Chapter 114: "Flying into a Shame-Induced Rage"

On major online platforms such as Weibo, SPK’s fans launched boycotts against Fang Xing, Li Caiwei, and the film "Strange Tales: Painted Skin."

Boycotting Fang Xing was manageable—many playful, silly netizens joined in the criticism without much restraint.

Boycotting Li Caiwei was also understandable; after all, she had been out of the spotlight for years, and her former fans had grown up and had little interest in online disputes.

But boycotting "Strange Tales: Painted Skin" stirred real trouble.

The male lead of "Strange Tales: Painted Skin" was Zheng Yanxi, touted as a skilled actor, though perhaps somewhat overrated.

Still, Zheng Yanxi was among those handsome actors who relied on their looks but worked hard to hone their craft.

He wasn’t exactly a “pretty boy,” but he was undeniably good-looking.

Nor was he the pale, ghostly type; with a slightly darker complexion and well-defined facial features, he appeared more realistic on the big screen.

If one were to classify Zheng Yanxi as a "pretty boy," he would be one of the more talented ones in that category.

After all, few newcomers manage to break into the big screen and avoid flopping.

Years of experience in the film industry have proven one fact: no matter how massive a pretty boy’s fanbase is, they cannot carry box office success alone.

Zheng Yanxi might be a weak box office draw by himself, but he could hold his own acting opposite an award-winning actress.

Once SPK’s fans began smearing Zheng Yanxi and the award-winning actress Zhou Wei, they stirred up a hornet’s nest.

With a production budget of 150 million yuan and over 100 million spent on promotion, any fan-driven defamation threatening box office revenue would provoke fierce backlash.

The dozen or so film investment companies behind "Strange Tales: Painted Skin" would have no qualms about coming down hard on those orchestrating such attacks.

Unlike Chaoyin Cultural, an entertainment company that thrives on fan economies and must placate fans, the major film companies would not tolerate such trouble.

These pretty boy fans, unable to generate significant box office returns yet causing many problems, risked provoking severe consequences if they jeopardized the film’s release.

That very night, He Hongtu received calls from Penguin Pictures, Time-Space Pictures, and Radiance Pictures, warning him to control the boy band under his management.

These film companies were not just individual entities but represented vast film conglomerates with wide-reaching influence.

Offending them would make survival in the entertainment industry nearly impossible.

Even Chaoyin Cultural had to show some respect.

The next day, Chaoyin Cultural ordered SPK’s fan groups to cease causing trouble.

Though a few fans still posted on Weibo, their attempts to stir up waves were largely ineffective.

Just a few phone calls were enough to bring Chaoyin Cultural to heel.

Meanwhile, competition on the Music Billboard continued unabated.

Qingniao Media and the film companies only reminded Chaoyin Cultural to manage their artists’ fans but did not interfere with the normal chart battles.

Thus, the rivalry between "Sexy" and "Painted Heart" on the Hot Songs Chart persisted.

"Sexy" maintained a strong momentum, firmly holding the top spot.

"Painted Heart" temporarily occupied second place.

...

It had been a month since the violin was sent for repairs.

One afternoon, Fang Xing received a call from the venerable Liao Dexiang, informing him that the violin was ready to be picked up at 3:30 PM.

Having just finished promotional duties for "Strange Tales: Painted Skin," Fang Xing took a taxi to Ningyuan District at three o’clock.

Waiting in front of a small Western-style villa, a new energy taxi pulled up.

After the car stopped, Lu Xianger stepped out and greeted Fang Xing with a wave.

"You’re here too? Actually, I could have come alone to pick up the violin."

"I happened to have time, so I came along," Fang Xing said, pressing the doorbell.

Lu Xianger pursed her lips, shifting her foot nervously, then changed the subject.

"I watched your competition."

"It went okay?" Fang Xing asked.

She immediately nodded, "The songs were great. I even voted, and secretly cast a vote for Ning Xiaoyun too."

Fang Xing teased, "Voted for Wu Junchen?"

Lu Xianger frowned seriously, "Do you think I’d make that kind of mistake?"

Fang Xing looked her up and down uncertainly, "You look like it."

"What!" Lu Xianger rolled her eyes.

Just then, a housekeeper opened the door and invited them in.

Inside the vestibule, Fang Xing prepared to change shoes.

The housekeeper said, "The master said no need to change shoes; you may come in directly."

"Better to change," Fang Xing insisted, taking slippers from the rack, changing, then removing his mask and putting it in his pocket before entering.

Lu Xianger also changed slippers and looked around curiously inside the villa.

Last time she had only visited Liao Dexiang’s workshop, not the living room.

Now seeing the interior for the first time, Fang Xing took a closer look.

