Reborn, I Became a Male God - Chapter 61-65

Gao Wei didn’t come home the whole night. At first, the Gao family didn’t think much of it. After all, they had been too strict with him earlier, locking him up for a whole month. Now that he was finally let out, of course he’d want to have some fun. The people he went out with were all familiar friends, and the Gao family just assumed he had gotten drunk and crashed at someone’s place.

 

But by the afternoon of the next day, there was still no sign of him. With Mr. Gao about to come home from work, Mrs. Gao got worried he might punish their son if he found out. So she decided to call and tell him to come home — only to find that his phone was turned off.

 

“That brat probably forgot to charge his phone again!” Mrs. Gao said angrily. Unable to reach him, she started calling the other kids who had gone out with him. She called them one by one, but everyone said they hadn’t seen Gao Wei and thought he’d gone home.

 

After hanging up, Mrs. Gao sat on the couch in the living room, dazed for a while, then frantically called her husband.

 

“Beep… beep… What is it?”

 

“Akun, something’s happened to Gao Wei!”

 

When Gao Wei woke up, it was around eight or nine in the morning, though he didn’t know the exact time. He woke up from the heat, feeling like he was being roasted over a fire. His skin stung with pain. A hangover left his head heavy and groggy. He struggled to open his eyes, but what he saw wasn’t a bright and comfortable bedroom—it was a dark and broken-down place.

 

Less than two meters ahead, there was a fire burning, with wood crackling and flames dancing like little spirits. That was clearly the source of the scorching heat. The firelight lit up the surroundings: a rough, uneven floor coated in thick dust, brick walls stacked unevenly, moss creeping up from the base of the walls. A wooden door set in the wall was half open, the surface so decayed its original color couldn’t be seen, and a corner of the bottom had rotted away.

 

Gao Wei’s first thought was that he was dreaming. He shut his eyes and shook his head hard—only to bang the back of it on a half brick, crying out in pain. He instinctively tried to touch the back of his head, but realized he couldn’t move. His hands were tied behind his back, and his legs were bound too. The stiffness that the heat had masked began to register clearly.

 

The old wooden door creaked open, and someone stepped through. A man in sneakers kicked up fine dust as he walked. “Awake?” It was a man’s voice. He came over, squatted down beside Gao Wei, and picked up a plank of wood to toss onto the fire. He was wearing white plastic gloves.

 

“Who are you? Where is this?” Gao Wei asked as he tried to turn his head to get a better look. But before he could get a clear view, the man said something that made him freeze.

 

“Aren’t you afraid that if you see my face, you won’t live?”

 

It wasn’t just a scare tactic. In kidnapping cases, sometimes the perpetrator just wants money. But once someone sees their face, there’s a high chance they’ll be silenced permanently.

 

Gao Wei quickly turned his head toward the ground and said in a panic, “I didn’t see anything! Do you want money? Just say how much!”

 

The kidnapper spoke slowly and steadily, “I don’t want money. I just want to ask you a few questions. How much do you know about the others involved in the 4/30 case?”

 

It took Gao Wei a moment to realize what he meant—the 4/30 River Crossing drug frame-up case that he had personally experienced and that made headlines. “How did you find—” He stopped mid-sentence. He didn’t need anyone to answer; he already knew. Back then, when the news covered the case, all personnel information had been kept confidential. But he’d been too eager to brag and had shared it on social media. Although he deleted it soon after being warned about the danger, who knew if someone had saved it?

 

If he weren’t tied up, he would’ve slapped himself.

 

“Well?” the kidnapper asked again.

 

“If I tell you, will you let me go?” Gao Wei tried to bargain.

 

What he got in return was a hard kick to the chest.

 

“You think you’re in any position to negotiate?”

 

“Aaah! Okay, okay! I’ll talk! I only know one person—her name’s Qi Lili, she lives at…”

 

That afternoon, when Mrs. Gao called home, Zhang Qingrong happened to be in the living room and picked up the phone. The caller asked if she knew where Gao Wei was. She said no—she’d left early the night before with a few other girls and hadn’t stayed until the end. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Who knew, maybe he drank too much and someone took him to a hotel.

 

Around eight in the evening, Zhang Qingrong was chatting on the phone with a friend when someone knocked on her door. She called out, and her father responded—his voice unusually stern. She shuffled over in slippers and opened the door, only to find the man, who should’ve been in loungewear, dressed in a police uniform with a grim expression.

