Xiao Deng never expected there to actually be a connection.
Legally speaking, if someone had provided care and education before he came of age, they should bear the responsibility of support.
“But… what he said…”
Reason told her that Song Xun wasn’t that kind of person, yet human nature is hard to read. As a fresh, naive college student just starting out, her ability to judge people truly wasn’t up to par.
Arguing further was pointless. Song Xun pulled up the transfer records from the original owner’s WeChat to Liu Fumin, along with evidence that he had been raised almost entirely by his mother before coming of age. This stepfather, aside from drunkenly beating and scolding him, had never fulfilled any responsibility.
He had no idea what the original owner was thinking, giving so much money to this stepfather. In any case, he wouldn’t give him a single cent—even if it went to court, he was in the right.
“See? I think I’ve already gone above and beyond for this bloodsucker.”
Looking at the dense list of transfer records, Xiao Deng couldn’t help but sigh, feeling truly fortunate herself.
Even though she had started working, her parents, knowing her salary wasn’t high, never asked her for money. Instead, they often helped her out.
“Brother Song, you’ve really had it tough.”
Xiao Deng’s eyes were filled with sympathy, but Song Xun shook his head—this matter had to be settled sooner or later.
Liu Fumin’s livestream was being shared repeatedly, growing more intense by the day. Bystanders looking for drama multiplied, not caring whether it was true or not—as long as there was a spectacle to watch. Who cared about the truth? They only wanted to see what they hoped for.
The company’s PR team was highly effective. Within two hours, they issued a statement in the company’s name debunking the rumors. They acknowledged that Liu Fumin and Song Xun were stepfather and stepson but clarified that Song Xun had not refused to support Liu Fumin. They even released the transfer records from the past few years.
Soon, public opinion swung entirely in Song Xun’s favor.
But the very next day, some troublemakers pointed out that all those transfer records were from earlier years, suggesting that Song Xun hadn’t been fulfilling his support obligations to Liu Fumin recently.
[“No matter what, Song Xun should still support the elderly. He did it for a few years, then just stopped? That’s like saying if you ate yesterday, you don’t need to eat today.”]
[“No wonder it seemed off—all the records are from before, meaning he hasn’t been giving money recently.”]
[“What does it matter if he’s a stepfather? As long as he raised Song Xun, he should be supported.”]
[“Hey, who knows if those records are fake? Photoshop is so advanced these days—could be edited.”]
The online criticism flared up again, with everyone accusing Song Xun of living the high life while ignoring his stepfather’s plight.
Anything related to filial piety or moral character was dragged out to criticize him.
Sister Zhang looked at the comments, rubbing her temples with a headache.
The heat had died down just yesterday, and a specialized team had been brought in to handle it. How had the situation escalated like this in just one day?
A man past fifty, with no power or influence—how could he stir up such a storm?
Sister Zhang pondered for a long time before picking up her phone and calling Song Xun.
“Hey, are you okay?”
His voice sounded hoarse on the other end, as if he were exhausted.
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
“Do you have any evidence of Liu Fumin abusing you in the past? Photos, written records—anything. Or anything related to your… mom.”
Sister Zhang was well aware of Song Xun’s family background and knew that his mother remained a painful subject he was reluctant to bring up. But now, it had to be addressed—better to endure short-term pain than let it linger.
“I’ll look into it, but I’ll have to find a time when Liu Fumin isn’t around.”
The weather was unusually clear, with not a cloud in sight.
As the center of public attention, Song Xun had found a rare moment of free time to go fishing in the suburbs.
He returned to his usual spot, put on his sunglasses, baited the hook, and cast the line with a practiced flick. Then came the quiet waiting.
Sister Zhang had advised him to rest at home for a few days and avoid using his phone, especially social media like Weibo, to spare himself the annoyance of seeing all the gossip.
He understood she meant well and agreed obediently.
Since staying home wasn’t an option, he decided to go fishing instead.
After a while, two more people arrived nearby. He didn’t pay them much mind until one of them struck up a conversation.
“Well, young man, long time no see!”
Song Xun lowered his sunglasses and recognized them—the two elderly gentlemen he’d met last time.
“Yeah, I’ve been pretty busy lately,” he replied with a smile.
The two were just as he remembered—one cheerful and talkative, the other more reserved.
Xiao Mu enthusiastically invited Song Xun to join them and mentioned that Yan He had actually caught a fish using the method Song Xun had suggested last time.
Despite the age gap, the three of them hit it off surprisingly well, chatting without any generational barriers.
Yan He chimed in occasionally, but most of the conversation flowed between Xiao Mu and Song Xun.
“Young man, let’s exchange contact info. We can go fishing together sometime,” Xiao Mu suggested cheerfully.
Having held high positions for years, he never put on airs and simply enjoyed making friends.
Song Xun was more than happy to agree. The two took out their phones and added each other on WeChat. Yan He, standing to the side, cleared his throat softly. He was too reserved to ask directly, but Xiao Mu, having known him for so long, understood immediately and turned back to Song Xun.
“Almost forgot about my old friend here, haha! Come on, since we’ve met, it’s fate.”
“Haha, absolutely! May I ask how I should address you two?”
