Chapter Fifty-Six: Call His Name

“They’re currently participating in two different variety shows. You’ll understand everything once you see it.” Xiao Li switched on the office projector and pulled up online clips from “Creation Factory” and “Our Love.”

He started with the highlight reel of Wang Sweetheart from “Creation Factory,” titled: “Strong and Adorable Sweetheart Baby.”

“Hello, everyone! I’m Wang Sweetheart!”

“My favorite is Li Xiangyu’s ‘I’m Your Little Puppy~ Woof woof~’”

“I’m Shudao Mountain!”

Wang Sweetheart’s hand bore a messy three-centimeter gash, her eyes brimming with tears.

Old Qin’s expression shifted from a frown, eyes narrowed, to a state of numb resignation.

After the clip ended, Old Qin sat in silence for a long while.

“What… is this?”

“This is a currently trending variety show…” Xiao Li coughed awkwardly, then played a CP-focused edit of Wang Sweetheart and Little Ao’ao.

A pink filter washed over the screen, accompanied by sweet music.

Veins bulged on Old Qin’s forehead. “Enough! Turn it off!”

The content was simply too much—its impact was beyond what an elderly man could stomach.

He took a gulp of water, rubbed his face vigorously, and finally regained his composure.

“Who’s the second one—Lin Ze?”

“Yes, Lin Ze quickly bonded with the Tongxian Folk Orchestra on the very first day of the show. They’ve now formed a ‘Village Guardians’ band, which has caught the attention of Sichuan TV.”

As Xiao Li spoke, he played Lin Ze’s highlights.

Suddenly, the ubiquitous song “Lotus Pond Moonlight” filled the room.

“This song is sung by Lin Ze?” Old Qin sounded surprised.

“That’s right. In fact, the top five spots on the new song chart are all Lin Ze’s songs.”

After “Lotus Pond Moonlight” ended, “Big Fish” came on.

The two songs visibly soothed Old Qin’s mood.

“Not bad,” he nodded. “What’s Lin Ze’s background?”

“Lin Ze is an artist with Xinghang Media. Barely over a dozen days ago, he was a third-tier star and had been cyberbullied by Zhang Yang’s fans after offending him.”

“One night at a bar, he suddenly confessed to his current girlfriend, and from then on, hit songs just started pouring out of him.”

As Xiao Li spoke, he pulled up a post from the Tongcheng Police’s microblog. “During the filming, he discovered child traffickers. Disguising himself, he single-handedly rescued a kidnapped baby.”

“Hmm?”

At this moment, Xiao Li played Lin Ze’s impassioned speech upon hearing about “Creation Factory.”

Listening to Lin Ze’s stirring words, Old Qin nodded approvingly.

“Good… Well said!”

“The entertainment scene these days is a mess. These celebrities can’t even keep their fans in check—how are they supposed to set a good example?”

Listening to Lin Ze’s words, Old Qin felt a flicker of the youthful passion he once had.

“A man should stand strong.”

“Xiao Li, repost the Tongcheng Police’s microblog. Make sure to call out ‘Creation Factory’ directly. Men should act like men. If children see that kind of thing, the impact could be severe.”

Xiao Li put down the remote. “Understood!”

Before long, the official account of ‘Audio-Visual China’ reposted the microblog.

“A man should stand strong. @CreationFactoryOfficial.”

…

That day, Zhang Yang, having nothing better to do, enjoyed a few drinks and headed over to Director Zheng’s office.

“Director Zheng, how are this week’s numbers?”

Zhang Yang was, after all, the crown prince of Donghuang Entertainment, so Director Zheng dared not offend him.

“This week’s numbers look great—they’re already on par with ‘Our Love.’”

“Hahaha, excellent!” Zhang Yang clapped, thrilled. “And we haven’t even aired the first competition yet! Once the real contests start, won’t we leave Lin Ze and the rest in the dust?”

“Exactly, and it’s largely thanks to your sense for variety, Mr. Zhang,” Director Zheng flattered.

Just then, the assistant director rushed in, shoving a phone in Director Zheng’s face.

“Huh? Qin Shuheng has nothing better to do? Why’s he watching our show?” Director Zheng slapped the table in exasperation.

“Shhh, lower your voice, Director. The show’s so popular lately, it’s normal for Old Qin to notice.”

Director Zheng frowned. The production might have played up the CP angle, but nothing explicit had been shown. The contestants had only put on makeup—nothing unusual for a show or even a drama. At most, they’d skirted the line, not crossed it. Why tag them?

If word spread, “Creation Factory’s” reputation would be ruined.

But Old Qin’s words couldn’t be ignored—he held the ultimate power over radio and television programming. If he decided to ban “Creation Factory,” there’d be trouble.

For now, it was only a tag from the official microblog—a warning. Time to lay low…

“What’s going on?” Zhang Yang asked, puzzled.

“Audio-Visual China just tagged us, reposting the news about Lin Ze catching the child traffickers.” Director Zheng sighed. This was a tough situation.

“What? Let me see.” Zhang Yang grabbed his phone.

He pulled up the Audio-Visual China account.

Their follower count didn’t even compare to his own fanbase. Who did they think they were, making noise here?

While Director Zheng pondered how to weather the storm without losing viewers, the assistant director nearly dropped his phone in shock.

“Oh my god, these fans…”

“What’s wrong?” Director Zheng snatched the phone.

“What are you? Some random marketing account? Look at your pitiful follower count—how dare you try to leech off our boys?”

“Who do you think you are? Lin Ze’s brain-dead fan, huh? Can’t stop bragging about catching a couple traffickers?”

“Who noticed our boy’s hard work? He kept practicing dance through a 40-degree fever! What’s Lin Ze done that compares?”

“Our Xu Shenshen is a basketball athlete who’s trained for two and a half years—he’d crush Lin Ze!”

A barrage of comments quickly flooded the feed.

The venom in contemporary netizens’ words was as ugly as it gets, and this comment section was no exception.

“Quick! Get all the fan leaders to tell everyone to stop commenting!”

Within moments, there were already 999+ new comments. By the time word got out, who knew what would be left of the comment section.

What on earth was happening?

Among the fans, some trolls had slipped in, and the situation was spiraling out of control.

Zhang Yang put away his phone, a cold smile curling at his lips.

“You’re forcing my hand?”

…

At that moment, Xiao Li and Old Qin sat silently, staring at the gold-verified account under the Audio-Visual China post.

Had these fans lost their minds?

“State Administration of Radio and Television”—did those words no longer carry any weight?

“Have them make some corrections. Stop their livestreams until they do, and issue a public notice instructing those celebrities to rein in their fans.”

…

Lin Ze finally got his phone back.

He glanced at Weibo.

In just one week, his followers had surpassed two hundred thousand, an increase of nearly one hundred fifty thousand.

On the new song chart, he held the top five spots.

“Later,” “Those Years,” “Because of Love,” “Lotus Pond Moonlight,” and “Big Fish.”

Beyond those five, “Like You” and “Where Has All the Time Gone” were seventh and ninth, respectively.

Many of these were live versions. Once Lin Ze recorded studio versions, the rankings would likely shift again.

But there was no time now. Lin Ze and Su Zitan were already on their way to the competition in the show’s car.

The Art Troupe Finals!

Today, Su Zitan wouldn’t perform; she’d sit in the audience to cheer for Lin Ze.

Lin Ze had prepared two sets of costumes, and it had taken much persuasion to get the uncles and aunties to wear one of them.

After all, to perform rock, you have to look the part!