 

“Pack your things. Xiao Liu will take you to your grandmother’s place later.”

 

Zhang Qingrong was stunned. “Did something happen?”

 

“They found Gao Wei.”

 

In an abandoned construction site on the outskirts.

 

That afternoon, after Mr. Gao got the call from his wife saying their son was in trouble, he immediately mobilized personnel to investigate. They quickly zeroed in on Zero Point Bar, and found surveillance footage of a suspicious man approaching and talking to Gao Wei. The man clearly knew how to avoid the cameras—his face was never captured. The footage showed him helping Gao Wei out, then the screen went black. No one knew how he had taken Gao Wei away. Mr. Gao was preparing to use street surveillance to track them when his wife called again—she had received a multimedia message. It contained a photo and a short message. In the photo, a metal drum sat in the middle of a clearly abandoned room, a fire burning inside it. A person was tied inside the drum, his face twisted in pain and fear.

 

—His time is running out.

 

The person in the photo was Gao Wei.

 

—

 

“That guy had the timing down too perfectly. When Lao Gao found Gao Wei, he had only been dead for a few minutes… Even though you didn’t do anything wrong, we all live in the same compound. Seeing you will only remind us of the child. So I’ve decided to let you stay at your grandmother’s for a while.”

 

Just yesterday they’d all been partying together, and now Gao Wei was suddenly dead. Zhang Qingrong felt it was all too unreal. “How could this happen?” Gao Wei had just come back. He didn’t have any enemies… But then she remembered a detail—that the timing had been too precise. Her eyes widened in shock. “That person… is back?”

 

Her father nodded heavily. “The word ‘demon’ was spray-painted in red on the drum.”

 

Demon—not just a word, but the symbol behind a series of brutal murder cases. The last time he appeared was fifteen years ago, after a major human trafficking case was solved. Somehow, the personal information of the investigators and victims’ families was leaked. Not long after, those people were slaughtered one by one. At first, the police thought it was a revenge plot by the crime syndicate, but that lead went cold. Later, someone suggested the killer was using that angle to mislead the investigation—and that revenge had been the motive all along.

 

That serial case was never solved. The file was shelved and forgotten.

 

Zhang’s father was with the Public Security Bureau. He had personally worked on that case. When Zhang Qingrong was little, she had been fascinated by such stories. After much begging and pleading, her father had told her many cases, and this was the one she remembered most clearly.

 

“They never caught him?” she asked.

 

“He picks his locations well. That unfinished building in the southern suburbs is in a complicated area—on one side is a waste treatment plant with all kinds of people coming and going; on the other side is a dense forest. Not only can we not catch him, we couldn’t even figure out which direction he escaped from.”

 

This was the answer Zhang Qingrong expected. If he was so easy to catch, the case wouldn’t still be unsolved and forgotten.

 

East Administrative District, Pingzhou, Baiyan City.

 

After more than a month of recovery, Qi Lili’s injuries had improved a lot. With the doctor’s approval, she completed the discharge procedures.

 

Her family lived in an old-style neighborhood where the square-dancing housewives knew exactly how old every child was, where they worked, and whether they had a boyfriend. Qi Lili’s mother used to be one of them—gossiping with neighbors and always sharing tidbits when calling her daughter. But ever since Qi Lili’s incident, and since she became the subject of the gossip, her mother stopped going to the square.

 

That didn’t stop people from gossiping.

 

That day, when Qi Lili returned from the hospital, the weather was nice. A group of people sat under the trees in the garden, and they all greeted her family warmly, asking how she was. After exchanging thanks, Qi’s mother hurried her along.

 

Qi Lili knew exactly why. Sure enough, after walking a short distance, she could vaguely hear them whispering behind her.

 

“I heard she fell down the stairs?”

 

“That’s what the Qi family said.”

 

“You believe that? When I visited her in the hospital, there were still bruises on her face. Looked more like someone beat her.”

 

“Didn’t she have a boyfriend before? Supposedly rich, right? Didn’t even show up when she got discharged. They probably broke up. Those injuries—maybe he hit her!”

 

—

 

“These people are just bored with nothing better to do, spouting nonsense!” Qi’s mother was furious.

 

Qi Lili replied calmly, “Why do you care what they say? It’s not like it takes a piece out of you.” Weren’t you the one who used to gossip with them day after day, happily indulging in it? Now that the knife’s turned on you, suddenly it hurts.