One could tell that someone capable of crafting beautiful violins had a refined aesthetic.

The villa’s decor was elegant, dominated by woodwork—from furniture to flooring—all well maintained.

Liao Dexiang stood and gestured, "Come, sit down and try the new tea I got last week."

Fang Xing sat but did not rush to drink; he tapped the teacup and felt the heat, so he did not sip.

Lu Xianger picked up her cup and took a gentle sip, inhaling to swirl the tea in her mouth, savoring both the aroma and cooling it to a drinkable temperature—a sign of a regular tea drinker.

She nodded appreciatively, "This Melon Seed tea is delicious. Thank you, Grandpa Liao. I’m a bit impatient; can we check the violin soon?"

"Alright, alright, it’s fixed. Let me open it for you," Liao Dexiang said, placing the violin case on the coffee table and signaling the housekeeper to clear the tea.

Lu Xianger zipped open the case, and her expression froze for a moment before breaking into a smile.

"It’s exactly the same as when I was a child."

Though the violin was old and well cared for, age had left its marks.

Plus, Lu Xianger had used it extensively for practice, making it appear worn.

Liao Dexiang had not only repaired it but also thoroughly refurbished it, making it look much newer.

"Try it out and see if the tone is still the same," he chuckled.

Eagerly, Lu Xianger picked up the violin, moved to the center of the room, and began to play.

The melodious violin notes filled the air, perfectly complementing the villa’s refined atmosphere.

It was as if such an elegant villa was meant to be filled with this music.

After eight bars, she lowered the bow, delighted.

"The sound is just like before. Grandpa Liao, you’re amazing."

Liao Dexiang smiled broadly, "Glad you like it. If you ever need maintenance again, just bring it here. Don’t go to other shops; they’re not as meticulous."

Footsteps sounded on the wooden staircase.

A young man came down, "You finally came to pick up the violin. I heard from Grandpa that you’re the granddaughter of Mr. Lu, so our families are longstanding friends."

This was Liao Zhifei, the young owner of Zhiyin Music Shop.

He was trying to strike up a rapport with Lu Xianger.

Their grandfathers were close friends, making them practically neighbors.

Halfway down, he noticed someone sitting on the sofa—a man.

His expression darkened.

"What are you doing here?" he said sternly.

He immediately recognized the man on the sofa as the one who had played piano with Lu Xianger at the music shop.

Last time, the man had worn a mask, so Zhifei hadn’t seen his face clearly.

Now that the man had taken off the mask, Zhifei frowned and pointed, "You’re... I feel like I know you."

Lu Xianger covered her mouth to stifle a laugh and whispered, "He’s Fang Xing."

Zhifei’s eyes widened, "You’re that Fang Xing from TV!"

Fang Xing smiled politely, "Hello."

Zhifei groaned, covering his forehead in embarrassment, and hurriedly retreated upstairs.

He recalled clearly that last time at the shop, while playing piano duets with Lu Xianger, he had made sarcastic remarks without recognizing Fang Xing.

Now realizing who he was made him mortified.

Liao Dexiang was exasperated with his grandson.

As a child, he had resisted learning anything and ended up inheriting the family’s music shop at the World Trade Center early.

Zhifei had come early hoping to catch Lu Xianger picking up her violin but instead ran into Fang Xing.

Lu Xianger smiled, tried the violin again, then asked, "Grandpa Liao, how much is the repair fee?"

Liao Dexiang waved it off, "No charge. I made this violin with a lifetime warranty—that promise stands until I can no longer wield a saw."

"Thank you, Grandpa Liao," she said gratefully, gently stroking the violin.

Liao Dexiang took the violin back, asked about her impressions, and made some fine adjustments.

After testing the violin, Lu Xianger thanked him again and left with Fang Xing.

Outside the villa, Liao Zhifei sighed and asked his grandfather seriously, "Grandpa, if I start learning piano now, is it too late?"

Liao Dexiang was annoyed, "Do you think I can just have your father have another child now? Is it too late then?"

Zhifei thought for a moment, "Dad’s not even fifty yet. If he tries hard, maybe it’s still possible."

Liao Dexiang turned away, grumbling, and returned to his tea.

Zhifei trailed after him, "If there’s another child, I hope it’s a sister. Grandpa, you can teach her violin..."

"Go back and mind the music shop!" Liao Dexiang barked.

...

Leaving the villa, Fang Xing hailed a taxi.

While waiting, Lu Xianger hesitated, then pulled out a notebook and pen from her bag.

After looking around nervously, she opened it to reveal a photo.

"Can you sign this for me?"

She quickly added, "It’s for Ning Xiaoyun. She wants to show off to her roommates. She’s my childhood friend—I can’t say no."

Fang Xing glanced at the photo.

