Chapter Twenty: Breaking the Rules

Ren Qian had two million followers, and as soon as Wei Bo posted, a swarm of lurking fans erupted in the comments. The speed was astonishing; the moment his finger released the post button, comments already appeared.

Just ten minutes later, Wei Bo’s page was flooded with over thirty thousand comments, leaving Ren Qian drenched in cold sweat.

He hadn’t been out or followed much online news, so he had no idea that among teenagers in middle and high school, he was wildly popular.

With striking looks, the talent to write songs like “Boundless Seas and Skies”, and the courage to challenge authority, Ren Qian had become the perfect idol for rebellious youth.

Since ancient times, the most devoted fans are young. They revered Ren Qian as “God Qian” and formed support groups among their peers, like setting up a chat group to praise his handsomeness all day, following Wei Bo for daily greetings, or duking it out online with fans of the superstar.

Their cohesion was impressive.

Nearly half of the thirty thousand comments came from these dedicated fans, with the rest from fans of other age groups, spectators, and haters of the superstar.

“God Qian is unstoppable! He’s just an old man, if you want to fight, then fight—God Qian’s fans are legion!”

“God Qian’s million followers are assembling at lightning speed!”

These were the fastest commenters, snatching the top spots instantly, making Ren Qian wonder if they waited by his and Wei Bo’s pages for such moments.

“I admire Ren Qian’s courage—his devotion to innovation, his willingness to face the world’s doubts. Just for his persistence in music, I’ve become a fan. I hope he keeps at it, writes great songs, and lets his talent speak for itself.”

“Challenging the superstar directly—don’t know if it’s youthful fearlessness or genuine talent and pride…”

“Jumped-up clown! How dare you insult our King Wan. If not for his mercy, you’d be ruined by now. How dare you bark here? Know your limits, or you’ll find yourself in a predicament.”

“Upstairs is an idiot, confirmed. Clearly it was that old Wan pressing Ren Qian, along with you brainless fans spraying everywhere, forcing God Qian to fight back. And now you blame him? Shameless.”

“I love the line, ‘Past glory isn’t your ticket to show off, the waves behind push the waves ahead, and the old waves die on the shore.’ Powerful and philosophical! Who cares about the superstar? With Brother Qian’s talent, he’ll be king sooner or later. If not, I’ll stream myself eating shit.”

“Am I the only one who noticed the line, ‘Ugly people should read more books’? I think it’s hilarious.”

“+1 to the comment above.”

“Checked back—God Qian is so witty! Haha, ‘Ugly people should read more books.’ I nearly wet myself laughing.”

“‘Ugly people should read more books’ hit my funny bone~”

“Same here.”

“Someone’s trying to derail the topic, haul them out for punishment.”

……

Ren Qian scrolled through the comments, unable to hold back his laughter. The feeling was wonderful, but he closed Wei Bo and slipped his phone into his pocket. He had his own life and couldn’t spend every day online. Soon, he would be taking his nurse sister out for lunch. After lunch, she’d return to work.

He, meanwhile, wanted to rent an apartment—the nurse sister’s small place was about to expire, so he needed to find a new one; he also wanted to live outside for peace and, well…

Everyone knows why.

When it was time for lunch, the two met up.

“My dad doesn’t have your contact, so he called me. He said the album needs your help, songs in the style of ‘Wandering Back Home’, something like those two you performed that night. That’s the range. Do as you see fit. If you don’t give me a satisfactory answer, prepare for the little whip!”

The nurse sister laughed and scolded him, teasing him for his usual boasting. Now he had his comeuppance.

“No problem. I can write two songs, but they’ll be my wedding gift.”

Ren Qian had already conceived two excellent songs in a short span. But he couldn’t sing them himself—he was too young, and lacked the life experience. Singing them forcibly would sound out of place.

Besides, he’d never walk the path of a prodigal son, so rather than let these songs rot in his archives, he’d give them to his future father-in-law as a bride price.