 

After what she’d been through, she suddenly understood—whether it’s love or money, none of it matters compared to life.

 

She spent some time building a regular routine: waking early for exercise and sleeping on time. Since her injuries weren’t fully healed, she started with morning walks near the neighborhood. She stuck to it for a week, and during that time she often saw another girl. They’d just exchange greetings. But one morning, the girl seemed to be in a particularly good mood and struck up a conversation with her.

 

They chatted the whole way, and when they parted, the girl suddenly asked, “Your boyfriend didn’t come pick you up today?”

 

Qi Lili was caught off guard. “What boyfriend?”

 

Chapter 62

 

 

“It’s that one who came with you these past couple of days.”

 

From the girl’s words, Qi Lili gathered—she had a boyfriend who treated her very well. He had accompanied her in the morning these past two days, but didn’t go on walks with her; he just waited at the entrance of the park, and they came and left together. Sounds like a decent relationship, right? The problem was—she had no idea this boyfriend even existed!

 

If the girl wasn’t telling her a ghost story, then this news was downright chilling!

 

Just think about it: without your knowledge, a stranger of the opposite s3x follows you every day, secretly watching you… Qi Lili couldn’t help but shiver. At that moment, she heard the girl say, “Eh? Speak of the devil and he appears—here he comes.”

 

Qi Lili instinctively followed the girl’s gaze.

 

It was around 7:30 a.m., and the park was gradually becoming more crowded—mostly elderly people taking walks, carrying bird cages or walking dogs. About ten meters away from her was a flowerbed with a circle of wooden benches. A few elderly folks sat together, chatting and laughing. Only the young man sitting on the right appeared out of place. A close-cropped haircut, casual clothes, lazily slouched against the bench with his eyes slightly lowered in a daze.

 

Qi Lili recognized this person! Just three days ago, he had asked her for directions!

 

A possibility suddenly occurred to her. “Did you see him with me on Monday morning?”

 

The girl nodded. “Yeah, I happened to see the two of you talking.”

 

As expected!

 

So, from that moment on, had he been following her all this time?

 

Perhaps sensing her gaze, the man, who had been looking down slightly, suddenly lifted his head and looked her way. Their eyes met. Sharp brows and bright eyes, a high nose bridge—a very upright, proper-looking face. But at this moment, when Qi Lili looked at him, all she felt was an icy chill. She had only just escaped from the shadows of the past, trying hard to return to a normal life—and now she realized she might have caught the attention of a pervert again. Even with plenty of people around, fear still gripped her heart.

 

“Go on, then!” the girl waved at her. “I won’t play third wheel. See you tomorrow!” With that, she got up and left.

 

Qi Lili wanted to call her back, but before she could speak, she saw that man suddenly stand up, then take a long stride in her direction. Watching that tall figure slowly approach, she felt all the bl00d in her body freeze in an instant. Her mind screamed to run, but her body was frozen, unable to move even a little.

 

The distance between them grew smaller and smaller. She could even make out the tiny English letters on the front of his clothes. Then, the man walked right past her—getting… farther away?

 

He just left like that?

 

Qi Lili blanked out for a moment. She stared as the tall figure turned from facing her to having his back to her, finally disappearing from sight. It took her a while to recover. The stiffness in her body faded, and a sudden sense of weakness nearly made her stumble. She hastily grabbed the neatly trimmed bush beside her to steady herself, the rough branches pricking painfully into her palm.

 

So, did I overthink it?

 

Qi Lili asked herself silently. Had that experience on the Jiudu River not only changed her mindset but also made her overly sensitive and suspicious?

 

She sat on the park bench for quite a while, going over the entire situation from beginning to end. Regardless of whether the encounter was deliberate or accidental, it was never wrong to be cautious about such things!

 

On her way home from the park, she didn’t go alone like before but followed the crowd of people walking their birds and dogs. Only after arriving home did she finally breathe a full sigh of relief.

 

After that incident, Qi Lili didn’t dare go back to the park. She stayed holed up at home for several days. She didn’t say anything, and Qi Dad and Qi Mom didn’t think much of it either—assuming she just lost interest after a brief whim.

 

A week passed just like that. Then, because the temperature had dropped suddenly, Qi Mom caught a cold and didn’t feel well enough to make breakfast. She also didn’t like the food Qi Lili made, so they had no choice but to eat out. Since Qi Dad was still at work and Qi Mom was sick, the glorious task of buying breakfast naturally fell on Qi Lili.

