Years later.
Little Cannon was attending a gala.
Just as he stepped off the stage, his assistant came rushing over in a panic.
"Director Feng, Director Feng..."
A Cantonese veteran singer nearby instinctively chimed in, singing a line from an old hit: "Strike the south first! The wind... scatters dreams!"
"..."
"..."
The scene fell into awkward silence.
Even a bit chilly.
The singer quickly nodded in apology and hurried away.
Pretty embarrassing.
Damn it.
Our dashing guy rarely makes a comeback, and the first thing he encounters is this mess. Who’s to blame?
Only the song’s overwhelming popularity back in the day.
It’s ingrained in everyone’s bones, okay?
Especially since the assistant’s frantic, high-pitched tone matched the opening of Let Everything Go with the Wind.
...
Little Cannon didn’t dwell on it.
Mainly because his assistant was too flustered.
"What’s the matter?"
"Director Feng, it’s bad, really bad!"
"I can damn well tell from your face, so stop yapping and get to the point," Little Cannon snapped.
The assistant finally calmed down a bit.
But what the assistant didn’t know was that Little Cannon was already considering replacing him.
This assistant had only been with him for two or three years. He was handy and sharp-eyed, but his jumpy personality, fine in private, felt downright embarrassing in public.
If word got out, people might think Boss Cannon couldn’t manage his team or mentor his staff—basically, incompetent.
...
The assistant quickly explained the situation.
Little Cannon was stunned. "What? My Weibo and short videos got bombed?"
"No."
"Someone’s targeting me on a large scale?"
"No."
"Damn it..."
Little Cannon was furious.
He was getting on in years and hadn’t suffered many setbacks lately.
The only real trouble he’d faced was from Young Master Cao.
Even now, Young Master Cao rarely singled him out, even when promoting films—no longer fixated on tormenting him alone.
After finally enjoying a few peaceful years in his twilight, why was he suddenly under attack again?
These youngsters nowadays don’t know how to respect their elders.
Every Tom, Dick, and Harry thinks they can mess with his accounts.
Little Cannon growled, "Who started this?"
"It’s... it’s Cao Cheng’s fans."
"Damn that Cao—wait, Cao Cheng? Who’s Cao Cheng?"
The words slipped out before his expression shifted. "Young Master Cao?"
The assistant nodded hurriedly.
This assistant was young, having only worked under Little Cannon for a few years.
He’d never met Young Master Cao or witnessed the history between him and Little Cannon, but he’d heard bits and pieces.
He just couldn’t tell whether they were genuine rivals, sworn enemies, or old friends who’d bonded through conflict.
Hard to say.
Little Cannon’s lips moved, cursing under his breath, but no sound escaped.
After a moment, he waved it off. "Forget them. I’ve got a packed schedule—no time for petty squabbles."
"..."
The assistant’s mouth twitched. "Right, right. I’ll arrange the car then."
Little Cannon dismissed him with a wave.
Once the assistant was gone and no one was around, Little Cannon stealthily pulled out his phone and checked his platforms.
He had no clue what was happening.
And he wasn’t about to investigate in front of his subordinates—what if he couldn’t retaliate later? That’d be humiliating.
So now, in private, he scrolled through the online chaos.
After some digging, he realized Young Master Cao wasn’t really involved.
It was just fans stirring trouble, spreading word about the movie’s end credits to new fans.
Some busybodies actually went back to check.
That’s when they noticed the post-credits acknowledgment of Young Master Cao—fulfilling the bet—along with that cringeworthy line: Young Master Cao is the most handsome...
But it flashed by at the very end, almost as soon as it appeared.
...
Which was why fans were pissed.
They called Little Cannon sneaky—if you can’t honor a bet, why make it?
Squeezing every loophole to fulfill it? No wonder they say you’ve got a small heart... and other small things.
That’s what some fans said.
Probably venting Young Master Cao’s anger for him, straight-up roasting Little Cannon.
They claimed his nose, face, aura, even his walk—everything screamed small package.
Damn it.
That’s crossing the line.
Little Cannon laughed in fury.
If these weren’t Young Master Cao’s fans, he’d have... whatever, no point arguing with tasteless fangirls.
Even if I am small, I still get whatever I want.
Pfft!
