Chapter 17: 017

In a university dorm room.

Zhao Lin had gone eight hundred rounds of verbal sparring with her roommate, yet she still insisted that Song Guiya hadn’t used a wire harness.

A computer science major, she’d scrutinized the video frame by frame. No edits. No special effects.

“Look closely—she really can fly!” Zhao Lin relentlessly replayed the decoded footage on her laptop, again and again.

Her roommate had only been messing around at first, tossing out a casual jab after spotting the hot search: As expected of the Black-Red Little Flower, always pulling off the most absurd stunts.

But Zhao Lin overheard and took it personally, hell-bent on proving Song Guiya wasn’t faking anything.

Who knew what had gotten into her.

After a solid half-hour of this torment, her roommate went utterly speechless. She pulled the toothbrush from her mouth and mumbled, “Weren’t you one of Song Guiya’s anti-fans before? What happened to suddenly defending her?”

Zhao Lin deflated in an instant. Memories of her youthful folly flooded back, regret twisting her face.

If only she’d realized sooner what a gentle, kind soul Song Guiya was—she never would’ve done those awful things!

In hindsight, none of the so-called “dirt” splashed across the internet online held any real weight. No solid proof.

A veteran of fandom circles, Zhao Lin knew her share of entertainment industry secrets. She was convinced Song Guiya had been deliberately packaged by her old agency as a foil for others.

Sure, she’d cleaned up her image somewhat after signing with Kejin Entertainment, but without solid resources or standout works, those deep-seated prejudices lingered.

Whatever the case, after that unexpected brush last time, Zhao Lin had decisively jumped ship. Now she was Song Guiya’s one and only die-hard fan.

Call it investing early or grooming a fave—whatever.

Rumors be damned; she trusted her own eyes over hearsay any day.

Even if the whole world turned against Song Guiya, she’d stand right behind her. Believing. Supporting.

With that silent vow sealed, Zhao Lin clutched her laptop and scrambled up to her bunk, yanking the bed curtain shut tight.

A split second later, a furious staccato of keystrokes erupted from within.

It sounded ferocious.

Her roommate stared, dumbfounded.

Had the girl lost her mind?

Shoving the toothbrush back between her teeth, the roommate shook her head with a sigh. Chasing stars was terrifying. She would never, ever get into that.

Zhao Lin pulled up her browser. The top hot search still blazed: [Song Guiya Can Fly].

The comments scrolling below, though? Pure poison.

In the Dance Unlimited grand finals, Song Guiya’s Group B had clinched victory with a flawless performance—capped by her jaw-dropping Flying Heaven Dance that left the crowd stunned.

By all rights, she should’ve been riding a wave of new fans straight to stardom.

But something this wild? It backfired hard, igniting a firestorm of controversy.

Making matters worse, eagle-eyed netizens unearthed clips from the program crew’s routine training vlogs.

In one Group B interview snippet, the choreographer had stressed that the performance’s big moves would go completely wire-free—to deliver a stage of pure sincerity.

What the audience didn’t know: that statement assumed Song Guiya’s flying stunt would have assistance.

Except now, she’d launched straight up from flat ground. No help. No props.

Even the choreographer hadn’t seen it coming. Had they known she could pull it off, Group B never would’ve flirted with forfeiting.

Netizens, however, smelled a rat. They branded it a blatant collab between Song Guiya and the program crew—a fake hype machine to dupe the masses for clicks.

“Now C-ent really thinks we’re all idiots? Song Guiya was obviously on wires, spouting that sincerity crap. Gross.”

“Don’t tell me the live crowd didn’t spot the wires. Planted shills, probably.”

“A ratings black hole of a show, and finals tickets sell out in seconds? Sure.”

“Got to hand it to them—the finals stage was legit fire. Every group brought surprises. I was hyped for Li Xingruo in Group B, but damn if Song Crow didn’t steal the show. Nailed every move with that ancient flair. The cliff ascent? Only lightness skill explains it (doge).”

“Shaolin Martial School alum here. Lightness skill? Edible? (cat).”

“Pure passerby, martial arts buff, ancient styles specialist. This celeb’s got real basics, but it’s all flash, no substance. Lightness skill’s been dead for ages—name only. Yeah, pros can do wall-running basics, but this level of nuts? First time seeing it. Mind blown.”

“Expert above confirms: humans don’t fly. Spread the word.”

“Case closed. Program crew’s hit rock bottom. Song Crow, GTFO of the industry!”

By the time Zhao Lin scrolled to that, she was livid—blood pressure spiking through the roof for someone so young.

These people, just spewing nonsense?

Just as she grabbed her keyboard, ready to dive into a fierce online battle, a marketing account suddenly released a video that shot straight to second place on the hot search list.

【Monday Gathering: Shocking? 18th-Tier Actress Beats Thugs Late at Night! [Video]】

The video had 20 reposts, 4 comments, and 0 likes.

Any experienced netizen could spot at a glance that the hot search had been bought, but that didn’t stop them from eagerly devouring the drama.

18th-tier actress. Late night. Thugs.

Each phrase seemed utterly ordinary on its own, but together, they leaped out like a neon sign in the dark.

Zhao Lin felt a faint, uneasy premonition stirring inside her.

It wasn’t until she tapped the video and spotted a familiar figure that her hunch proved all too correct.

Three minutes later, the entire internet erupted.

“Holy shit? That masked woman in the video—it’s Song Guiya, isn’t it?!”

“Yeah, it’s her. I’m the one who filmed it. She came into the convenience store wearing a mask to buy stuff, and I recognized her.”

“Real or fake? She gets harassed and fights back—one against three? Those three bruisers look like they could crush me with a pinky finger. How the hell does she have the guts?”

“The video has sound. Sounds like a real scrap.”

“Any chance… this is all scripted?”

“Come on, obviously fake. They even bought the hot search. Song Crow’s team must be trying to craft her a badass heroine image—total setup.”

“Those three goons played their parts well. Next time, don’t bother; you’re embarrassing all men.”

Zhao Lin had barely had a moment to celebrate—this video might finally prove Song Guiya knew Lightness Skill—when the netizens started piling on with mockery. She rolled up her sleeves and jumped into the fray.

“First of all, someone already confirmed it: the convenience store clerk shot the video.”

“Second, it’s clearly a sneaky phone cam. They only blurred the girl on the bench who got harassed—the rest is one continuous take, no edits. Forget how Song Guiya pulled off such fluid moves; just look at the fight itself. Every punch connects hard. Those three guys are all messed up, noses gushing blood. What extra takes a real beating like that?”

“Pfft, offer enough cash, and extras will line up for it.”

“Exactly. You think extras have it easy? Scrapes and bruises are part of feeding the family. Not like pampered celebs.”

“Bro, checked your profile—Hengdian extra. Rough gig.”

“Aw, it’s just scraping by.”

“[Thumbs up][Thumbs up]”

Zhao Lin: ……