 

To be honest, she was still a little scared. But thinking of the breakfast shop Qi Mom liked—located on a main street, with a primary school nearby and many parents dropping off kids—she wasn’t as afraid.

 

The next morning, she got up early, freshened up a bit, and left with some change in her pocket. From the seventh floor down to the first, her footsteps echoed through the empty stairwell. She passed through the main gate of the residential complex, walked down the long street, and finally arrived at her destination. The breakfast shop was doing brisk business, and she queued for a while before getting her order. The freshly steamed soup dumplings were piping hot. She also ordered two bowls of preserved egg and lean pork congee to go. After paying, she took the food and headed back.

 

When passing the road leading to the elementary school, she casually glanced inside—and then froze on the spot.

 

She saw that person again!

 

Jing Ling had stayed in the hospital for four days. The swelling in his arm had mostly gone down, though the doctor initially estimated it would take about a week. They hadn’t performed surgery immediately because doing so while the arm was badly swollen would have hindered healing. Now that the swelling had subsided, the doctor scheduled the surgery for the next day.

 

The operation went smoothly. Afterward, Shen Ze asked the doctor how long it would be before Jing Ling could be discharged. The doctor told him that due to the severity of the injury, it would take about three to four weeks.

 

Shen Ze equated that timeline with a full month. He figured it was better to stay longer in the hospital, letting professionals take care of things—it would also be more convenient in case of any complications. After all, it’s not like they couldn’t afford the hospital fees.

 

Since Jing Ling wouldn’t be able to take any jobs in the short term, Shen Ze postponed most of his own work to take care of him. For the few tasks he couldn’t postpone, he simply brought them to the hospital and dealt with them there when he had time.

 

During this period, Yunshu called him every day—once at noon, once at night—rain or shine. Jing Ling had excellent hearing and could sometimes make out another girl’s voice coming from the phone. She seemed somewhat displeased with him, often speaking with implied criticism. Jing Ling wasn’t upset, though. Instead, he seriously reflected on the points she raised. He and Yunshu were too close to see things clearly, whereas outsiders had a better perspective.

 

Some things truly did need more attention.

 

A week after the surgery, Jing Ling received a call from Xu Shaohuai. Ever since they had that candid conversation, the man hadn’t called again. Given Xu’s status, it wasn’t like he’d call just to chat with someone he barely knew. As expected, once the call connected, Xu got straight to the point: Gao Wei was dead.

 

Jing Ling had a good memory, but the news was so abrupt and lacking in context that it took him two seconds to remember who Gao Wei was.

 

“What happened?” Gao Wei might’ve been trash as a person, but he didn’t deserve death. At most, a few years in prison. The fact that Xu specifically brought it up meant there had to be a reason.

 

Sure enough, Xu Shaohuai went on to explain everything.

 

“Isn’t the time gap between the crimes a bit too long? Fifteen years is enough for a young man to enter middle age. In that time, quite a few major cases must’ve been solved. If this guy really was a sociopath who specifically targeted victims, are you sure he didn’t commit any crimes during those fifteen years?” Jing Ling had previously looked into domestic developments. Technological advancements had surged only in recent years—before that, information was relatively inaccessible, and police systems in different regions weren’t well-connected. Many cold cases were unknown to the public. It was possible that the man had committed scattered crimes elsewhere but, due to negligence from local authorities, hadn’t drawn any attention.

 

“We’ve considered that, but since the incidents are so old and the clues so vague, it’ll take some time to search the archives. The reason he went after Gao Wei might be because Gao Wei himself leaked information. Before he died, the man might have learned about others from Gao Wei. The likelihood that Qi Lili’s identity has been exposed is almost 100%, so we’ve assigned people to protect her.”

 

“Officer Xu, you also know my current condition—both arms are fractured. Even if you tell me all this, I’m powerless to help.”

 

“I know. It’s just that you were involved in this case, so I wanted to inform you. And no one can say for sure that we won’t need your help again in the future.”

 

“Then thank you, Officer Xu. I’m actually quite interested in this case.” There was a time when he was so obsessed with justice it bordered on madness. Without the restraints of a police uniform, those who ended up in his hands rarely had a good outcome. At the same time, he was always aware of the line—and never crossed it. He only ever toed the edge. As a result, even petty criminals avoided the area where he operated.

