[Discussion: Why did “Little Sweetheart” become such a massive hit?]
[OP: “Little Sweetheart” is undoubtedly a dark horse hit drama, right? On Wanshi Trending, its first-day score was 35, peaked at 96, with an average of 88. Although YSYS rated it as a “small hit,” looking at it sideways, it’s absolutely a massive, explosive success.]
[Plot, costumes/makeup/props, actors’ looks and acting, visual composition—everything is on point. Even if you break it down separately, each aspect isn’t necessarily top-tier excellence on its own, but having no weak links is already amazing, okay?]
[New faces + solid acting + plot that doesn’t go off the rails + visuals that aren’t a nightmare—it’s hard not to love it.]
[Baiying must be raking it in! Zhou Qingning also signed with them. Two wildly popular new-generation actors, both with good looks and solid acting skills.]
[Aren’t CP fans the happiest 😂? The CP they ship is actually in the same company now.]
[I’ve been watching their online interactions—the contrast with the drama is huge. The real-life dynamic is such an “older woman, loyal puppy” vibe. Zhou Qingning’s acting is truly impressive—no wonder she made it out of the film base extra scene.]
[Haha, Shen Xiao is literally Prince Kang himself. Just as silly and clueless.]
[Are people really praising this drama that much? All the data is from YS. It made zero splash on any other chart, and you dare call it a hit?]
[Let me see, which fandom is having a meltdown? Barking all over here?]
[Does “Little Sweetheart” really need those pathetic charts to validate its success? Their data is so rigged it’s laughable, and they won’t even reveal their sources. Pay up and you get trending; don’t pay and you get suppressed. Want to see specific data? That’ll cost you at least a thousand. It’s a total amateur operation—they’re only propped up by fans…]
[I actually like Wanshi Trending. They don’t charge me anything, so I don’t mind indulging them. If they say it’s a hit, then it’s a hit.]
[I think the biggest reason it succeeded is sincerity. After the finale, the production team released a lot of behind-the-scenes footage. There were so many shots of the director and screenwriter discussing the plot. The actors were holding both the script and the original novel. I heard those books were all bought by Mushroom. They were truly telling a story, carefully discussing why the original was loved and trying to maximize its strengths while minimizing weaknesses. And then there’s Xia Chan, the author, whose face was always blurred but appeared constantly… They made me feel like they genuinely loved this story—or rather, they genuinely loved the process of creating a brand-new drama.]
[You wrote a lot, so I’ll go with what you said.]
[Makes sense. Unlike most actors nowadays when choosing scripts—big IP, big investment, teams that have produced hit shows—they only look at those things. By the time filming actually starts, who knows if they’ve even read the script through properly?]
[A lot of dramas these days operate on the assumption that “we are going to be a hit” before they even start casting and assembling the crew. Then when the final product comes out, who knows where they got the confidence to boast that it would be a hit?]
[Speaking of which, I saw the wrap-up group photo. Is that Mushroom on the far edge?]
[Yes, that quiet, refined-looking college girl is our Guanjun!]
[The contrast is so extreme. She gives off such a gentle vibe in person—why is she so unhinged online?]
[If I had that much money, I could afford to be gentle too (I’m not jealous, I’m really not jealous QAQ).]
[I wouldn’t call her unhinged. She’s just rich enough to do what she wants. When people came after her in person, of course she fought back. Having money probably means she has fewer worries, right?]
…
Ying Shi was browsing various forums when she noticed that she had acquired the nickname “Mushroom.” Her other titles, like “Boss Ying” and “Guanjun,” had been relegated to second and third place, seemingly fading from public consciousness.
In the netizens’ playful banter, she was often a poisonous mushroom, but she could also be an edible mushroom used in stews or stir-fries. Anything but a quiet little mushroom sitting under a tree.
Her phone buzzed—a message in the dorm group chat.
[Ji Ming Qie Zhe: @Ying Shi Nayou, come quick! Li Yinan’s fans fans are causing trouble!]
[Ji Ming Qie Zhe: (Link sharing…)]
Ying Shi clicked the link without a moment’s hesitation.
This was a Weibo post from one of Li Yinan’s die-hard fans. The text was concise, laying out the sequence of events clearly with numbered points.
The incident began when a major fan in the fan group urged everyone to buy a beverage endorsed by Li Yinan.
Recently, during the hot run of “Little Sweetheart,” the beverage featured in the ads had seen a surge in sales. In comparison, the sales of Li Yinan’s endorsed drink were looking rather lackluster.
The beverage brand in “Little Sweetheart” ads was “Liuxia.” It wasn’t an old, established brand, but it had sixteen years of history.
Liuxia Beverage was founded by Jiang Nian’s aunt, Jiang Huali, who still ran the company with full control.
Before finalizing this ad deal, Ying Shi had the system scan Jiang Nian’s aunt to confirm that she was a law-abiding business owner.
Afterward, Ying Shi bought large quantities of Liuxia beverages—covering every series available on the market. She drank them herself, handed out several bottles to each company employee, and listened to their feedback.
At the same time, she had people search online for various reviews of Liuxia, and even asked the PR department to investigate whether there was any possibility of negative reviews being suppressed.
In short, she did all kinds of research before finally settling on this partnership.
And precisely because of this thorough preparation, when the other party expressed interest in continuing the collaboration, Ying Shi didn’t turn them down.
