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!
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."
ng to die together with you." Lin Xuan is dead, his body thrown into the river by his scumbag lover and her accomplice. She, the president of the Su Group, is decisive, ruthless, and ice-cold. For three days and three nights, she had his body fished out of the river, and without hesitation, she kissed the bloated corpse of Lin Xuan. She laid down beside him in a cold coffin, their fingers intertwined, a smile lingering on her lips as she closed her eyes. The noble and cold-hearted woman, only bending for one man—Lin Xuan. Lin Xuan, with his golden finger, is reborn and returns to the day of his wedding to the treacherous woman. Su Qiang comes to steal the bride. Lin Xuan's eyes light up, eager to pledge his loyalty on the spot, but instead, her kiss transfers a glass of drugged wine into his mouth, causing him to pass out... 【Male Protagonist with Single Female Lead】【Yandere Tycoon】【Action-Packed】【True vs. Fake Heir】
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