 

Jing Ling once said his injuries would heal in two months at most. As someone with common sense, Shen Ze didn’t take that seriously—but Jing Ling soon proved what it meant to keep one’s word.

 

In the second week after surgery, Jing Ling told him he was ready to be discharged. Shen Ze called in the doctor with a blank face, thinking the doctor would explain the responsibilities of a patient. But after examining him, the doctor was shocked by the results.

 

Jing Ling’s recovery rate was more than double that of a normal person! According to the examination, he was completely ready to be discharged!

 

Shen Ze seriously suspected that the doctor had been seduced by Jing Ling’s looks.

 

In the end, Jing Ling was discharged smoothly. A new movie had premiered, the hype around Island gradually faded, and so did the attention brought by the state news broadcast. The entertainment world was constantly abuzz with major events, and the media’s focus had mostly shifted away from him. On top of that, he deliberately kept a low profile, so barely anyone knew he had left the hospital.

 

With his arms injured, the exaggerated human-skin mask disguise was no longer usable. He could only resort to the low-level disguises of wearing a hat and sunglasses like everyone else. But his looks, combined with the two plastered arms, made him far too conspicuous. He was recognized on the street several times and even took photos with those who spotted him.

 

People were one thing—but he hadn’t expected even a dog to recognize him. As he and Shen Ze walked together, a uniformed German Shepherd suddenly broke free from its leash and barked its way toward him from afar.

 

Jing Ling immediately ducked behind Shen Ze without hesitation.

 

Watching the oncoming guard dog head straight for him, Shen Ze: “……”

 

 

Chapter 63

 

 

What is it like to have a friend who would sell you out without hesitation?

 

Shen Ze felt like in this moment, all his composure had been eaten alive by the dog charging straight at him. If he could, he would’ve loved to beat Jing Ling up—injuries be damned! A black-hearted guy like this should’ve just stayed in the hospital repenting his sins! Rice porridge too bland with no taste? Grapes not good if unpeeled? Three meals a day, different every time, no repeats for a week? To hell with that! If you want to eat, eat. If not, go hungry!

 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t move. His feet felt like they were weighed down with a thousand pounds, stuck in place.

 

As a child, he’d once been chased by a dog—down a whole long street. It had only been a puppy, but it was particularly fierce. Its four short little legs pounded the pavement with surprising momentum—it was the kind of dog that defied appearances.

 

Once bitten by a snake, ten years afraid of ropes. Ever since that childhood trauma, Shen Ze would always instinctively avoid dogs. But now, thanks to Jing Ling the Professional Teammate Betrayer, he was being forced to confront a charging German shepherd.

 

Mom, save me! He was scared of even pet dogs, let alone a fierce-looking shepherd!

 

To Shen Ze, the whole sequence of events felt like a slow-motion replay, as if time had crawled by, though in reality it all happened in a flash.

 

“Da Bao, be good, don’t cause trouble, I can’t play with you right now!” Jing Ling’s voice rang out from behind him.

 

“Da Bao!” On the other side, the patrolling armed police, caught completely off guard by this situation, quickly sprang into action and ran after the dog, just barely catching hold of the leash. In the end, the dog named Da Bao stopped just thirty centimeters away from Shen Ze, lifting its front paws and barking as if unwilling to give up—there even seemed to be a hint of grievance in its voice?

 

Shen Ze thought maybe he was so scared he’d started hallucinating.

 

Jing Ling poked his head out from behind Shen Ze and comforted the dog, saying, “Da Bao, be good. I really can’t play with you right now. Look, I’m still injured! See?” As he spoke, he held out both arms in plaster casts for the dog to see. Miraculously, the dog really quieted down, as if it understood what he said.

 

But Shen Ze couldn’t care less about this miraculous moment. What was raging in his mind was: Look at him! He still has the nerve to comfort the dog! If I had known earlier, I should’ve mixed half salt and half sugar into his porridge while he was in the hospital, covered it up with a layer of congee, stirred it all up, and fed it to him with my own hands!

 

At that moment, he fed all the “kindness” and “grace” in his personal dictionary to the dog in front of him.

 

Da Bao was a police dog. To be allowed on patrol in uniform, it had clearly undergone serious training—and it had even gone abroad and earned merit. The moment it suddenly broke free from its leash, the police’s first reaction was that something dangerous had happened. The capital wasn’t like other places—security was always tight. This unit had undergone strict training, and as soon as Da Bao acted, they responded instantly and moved to surround the potential threat.

