Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Rise of Public Opinion

At this moment, the viewers in Yan Ningsi’s live stream were all stunned, unable to understand why Yan Ningsi was speaking up for Sang Yijia, when Sang Yijia’s reputation was far from stellar. Moreover, what did Yan Ningsi mean by saying, “Brother Lu’s judgment can’t be wrong”?

[Si Si, Sang Yijia isn’t a good person—why are you defending her?]
[Sang Yijia maliciously cursed Lan Qing into the water.]
[Has Si Si been bewitched?]

Bian He was beside her; neither of them had participated in the task, but they couldn’t separate either, since this was a romance variety show and they had to stay together in the living room. At that moment, Bian He glanced at the barrage of comments in the live chat, raised an eyebrow, and read two of them aloud.

Instantly, the barrage of comments came to a halt, with only a few still posting.

Having heard this, Yan Ningsi’s expression soured. “Who said that?”

“Can you mute them?” Yan Ningsi turned to look at the group director.

The group director quietly turned away, pretending not to notice.

“Why bother muting?” Bian He sat up lazily. “Just expel them from the fan group.”

Bian He remembered that Yan Ningsi had high standards for her fans; the first rule was simply to listen quietly to the music. Nothing else mattered. If anyone was dissatisfied, they weren’t considered Yan Ningsi’s fans.

Most of Yan Ningsi’s fans listened obediently, refraining from provoking other stars and singers.

“Good point.” Yan Ningsi nodded. “I’ll ask later who those people are and whether they’re in the fan group.”

The live stream grew lively again. True fans no longer discussed Sang Yijia, watching in silence, with only a few occasionally jumping in.

Yan Ningsi took note of each, then messaged her agent to deal with them.

——

Meanwhile, after hanging up the call, Sang Yijia turned to look at Lu Wenchuan, her slender brows slightly furrowed. “Are you really not familiar with Yan Ningsi?”

“We’ve met a few times.” Lu Wenchuan wasn’t sure why Sang Yijia brought it up again, but guessed Yan Ningsi must have said something. “Don’t take her words to heart.”

“Alright.” Sang Yijia found that reasonable and nodded in agreement.

Soon after, Sang Yijia’s phone rang again. She glanced at the caller ID—it was her agent, Mo Yani. She paused for a few seconds. “I’ll take this call.”

Lu Wenchuan didn’t say anything but nodded. When he turned back, the group director placed a new phone on the table.

The screen was showing the live stream.

Lu Wenchuan glanced at the upper left corner; the number of online viewers had surged past 200,000.

Because of the incident with Lan Qing and Shen Jin falling into the water, most viewers in the stream were their fans, coming to lash out.

Lu Wenchuan looked at the screen, then raised his eyelids to ask the group director, “How do you turn off the comments?”

“……”

The viewers became even more unruly.

[Afraid to look? Feeling guilty, aren’t you!]
[How can anyone be so vicious?]
[Where’s Sang Yijia? Tell her to come out!]
[Both my brother and Qing Qing fell into the water because of you!]
[Damn, I’ve never been so angry—Sang Yijia, you vile woman!]
[Shameless!]
[Get out of the entertainment industry!]

Such comments multiplied.

Lu Wenchuan’s gaze remained calm, and as he caught Sang Yijia still on the phone, his eyes shifted back to the phone screen.

As he watched the barrage of comments flash by, a sardonic smile curled one corner of his lips; he was about to speak when Sang Yijia finished her call and returned.

“What’s wrong?” Sang Yijia sat down, noticing Lu Wenchuan’s unpleasant expression, then saw the comments in the live stream. She frowned but wasn’t bothered, turning to Lu Wenchuan, “That was my agent just now.”

“Mm,” Lu Wenchuan nodded. “What did she say?”

“Nothing much. I just said one sentence, and it caused such a stir. Soon someone will write an article saying I’m a jinx.” Sang Yijia was rather relaxed—the critical turning point had passed.

The tragic fate of the original owner would not begin.

Sang Yijia felt as if her life was starting anew. “Let them talk; it won’t affect me.”

“You’re quite philosophical about it.” Lu Wenchuan had been angry moments before, but hadn’t had a chance to act. Looking at Sang Yijia now, he felt she seemed indifferent to everything. Was there anything she cared about? Only Shen Jin?

Lu Wenchuan recalled all that Sang Yijia had done for Shen Jin and frowned again.

“What’s there to be philosophical about?” Sang Yijia glanced at the live stream—the comments had dwindled, and the viewer count was lower. She squinted, lips curving upward, “See, haven’t they all left?”

Her smile was like a newly blossomed jasmine: pure white, flawless, fresh and serene.

Lu Wenchuan was spellbound.

So were most of the viewers in the live stream.

[Hey, did you all notice? Sang Yijia is actually quite pretty.]

[Si Si said this morning she wasn’t wearing makeup.]
[Is she really bare-faced?]
[What was up with her old look? Heavy makeup, so unflattering.]
[Maybe her aesthetic changed?]
[Is it because Shen Jin likes it?]

Lu Wenchuan saw this comment and instinctively asked, “Did you use to like heavy makeup?”

“Hm?” Sang Yijia found the topic shift abrupt, hesitated for a few seconds before responding, blinking, “I did like it before.”

“And why don’t you now?” Lu Wenchuan ignored the floating bobber in the water and turned to look directly at her.

Sang Yijia found it odd but answered truthfully, “I read that too much foundation affects the skin’s ability to breathe and ages it faster.”

“That’s the only reason?” Lu Wenchuan didn’t quite believe it, but Sang Yijia’s eyes were sincere.

Sang Yijia nodded. “Yes—is that strange?”

“No.” Lu Wenchuan looked back at the bobber, which was tugged by another fish.

This one was as strong as the one Shen Jin had caught earlier.

Lu Wenchuan handled the fish patiently, while Sang Yijia held the net, waiting.

“Be careful, don’t fall in.” Just now Lan Qing had been careless and fell into the water; Lu Wenchuan thought it best to be cautious.

Sang Yijia agreed, her gaze fixed on the darting fishing line. “How long will it take to reel it in?”

“It’s strong—probably a big one.” They already had a grass carp over a pound; they still needed nine more pounds to meet the task requirement.

“Oh, oh.” Sang Yijia didn’t really understand; she’d only seen fishing in videos.

After a while, the fish tired, and Lu Wenchuan pulled it in, though it still struggled.

Sang Yijia seized the moment and netted it in one swift move, but got splashed in the face with pond water.

“Wipe it off.” Lu Wenchuan took out a pack of tissues from his pocket, including a single-use packet.

He was well prepared.

Sang Yijia took the tissue and thanked him. “What kind of fish is it?”

“A snakehead—lives at the bottom of the pond, rarely comes up.” Lu Wenchuan explained, “We’re lucky to catch one this time.”