Idol Chapter 75

The security personnel dispatched by the organizer had a long gash on his face.

Huo Ren was taken to the rest area for emergency treatment by the team’s doctor.

“It’s quite deep,” the doctor said gravely. “We need to go to a private hospital.”

“Will he have a scar?” Xie Lianyun asked, trying to steady his breathing.

“Probably not,” Huo Ren said, trying to reassure him. “When I was a kid, my dad hit me so many times, even when my head was busted open, there was no scar.”

“Don’t comfort me,” Xie Lianyun gripped his wrist tightly, gritting his teeth. “That fan is likely an actor; this is not as simple as it seems.”

If the target had only been him, he would not stoop to their level, even if it meant diving into a quagmire.

But now—

His own brother had been hurt because of this. It was a close call for his eye—

The organizer’s head rushed to the scene, apologizing profusely, and drove them to the hospital.

Plastic surgeons and dermatologists were already waiting. After assessing the injury, they took Huo Ren to the stitching room.

“… Just an inch away and it would have hit the eye,” a nurse whispered. “Who would do something so brutal?”

Bo Jue, unexpectedly calm, comforted Xie Lianyun by patting his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” he said coldly. “Something’s off about this.”

Xie Lianyun, teary-eyed, sat outside, trying to control his emotions. “Where’s Uncle Jiang? Why isn’t he here?”

First, Yao Yao had been attacked and ridiculed, and now Ren Ren had been publicly humiliated right before the Lunar New Year.

Where was the company? What was Uncle Jiang doing?

Why had they faced so many undeserved controversies in the past two years?

Long Jia was still on the phone. Hanging up, he hesitated and said, “I can’t get through; he’s still on another call.”

Xie Lianyun slammed his fist on the bench in frustration.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that their manager finally arrived.

The five teammates, gathered around Huo Ren, who had a bandage across his brow, looked at the older man with cold and resistant eyes.

“Doctor Wu, could we use the meeting room for a moment?” Uncle Jiang asked, not immediately comforting them but signaling his assistant to ensure privacy.

“Of course,” the doctor replied with a slight bow.

The conference room was silent.

Uncle Jiang first read through the diagnosis of Huo Ren’s injuries, then took out a stack of photocopies from his bag.

“I only just found out about his injury,” Uncle Jiang sighed. “There’s a lot to talk about; we’ll go step by step. Huo Ren, please wait.”

Huo Ren’s wound had been disinfected with alcohol, and the pain was so intense that his knuckles had turned white.

Bo Jue silently pried open his clenched fingers, allowing him to hold onto his hand, sharing the pain.

“Where are President Pei and President Qi?” Xie Lianyun frowned, “A major incident involving corona’s main composer and lyricist, and they’re not here?”

“They have more important matters,” Uncle Jiang said gravely.

“What could be more important at this point? Uncle Jiang, are you joking with us?!”

“Sit down.”

“We’ve been investigating continuously, but last year’s leads didn’t seem to connect. We didn’t want to leak anything prematurely.”

Uncle Jiang took another deep breath, continuing despite his exhaustion and headache.

“From last Valentine’s Day until now, you all have been targeted by ‘black trending topics’ twelve times.”

“Seven times the company managed to pull them down between three to eight hours. For the rest, we simply couldn’t outbid our opponents.”

Xie Lianyun and Long Jia’s expressions changed, ready to interrupt.

“Quiet. Sit down.” Uncle Jiang looked at them, his voice hoarse from years of smoking, “This is what Presidents Pei and Qi are busy with.”

“The public sentiment has shifted over these three years. I failed to protect you, and I share the blame. But apologizing now is meaningless.”

“I’m 58 years old, not adept at using smartphones. I forget many of the terminologies as soon as I learn them.”

“Including the issue with the eight bars of music, and what constitutes plagiarism, I need to clarify with you first before arranging for experts to give their opinion.”

“But there’s one thing I, Jiang Shu, know for sure which takes precedence over the plagiarism issue and Huo Ren’s injury.”

He looked at each young member of the group, pressing on his throbbing temple and slowly shaking his head.

“If our public image is solely on Weibo, we’ll always be on the defensive.”

Yesterday it was Huo Ren, today it’s Xie Lianyun, tomorrow it might be Long Jia, Chi Ji, or Bo Jue.

Positive trending topics can be bought or artificially boosted, and so can negative ones.

If we’re constantly battling in the public eye, it becomes a matter of who can spend the most, making Weibo the biggest winner.