 

But right at that crucial moment, Da Bao suddenly calmed down. Police dogs weren’t like ordinary pets—they didn’t get close to strangers easily. Yet this one had been soothed with just a few words from a stranger—and this person had even known Da Bao’s name in advance!

 

The patrolling officers found this whole situation suspicious. After a brief hesitation, their team leader followed protocol and asked Jing Ling to present his ID.

 

“Ah Ze,” Jing Ling called.

 

Shen Ze instinctively stepped back a few paces, only stopping once he was a safe distance away from the dog. He looked up at Jing Ling and said, “You come over here.” His face was expressionless, but if you looked closely, there was caution in his eyes.

 

Jing Ling examined him and said, “If I’d known you were scared of dogs, I wouldn’t have hidden behind you.”

 

“Shut up!” Shen Ze snapped in frustration, ears slightly red. “If you don’t come here, take out your wallet yourself!”

 

“Fine.” Jing Ling, a man beneath the eaves, had to bow his head. He stepped over to Shen Ze’s side, and the latter fished out the wallet from his pocket, took out both of their ID cards, and handed them over. Still afraid of the dog, he stood at what he believed was a safe distance, arms stretched as far as they could go. The scene left the officers speechless as they came over to collect the IDs.

 

“Jing Ling…” One of them read his name aloud, recognizing it as vaguely familiar. A teammate nearby suddenly spoke up, “I remember him! That celebrity who got injured doing a good deed—he was on the national news!”

 

The place they were at wasn’t too remote—pedestrians passed by occasionally. The Chinese love a good spectacle, and people had already started gathering. When the officer revealed Jing Ling’s identity, a girl standing across the street suddenly realized something. “So it was him. I thought he looked familiar.” As she spoke, she took out her phone, found a good angle, and snapped a photo.

 

The misunderstanding was quickly resolved. After all, this was someone the national news had praised, and Da Bao hadn’t actually reacted as if something illegal was going on. The patrol officers returned their ID cards and resumed their duties.

 

But the hit Shen Ze’s opinion of Jing Ling had taken wasn’t so easily mended. The top agent took his ID card back with a blank expression, neatly returned it to the wallet, slipped it into Jing Ling’s pocket, and walked past him without even glancing his way.

 

Jing Ling couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Ahead, Shen Ze’s steps paused just slightly before continuing on.

 

“Ah Ze, Brother Ze, Ze-ge, Uncle Ze, I was wrong, okay?” Jing Ling laughed as he chased after him.

 

“Shut up!”

 

Not long after the two left, a gossip thread popped up on a certain forum.

 

Subject: Inspirational idol stopped by armed police in public—coincidence or hidden story? [With pic!]

 

zzzz: Just saw this on my Moments. A friend went to Cuihu District and happened to see that positive-energy idol who was praised on the national news being surrounded by a squad of patrolling armed police. No idea why they were checking his ID. Did he commit a crime? Here’s the pic. [Photo]

 

Gotta say, the angle of this photo was highly suggestive—though Jing Ling only showed his profile, it was still recognizable at a glance. The officer holding his ID also had a side profile visible, and Da Bao, getting up close, made it all look like a suspect investigation.

 

At this point, Jing Ling’s trending popularity had mostly faded, but there were always people paid to smear him. This post quickly got bumped into a hot thread.

 

123WoodCat: Wow, people were hyping him up like a saint, and now look how fast the backlash is!

 

TeaEgg: Didn’t they say his arms were shattered? It hasn’t even been a month and he’s already out of the hospital? Probably exaggerated the injury to gain sympathy and fans. So much for his “humble and fame-indifferent” image.

 

FishThatLovesToDraw: With so many celebrity drug scandals recently, and considering how reliable police dogs are—they don’t approach strangers without reason—could it be…?

 

12cm: That comment above is terrifying to think about!

 

Jing Ling’s fans mostly hung out on Weibo and the Nanzhou platform—this forum didn’t have many of them. By the time they realized what was happening, the smear post had already racked up tons of replies. What started as subtle innuendo turned into outright malice.

 

That evening, media outlets like Capital Weekend, previously called out by Jing Ling, reported the incident on Weibo, with blatantly malicious headlines:

 

Capital Weekend V: [Popular young star with the surname Jing stopped on the street—suspected drug use]

 

Pingcheng Daily V: [Recently claimed both arms were shattered, now discharged in less than a month—is the Jing-star’s injury story really credible?]

