With the appearance of this shining, golden-bordered comment, the vast majority of netizens fell into silence.
【The verification is real; it’s not a copycat account.】 【President Gu is sharp.】 【Has President Gu been bought off by Wen Ze too?】 【I’m telling you, Best Actor fans, don’t be so shameless—it’s clearly that Zhou Zichen’s actions were inhumane. Zhou Zichen was an artist under President Gu’s company to begin with; what benefit would it serve him to treat his own boss poorly?】
Following Gu Chao’s post on Weibo, the matter of Zhou Zichen was effectively closed and sealed. Aside from a few weak struggles from the Best Actor’s fans, the entire internet was in absolute agreement—Scumbag, get lost!
In another room, Wen Ze watched the screen filled with anger toward Zhou Zichen and expressions of consolation for himself. He finally couldn’t keep up the act; his gentle expression collapsed, and tears surged from his eyes. Watching him cry, the audience felt even more heartbroken than he did, and their scolding of the culprit became even more vicious.
No one saw that the corners of Wen Ze’s mouth, buried against his knees, were curled upward.
This had indeed been done too quickly. A gentleman taking revenge isn’t too late even after ten years, as the saying goes. But he was a demon, not a gentleman. A gentleman could wait ten years, but a demon could only lie in wait for ten days. That was already the limit of his mercy.
The wave of public opinion surged forward, sweeping across the internet in an instant. In the age of the internet, information spreads too quickly, and the explosion had happened just at dinnertime. Within two hours, Zhou Zichen’s reputation had been thoroughly demolished.
Liu Ming stood in the CEO’s office, his legs shaking and trembling. Opposite him, Gu Chen’s face was equally clouded with gloom. However, he wasn’t angry at Wen Ze; he was disgusted by Zhou Zichen. Gu Chen couldn’t for the life of him figure it out. How did such a degenerate end up in my company?
The Young Master Gu, who usually seemed to care for nothing but eating, drinking, and having fun, was currently exerting immense pressure. Liu Ming’s legs were knocking together, but he still struggled to defend Zhou Zichen: “Young Master Gu, what do netizens know! That Wen Ze is just a little bitch! He’s deliberately blackening Brother Zhou’s name! You mustn’t be fooled by him!”
Did Gu Chen believe him? He did not.
But the PR department still had to do its job. The artists under Xinghe were mostly clean and upright, and they had almost never been involved in such scandals. They had no desire to “wash” the reputation of such a person, but for the sake of Xinghe’s reputation, they had to endure the disgust to appease the fans, promising to give them an explanation. Yet, even the PR director didn’t know how to explain something that was so solidly proven by evidence.
Gu Chen glanced coldly at the board members. Several portly executives were “drinking buddies” of Zhou Zichen and had wanted to plead a case for him, but seeing the impending storm on Young Master Gu’s face, they ultimately didn’t dare to speak.
Xinghe Entertainment was indeed a subsidiary of the Gu Group, that was true—but Young Master Gu was usually someone who only cared about collecting dividends and drifting through life. With such a massive scandal involving a famous star, Young Master Gu couldn’t make the final call.
And as for Gu Chao… Gu Chen didn’t even want to involve him in this matter. There was no need to guess how someone as mature and old-fashioned as Gu Chao would handle it.
And so, a document authorizing his freezing from the industry was signed without objection. Zhou Zichen this name, once so red-hot would likely vanish from the entertainment industry soon, wrapped in a stench that could never be washed away.
“President Gu,” an assistant whispered from the side, “do you think we should let Zhou Zichen finish filming this variety show first?”
When a wall falls, everyone pushes it; especially with someone as unlikable as Zhou Zichen, the assistant didn’t even bother calling him “Mister” anymore.
“Hmm… will it cause a scandal?”
Gu Chen had risked the wrath of his family and tricked his own brother into joining the show, so he knew the guests weren’t easy to replace. They couldn’t pause filming or re-film just because of Zhou Zichen. Although Zhou Zichen was currently “hated by the entire internet,” he still had traffic, and there was no harm in utilizing it.