Xie Lianyun finally seemed a bit calmer, tightly holding Huo Ren’s hand, and questioned, “Are you suggesting we create another platform like Twitter or Weibo? It’s not feasible, and there’s not enough time to draw in users.”

“Exactly,” Uncle Jiang replied calmly. “That’s why, when President Pei first suggested breaking into new markets, even though I don’t understand the internet, I funded his ventures, hoping he could find a new way.”

“This is the first thing I need to explain to you.”

He exchanged glances with Huo Ren, seeking confirmation.

“In fact…” Huo Ren whispered, supported by two of his teammates on either side, “I’ve been discussing with Uncle Jiang and President Pei about launching a live entertainment show specifically to clarify rumors.”

“A live entertainment show?”

“A rumor-based variety show?”

“We’re still in the planning stage. The main idea is to break away from the Weibo platform and establish a trusted exclusive platform for corona to address issues,” Uncle Jiang explained with a bitter smile. “However, everything has happened so fast. The live streaming platform is still being adjusted. President Pei has been working overtime the past month, to the point he couldn’t even make time for the concert rehearsals.”

Uncle Jiang expressed his skepticism about just one company being behind all this. The series of targeted black trending topics and manipulation from fake fans seemed too coordinated.

“Just wait,” he urged, rubbing the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, “We can’t lose this battle.”

Huo Ren, slowly adjusting to the pain on his forehead, leaned into Bo Jue and asked, “What’s the second thing?”

Uncle Jiang looked pained and held his head without responding.

Old Wang took over, “We’re looking for leads.”

While celebrities might not understand the intricacies of fan culture, their management teams must. But the fan culture landscape had evolved so rapidly in recent years, becoming incredibly convoluted.

One notable instance was the notorious anti-fan account named ‘Huo Ren’s Little Sweetheart Bunny.’ Whenever a public incident occurred, this account would mock the victims, posing as a die-hard fan of corona, just to tarnish the group’s reputation.

The company eventually employed technological measures to ban these accounts and set up a monitoring system to prevent their return.

Moreover, there were a significant number of professional trolls in the fan community pretending to be genuine fans, only to create drama.

“Many of these so-called fans, even those with a large following, have been infiltrating and disguising themselves within the genuine fan community for a long time,” Wang explained.

Uncle Jiang took over, his voice raspy, “They have financial ties with Shi Rong Media and Litchi Entertainment. My insider handed over the complete chain of evidence today.”

“Uncle,” Huo Ren suddenly spoke up, “When was the last time you had a medical check-up?”

“Now’s not the time to discuss that,” Uncle Jiang waved off, “Let me finish.”

The PR department, while sending legal letters and expert appraisal drafts, was also looking for the commonalities between these incidents.

First, the incidents were chosen based on significant moral issues. They were not playing on people’s sense of justice, but the twisted pleasure they derived from seeing a popular idol’s morality tarnished.

Second, the trending topics always appeared suddenly, accompanied by a large number of ‘fans’ turning against the group. These ‘fans’ would intentionally drown out the comments defending corona.

Third, the so-called ‘evidences’ were always released bit by bit, never all at once.

“There are several companies targeting corona’s vulnerabilities,” Uncle Jiang said solemnly. “If any one of you falters, corona will have a chink in its armor, making it even harder for the group to regroup.”

If corona falls, its massive presence will collapse, and countless opportunists will pounce, eager to take advantage.

SPF is battling numerous opponents.

“How did you find out?” asked Huo Ren.

Uncle Jiang hesitated, wanting to light a cigarette but stopped upon seeing Huo Ren’s bandaged forehead. He continued, “Firstly, through our company’s network. Secondly… some of corona’s fans have infiltrated the fan groups of ‘Wing’.”

…Wing?

Others exchanged glances. Mei Shengyao asked in confusion, “Didn’t Wing flop a long time ago?”

“Exactly, we’re not ruling out the possibility of someone using Wing as a smokescreen.” Uncle Jiang slid the chat transcripts over to them, “There’s more we’re piecing together.”

Just as he was about to continue, the door to the conference room was flung open.

Pei Ruye strode in, his hair and coat soaked from the rain.

Huo Ren instinctively murmured, “Teacher?”

Pei Ruye quickly approached him, gently touching the white gauze on Huo Ren’s forehead. In front of everyone, he bent down and embraced the young man.

“It must have hurt,” the man whispered, “I wonder if you cried during the stitches.”

“I’m sorry.”