 

Xingyuan Metropolitan News V: [There are two sides to every story—exploring the lesser-known side of a positive-energy idol]

 

Though none of the headlines explicitly named Jing Ling, he was the only star with the surname Jing who had both been injured and praised on national TV. With keywords like “fracture” and “positive energy,” it was easy to piece things together. The reports were filled with accusations and insinuations, but all carefully worded as “rumored,” “said to be,” and other noncommittal phrasing—nothing definitive.

 

A barking dog doesn’t bite—but these media outlets were the opposite. Though they hadn’t deleted their previous posts after being called out by Jing Ling and continued reporting as if nothing happened, they’d clearly been holding a grudge.

 

In addition, another post about Jing Ling started gaining traction on Weibo—but this one wasn’t throwing dirt. It was about an alleged relationship.

 

My Roommate Is a Goddess V: I can’t hold this in anymore—I have to tell you all! My goddess roommate is really in a relationship! But that’s not the point—the point is, her boyfriend is MY MALE GOD!!! Do you have any idea what kind of emotional tsunami I felt when I found out?! [Flooded.jpg]

 

Shortly after this was posted, the comments exploded.

 

OceanInTheClouds: If I’m not mistaken, I followed you because we stan the same guy—and now you tell me he’s dating?! You run a comedy account, now you’re switching to celebrity gossip? Unfollowed!

 

BigMeow’sVCR: Am I the only one who has no clue who your “male god” is?

 

ZhiZhiZhi: Damn, my precious cabbage got stolen by a pig?!

 

WindListeningInTheNight: Followed you for over a year and this is what I get? You must be desperate for clout. If you’re gonna make stuff up, at least do it properly. My male god has been injured and in the hospital—where would he find time to date? With a nurse?

 

HomeworkUnderTheMoonlight: Even if the blogger’s lying, gotta admit, this CP sounds pretty exciting!

 

Cheng Sisi scrolled Weibo while glancing at the handsome man and beautiful woman sitting across from her. She couldn’t help but purse her lips. It wasn’t just netizens who couldn’t believe it—she found it hard to believe too! She’d been worried her goddess roommate—who had zero relationship experience—might get tricked by some scheming scumbag, so she worked hard to persuade her to bring her along to vet the guy. But when they got there, she found her own male god waiting.

 

The feeling? Bitter as hell.

 

Chapter 64

 

 

Yunshu went outside to take a phone call midway through. Cheng Sisi also stopped scrolling Weibo and instead stared at her male idol in infatuation. Among a group of celebrities, Jing Ling was truly the very low-key type. Although he posted on Weibo every day, he hardly ever uploaded selfies, didn’t attend events, and the media basically couldn’t catch sight of him. She hadn’t expected that by following her goddess out, she’d actually get the benefit of being in the same room as her male god.

 

Some celebrities look better in photos than in person, and for some it’s the opposite, while Jing Ling belonged to the rare category where both were excellent. If one had to choose, perhaps he looked even better in person than in photos.

 

It was really hard to believe that a person could be this perfect—not just in appearance, but in all aspects, he left no room for criticism. He was simply like heaven’s favorite child.

 

“Cheng Sisi, right?” Jing Ling suddenly spoke.

 

The male god was actually calling her name. Cheng Sisi felt her heartbeat quicken. “Y-Yes!”

 

“Before Yunshu finds out, delete that Weibo post,” he said. “She brought you along because she truly sees you as a friend, but you exposed her privacy without her permission—that will hurt her.”

 

“Huh?” Cheng Sisi was stunned after hearing that. It took her quite a while to react and realize what the male god was referring to. But how did he know? When she posted the Weibo, he was talking to Yunshu, and he hadn’t even looked at his phone during that time. Plus, his hand was injured, so he couldn’t operate his phone. While confused, she also felt a bit wronged—she had only posted one Weibo post, and no one would believe it anyway, so what was the big deal? Thinking that way, she said it aloud, “I’m not some gossip account in the entertainment industry. No one would believe it even if I said it!”

 

“Whether or not others believe it is no excuse for exposing someone else’s privacy. Do you think that as long as you don’t say it to someone face-to-face, it doesn’t matter? Sure, hiding behind a screen, no one knows who you are—but haven’t there been plenty of cases where people were doxxed?”