Gu Chen was only wondering if such a disgusting thing would jump over the wall like a cornered dog. Although Xinghe had nothing to be criticized for, Zhou Zichen represented a portion of Xinghe’s face when he was outside. If the guy went insane on the show and suddenly smeared Xinghe… well, while kicking out a mad dog wasn’t difficult, getting covered in its filth was still disgusting.
The assistant whispered, “You don’t need to worry, Young Master Gu. Isn’t President Gu still on the show? He won’t be able to make any waves.”
Gu Chen’s eyes lit up. “You’re right!”
Gu Chen had once been jealous that his big brother was a “Jack-of-all-trades” a hexagonal warrior who was not only well-rounded in morality, intelligence, physical fitness, aesthetics, and labor, but also proficient in fighting, racing, wine tasting, and a whole series of other hobbies. But now, his brother’s perfect skill set was adorable!
If Zhou Zichen tried to act out like a cornered dog, Gu Chao could kick him flat on the ground in three seconds. Gu Chen turned and immediately made the call.
The assistant watched the back of Gu Chen, who seemed to be radiating little flowers, and quietly typed on his phone: “Sister Li, it’s done!”
The storms raging outside couldn’t reach the cameras. Since Xinghe hadn’t sent a notice to stop, the director was happy to keep milking the traffic.
Soon, 8:30 PM arrived.
The other guests couldn’t access the internet and had no idea about the storm of news outside; their expressions were all quite relaxed. Only Wen Ze, with his eyes red and swollen from crying and no time to shower, looked somewhat wretched.
Ji Yun saw him like this the moment he walked downstairs. Although he was stunned for a moment, he didn’t ask why, but quietly stayed by his side, patting his back to soothe him.
The director soon announced the rules:
Second Segment: The Choice of Love.
Each guest can cast a “Heartbeat Vote” for another guest. If two guests achieve a mutual selection, they successfully complete the Heartbeat Choice and do not need to perform tasks the next day, proceeding directly to the dating segment. Guests who do not achieve a mutual selection can pair up with guests who voted for them.
To be honest, Wen Ze was very tempted. Dates were private and one-on-one. Blocking the cameras would be very easy for him; it was a perfect opportunity for probing. In private, many details would inevitably be exposed. But according to his persona, he should be obsessively devoted to Zhou Zichen, or at the very least, stick with his teammate for the day, Ji Yun.
Gu Chao was truly a thousand miles away from him right now!
Wen Ze thought for a while, then suddenly looked up at the production team in conflict. “Director, in this round, can I… abstain?”
The reason for his conflict wasn’t known to the guests, but the audience had consciously found a reason for him: He’s heartbroken!
In an instant, another wave of heartache surged.
The director was also conflicted about whether to set this precedent.
“It’s okay, I’m the one being unreasonable,” Wen Ze said, seeing the director’s hesitation, and hurriedly added. His fingers slid across the screen, and after a moment of hesitation, he tapped on Gu Chao’s avatar: “President Gu and I probably won’t be a mutual selection anyway…”
Wen Ze closed his eyes, selected it without hesitation, and sent it, leaving no message. It was so decisive, as if he were afraid that if he waited another second, he would regret it. The pain on his face signaled his difficulty. Choosing someone who could never choose him back was perhaps the best solution for Wen Ze, who was currently suffering from heartbreak.
The audience’s cries of heartache were enough to pierce the clouds. The occasional voice accusing Wen Ze of “clinging to a big shot” was ruthlessly shut down by the others. Wen Ze had already said he was picking someone impossible to pair with, and he hadn’t even written a message—what bad intentions could he possibly have?!
Wen Ze did not, in fact, have any bad intentions; he just harbored a desire to test the waters.
Voting lasted only five minutes. After everyone had made their choices, they entered the final segment—the Late Night Talk.
Actually, this segment was originally meant for the beginning of the show, to let everyone talk about their ideal types to deepen the impressions and make it easier for the audience to “ship” CP pairs. However, since Gu Chao had arrived too late, the production team went all out and combined it with a nighttime game of “Truth or Dare.”
There were no changes to the format; the production team provided a sign cylinder containing eight sticks, one engraved with “Ask,” and the others engraved with numbers 2-8, representing the order of response. The person who asked had to answer first. Questions also had to be drawn; if one didn’t want to answer, they could choose “Dare,” though the “Dare” sticks weren’t necessarily any better.
