Gao Wenhao was absolutely furious at how things had turned out. He had spent so much time planning this whole scheme, yet Zhou Yi managed to turn public opinion around in less than a day? Not only that, but he even gained sympathy and adoration from everyone! This was not the outcome Gao Wenhao had anticipated at all!
Fuming, Gao Wenhao hurled his phone to the ground and cursed angrily, "How can these netizens be so stupid? They’re all just fooled by Zhou Yi’s fake persona!"
The man beside him calmly lit a cigarette and exhaled. "I told you not to rush it. You were too eager to expose him. If we had waited longer, we might have gathered more evidence."
Gao Wenhao grabbed his hair in frustration. "I just couldn’t stand seeing him act so arrogantly! I still haven’t gotten revenge for what happened last time. I refuse to accept this!"
Hu Yi shook his head. "See? Acting in haste just ended up benefiting him. His livestream is going to attract even more fans. All our money was wasted."
"Uncle! Then shouldn’t we think of another way? Are we just going to let him get away with this?"
"At least for now, there’s nothing we can do. Once he enters the entertainment industry, we’ll find a way."
From afternoon till night, Zhou Yi gained two million new followers.
Now, Zhou Yi’s fan count had reached 3.97 million—real, active fans, though some were undoubtedly just there for the drama.
The comments under his explanatory Weibo post exceeded 100,000, with over 100,000 reposts. Kong Huaijin flexed her financial power, ensuring that every major influencer account was reposting it.
By 10 PM, news of Zhou Yi’s livestream was flooding Weibo.
The trending list was packed with hashtags related to Zhou Yi’s situation:
Zhou Yi.
Zhou Yi’s 10 PM Livestream.
Kong Huaijin.
Su Ning.
Jiang Ruolan.
Orphan.
...
Out of the top ten trending topics, eight were about Zhou Yi—an unprecedented phenomenon.
[The last time it was this wild was when that A-list celebrity got exposed for cheating by a dozen ex-girlfriends.]
[That time wasn’t even this crazy—only the top three trends were about it.]
[Back then, it was about a cheating scandal with women accusing him. This time, everyone’s coming out to defend Zhou Yi. Seriously, even I, who don’t even know him, am dying of curiosity.]
[His influence is scarier than actual celebrities. He’s not even an internet personality—does he really have no connections?]
[Come on, Kong Huaijin and Luo Bingqing alone could buy out hundreds of influencer accounts.]
[I run an influencer account—no one paid me, but I posted about it anyway. The engagement is insane, way better than those celebrities who buy followers.]
[What a waste if he doesn’t join the entertainment industry.]
[If this guy enters showbiz, all those pretty-boy idols are gonna be shaking in their boots lol. I’d love to see him put those lazy actors in their place.]
At exactly 10 PM, Zhou Yi went live on Weibo.
He was broadcasting from his home using his phone.
Since countless people had been camping on his Weibo page waiting for the livestream, the moment he started, over 100,000 viewers flooded in to watch.
Influencers, eager to cash in on the hype, immediately began screen-recording to create content. Speed was everything in their line of work.
Mixed in were also haters and paid trolls hired by Gao Wenhao—but Gao Wenhao’s trolls were no match for Kong Huaijin’s resources.
Surprisingly, though, neither side’s trolls ended up being useful.
On screen, Zhou Yi sat bathed in warm lighting, wearing a simple white shirt with a few strands of hair falling over his forehead—just like when everyone first met him.
Instantly, nostalgia washed over many viewers.
Tonight, he was going for an innocent, pitiable image, so he couldn’t dress too luxuriously or CEO-like. This simple, clean look, paired with the warm lighting, made him appear far more approachable—gentle and pure.
Atmosphere was everything, and personas were carefully crafted.
Just his face alone was enough to stir endless sympathy.
Zhou Yi pretended to adjust the camera, leaning in slightly as he fumbled with his phone before softly asking, "Can everyone hear me? This is my first livestream, so I’m not too familiar with it. Sorry about that."
[Yes, yes! We can hear you!]
[Those eyes—I’m dead. Is this the legendary ‘looks at a dog like it’s his soulmate’ gaze? How is any woman supposed to resist this?]
[Oh my god, he’s even hotter in motion than in photos. Now I get why all those older sisters are obsessed with him.]
[This close-up is killing me. I’d be fine if he didn’t say a single word.]
[Was that person who took those photos doing it on purpose? They made Zhou Yi look way worse.]
[Why is it so laggy? I’ve been kicked out three times already. When is Weibo gonna fix its servers?]
[Bro, teach me your ways. How do you get so many women to like you? I’m begging you—literally kneeling here.]
The comments in Zhou Yi’s livestream were flying by too fast to read.
Initially, everyone expected the chat to be filled with questions about the photos, but most were too distracted by his face, endlessly praising his looks.
Soon, things took a familiar turn as some netizens started spouting ridiculous pickup lines.
Seeing the wild comments, Zhou Yi activated his signature "blushing buff," prompting even more gushing about how adorable and pure he was.
He feigned embarrassment, coughing lightly. "Ahem, alright, wasn’t everyone going to ask questions? Let’s focus on serious topics. These kinds of comments… let’s not."
Yet the chat remained fixated on his appearance. Zhou Yi sighed inwardly—any hate comments or jealous remarks were instantly buried under the flood of compliments.
The funniest part? Celebrities started appearing in the guest list, which then trended, drawing their fans into the livestream.
[Wait, is that Little A? Even he’s here for the drama?]
[Yup… Tsk, skipping filming to lurk in a livestream? Get outta here!]
[How do you think actual celebrities feel about Zhou Yi? Lol, this is hilarious.]
[Followed my fave here. What a massive drama bomb.]
[My idol’s here too. I bet tons of celebs are lurking with burner accounts, dying of laughter.]
[Ling Ling, aren’t you supposed to be filming? Why are you here? And it’s so late—girl, actresses shouldn’t be pulling all-nighters!]
Even funnier, some celebrities responded to fans in the chat.
[Ling Ling: I’ll sleep after this, babies.]
[It’s so laggy! How are there so many people? The comments are a blur.]
[I can’t even type properly. When will Weibo upgrade its garbage servers?]
With the overwhelming number of viewers, Zhou Yi’s livestream froze repeatedly. On top of that, Kong Huaijin had paid to boost the stream to the top of the trending list, causing even more people to flood in—until Weibo’s servers finally crashed.
The entire platform turned gray, with no pages loading. Everyone was left scrambling, unsure where to discuss the chaos.
Zhou Yi quickly ended the stream and called Gao Si.
"Hello, Mr. Zhou? Weren’t you supposed to be live right now?"
"Gao Si—now’s the time. Launch Moyin!"
with countless casualties. As a top-tier gamer, Liu Xuan volunteered to join the fight, intending to dominate with his skills, but instead he obtained the hidden class: [Pacifist]. Unable to attack. Unable to use active skills. Fortunately, with each level gained, he acquired a new passive skill. And so, armed with a body full of passives, Liu Xuan slaughtered his way through the battlefield of ten thousand races! [You attacked Liu Xuan] [You gained the debuffs: 'Poison', 'Fear', 'Burning', 'Bleeding', 'Freeze', 'Silence', etc.] [Your attack speed has been reduced by 99%] [Your armor and magic resistance have been reduced by 99%] Warriors of the Ten Thousand Races: How the hell am I supposed to fight this?!
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
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.
world slacker. But a genius female disciple just had to get clingy, insisting that he take her as a disciple. Not only that, she was always making advances on him, thoroughly disrupting his peaceful slacker life...
