How Can a Construction Foreman Be the Public Girlfriend of a Top Celebrity? - Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Shu Xuan picked up the phone.
“Teacher Shu, I see you. Don’t move—I’ll come get you out,” said Zheng Ling on the line. She was just behind Shu Xuan, separated only by a sea of heads.
Zheng Ling spotted Shu Xuan at a glance. It was as if she had carved out a space of her own—despite the chaos, she stood out like an island in a storm.
Shu Xuan looked around upon hearing the voice, eventually spotting Zheng Ling outside the police cordon.
Zheng Ling waved, her voice echoing through the phone: “Wait for me.”
Pushing through the crowd, Zheng Ling made her way toward Shu Xuan, who in turn surged in her direction.
Just then, the already-bombed stadium suddenly collapsed with a thunderous crash. The dome-shaped structure crumbled, bricks tumbling down the steps and spilling onto the road.
People panicked, scrambling to escape. The ground was littered with debris—shoes, bags, support signs. Police tried to maintain order, but the fear caused by the blast had overwhelmed rational thought.
Behind Shu Xuan, the stadium crumbled; in front, Zheng Ling’s outstretched hand was within reach.
While everyone else retreated, one person pressed forward. They were just five steps apart.
The falling stopped. The stage used for the earlier taping was now fully exposed—but the familiar stage curtain had been replaced with a stark white backdrop.
A group of people stood beneath it—some holding calligraphy brushes, others wielding spray paint.
Shu Xuan, now grasping Zheng Ling’s hand, followed everyone’s gaze. All the people onstage were women.
They wore the same white shirts, dyed hair in vibrant shades. Some had lip piercings, others tattoos.
“Teacher Shu, are you hurt?” Zheng Ling pulled Shu Xuan close and shielded her with her arms.
Shu Xuan shook her head gently. “No.”
Zheng Ling also noticed the commotion onstage. She and Shu Xuan watched from outside the police line while others around them raised their phones to record.
One figure onstage caught Zheng Ling’s eye—wasn’t that A-Liao, with the bright pink hair?
“Boss Zheng, isn’t that A-Liao?” Shu Xuan also recognized her.
“Looks like it,” Zheng Ling squinted, confirming it really was her.
No one at the scene knew what was going on, but despite their shock, curiosity won out.
A woman stepped forward with a large calligraphy brush in one hand and a microphone in the other.
“Don’t panic,” she said. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”
At that moment, armed forces had already surrounded the stadium in three layers.
“Today, we gather here to protest and demand the abolition of the forced marriage system!”
As soon as she said it, the women onstage all shouted together:
“Abolish the forced marriage system!”
“Immediately abolish the forced marriage system!”
A-Liao, visible from a distance, was shouting with all her might.
Now, the crowd began to understand what this was all about. Many in the audience felt a fire ignite in their hearts, some even wanting to join.
“In today’s society, childbirth and marriage have become coercive. We are here to defend the right to freedom!”
“We’ve gathered countless pieces of evidence. Forced marriage has not led to better economic development, nor has it brought true happiness.”
“According to incomplete statistics, 2.5 million women are trafficked globally every year—two-thirds of whom become reproductive tools.”
“These women are forced into marriage, allowing men to avoid labor, responsibility, or respect—yet still get children and wives.”
This protest was being live-streamed online. Netizens praised the women’s courage. Many had similar thoughts but never dared act on them.
In other developed Asian nations, such protests had taken place many times. But in regions that prided themselves on freedom and equality, such actions still remained impossible.
Society had long clouded truth with illusions—telling women to be devoted wives and mothers, to avoid ambition. They gave women crumbs of comfort to confuse kindness with equality, and obligation with rights.
Zheng Ling and Shu Xuan held hands tightly. Watching the stage, they couldn’t help but think of the woman who jumped off the building at their own wedding.
The original intent of marriage and childbirth had dragged so many innocent people into suffering.
“Immediately abolish the forced marriage system!”
The chant shot to the top of Weibo’s trending topics—only to be quickly removed.
The livestreams were also cut off. All information about Nancheng was promptly censored.
But the women onstage continued to fight for their dignity, unaware that even their actions might not be enough to save the world.
Then, A-Liao stepped forward. In her hand was an enormous pair of scissors—nearly the length of an arm.
She took the mic from the previous speaker and addressed the crowd:
“Today, I stand here not only for myself but for millions of sisters—for equality and dignity!”
She raised the scissors and, with two loud snips, chopped off her brightly dyed hair. The strands floated in the air, stark against the rubble.
