Chapter Eighteen: Dongshi’s Imitation Ends in Failure

Chapter 18: Dongshi Imitates Xi Shi, but Only Makes Things Worse

“What exactly do you mean by that? That guy’s offering a hundred thousand online—tell me, and I’ll split it with you. How about it?” Feng Lei grinned at Zhang Le as he spoke. The sycophantic look on his pudgy face had a certain charm—though to Zhang Le, it was more nerve-wracking than anything else.

“You actually believe something like that? Seriously? Come on, man, are you really that gullible?” Zhang Le retorted.

“Of course I believe it! I know that guy. We’re not exactly close, but I’ve met him a few times. A hundred grand is pocket change for him,” Feng Lei replied confidently.

“Who is he?” Zhang Le asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Wu Xiaoyong, Wu Zhenhai’s son!” Feng Lei declared. “Don’t tell me you don’t know who Wu Zhenhai is!”

“Of course I know. Chairman of the Xing Sheng Group—the richest man in the country,” Zhang Le nodded.

“So, how about it? Tell me what that phrase means and I’ll split the reward,” Feng Lei pressed.

“I can tell you. No need to split the money with me, though,” Zhang Le replied with a smile.

“That good a deal? Alright, what’s the catch? As long as you’re not asking for my hand in marriage, we can talk. After all, I’m a real man,” Feng Lei quipped, glancing at Zhang Le.

“Have your dad make a cameo in my film. Just a friendly appearance!” Zhang Le proposed.

Feng Lei’s father was a true heavyweight in the domestic entertainment industry—not only a household name as an actor but also a renowned director, producer, and shareholder in a major film company, with wide-reaching connections.

As a newcomer straight out of the directing program, unsigned by any company, Zhang Le’s opportunities to shoot ads and even music videos were thanks in large part to Feng Lei’s help.

“Forget it!” Feng Lei immediately waved his hand. “For your studio, I’ve already pushed my luck to the limit. He’s still mad at me as it is; if I ask him for a cameo, I’ll probably get a beating. Better give up on that idea!”

Zhang Le felt a twinge of regret, but also a bit of gratitude.

“But I could do a cameo myself,” Feng Lei suggested.

“A cameo? How about a supporting role?” Zhang Le looked him over with a grin.

“A supporting role? Should I consider turning down the male lead, then?” Feng Lei laughed, and seeing Zhang Le shake his head, asked, “Which character?”

“Xie Xiaomeng!” Zhang Le replied with a smile.

“Xie Xiaomeng? That hopeless fool!” Feng Lei gave Zhang Le a look, thinking he was being teased, and snapped, “You’re really heartless, you know that?”

“I’m serious,” Zhang Le insisted. “You fit the image of Xie Xiaomeng in my mind perfectly.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not making fun of me? Wait—actually, you just want free labor! A friendly appearance, you say? Unbelievable. I’m a top graduate from the Academy of Film’s acting program, and I’ve played important roles in countless TV shows and films, and you’re not even offering me a fee? Anyone with a shred of conscience wouldn’t say something like that,” Feng Lei grumbled.

“Are you sure those were important roles? At best, you were a walk-on with a few lines,” Zhang Le shot back. “Listen, you need a role people will really remember—one that has nothing to do with your father. It’s not that you lack talent, it’s just that your father’s shadow is too overwhelming.”

Feng Lei was silent for a moment, then said, “Still, you can’t expect me to do it for free! If people hear about this, I’ll lose face.”

“Isn’t someone else paying me for this already?” Zhang Le grinned.

“You really know how to pinch a penny!” Feng Lei chuckled.

Feng Lei had indeed played many roles in TV and film, but when people mentioned him, it was never about his own work, but always about his father. And most of those roles had come his way thanks to his father’s influence.

Such is the fortune—and the misfortune—of someone born into stardom.

“So, tell me, what does that phrase actually mean?” Feng Lei asked.

“Heh! Just write out the phrase in pinyin, take the first two letters of each word, and you’ll get it,” Zhang Le replied with a sly smile.

Feng Lei frowned, followed the instructions, and immediately swore, “Damn! That’s crude, violent, and brutal!”

With a mischievous grin, Feng Lei immediately tagged Wu Xiaoyong online, saying, “Li Ming, last year I bought a watch (pinyin annotation: take the first two letters of each character and read them all with the first tone, and you’ll get the idea—no need to interpret it as Chinese anymore, right?)! Now that the code is cracked, can I claim the reward? Cash, transfer, check, all accepted! Wahaha… I’ve struck it rich!”

As the son of a star and Wu Xiaoyong the scion of a tycoon, their online interactions naturally drew attention. Feng Lei’s post, touching on Zhang Le’s earlier viral phrase and the solution to the riddle, plus the promise of a hundred thousand reward, was instantly spread far and wide.

At last, the true meaning of the phrase “last year I bought a watch” was revealed to all.

Though everyone knew it wasn’t a polite saying, few had expected it to be so explosive. With the explanation out, the meaning was clear—it was vulgarity of the highest order, the sort that would be immediately censored in any forum.

Previously, Zhang Le’s insult had sounded refined. Now, it was vulgar to the extreme, yet still contained not a single explicit word. This ingenuity won the admiration of countless people.

Zhang Le was now seen as a grandmaster of online insults, the pioneer of this kind of euphemistic slang, making an extraordinary contribution to internet culture.

Li Ming was ordered by his company to delete his post, was blacklisted for a time, and forced to apologize to Zhang Le. Frustrated, he had just deleted the post and was about to apologize when this new incident erupted.

I. Go. To. Your. Mother’s. Neighbor!

Realizing the implication, Li Ming’s face flushed crimson, as if he might cough up blood. Not only had Zhang Le insulted him so crudely, but the internet was unanimously praising Zhang Le for it. Where was the justice in that?

Once more losing all sense, Li Ming forgot about his apology and, without hesitation, posted a reply almost identical to Zhang Le’s: “Zhang Le, last year I bought a watch!”

It was clearly an act of imitation, but in Li Ming’s mind, it was fighting fire with fire.

Netizens scoffed at Li Ming’s move, mocking him, but were also curious: How would Zhang Le respond? Ignore him, or reply? And if he replied, what would he say?

They didn’t have to wait long. Soon after Li Ming’s post, Zhang Le replied.

Li Ming: Zhang Le, last year I bought a watch!
Zhang Le: Li Ming, what kind of watch did you buy?

The audience, already familiar with Zhang Le’s code-switching insult techniques, instantly got the joke. Though it looked like an innocent question, it was anything but.

Netizens applauded Zhang Le’s wit and ridiculed Li Ming mercilessly.

Dongshi imitating Xi Shi—only to become the butt of the joke.

Li Ming’s company again ordered him to delete his post and apologize in hopes of salvaging his damaged reputation and letting the whole affair blow over. But instead, Li Ming once more clashed with Zhang Le and lost utterly, becoming the laughingstock of the internet yet again.

The company was furious, and the consequences would be severe. Li Ming’s insubordination would be made an example of.

But Zhang Le paid little attention to all this. He was busy setting up his film studio and preparing his movie, hoping to start shooting as soon as the studio was established.

He never expected that, just a few days later, the police would come knocking.

Li Ming had been beaten and hospitalized, and Zhang Le was now the prime suspect.