Chapter 44: I Really Want to Lock Him Up

Chapter 44 I Really Want to Lock Him Up

As the live Q&A segment of *Rebirth Challenge* aired, related trending hashtags simultaneously appeared on the headlines of major social media platforms. Netizens eagerly transformed into gossip-hungry spectators, like melon-field rodents, bingeing on the tea nonstop.

First, hashtags related to Xu Meng dominated the top searches across media outlets.

#XuMeng Denies Bullying#, #XuMeng Cease-and-Desist#, #XuMeng Sues Multiple Influencers#...

These trending topics surged as Xu Meng’s live broadcast drew attention.

Clearly, Xu Meng’s team had a game plan ready, waiting for her to deny the allegations on air before launching a coordinated series of actions to maximize the impact. If handled well, her image could do a complete 180. With strong performances in later episodes of *Rebirth Challenge*, a full rehabilitation was just around the corner—perhaps even a comeback.

Next came the wave of hashtags related to Li Wenzhang.

#LiWenzhang’s Ex-Wife#, #LiWenzhang Xiao Yun#, #LiWenzhang Cries on Live#, #LiWenzhang’s Devotion#...

Countless viral clips spread one undeniable truth: they were in love, madly in love, so accusations of domestic violence were utterly baseless. Some even spun wild conspiracy theories, suggesting that jealous individuals had targeted Li Wenzhang out of spite, or that malicious actors had framed him to ruin his reputation. Some even claimed that his divorce was orchestrated by these shadowy forces.

The difficulty of debunking rumors once again became a hot topic.

The *Rebirth Challenge* production team closely monitored online reactions. The show’s popularity had already far exceeded expectations over the past two days, and after the Q&A segment, *Rebirth Challenge* reached unprecedented heights.

It was no exaggeration to say that *Rebirth* would undoubtedly secure a spot among this year’s best variety shows. At the very least, this Q&A segment would become a watershed moment in the history of variety entertainment.

"Keep it going!"

The director grinned from ear to ear—after today, he would be the *Zǐwēixīng* (a celestial metaphor for meteoric rise) of the entire variety show industry.

The next guest to enter the Q&A segment was Fu Zeyu.

Fu Zeyu was notorious for being hot-tempered and well-connected, making him untouchable both inside and outside the industry. Despite scandals such as on-set diva behavior, arbitrarily altering scripts, stealing roles, and engaging in casting couch practices, he never cared to address or deny them. His fans even believed these were things he was fully capable of doing.

Fu Zeyu truly didn’t care, so he stepped onstage without a hint of nervousness.

"Question for Teacher Fu—did you steal Wang Mingyu’s role in *Azure Phoenix*, forcing him to quit the production?"

Chu Yan’s eyebrows perked up with recognition—he had heard about this online drama.

Wang Mingyu was once a fresh-faced up-and-comer who was the it-boy, landing him the role of the second male lead in the xianxia (immortal heroes) romance *Azure Phoenix*. The official cast list before filming had indeed listed him as the second lead, but when the show aired, the role had been recast.

The new second lead was a fresh-faced actor named Liu Mao.

At the time, Wang Mingyu’s fans threw a massive fit, flooding *Azure Phoenix*’s official accounts [a Chinese social media platform] with insults directed at the director, condemning "industry shady dealings," and viciously attacking the new actor, accusing Liu Mao of paying his way onto the set or leveraging connections to steal it from Wang Mingyu.

The fan backlash grew increasingly fierce, demanding an explanation from the production team and even calling for the new actor to be blacklisted [canceled]. The two fanbases went to war for days, but since Liu Mao was a newcomer, his supporters were completely steamrolled by Wang Mingyu’s fans.

Just as the situation threatened to spiral out of control, Wang Mingyu finally stepped forward with a posted a sob-story thread.

The gist of his message was to urge fans to stay rational, claiming that he simply "wasn’t meant to be" for the role and denying any forced replacement or role theft. He even gave Liu Mao props for his chops.

In short, it was all so fake and calculating.

The moment Wang Mingyu's dramatic essay came out, his fans became even more convinced that he had suffered an immense injustice, leading them to retaliate even more viciously against Liu Mao and the production team.

*Azure Phoenix* almost got taken off the air.

The more he urged his fans to be rational, the more recklessly they fought tooth and nail for him—and then all hell broke loose.

The new actor Liu Mao, who played the second male lead, had sulfuric acid thrown at him at the airport.

Fortunately, it wasn't life-threatening, but the actor was severely traumatized, and his career tanked. A promising young actor with solid acting skills just vanished from the scene over the next two years.

At first glance, this incident seemed completely unrelated to Fu Zeyu. But to everyone's surprise, after the acid attack, Fu Zeyu openly lashed out at Wang Mingyu.