It was a screenshot from the "Tomorrow’s Star" program, printed out.

He noticed there were two photos stacked.

Taking the pen, he said, "Only one autograph is enough, right?"

"Huh?"

Lu Xianger’s eyes widened.

Fang Xing laughed, "Just kidding. You want a first autograph? That’s gotta cost extra."

"What?!" Lu Xianger’s eyes grew even wider.

"You’re a big star now, and you’re still asking us students for money?"

Fang Xing signed and handed back the photo, "I was joking. You’re so funny."

After a moment, he added, "Honestly though, I’m broke now."

Lu Xianger refused to believe it, "Impossible, you won the finals."

"Really. If it weren’t for a monthly salary from Turquoise Records, I couldn’t even afford instant noodles."

Of course, he exaggerated, but among top celebrities, he was indeed considered poor.

Changing the subject, he said, "So, two signed photos and a meal—fair, right?"

Lu Xianger hesitated but agreed, "Okay... but nothing too expensive."

"Don’t worry, maybe two Aussie lobsters at most," Fang Xing joked.

Lu Xianger’s eyes widened again, feeling she was about to be fleeced but was too embarrassed to back out.

"Just kidding. That look on your face! A steak buffet would be fine," Fang Xing said, amused by her reactions.

Soon, the cab arrived.

They went to the East Sea World Trade Center for a steak buffet.

Lu Xianger didn’t order steak; she piled her plate with fruit and cake, eating happily.

Fang Xing, not wanting the steaks to go to waste, ate both servings.

Lu Xianger stared wide-eyed, "You eat that much?"

Fang Xing pointed at her plates, "You eat more—five plates."

Lu Xianger defended herself, pointing with chopsticks, "Three plates are fruit, which isn’t filling; the other two are just small egg tarts and cakes."

Buffet cakes were tiny, bite-sized.

Fang Xing shook his finger, "I ate two plates; you ate five. Facts."

Lu Xianger’s eyebrows rose in indignation.

For a girl, being called a big eater was a huge insult.

She pushed three plates toward him, "You had some of this fruit, so it’s yours too."

At that moment, a waiter approached with a smile.

"Today is our couple’s event day. You two seem so close, why not take a photo for our photo wall? You could get the meal free."

Since diners had to remove masks to eat, the manager had already recognized Fang Xing.

Having his photo on the wall would add prestige to the restaurant.

Thus, they offered to waive the bill.

Lu Xianger puffed her cheeks, "We’re not a couple."

The waiter smiled, "You two bicker like a couple in love."

Lu Xianger noticed many staff watching and realized what was going on.

She quickly tugged Fang Xing’s mask up from his chin, "Put your mask on."

"A photo is no big deal. I’m fine with it," Fang Xing said casually.

"I don’t want to take a photo with you."

Lu Xianger didn’t want to end up in the news.

Besides, Fang Xing was being heavily targeted on Weibo by countless fans.

She didn’t want to be an innocent victim.

Fang Xing, having teased her enough, put on his mask and told the waiter, "We’re just classmates. No photo today. Maybe when we’re a couple, we’ll come back for a photo."

Lu Xianger tried to hit him, annoyed, "I’m not doing a photo session with you. I’m going home."

She stood and hurried toward the exit.

Fang Xing called after her, "Hey, you forgot your bag and violin."

Lu Xianger nearly ran out but turned back to retrieve them.

Fang Xing stood, opened the restaurant’s app on his phone, paid the bill, and showed the confirmation to the waiter.

"Welcome next time," the waiter smiled.

Lu Xianger left quickly, taking the escalator down.

Fang Xing followed, "Slow down, be careful you don’t fall."

Lu Xianger scowled, "I’m mad."

"Okay, no more teasing. But you still owe me a meal," Fang Xing reminded her.

Lu Xianger’s eyes widened, realizing she hadn’t paid; Fang Xing had.

Fang Xing chuckled, "Alright, no debt, no debt. Look how mad you got."

"Hmph! I’m going home," Lu Xianger pouted and took a taxi.

In the car, the driver’s radio played a song:

"Loving you is like a heartbeat hard to touch.

Painting you, but cannot outline your bones.

Remembering your expression is my persistence in waiting.

You are a song I can never finish singing..."

Lu Xianger’s irritation flared.

"Driver, can you change the song?"

The driver replied, "It’s the car radio. This song is everywhere lately and quite good. It’s the theme song of a movie. Don’t you like it?"

Qingniao Media had flooded various channels with promotions, so "Painted Heart" had conquered many radio stations.

Lu Xianger wasn’t truly angry—just embarrassed and frustrated.

Resting her chin on her hand, she said, "Then don’t change it. It really is a nice song."