The Misfortune of Lens 06

Liu Wei also saw the video that quickly topped the trending list.

His entire body went weak.

This guy’s a pro.

The thought flashed through his mind, but the next moment, Liu Wei shook his head. Impossible. How could some middle-aged man know this stuff?

But Fang Zhiyi’s final apology only served to reignite the fury of netizens.

The comments section was flooded with apologies.

“Uncle Fang, I just slapped myself twice. I’m such a scumbag.”

“No! Let her keep the stall open! I’ll bring my boyfriend to eat there every day—if he refuses, we’re breaking up!”

“That’s all the profit they make? Seriously?”

“What did you expect? Fresh beef isn’t cheap. Frozen stuff would be cheaper.”

“Damn you, Liu Wei! I’ve decided—from now on, I’m camping in your comments section.”

“Liu Wei, ID number: XXXXXXXXXXX.”

That same day, opportunists flocked to Fang Xiaoyu’s stall, snapping photos of the torn plastic banner with the caption: “She’s really gone.”

“Wei, pay me my wages. I quit,” the cameraman said.

Liu Wei’s eyes were bloodshot, his expression like a bear trapped in a pit.

“What wages? Huh? Everyone’s rebelling now?” He panted heavily. “You’re sitting on massive traffic and don’t even know how to capitalize on it? No wonder you’ll be stuck working for others forever!”

The cameraman, already resentful, shot back, “Traffic? The platform’s stepped in—your account’s banned!”

Liu Wei shook his head. “Impossible. If the main account’s gone, I’ll make a new one! I refuse to believe I won’t bounce back! People have short memories!”

“I don’t care about that. Just pay me.”

Soon, others arrived—all demanding their wages. They knew Liu Wei was finished.

“You? You useless bunch! If you weren’t so amateur, I’d have blown up ages ago!” Liu Wei vented his rage at them.

But he didn’t realize his every move was being live-streamed by a new intern. Seeing the flood of backlash, the intern had a sudden stroke of inspiration and hit “Go Live.”

“What do these netizens know? I’ve made so many videos for them—they should be worshipping me!”

“Liu Wei, wake up. The other vendors you maliciously edited have already exposed you.”

“Enough talk. Pay up!”

The argument escalated into a physical fight. Liu Wei, outnumbered, was pinned down and beaten. The intern’s stream was abruptly cut off by the platform.

Shaking his head, the intern stepped forward and kicked Liu Wei twice for good measure.

Soon, the whole group was hauled to the police station.

Meanwhile, Fang Zhiyi’s comment section kept growing—questions, comfort, apologies—but he didn’t respond.

Days later, he posted another video: Fang Xiaoyu, grinning brightly as she hoed a field, looking like she genuinely loved farming.

“Wow, I can’t believe this girl knows how to farm.”

“I… I think I’m becoming a fan.”

“Woke up too fast. Saw a pretty girl farming. Going back to sleep.”

“Damn, she’s really skilled at this.”

Fang Zhiyi captioned it: “My ancestors were farmers. We love this land—and so does she.”

The comments overflowed with praise and blessings.

Fang Zhiyi squinted at the backend data, smiling.

Since returning home, Fang Xiaoyu had been kept busy with tasks, leaving no time for her phone. Fang Zhiyi knew she was juggling real-life chores and her virtual farm game.

Clueless about her online fame, she reveled in farming, happily posing for her father’s camera.

“Dad, once I’m an influencer, I’ll build you a big house! Maybe even find you a wife!”

Fang Zhiyi laughed and scolded her, thinking, Little do you know you’re already famous.

Fang Xiaoyu didn’t know. She’d used her dad’s money to order supplies—fencing, lumber, even drafting plans to renovate their old home. Buried in blueprints, her eyes sparkled with excitement. She even had her dad look up info for her—since he had free time anyway.

The fruit trees in her virtual farm were already blooming, while the newly planted ones on the hill struggled. Fang Xiaoyu fretted. The vegetables, at least, grew fast under Fang Zhiyi’s guidance. She’d learned pest control, fertilizing, even took meticulous notes.

Just as she was stressing, Fang Zhiyi posted again.

Netizens watched Fang Xiaoyu, straw hat on head, patiently deworming crops, and sighed wistfully.

“I wanna quit my job and farm too.”

“You? Okay, tell me what crop this is.”

“Sobs She’s my new comfort creator.”

“Xiaoyu’s so pretty—even squatting in a field. It’s hard to explain.”

“That’s the beauty of labor. (Though she is naturally cute.)”

Fang Zhiyi stuck to his plan: no ads, no narration, just raw clips of their conversations and Fang Xiaoyu’s daily tasks.

One day, she fixed the house. The next, fertilized trees. Then, she bought a tractor and learned to drive it.

Every video earned overwhelming praise.

Unbeknownst to her, Fang Xiaoyu was thriving online—while Liu Wei kept getting dragged back into the spotlight.

True to his word, Liu Wei spammed new accounts. But netizens remembered his words. Each account was mass-reported. His infamy left him unemployable.

Living like a guerrilla, his team disbanded after the beating. Now, he scraped by on savings.

As the fruits neared harvest, Fang Xiaoyu grew restless. At dinner, she finally spoke up.

“Dad, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Fang Zhiyi smiled. “I’ve got something to tell you too.”

They stared, then spoke in unison:

“You first?”

“Me first?”

“No, you go.”

Chuckling, Fang Zhiyi pulled out his phone. “Here, my influencer daughter—check your account.”

Fang Xiaoyu froze, taking the phone. She knew he filmed her, but farming videos? Who’d watch those?

Then she saw it: millions of followers.

“Dad, you—you—”

Fang Zhiyi’s eyes twinkled.

“How much did you spend on fake followers? Don’t waste the house sale money!”

Rolling his eyes, Fang Zhiyi sighed. “Can’t you tell real from fake?”