Chapter Twenty: Let Him Be Branded a Slanderer

Chapter 20: Make Him Own Up to His False Accusation

The war of words between Zhang Le and Li Ming ended, as expected, with Zhang Le’s overwhelming victory. Yet, its heat was soon overshadowed by the blockbuster “Waiting for Return” currently showing in theaters.

There were still plenty of people cursing Zhang Le, but the public’s interest was waning. Unexpectedly, just as the topic was cooling down, news broke that Li Ming had been beaten into the hospital and threatened not to speak ill of Zhang Le online again. The entertainment world was instantly set ablaze.

The feud escalated, and the matters between Zhang Le and Li Ming once again drew intense scrutiny. With such attention, the media naturally spared no effort in pursuit. Zhang Le’s response to the affair outside the police station was immediately published by countless outlets, sparking endless debate online.

When the news first broke, countless critics of Zhang Le surfaced from the depths, no longer lurking. They seized the opportunity to vent their rage against him. Some were probably Li Ming’s fans, but there was no shortage of professional anti-Zhang Le agitators.

Whatever their motivations, the result was that Zhang Le attracted a storm of abuse, while Li Ming garnered sympathy. The negative impact of his previous insults toward Zhang Le gradually faded from public memory.

However, not long after Zhang Le’s statement at the police station was published, though the number of those attacking him remained high, it began to dwindle. Public opinion slowly shifted in his favor.

Li Ming’s hospitalization and the suspicion cast on Zhang Le seemed to stem entirely from the warning delivered by Li Ming’s assailant. Yet, that warning undermined the supposed motive for Zhang Le to have orchestrated the attack. After all, Zhang Le had held the upper hand in their feud. If Li Ming continued to hurl insults, he alone would suffer; Zhang Le stood to lose nothing and could even gain popularity.

Of course, those who accused Zhang Le suggested he had someone assault Li Ming because the latter not only insulted him online but also dragged his parents into it. It was entirely plausible that Zhang Le, unable to tolerate attacks on his family, would retaliate. After all, whose parents wouldn’t react if attacked without cause?

But dissenters scoffed at this theory. For one, Zhang Le had been so busy lately he barely had time to catch his breath, let alone deal with Li Ming. Moreover, Zhang Le was neither wealthy nor influential—a poor outsider. How could he possibly find someone capable of attacking Li Ming, who was always surrounded by bodyguards?

Even if he wanted to, he simply didn’t have the means.

The debate raged on, insults flying. Those defending Zhang Le were countered with arguments about his lack of resources, while Li Ming’s supporters brought Yang Xin’er into the fray.

Zhang Le might have lacked means, but he had a girlfriend with powerful connections.

Thus, another theory emerged online: Yang Xin’er, dissatisfied with Li Ming’s continued insults toward Zhang Le, had arranged for someone to hospitalize Li Ming on his behalf and warned him not to slander her boyfriend again. This speculation seemed even more plausible than Zhang Le orchestrating the attack himself.

Now both Zhang Le and Yang Xin’er were suspects. But after Zhang Le’s statement outside the police station was reported, suspicion even fell on Li Ming himself.

The possibility arose that Li Ming’s hospitalization was a self-directed, self-acted ploy—a calculated act of self-harm.

This theory gained traction, gradually becoming the most accepted explanation. Li Ming had been forced by his company to delete his posts and publicly apologize to Zhang Le, and was even tacitly blacklisted. With such resentment and frustration, the possibility was high.

If he landed himself in the hospital seeking sympathy, disappointed fans might, under the sway of compassion, renew their support. His diehard followers would naturally feel aggrieved on his behalf and turn their animosity toward Zhang Le. The professional anti-Zhang Le crowd would find in this a perfect excuse to attack once more.

Such a scheme would allow those who hated Zhang Le to resurface, venting Li Ming’s anger by proxy. Even if Li Ming himself couldn’t hurl insults anymore, others would continue in his stead, offering him a measure of vindication.

Moreover, this could redeem his tarnished image, damaged by his previous attacks on Zhang Le.

After all, the victim of violence elicits more sympathy than the victim of mere insults, and the perpetrator of violence is despised more than the purveyor of harsh words.

“Did you hire another wave of paid commenters?” Zhang Le turned to Yang Xin’er, asking. He had noticed the unusual shift online. He doubted that his own words would garner such widespread support, or that so many would elaborate on his behalf.

Now, the online narrative suggested Li Ming’s hospitalization was a farce of his own making. Li Ming’s reputation was in worse shape than ever, as the media seized the opportunity to kick him while he was down, with his name becoming almost a byword for disgrace.

If no one was pulling strings behind the scenes, Zhang Le simply wouldn’t believe it. And if anyone was, the most likely candidate was Yang Xin’er; after all, she had a “record” in such matters.

“I had Sister Wen handle it,” Yang Xin’er replied with a smile. “Tell me, if it really is a farce he staged himself, what will you do?”

“A farce? If he really cooked this up himself, I wouldn’t mind blowing things wide open,” Zhang Le chuckled.

“What do you mean?” Yang Xin’er asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I’ll sue him,” Zhang Le replied.

“Sue him?” Yang Xin’er was surprised, a trace of uncertainty in her voice.

“For false accusation! Didn’t he claim I put someone up to it?” Zhang Le said. “Now that it’s blown up like this, if we can prove his accusation was false, how long do you think he’d get?”

“If a false accusation is proven, sentencing depends on the nature, circumstances, consequences, and legal standards for the alleged crime. But no matter how long, I doubt he’d survive in the entertainment industry afterward,” Yang Xin’er answered.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” Zhang Le said with a shake of his head. “It’s rare to steal a moment’s leisure. Let’s not dwell on such nonsense.”

“How’s the preparation for your film going?” Yang Xin’er suddenly asked. “Last time, Run-ge mentioned he’d be happy to make a cameo in your movie.”

“Hm?” Zhang Le looked at her in surprise. “Did you ask him? There’s no need to owe anyone a favor for my film.”

Yang Xin’er knew about Zhang Le’s previous wish to have Feng Lei’s father make a cameo, and she herself was planning one as well—the role of the male lead’s wife, no less.

“It really wasn’t me! He brought it up himself,” Yang Xin’er replied.

“Really?” Zhang Le was skeptical; he barely knew Zhou Run, their only connection being the theme song for “Waiting for Return,” and they’d exchanged only a few words.

“Run-ge has always liked to support newcomers in the industry. And I think it’s also thanks to your song. Many say that ‘Ephemeral Fireworks’ boosted the box office by ten percent. He’s one of the film’s investors, so in a sense, he owes you a favor. After all, none of the theme songs written by seasoned music producers had satisfied Director Chen. You were something of a last-minute savior,” Yang Xin’er explained with a smile.

“Ten percent? Who said that? That’s a bit much,” Zhang Le laughed, shaking his head.

“Waiting for Return” had been in theaters for over a week, and the box office had already surpassed 100 million. Rumor had it that it might be the first film to break the 500 million mark. At that rate, ten percent would be 50 million.

A good theme song certainly plays an important role in a film’s promotion and can significantly boost the box office. “Ephemeral Fireworks” was widely praised and became a highlight of the movie. But to claim it increased revenue by ten percent was surely an exaggeration.