...
But Little Cannon knew he had to respond.
Otherwise,
these fangirls would never let it go.
Ordinary fans might curse him a few times and move on.
But Young Master Cao’s fans were different—once they targeted someone, they’d hound them into existential crisis.
Especially the older ones. No swearing, no family insults—just clever little stories, never naming names.
Sometimes their analyses were scarily accurate.
Like the small package theory.
No legal recourse there.
Resigned, Little Cannon called his PR head to draft a response.
Future movies would acknowledge Young Master Cao right at the start—
Let everyone hear him call Young Master Cao handsome.
Happy now?
Damn it.
Little Cannon was exasperated.
Though he used to find it humiliating, now he barely cared.
...
Because the world was entering an era of entertainment. People were more accepting.
Even state media.
Unless it was a matter of principle, folks were incredibly tolerant.
Everyone loved jokes.
Could take a joke, too.
A great time for filmmakers.
In this era, even if you screwed up, people wouldn’t curse your entire family or wish death upon you—just some lighthearted sarcasm.
This "cyberbullying" was miles better than before.
Back then, it was genuine curses, mom insults, ancestors dragged through mud—even real-life assaults on actors who played villains.
Now?
Many villains had fanbases. Audiences separated actors from roles.
The more hate a character drew, the more support the actor got—proof of their skill.
What a difference.
...
But.
Many people, even companies, hadn’t fully grasped this entertainment era.
Those who did? Already raking in profits.
Take the brand Baleno.
They leaned into Old Huang’s infamous "country bumpkin" dig—the one that nearly sank them—and it drew flocks of new buyers.
That’s understanding the times.
Others?
Like Brother Kun.
Embraced self-mockery, memes—blew up nationwide.
But...
Some Brother Kuns.
Like the no-skills singer.
Misread the era, got roasted by memes...
Sure, the trolls went too far.
But his response? Out of touch.
Invited even more sarcasm.
Fans these days love to meme everything.
Of course,
you can't really say whether this era is good or bad.
Everyone has their own definition.
But Xiao Gangpao knows—he’s sharp enough to recognize when to lean into self-deprecation and meme culture.
Especially as an entertainer or director.
Fans eat it up when you poke fun at yourself or play along with the jokes.
At the end of the day, it’s about making a living.
Nothing to be ashamed of!
ive and Ruthless] Before his transmigration, Ye Xuan was playing a game called "Severing Emotions to Attain the Dao." The game's core wasn't about leveling up by fighting monsters, but about conquering various "bad women" with wicked personalities and cold, fickle natures. There was only one method to conquer them: stay unwaveringly by their side, then die at a critical moment, driving them to madness after losing the protagonist. The higher their level of regret, the higher the player's score. To dominate the server, Ye Xuan conquered all the bad women. In the early stages, he showered them with boundless tenderness, only to choose to sacrifice himself for them later, making them weep bitterly and drown in regret. Among them were: Xia Lengyue, the unfaithful immortal wife who chased after powerful men and discarded her husband like trash. Ye Qingcheng, the Demonic Venerable of the Joyous Union Sect, who appeared pure and innocent but was, in reality, promiscuous. Wu Lingxiao, the Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, who lusted after men and loved maintaining a harem. Bai Qiangu of the Endless Demonic Sect: a bloodthirsty mass murderer. However, when the protagonist transmigrated into the game world, he made a horrifying discovery. Eight hundred years had already passed. The bad women he had conquered had now each become deities and revered ancestors. Faced with the endless stream of toxic women coming for him, Ye Xuan could only rely on his god-tier acting skills to carve a path of survival through this world of treacherous women.
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
lan, the Luo family, tracked him down - along with the babies in their arms. Mo Xuan stared pensively at the paternity test results from over a dozen top institutions, both domestic and international, showing a 99.99% match between himself and the two baby girls. At 23, Mo Xuan, a doctoral student, had become the father of two three-year-old children. The kicker? The mothers weren't even the same person! He gradually realized he was being lured step by step into an elaborate trap designed by these two yandere sisters. "Be good, little Xuan. Sister's life belongs to you entirely." "Brother, if you try to run away, I'll have no choice but to tie you up." Mo Xuan: "Do whatever you want, ladies. I give up."
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
