The More Tragic I Act, the Stronger I Get — My Fans Beg Me to Stop Killing Off My Roles-Chapter 261: Did the Young Master Take a Hit?
The conference room door closed behind him, shutting out that heavy atmosphere of oppression and conflict.
Jiang Ci walked back to the film set, his mind still echoing Yan Zheng's final words, "We're betting on you," and the scrutiny and expectation in those shrewd old eyes.
The military greatcoat he wore still carried the chill of the interrogation room, yet his heart felt like it was cradling a piece of scorching charcoal. Two extreme emotions clashed violently within him.
He needed a moment of quiet to digest it all, but the night shoot for "The Lurker" crew clearly wasn't going to give him that chance.
The ripples stirred by that proposal about "some artists lacking virtue..." had already spread to the crew. During breaks while adjusting lights and props, staff gathered in small groups, speaking in hushed tones. The core topic was something everyone understood.
"Did you hear? That one with the surname Z, his team has already started releasing promotional articles to warm up the waters."
"Impossible, right? He was caught red-handed back then for drug use. He can still make a comeback?"
"You just don't get it. That's how this circle is. As long as capital wants to protect someone, even the blackest can be washed white."
"Shh, keep your voice down!"
The whispers vanished under Director Hou Hsiao-hsien's unemotional glance. This was the unspoken rule of the industry. Everyone had their own scale of judgment in their hearts, but no one would put that scale out in the open. Self-preservation and binding interests were the laws of survival.
Jiang Ci sat in a chair in the rest area, still draped in that prop military greatcoat. He listened quietly as his assistant, Zhao Zhen, read out the latest developments on Weibo beside him. Chen Mo stood behind him, pushing up his glasses, the lenses reflecting a cold light.
At this moment, the entertainment industry had fallen into an eerie silence. Those big Vs who usually loved to comment on everything were now as silent as cicadas in winter, afraid of getting burned. Only some fans, on the front lines of various social platforms, were frantically trying to whitewash their "gege's" inglorious history. Their logic was absurd, their words venomous.
Zhao Zhen read those comments, his face flushing red with anger. "Are these people crazy? How dare they!"
Jiang Ci didn't speak. He took Zhao Zhen's phone. The screen's light illuminated his pale, bloodless face. He scrolled. Until he stopped at a top-rated hot comment. It was from a user with a cartoon avatar of the Z-surname top star.
"Our gege pays tens of millions in taxes every year, providing for so many people."
"A narcotics officer only earns a few thousand a month. What right do they have to arrest him? They're really holding our gege back from his career."
That line of text on the phone screen stabbed into Jiang Ci's heart.
Tens of millions.
A few thousand.
Two numbers, placed so lightly on opposite ends of a scale, weighing the value of life.
He remembered the day his mother received the pension, sitting alone in the empty living room, her back shaking with silent sobs.
Those uncles who sacrificed themselves, their tombstones didn't even have a clear photo.
Zhao Zhen was still ranting indignantly beside him.
Chen Mo remained silent.
People came and went on the set, busy with their tasks.
Jiang Ci's fingertip lightly tapped the screen.
He opened Weibo's edit box.
That familiar, empty white interface.
His fingers were trembling.
It was rage.
A fury that surged uncontrollably from his very bloodline.
He didn't plan on a long essay.
Reasoning was the most powerless action against this filth.
He took out his own phone, logged into Weibo.
He typed a few characters on the screen.
[xyxl]
Tap.
Send.
He leaned back into the chair again, closed his eyes, as if he had just casually replied to an unimportant message.
Zhao Zhen hadn't reacted yet. He looked down at Jiang Ci's phone screen.
The next second.
"Bro! You!"
He held the phone, his hand shaking uncontrollably, unable to form a complete sentence.
Chen Mo leaned over from behind Jiang Ci, glanced at the screen, and his eyes behind the lenses contracted sharply.
This Weibo post was a bomb dropped into a stagnant pond.
Then, in less than fifteen minutes.
Reposts broke fifty thousand.
Comments broke ten thousand.
The number of likes was skyrocketing at a visible, frantic pace.
The entertainment industry exploded.
Those watching peers, talent agencies, media platforms, upon seeing the Weibo post, had only two words left in their minds.
Madman.
"Is Jiang Ci truly insane, or is his backing so strong we don't know about it? He's betting his own life to provoke the entire capital circle!"
"He doesn't understand the rules, really doesn't! He wants to drag the entire industry down with him!"
Some private group chats were filled with curses, mockery, and schadenfreude.
On the front lines, the Z-surname top star's shockingly combative fans completed their mobilization in less than half an hour and flooded into Jiang Ci's Weibo comment section.
They began spewing the most vicious insults and curses.
Various photoshopped memorial portraits and bloody images instantly occupied the top comments.
999+ private messages flooded Jiang Ci's inbox.
[You, this bottom-tier nobody, dare to ride on our gege's coattails!]
[What do you think you are? Are you even worthy of mentioning our gege?]
...
Jiang Ci didn't look at his phone again. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦
Zhao Zhen was shaking all over with anger at those malicious comments, his eyes rimmed red.
Chen Mo, expressionless, took out his phone and calmly began taking screenshots as evidence of the most vicious comments.
Just as Zhao Zhen was getting so anxious he was about to call the police, a commotion arose at the entrance to the film set.
Lin Wan walked in, wearing a sharply tailored black suit, ten-centimeter stiletto heels, her long hair tied back, radiating a powerful aura. Behind her followed Spark Media's perpetually worried-looking Public Relations Director. The director's face wasn't just pale now; it was deathly white.
Lin Wan ignored all the probing glances.
She also ignored Producer Zhang Wang's attempt to approach.
She strode directly through the chaotic film set,
her target clear: the rest area where Jiang Ci sat.
Her high heels clicked on the concrete floor with a "tap, tap, tap" sound.
Each tap felt like it landed on Zhao Zhen's heart.
It's over.
Those two words were all that remained in Zhao Zhen's mind.
Ci-ge, this time, is probably really going to poke a hole in the sky.
Lin Wan stopped in front of Jiang Ci, her chest rising and falling slightly from her hurried pace.
Her gaze swept over Jiang Ci with lightning speed—that prop military greatcoat still bearing mottled "bloodstains,"
that face pale to the extreme from anger and exhaustion,
and those eyes that showed not a single trace of regret even in the face of overwhelming public opinion.
She remembered the call from the PR director a few hours ago, the man almost in tears, saying Jiang Ci had stirred up a massive hornet's nest.
She remembered when she signed this "oddball,"
what she saw in him was that stubbornness in his bones, so out of place in this circle.
Spark Media signed a future Film Emperor, a flesh-and-blood "human being."
If she couldn't even protect him from a bit of wind and rain, what kind of boss was she, Lin Wan?
A complex, hard-to-read emotion flickered across her face.
Then, she suddenly turned her head to look at the deathly pale PR director behind her, her tone serious.
"Notify the legal department. Screenshot and archive evidence for every user ID in the comment section engaging in personal attacks or posting photoshopped memorial portraits."
"Every single one. Send lawyer's letters to all of them! Then contact all the marketing accounts we maintain and our cooperative media outlets. I want to see promotional articles within half an hour!"
The PR director's legs went weak, he almost stumbled, and hurried off to make the calls.
After handling all that, Lin Wan finally turned back,
looking down at Jiang Ci in the chair from her superior position.
Her red lips parted slightly, but what came out was:
"Feel better after venting?"
"If you're not satisfied yet, I'll have the PR department continue, in the company's name."