At the time, Wang Mingyu was an untouchable A-lister, and the recasting controversy had only amplified his popularity. Yet Fu Zeyu showed no mercy, directly ripped into him on Weibo.

Fu Zeyu outright admitted that he was the one who demanded the recast, that the new actor was under his protection, and that if Wang Mingyu had any integrity, he should stop hiding behind his fans and come at him directly—he, Fu Zeyu, would bring it on.

Honestly, after digesting the whole drama, Chu Yan was thoroughly disgusted by the dirty tactics in the entertainment industry. If nothing else, Wang Mingyu's manipulation of his fans to retaliate against his rival was downright trashy.

As for Fu Zeyu, given his status and influence, he never bothered to explain his actions, and no one dared to challenge him. But that new actor had undoubtedly gotten caught in the crossfire.

The clued-in livestream audience had already grabbed their popcorn, and Fu Zeyu did not disappoint.

"Yes."

Fu Zeyu smirked at the camera.

"*Azure Phoenix* was my investment. What's the big deal if I change an actor?"

"And as for why I recast at the last minute—Wang Mingyu, don’t you have any goddamn sense?"

Whoa, drama alert!

The gossip hounds perked up instantly.

Only the director was both thrilled and terrified. After all, Wang Mingyu was currently a top-tier star, and he feared Wang’s fans would storm the livestream and crash it. And also—

"For god’s sake, watch your language! No swearing!"

The director frantically signaled Fu Zeyu with his script, eyes pleading. He was also terrified that this loose cannon would get the livestream shut down.

The director was truly suffering.

But no one cared.

"Wang Mingyu is nothing but all looks, zero talent. *Azure Phoenix* was a project I believed in—I invested 300 million in this xianxia drama. The second male lead’s role was crucial. And you know what?" Fu Zeyu fumed. "Wang Mingyu didn’t even have the basic professionalism of an actor. I, at least, learn my damn lines. That piece of work didn’t even read the script before showing up on set. He actually stood there spouting '1, 2, 3, 4, 5' (spouting numbers instead of lines) like some kind of joke!"

"Tell me, how messed up is that? Can you believe this crap? That shameless bastard, right in front of the entire crew, after all the effort they slaved over the set—he just stands there counting numbers? Holy sh*t!"

His disdain for Wang Mingyu was crystal clear.

Chu Yan and the others were stunned, devouring the drama.

The director was at his wit’s end at this point. Unable to stop it, he could only clasp his hands and pray the livestream wouldn’t get banned.

Fu Zeyu only grew more incensed.

"The entertainment industry isn’t short on talent. I gave him a chance, and he wasted it. Talking about dubbing it later—in his damn dreams. Others might cater to his popularity, but not yours truly. So what if I replaced him?"

"I've already spared him by not blacklisting him, yet he dares to manipulate his fans to stir up trouble. He’s really pushing his luck."

Everyone was stunned.

At that moment, not only were the guests and director on the live broadcast frozen in shock, but the audience in the livestream was equally dumbfounded.

Fu Zeyu truly lived up to his reputation as the reckless rich heir—only he could be this bold.

Meanwhile, Wang Mingyu, watching from behind the screen, his face twisted in fury.

This was outrageous. How dare this shameless show do this? He had worked so hard to get where he was today, spending so much time and effort to make this young master forget such a trivial matter. And now, they had the audacity to bring it up again, exposing the truth in front of so many viewers.

He wasn’t about to take this lying down.

The director watched anxiously the livestream’s activity. The number of viewers was skyrocketing at a terrifying rate, and the chat was exploding.

At first, it was just the audience discussing the drama, but within seconds, a flood of Wang Mingyu’s fans flooded in, turning the livestream into a battlefield.

Just then, the director received a mysterious phone call, and his heart sank.

Sure enough, his worst fear had come true.

With such a juicy scandal unfolding, Chu Yan and Zhou Yun were huddled together, eating it up. There was no doubt that the livestream had already descended into chaos.

Wang Mingyu was, after all, an A-list star. If he couldn’t retaliate against Fu Zeyu, he could still target a nobody director with no backing.

Coincidentally, as Chu Yan glanced over, he noticed the director whispering into his phone nearby.

Whoever was on the other end of the call, the director’s groveling was almost like kissing up.

Had Wang Mingyu struck back? Or was it someone behind Wang Mingyu?

Fu Zeyu’s status was undoubtedly intimidating, but he was still just a pampered rich kid with no clout. Once others’ interests were involved, even influential families like the Chus wouldn’t think twice about crossing him. And if several such families joined forces, even the Fu family wouldn’t stick their necks out for Fu Zeyu from unnecessary trouble.

So Chu Yan was seriously concerned that this show might be canceled after one airing.

Too bad—the mess was too good to pass up.

The director was indeed on the phone. A mysterious caller had ordered him to pull the plug immediately, or deal with the fallout.