Being called “brother” pleased them both—who wouldn’t like to feel younger? —though they modestly brushed it off.
“We’re old enough to be your uncles, and you’re calling us ‘brother’?”
“Since we’re friends now, why bother with formalities? It feels awkward.”
Xiao Mu and Yan He found this reasoning sound and introduced themselves. Song Xun reciprocated, and the three of them almost felt like sworn brothers.
When asked about their professions, they simply said they were in business. Song Xun, too embarrassed to admit he was an actor—especially without any notable works to his name—said he dabbled in self-media and livestreaming.
“Oh, I get it! You young people call that being an ‘internet celebrity,’ right?”
Song Xun nodded without hesitation.
Well, it wasn’t entirely wrong.
His two new “brothers” didn’t look down on his line of work as “unserious.” Instead, they thought it was trendy and believed young people should explore different paths.
As evening approached and the sun began to set, Song Xun headed home right on schedule.
After bidding farewell to his two new friends, he picked up his small bucket, hopped on a shared bike, and pedaled away, his silhouette gradually disappearing into the sunset.
After riding for nearly half an hour, he parked the shared bike and was about to enter his neighborhood when he spotted a familiar figure.
Here again.
After causing trouble in his last live stream, Liu Fumin didn’t get a single cent. He thought he had no way to deal with Song Xun anymore, but unexpectedly, a golden opportunity fell from the sky. Someone approached him, saying that as long as he continued to live stream and play the victim, portraying Song Xun as a despicable villain, he would receive a sum of money.
He even got the deposit upfront.
After all, he was just an unemployed loafer who usually relied on Song Xun for money. Now that Song Xun wasn’t paying anymore, he figured he’d switch tracks. As long as there was money, anything was possible.
As soon as he started the live stream, Liu Fumin threw himself on the ground again, wailing and crying.
With a few more days of practice, he could probably become a professional scammer.
Song Xun clenched his fists, watching as even the security guards couldn’t do anything about him. They had chased him away several times, but he kept shamelessly coming back.
Hiding behind the bushes, Song Xun had planned to wait until the old man gave up before heading home. But today, Liu Fumin was unusually persistent, stubbornly lingering even after dark.
The security guard rolled his eyes several times.
“Sir, if you have any grievances, please go to the police station. What’s the point of shouting here? We can’t do anything about it.”
Upon hearing this, Liu Fumin immediately stopped his wailing and waved his hand dismissively. “What do you know? I’m waiting for that brat Song Xun to show up. I won’t leave until he pays me.”
With that, he quickly resumed his act.
It was a shame his acting skills weren’t being put to use in the entertainment industry.
Damn, was Liu Fumin planning to camp out here all night? The thought made Song Xun want to rush over and beat him up. Of course, he could only think about it—this was a society governed by law, and he wouldn’t actually do it. Unless he really couldn’t hold back.
Left with no choice, he decided to spend the night at a hotel.
After taking a shower, Song Xun opened the live stream again and found that Liu Fumin had indeed stayed outside the entrance all day, even buying a tent.
The security guard was quite diligent, warning Liu Fumin in the middle of the night with a baton in hand that he couldn’t set up a tent at the entrance of the residential area. But where there’s a will, there’s a way. Without a word, Liu Fumin dragged his tent to a spot 500 meters away from the neighborhood.
He had figured out the security guard’s temperament—he might seem intimidating, but he wouldn’t dare to actually do anything to him.
With the live stream still running, Liu Fumin didn’t care and just lay down in his tent to sleep.
[Oh my, this poor old man, life is so hard for him.]
[This breaks my heart. @Song Xun, stop pretending to be dead.]
[@Song Xun, get out of the entertainment industry!]
[@Song Xun, get out of the entertainment industry!]
It seemed he needed to hurry and go to the original owner’s old home to look for any evidence.
The hotel bed was soft, but Song Xun was a bit particular about beds and couldn’t fall asleep no matter what. He tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position.
The new episode of the show had already started filming, but he couldn’t go because of all this mess. The more he thought about it, the harder it was to sleep.
[Mo Heng: Why didn’t you come?]
Song Xun was a bit surprised—this was the first time Mo Heng had contacted him.
[Song Xun: I ran into some trouble. I’ll be back as soon as I deal with it.]
[Mo Heng: Is there anything I can do to help?]
[Song Xun: No, no, I can handle it myself.]
After a long while without a reply, Song Xun thought Mo Heng had already gone to sleep. But the next second, Mo Heng called him.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was a bit muffled and quiet, just like Mo Heng’s usual tone.
“Are you really okay? I saw online that everyone is…”
“Everyone is cursing me?”
Mu Heng fell silent.
He had been criticized online before, with all sorts of harsh words thrown at him, but he couldn’t bear to see Song Xun being attacked. It made him feel so upset that he couldn’t find the words to express it.
As a public figure, every word and action was laid bare without any privacy. Song Xun didn’t care about what people said online—they didn’t know the truth, and their ignorant insults only harmed their own karma, unable to affect him.
“Aren’t you supposed to get up early tomorrow for the assessment? You should get some rest.”
“It feels a bit strange without you here.”