In no time, she had shaved her head.
“Boss Zheng…” Shu Xuan hesitated, concerned.
Zheng Ling frowned, afraid A-Liao might hurt herself.
A-Liao raised the mic again. “This hair—this long hair women are ‘supposed’ to have—I’m cutting it off in hopes that such stereotypes will one day disappear.”
She then pulled out a clear plastic bag, containing her surgically removed jawbone.
“This is my shaved jawbone,” A-Liao announced, holding up the bloodied bone. “To hell with your so-called beauty standards!”
As the sky darkened, more and more people gathered. The authorities could no longer control the swelling crowd.
Many held up their phones, flashlights pointed toward the stadium.
In the dust and ruin, beams of light revealed motes dancing in the air, settling into every strand of hair.
Zheng Ling and Shu Xuan turned on their own flashlights, standing side by side with interlocked fingers.
A-Liao lifted the scissors again, stripped off her shirt, and pointed to the area where she had injected cosmetic fillers. Then, with swift precision, she cut off the “Empire State Building” enhancement.
A gut-wrenching scream echoed through the arena.
Through her scream, A-Liao shouted: “Cut it off from the root! Abolish the forced marriage system! Destroy the special-effect injections, the fertility drugs!”
“Our wombs will not birth the ones who will oppress and exploit us!”
The entire stadium was shaken.
Zheng Ling’s heart clenched—she was terrified A-Liao’s body couldn’t handle this.
Shu Xuan turned to Zheng Ling and gently patted her back.
Tears streamed down many faces.
The police rushed forward to arrest the women onstage. In response, they grabbed brushes and dipped them in A-Liao’s bl00d, scrawling “Abolish Immediately” on the white background.
Those bloody red words shone vividly in the dim light of the ruins.
News of the protest was scrubbed from the internet. But trending tags like “Celebrity Tea Party Bombing”, “Tea Party Attacked” began appearing.
Some netizens caught photos of Shu Xuan in the crowd, along with other industry veterans.
Once the scene was cleared and A-Liao was taken to the hospital, the crowd finally dispersed.
Zheng Ling pulled Shu Xuan away and led her to where she’d parked her motorcycle.
Shu Xuan grew worried about Xiao Ying—they had been separated in the chaos.
“I already called Da Tou. Xiao Ying is with her. Don’t worry, Teacher Shu,” Zheng Ling said, handing her a helmet.
Back at the venue, her uncle’s event had been forcibly canceled. With no sign of the celebrities, he could only coordinate cleanup efforts.
At home, Shu Xuan felt like the whole ordeal had been a dream. Neither she nor Zheng Ling had recovered from the shock.
Zheng Ling didn’t have A-Liao’s new number, and under the current circumstances, it wasn’t appropriate to call her father either.
The two women sat silently in the living room, saying nothing. A message came from Da Tou, saying she and Xiao Ying had gotten home safely—and that Shu Xuan should avoid the internet for now.
But Shu Xuan wasn’t someone who took advice easily.
She picked up her phone and opened Weibo—only to find no trace of the protest.
She opened the post editor, but before she could type, Zheng Ling quickly grabbed her hand.
“Teacher Shu… are you trying to post about what happened?” Zheng Ling asked, worried.
“Yes.” Shu Xuan nodded.
“Are you sure? Posting it could have serious consequences. It might affect your career,” Zheng Ling warned.
Shu Xuan paused for a moment. “Boss Zheng, are you saying you don’t want me to post it?”
“Of course not—” Zheng Ling began, but before she could finish, Shu Xuan had already posted the Weibo.
The post read: Please immediately abolish the ‘forced marriage’ system.
Once up, many fellow celebrities from the tea party quickly reposted it. Countless others in the industry—mostly women, from D-list stars to legendary icons—followed suit.
A few male actors joined in, but many stayed silent. It wasn’t moral cowardice—everyone had their own considerations.
Shu Xuan’s post shot into the top five trending topics. Da Tou didn’t call to scold her—after all, as a fellow woman, even if she wouldn’t speak out herself, she wouldn’t mock someone who did.
Then, Shu Xuan’s uncle called. She expected a scolding.
But instead, he said: “Teacher Shu, we’ll support your post from this end. But do not respond to any media interviews.”
Zheng Ling had a bold suspicion. Shu Xuan also felt something wasn’t right.
“When my uncle asked me to join the event, he never told me what it was about. None of the other celebrities knew either. Could it have all been planned from the beginning?”