As a small-time director, he couldn’t afford any consequences, so he immediately called the bigwig who had invested 200 million in the production.

After all, this mysterious backer didn’t give a damn about the Chus.

Zhu Ye, upon receiving the call, simply instructed the director to send over the caller’s phone number, promising a response within ten minutes.

Ten minutes was more than enough for Zhu Ye to unearth everything about the caller’s family history.

Some nobody Qi family, trying to interfere with his boss’s plans over some sugar baby? They were asking for trouble.

Zhu Ye quickly filled in Fu Junhang on the situation, then told the director to blow it off.

Not only that—no matter who tried to interfere, even if it was one of the top-tier elite families, the show was to continue as normal.

Zhu Ye then arranged for an elite tech team to lock down the stream, ensuring it wouldn’t be taken down or disrupted by external forces.

The director was shaking with glee, barely containing his exhilaration. He felt like he had just hit the jackpot with a powerhouse backer.

Not even afraid of the top elite families? No way.

Meanwhile, Fu Junhang leaned back, arms folded, in an unnoticed corner, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his cap, fixed on Chu Yan’s position in the crowd.

Damn, when had his precious golden boy gotten so close to those two trust-fund brats? And that guy with the surname Lu, and that Xu guy—why did everyone seem so eager to suck up to his little golden master?

He wanted to keep him all to himself, just to see him smile.

No, no—nobody would like such a psycho.

Fu Junhang’s mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, sometimes even he felt like he wasn’t quite right in the head.

With the reassurance in hand, the director was no longer a nervous wreck. He straightened his back with a sudden boost of courage.

"Next, please."

"Professor Lu, please put on the lie detector."

Lu Zhaoyang’s face was pale. Chu Yan noticed how heavy his footsteps seemed, his entire demeanor radiating reluctance. Quietly, Chu Yan gave a subtle fist pump.

"Professor Lu, you’ve got this."

Of all the guests, Lu Zhaoyang had undoubtedly got hit the hardest from online harassment.

With the lie detector strapped on, he looked visibly squirming, his movements restless. It was as if facing the camera required immense courage, and the questions awaiting him made him couldn’t sit still.

Finally, the inevitable arrived.

"Professor Lu, is it true that you were once in a relationship with Han Chuming?"

Chu Yan’s heart tightened. The other guests also unconsciously straightened in their seats—this question cut straight to the heart of it.

The livestream audience collectively held their breath.

Chu Yan clearly noticed how Lu Zhaoyang trembled at the mention of Han Chuming’s name, his fists clenching tightly around his pants. His eyes refused to meet the camera.

The bright, sunny young man from years ago was long gone. Years of psychological torment had left him a shell of his former self.

He had thought that after all this time, he should have moved on. Yet, hearing that name still sent a sharp pang through his heart.

It was as if he had plunged into an endless abyss of darkness, surrounded by bone-chilling cold. He froze completely, unable to think.

Chu Yan grew worried. Lu Zhaoyang’s state was clearly off, but the livestream continued—this was the chance he had chosen for himself.

"Damn, even a playboy like me feels bad seeing this," Zhou Yun muttered, unable to bear it. "I refuse to believe he was really the other man."

"My intuition’s never wrong, and I think there’s more to this," Fu Zeyu said, surprisingly aligning with Zhou Yun for once. "But damn, he looks so pathetic. Why can’t he just speak up? What’s the point of acting so spineless?"

Fu Zeyu had no patience for people like this.

"Professor Lu… Professor Lu?"

Lu Zhaoyang seemed lost in his own thoughts, unresponsive even after the staff called his name multiple times. Only when the question was repeated did he finally lift his head to face the camera.

His eyes were slightly red, his entire being radiating despair. His lips trembled before he finally uttered a single word.

"Yes."

The room burst into murmurs. For a brief moment, the livestream fell into complete silence.

Han Chuming was the one Lu Zhaoyang was accused of coming between. The rumors about them had circulated three years ago, yet what everyone knew now was that Han Chuming had been secretly married for eight years.

Wasn’t this basically admitting he was the other man—the homewrecker?

After uttering just one word, Lu Zhaoyang fell silent again. His head hung low, his hands clutching his pants so tightly that nearby guests could see his whole body shaking slightly.

"Come on, Professor Lu, explain!"

Chu Yan hissed under his breath, "Lu Zhaoyang!"

There had to be a reason. The agony on Lu Zhaoyang’s face was clear—this wasn’t guilt. There must be more to the story.

But their pushing was pointless. After that single word, Lu Zhaoyang said nothing more.

After a long silence, Lu Zhaoyang ripped off the lie detector, bowed to the cameras, and walked out.

Chu Yan’s stomach dropped.

This was bad.

If he’d known how this would go, he never would’ve given him that stupid bottle.