There were eight rounds in total, spanning eight days. The “asker” could not be repeated, and the question sticks and dare sticks were single-use.
The rules seemed strict, but there was an absurd story behind every strict rule. There was once an incredibly lucky guest who drew the “Ask” stick for five consecutive days. After the production team temporarily changed the rules, he then chose “Dare” for three consecutive times, and every time, it was to “sing a song.” Oh, and that guest was a singer; this kind of punishment was not only painless for him, but was actually a way to gain fans, which made people hate him.
The group sat in a circle around the sofa, four long sofas with two people on each, mostly following the daytime pairings except for Ji Hang and Gu Chao, who sat as far apart as possible. If there had been a coffee table in the middle instead of a fireplace, it would have felt quite like a “fireside night chat.”
While filming, everyone was disconnected from the internet, so except for Wen Ze the person involved—and Gu Chao, who had a “cheat,” nobody knew about the raging storm online.
Zhou Zichen still wore a sour face, ignoring Shen Ruan, and occasionally flashing gloomy, cold glints when looking at Wen Ze. He had no idea the chat was currently tearing him apart:
【How did I not notice Zhou Zichen was this gloomy before?】 【Damn, that look in his eyes is genuinely scary.】 【Domestic-abusing cheater, go die!!!】 【I don’t understand, how did he have the nerve to say those things before?】 【What a master of marketing himself as a pitiful person—pui! What did the person who is truly miserable say?】
The fact that Wen Ze could see the chat was an unintentional oversight by the production team; after all, nobody had expected such a huge scandal to erupt, and nobody had thought to block it. Of course, this couldn’t be blamed on Wen Ze; he was clearly emotionally unstable at the time. Since they were filming the variety show in real-time streaming, they had set up the cameras that way for convenience who knew there would be trouble today? By now, the cameras had been moved much further away from everyone to prevent anyone from peeking at the audience’s comments, and the director had rushed to order new lenses.
The group drew sticks according to their status. Gu Chao, the non-celebrity CEO, didn’t act humble and drew first, followed by Xie Tingyan, Ji Yun, Zhou Zichen, Ji Hang, and Shen Ruan. Wen Ze and Qu Zheng, who were left at the end, exchanged a look. Eventually, Wen Ze gave in to the socially anxious, timid gaze, took out both sticks, kept one in his hand, and handed the other to Qu Zheng. The two happened to be sitting on adjacent sides of adjacent sofas, so the movement was fairly smooth.
Qu Zheng timidly whispered, “Thank you.”
The sticks were held in their palms; Wen Ze didn’t peek, and everyone was watching.
The audience cried: 【Ze-bao is so warm, boohoo.】 【Zhou Zichen, you bastard!】 【Heartache for Ze-bao; how many similar experiences must he have had to be so instinctively considerate of others!】
There is a kind of misery called “I think you’re miserable.” The audience, Wen Ze’s casual fans, and the small number of true fans who had already converted were all in this state.
Gu Chao saw the sticks had all been drawn and tossed his onto the table: 6. Xie Tingyan was 3, Zhou Zichen was 7, Ji Hang was 5, Shen Ruan was 8, Qu Zheng was 4, and Wen Ze was 2.
The “Ask” stick was with Ji Yun.
Gu Chao discovered he was sandwiched between Ji Hang and Zhou Zichen, and his face turned black. Ji Yun wasn’t a person with malicious hobbies who liked to make things difficult; he tilted his head and asked easily: “Since this is a dating show, why doesn’t everyone talk about their ideal type?”
“I’ll go first, then.” Ji Yun tilted his head. The warm, dim lighting specially adjusted by the production team hit his beautiful profile, casting a gentle glow over the cold beauty. It was just like how he used to stand gracefully on those yellowed screens, plucking the heartstrings of everyone.
“I like someone gentle, someone relatively quiet, similar to me. Hobbies can be cultivated, and age isn’t an issue.” Ji Yun laughed, teasing himself: “I’m not that old, surely I should be worthy of the younger ones.”