“If they’re good, it’s a wedding gift. If not, it’s a contract for servitude!”

The nurse sister rolled her eyes at him, and the two wandered to a small restaurant. The food was excellent, but few students visited because it was far from campus.

Ren Qian loved coming here for its quiet, refined atmosphere and unique charm, not to mention the owner’s stunning daughter.

“She stands by the stove like the moon, her pale wrists shimmer like frost and snow.”

That described the girl perfectly.

Ahem, Ren Qian had no intention of building a harem; he purely appreciated her beauty. His admiration was innocent, untarnished by worldly desires.

The girl was beautiful, always wearing a serene smile. Sadly, fate was jealous of her beauty, and cruelly took away her ability to speak.

She could never utter a word. People could only imagine a heavenly voice from her appearance.

But it would always remain imagination.

Girls are always sentimental; the nurse sister was moved to tears hearing Ren Qian’s story. She stared at the girl in the restaurant when they arrived.

“Ahem, my girlfriend thinks Jia Ya’er is quite pretty—they might have something in common. Why not become friends? Let me introduce you; this is Wen Run, a gentle university student. Boss, I’ll have a farmhouse stir-fried pork and a chopped chili fish head.”

Ren Qian nudged Wen Run, and when his gaze flicked to Jia Ya’er, he noticed she was also observing the nurse sister, though he didn’t realize Jia Ya’er seemed a bit off today.

……

“...Wei Bo is blowing up. Oh, you’re too reckless! Aunt Li hasn’t even given you her blessing, and you’re already provoking Wan Bootlicker? Are you trying to give me a headache?”

The nurse sister barely sat down before whipping out her phone to check Wei Bo!

Lately, following Ren Qian’s feud with Wan Bootlicker had become her daily routine; she even sneaked into the bathroom at work to check updates. Yet, despite her seamless monitoring, Ren Qian had managed to get into a feud with the superstar. And his words were so sharp—it was outright insult!

She raised her head, frustration written all over her face, glaring at Ren Qian. After a long sigh, she finally spoke.

“Wan Bootlicker posted on Wei Bo. Let’s see how you handle this.”

“Is that so…”

Ren Qian smiled nonchalantly and took out his phone.

Wan Feng’s Wei Bo was brief but cut straight to the point:

“It’s true that ignorance is fearless. To be modest, my glory is something you won’t surpass in ten years! Regarding your insult to me on Wei Bo, you’d better delete it and apologize, or this won’t end well.”

Wan Feng merely sneered at Ren Qian’s taunts. He had his own pride—the peak of his career during the golden age of record sales.

It was in that era that, with the album “Super Golden Hits”, he sold thirty-seven million copies, cementing his unshakable status in the music world.

But now, the record industry was steadily declining. If an album wasn’t exceptional, it barely made a ripple; last year, his new album sold just four million copies—a huge embarrassment. Yet other top singers fared even worse.

So he dared claim Ren Qian would need at least ten years to surpass him.

He thought he could rely on his seniority or reputation to make Ren Qian back down. He couldn’t have been more mistaken. Ren Qian intended to use him as a stepping stone for publicity.

Ren Qian immediately posted a response on Wei Bo, accepting the challenge.

“A tree fights for its bark, a person fights for their pride. You’ve pushed me this far—there’s no way I’ll apologize.

Also, Superstar Wan, you really overestimate yourself!

I said, ‘Past glory isn’t your ticket to show off; the waves behind push the waves ahead, and the old waves die on the shore.’

Your peak sold thirty-eight million albums. Is that really worth boasting about?

As for me, Ren Qian, in two years I’ll release my first album. If my sales exceed yours, you must apologize publicly for all your previous attacks.

If my sales don’t surpass thirty-eight million, I’ll apologize and leave the music scene forever. How about it?”

The post dropped like a bomb in the already turbulent Wei Bo community, setting off a tidal wave of discussion online…

ps: Late at night, I heard animals from the mountains wailing on the edge of town—quick, throw in some recommendation votes for protection~