But she truly hadn’t expected things to turn out so coincidentally.
The explosive popularity of “Little Sweetheart” had boosted Liuxia’s sales, with the co-branded green plum green tea—tied to the drama—selling especially well. Drama fans were even buying cases at a time just to collect all twelve different bottle designs.
One sentiment she came across was: “The drink isn’t bad anyway, I can just give it to friends and family.”
As for Li Yinan’s endorsed beverage, its standout product line had originally been the green plum green tea series as well.
The market was only so big. Following the principle of one’s gain being another’s loss, they were naturally hit hard.
Probably due to the lackluster sales and the brand’s dissatisfaction, Li Yinan’s studio instructed some major fans to guide the group into boosting sales.
That was when Li Yinan’s minor fan posted a photo of their homework on their Moments, with a Liuxia drink bottle visible in the bottom left corner.
As luck would have it, their Moments included a few “friends” they had met through fandom.
One of those fans took a screenshot and posted it in Li Yinan’s supertopic, and the original fan’s Weibo account was also exposed.
Li Yinan’s current fanbase was already the kind that followed blindly without thinking.
They believed that Guanjun had gained fame by stepping on Li Yinan, that “Little Sweetheart” had risen by stepping on “Si Hua Nian,” and now Liuxia was using Li Yinan’s endorsement as a stepping stone.
As a fan of Li Yinan, how could she drink Liuxia? She must be an anti-fan!
The fan in question was only seventeen, still a sophomore in high school. Liuxia’s target audience was young people—it had a good taste profile without the overwhelming sweetness or heavy artificial flavors, and its bottle designs were aesthetically pleasing. It was very popular among students, especially girls.
Moreover, the bottle this young fan had been drinking wasn’t even the “Little Sweetheart” co-branded version, showing she wasn’t a drama fan.
But Li Yinan’s fans didn’t care about that. They began cursing at this young fan relentlessly.
Eventually, they doxxed her and harassed her relentlessly, twenty-four hours a day.
Having learned from what happened with Guanjun, these fans knew better than to act impulsively in real life. Instead, they bombarded her with endless abusive text messages and phone calls. Across her fandom-related accounts on various platforms, her private messages were filled with insults and curses.
The young fan had a timid personality—soft-spoken and meek. Her grades were average, and she tended to bury her head in the sand like an ostrich when faced with problems. Adding to that, her parents were already anxious about her academic performance, so she didn’t dare tell them about her involvement in fandom.
At school, she was also quiet and well-behaved—not the type of student who caught a teacher’s attention easily.
After being cyberbullied, she had no idea how to handle it. She kept everything bottled up inside, and her mental state grew progressively worse.
Since she living at school long-term, her family couldn’t notice anything was wrong in time.
Fortunately, her deskmate noticed something was wrong with her mental state and quickly contacted their homeroom teacher. Her parents were called in, and after a hospital visit, it was discovered that the young fan was suffering from severe psychological issues.
Through this, her family also learned about her involvement in fandom and the online harassment she had endured.
The young fan’s older sister had a strong, no-nonsense personality. She quickly got up to speed on what had happened, contacted a lawyer, and began fighting back against those deranged fans.
The Weibo post now laying out the entire sequence of events was written by the older sister using her younger sister’s account.
History truly had a way of repeating itself. Ying Shi could only feel relieved that this situation hadn’t escalated into real-world harm, while also reflecting on how fortunate the young fan was to have a reliable deskmate who noticed her condition in time.
After reading through the entire incident, Ying Shi felt it was time to expose Li Yinan’s various misdeeds. She had been waiting for the right moment, while also gathering solid evidence.
Until now, the “scandals” surrounding Li Yinan had all been confined to the realm of fandom, with no clear link to him personally.
As the old saying went, the impact on him personally was manageable, and whitewashing his image would be easy. If things got too difficult, he could lie low for a few years and then seize another opportunity to stage a comeback.
What Ying Shi wanted was to drive him out of the entertainment industry for good.
…
#LiYinanLateNightChatWithFans#
#LiYinanWorkplaceBullying#
#LiYinanHarassmentOfColleagues#
#LiYinanCallsFansDogs#
Overnight, one negative news story after another about Li Yinan came to light.
These exposés weren’t released all at once. First, some marketing accounts dropped a few hints, riding on the momentum of the recent fan incident that had already trended.
The internet was never short of amateur detectives eager to join in the fun.
Besides, a melon fed to you was never as satisfying as one you dug up yourself.
Using those hints, netizens unearthed a massive scandal. Ying Shi then had the system give the trending a nudge.
Just as Enyao Entertainment started putting out PR statements, another new exposé would drop.
The moment they managed to suppress one wave of trending, another would surge—it was a constant stream of crises they couldn’t keep up with.
Amid the chaos, the impact of these exposés only grew exponentially.
【Are these the investigation results from that “Special Investigation Office” you set up?】
Ying Shi said, “I know you look down on how long it took them to investigate, but digging up all this in three months is already pretty impressive.”
【If the host exchanged with the system, all of this and the related evidence could be obtained instantly.】
“I know, I know—the paparazzi assistance feature…” Ying Shi said in a coaxing tone. “But the points cost is way too high. How about a discount?”
The system fell silent.
Every time Ying Shi chatted with the system, the conversation inevitably turned to “discounts.” Without fail.