What the hell? Have this generation of internet users converted to Buddhism?

Within ten minutes, the full video was uploaded online. Lai Jian watched it with great satisfaction—until she saw the moment in the video when she hesitated while holding onto the car door. Instinctively, Lai Jian clenched her collar.

Ancestor, little ancestor, grandmother, aunt—no, don’t, absolutely not…

"My idol’s Best Actor trophy could easily cover your coffin," the voice said sharply.

Despair washed over Lai Jian as she closed her eyes, only to hear a perfectly enunciated insult follow.

“Stupid idiot.”

Lai Jian grabbed the office landline, but a cold female voice informed her, “The number you have dialed is currently engaged. Please try again later…”

Setting down the phone, Lai Jian looked seriously at her subordinate. “Tell me, am I just unlucky, or am I cursed? Why is every artist under my management more prone to trouble than the last?”

Her subordinate was silent.

Perhaps it was the entertainment company that was cursed?

Lai Jian’s voice carried a hint of weary weakness. “She’s a young actress full of vitality, and she swore publicly. This time, she’s definitely going to be roasted alive. How do you suggest I handle the PR for her?”

“It seems like no PR is needed,” the subordinate scrolled furiously through her phone. “Look at the comments under the video—no one’s cursing at Bai Lu… Really, there’s nothing!”

“Impossible!” Lai Jian snatched the phone and flipped to the last few pages, where she finally found a handful of comments criticizing Bai Lu for cursing.

What the hell?

Have netizens suddenly all turned to Buddhism?

Lai Jian’s idol, Mei Mei, was far more professional; she immediately saw through the essence of the matter.

Because the incident happened so suddenly, the trolls and paid commenters weren’t ready yet. The initial press release was off the mark and utterly useless.

So, on every social platform, the comments and opinions were genuine.

By the time the trolls and paid commenters organized and tried to intervene, the narrative was already set and couldn’t be swayed.

The main reason was Bai Lu’s overwhelmingly positive public image—a natural advantage that couldn’t be replicated or envied.

When news broke about the Best Actor Lu’s romance with her, most netizens, especially the staunch supporter Ting Xiangxue, didn’t express outright support but at least weren’t hostile or resistant.

If it were any other actress without such a good reputation, she’d either be roasted alive or have to shed a layer of skin.

Using a famous actor to ride on their coattails might get some attention, but don’t dare to ride on Best Actor Lu’s name.

Because riding on the former could lead to fleeting fame—even negative attention is still a kind of fame.

But riding on Best Actor Lu’s name? There’s no such thing as negative fame—only blackening, and once blackened, you’re forced out of the industry.

Countless actresses, testing the waters with a “try and see” attitude, have personally verified this fact.

Best Actor Lu is a legend of the entertainment industry; no one is worthy of him.

But Bai Lu is different—she isn’t just any actress; she’s like family.

She grew up on the big screen right before their eyes, changing from a soft, adorable little ball of cuteness into a bigger, equally adorable bundle of charm.

Watching this precious one grow up naturally creates a sense of affection.

If Best Actor Lu’s romantic partner was Bai Lu, it somehow felt more acceptable.

Originally, netizens didn’t have much resistance to this rumor, but after watching Bai Lu’s interview video, they instantly grew furious.

Damn it! What else did they expect Bai Lu to say? That damn reporter’s questions were loaded with malice!

Luckily, Bai Lu was smart and quick-witted; otherwise, that damn reporter would have dragged her down the rabbit hole.

Best Actor Lu invited Bai Lu as a guest assistant on set, and she readily accepted. Such a straightforward attitude left no room for those damn reporters to insinuate anything. If they had tried to avoid rumors on purpose, wouldn’t those damn reporters have already found proof, perhaps even children in kindergarten?

Soon, a video from the perspective of a security guard also surfaced online.

Netizens grew even angrier.

Damn! You call that a reporter? Usually, we call those guys bandits.

Maybe we should clarify: reporters can surround a star’s vehicle to conduct interviews, but jumping onto the hood of a star’s chauffeur-driven car and dancing on it—could someone with legal knowledge explain if that’s not a crime?!

One can only imagine how terrified Bai Lu must have been sitting inside the car with only a weak assistant and a female makeup artist nearby.

Don’t be fooled by Bai Lu’s soft and adorable appearance, delicate as a porcelain doll that could shatter with a touch—this porcelain doll has claws. She even had the courage to get out of the car and face a bunch of bandits!

Such a little treasure, soft and cute, able to be sweet or fierce, truly worthy of some fandom love, isn’t she?

Praise her—that’s all there is to it.

Still, some people took issue with Bai Lu’s “stupid idiot” remark. Many also thought the comment about using the Best Actor trophy to line a coffin was too harsh.

It’s not something a female star or public figure should say.

Ting Xiangxue immediately stepped in to defend Bai Lu.

That instantly doused the fire.

They insulted first, yet she’s not allowed to retort? Is the law a family heirloom of theirs?

Calm composure is Ting Xiangxue’s trademark, but let’s not forget—when it comes to defending their idol, everyone feels the same way.

Even if it means paying a penalty for breach of contract, they’d still want to collaborate with their idol. Bai Lu truly adores Best Actor Lu.

That dogged loyalty in defending her idol is no different from any of us.

When that damn reporter aggressively attacked Bai Lu with malice, she responded with a bright, high-emotion intelligence. But once it involved her own idol, Bai Lu instantly transformed into Godzilla.

She was just short of tearing that damn reporter apart.

My idol, if I don’t defend him, who else will?

With things said so plainly, Bai Lu’s fandom status was beyond doubt. She was a little fan who had successfully caught her star’s heart; any talk of romance made her truly anxious.

Although Bai Lu’s ferocious defense of her idol lacked even a hint of the usual self-awareness expected of a female star…

Unexpectedly, Bai Lu gained a wave of casual fans—young girls who admired her for being genuine.

Not for anything else, but because they saw their own reflection in her.

Watching her blush and fiercely defend Best Actor Lu was like looking in a mirror and seeing themselves defending their own idol.

The world of a fangirl is this simple and pure.

So pure it borders on naive.

For the person they adore, they’d give everything, fearlessly fighting as if ready to slay gods and demons alike, their very hair radiating a deadly aura.

Yet, when chatting with their best friends about that person, the air itself seemed filled with sweet, pink bubbles, as soft as a rainbow.

Rainbows have seven colors, each with a different personality, but the feeling of loving someone is universal.

…

During a break in filming, Mei Mei showed the video to Lu Yiting and said, “It’s obvious they aimed at Bai Lu. They wanted her to be like those other actresses who got blackened and forced out after being linked with you in rumors. Their plan was clever, but it didn’t work on Bai Lu—her public goodwill is too strong, her fan base too solid. They couldn’t blacken Bai Lu; instead, she gained a lot of new fans. They lost both the woman and the battle.”

Lu Yiting glanced at Mei Mei with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Say what you mean.”

Mei Mei said, “Yiting, you know your own position. If you really want to help Bai Lu, don’t get too close to her—for now, it’s not the right time. Helping her now would only make her a target, the focus of everyone’s attack.”

Lu Yiting smiled, half in jest, half in earnest. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”