starting from scratch…
【The ‘Wilderness’ area in Xicheng District consists of land registered and usable by the system, with all necessary permits in place. As soon as the host accepts the binding film and television company, you will obtain a twelve-story office building. Employees will be hired by the host themselves, and salaries will be paid by the system.】
Ying Shi: “!!!”
After the shock wore off, she belatedly said, “Um… I know I’m already lucky to have survived, but people have living expenses. You said that money is mine, but it can only be used for work…”
【After the company is established, you will also receive a salary.】
Ying Shi: “!!!”
Ying Shi: “Thank you, boss! I will definitely work hard and produce excellent film and television works to live up to your guidance!”
【……】
Upon learning that she was about to inherit a company, Ying Shi’s aches and pains vanished. She requested to be discharged from the hospital, signed a series of liability waivers, and successfully obtained approval to leave.
Finally, she paid out of her own pocket to take a taxi to the Wilderness area in Xicheng District. When she got out of the car, she found that the overgrown weeds had disappeared. A large square now stood on the vacant land, with a twelve-story skyscraper rising above it.
“Ah!” Ying Shi let out a shout and dashed toward the building.
She had grown up in an orphanage. Nine years of compulsory education were covered by government policies, three years of high school were supported by funding the orphanage director had secured, and after entering university, she relied on student loans.
Now, being able to own a building of her own—how exhilarating that was.
Even if this building was only nominally hers.
Ying Shi excitedly rushed over. The security lock at the main entrance automatically opened in response to the system, and once she stepped inside, the lobby lights turned on by themselves.
There was a spacious reception desk, a few reception tables and chairs, and three walls of glass—simple and airy, filled with natural light.
The building was enormous, so she didn’t inspect it floor by floor. Following the system’s guidance, she took a private elevator and traveled smoothly all the way to the twelfth floor—the President’s Office.
Stepping out of the elevator, she first saw an office area, and opposite it, the door to the executive office.
As Ying Shi stepped into the office, she could only sigh that poverty had limited her imagination.
Whether it was the work area or the lounge area, everything was so exquisite that she almost felt afraid to touch it.
【All you have to do is give the film and television company a name, and all of this will be yours.】
The system’s mechanical voice sounded like a demon whispering temptations to lure humans into wrongdoing, but she didn’t hesitate to give in.
To hesitate even for a second would be an insult to this building!
She had already died once—why waste time overthinking things!
“Let’s just call it ‘Ying Shi Entertainment.’ Simple and straightforward.” It wasn’t that she was narcissistic—she just couldn’t think of a better name.
Anyway, the system had been pretty casual about giving her an entire building, so she might as well be casual too. Who knew—maybe it would lead to unexpected results!
……
After a brief rest, Ying Shi sat down in her comfortable executive chair and began working on the company’s development plan.
After a full day of work, with revisions here and there, she finally managed to put together a presentable summary report. She had gone downstairs midway to pick up some takeout, and then she started discussing things with the system.
Actually, she was just talking to herself—the system didn’t participate in planning the company or projects. Its only role was to provide funding.
After thinking it over for a long time, Ying Shi decided to remove artist management-related businesses from her plans. Her primary task right now was producing film and television works. Signing artists would require developing all kinds of resources, which wouldn’t be of much help to her mission.
Moreover, she believed that as long as her film and television projects developed in a healthy way, they would boost the overall industry environment and benefit capable actors who were currently out of work.
With everything planned out, Ying Shi finally breathed a sigh of relief. She exchanged the points she earned from acquiring the film and television company for one week of life. As long as she confirmed a production project within the week, she could scrape by a little longer.
She pulled out the materials she had prepared—a plan to purchase the adaptation rights for a historical romance web novel from Green River.
In the world of film and television commentary, she could be considered an up-and-coming talent, but in the film and television production circle, she was a complete unknown.
Even with a massive amount of funds at her disposal, she couldn’t just find a suitable original screenwriter right away, so an adaptation was the most practical choice.
Ying Shi didn’t pick a work with high popularity or a massive fanbase. Instead, she chose a story with simple character settings for the male and female leads, a straightforward structure, and no obvious plot holes.
Every character was quite archetypal, requiring no complex performances. The series would be around thirty episodes, needing minimal cuts or rewrites.
As long as the male and female leads had passable looks and decent acting skills, the show was bound to become a hit at the very least.
“So do I need to handle the adaptation rights purchase myself?” Ying Shi asked out of habit. After all, Green River’s headquarters were in Jinzhou. Even if everything went smoothly, the round trip would take her two or three days.
【Since the host is currently in the beginner stage, adaptation rights purchases will be handled by the system for now. In the later stage, the host will need to hire appropriate personnel for such matters.】
“Thank you, System Boss!” Ying Shi immediately showered it with flattery.
【……】
Ying Shi could sense it—the system was genuinely serious about overhauling the film and television industry. It was practically granting every request from her, its rookie host.
References[+]
So when Ying Shi posted a picture of a lotus root with the caption “You are—“, she was implying:
“You are disgusting / You make me want to vomit.”
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