 

“But…” Cheng Sisi opened her mouth but didn’t know how to refute. After struggling for a long time, she finally came up with a reason. “But you guys are dating. What’s there to hide?” As soon as she said that, she realized she was wrong. Ordinary people dating might not be worth hiding, but it’s different for celebrities—breaking news about relationships can greatly affect both parties. She should’ve apologized at that moment, but the thought of saying sorry in front of the male god she liked made her feel embarrassed. So instead, she just stared stiffly, biting her lip.

 

“You’ve lived in the same dorm as Yunshu for over three years—you should know she doesn’t have many friends. She trusts you this much, and you’re okay with letting her down?” Jing Ling asked again.

 

The word “three years” was like the final straw that broke the camel’s back. Cheng Sisi instantly deflated like a punctured balloon. “I’m sorry, I was wrong!” she said, logging back into Weibo, deleting the earlier post, and posting a new one.

 

My Roommate Is a Goddess V: Sorry, that last post was nonsense—I lost a bet with a friend.

 

After posting, she immediately logged out of Weibo, not bothering to check the aftermath.

 

Not long after, Yunshu returned. Almost the moment she walked in, she noticed that Cheng Sisi’s expression didn’t look right. She walked over, sat down beside her, and quietly asked, “Sisi, what’s wrong?”

 

Cheng Sisi shook her head. “Nothing. The novel I’m reading updated with a pretty angsty chapter today.”

 

Yun Shu didn’t know whether to be angry or amused. “You’re hopeless!”

 

The four of them had dinner together. Afterwards, Jing Ling walked Yunshu and Cheng Sisi downstairs and even hailed a car for them. Before they left, he said to Cheng Sisi, “I’ll leave my Yunshu in your care!”

 

It sounded like a request, but also like a kind of emphasis.

 

After seeing the two off, Jing Ling and Shen Ze strolled along the roadside. The restaurant they’d eaten at was in a more remote location, and the surroundings were quiet. Occasionally, one or two pedestrians passed by. The warm streetlights glowed above, and under the dense leaves of the landscaped trees, the sidewalk was speckled with dappled light and shadow.

 

“How did you know what she posted on Weibo just now?” Shen Ze asked curiously.

 

“From observation. She looked surprised when she saw me, then took out her phone as soon as she sat down. I glanced at the screen and saw it was the Weibo interface. Based on her typing motions, it wasn’t hard to guess what she was posting.” Jing Ling replied.

 

After hearing that, Shen Ze subconsciously thought of an old cheating method from back in school. Back then, they didn’t use answer cards, just wrote A, B, C, D on the exam paper. Some people could guess others’ answers by watching how their pens moved. But what Jing Ling did was clearly a level above—after all, there were only four answer options, while Chinese characters were endlessly varied.

 

“Yeah, real easy,” he replied with a blank expression.

 

That topic was only the beginning of their conversation—there was something else Shen Ze wanted to bring up. When Jing Ling pointed out Cheng Sisi’s Weibo post back in the restaurant, Shen Ze had taken the opportunity to check Weibo. He searched a few keywords and saw some tabloid articles from a few media outlets in the capital slandering Jing Ling. Tracing through the comments, he found the origin of the rumors: the Xingguang Forum. He roughly browsed the long thread, and after reading through all the malicious slander, he was practically out of patience.

 

“What do you think about this?” He showed several related web pages to Jing Ling. “I think I need to bring up the topic of a PR team again. Even if you’re not trying to step on others to climb up, you can’t keep letting people smear you like this. It only takes one mouth to spread rumors, but it takes breaking your legs to refute them. Say a lie enough times and someone’s bound to believe it. Then it spreads, and the cycle becomes vicious.”

 

Jing Ling quickly skimmed through the content, reading it at a glance, and finally focused on the photo for a few extra seconds. Then he said to Shen Ze, “Help me post a Weibo.”

 

Zhao Linlang was a sophomore at a university in the capital and a hardcore fangirl. Her idol was Yu Leyang, and she had been a fan since his debut. During this time, in addition to obsessively supporting her idol—buying merch, endorsed products, magazines, signing in, leaving comments, voting—she had also participated heavily in attacking rival idols. She was very experienced in spreading rumors, slandering, and personal attacks.

 

Not long ago, a movie called The Island featuring Yu Leyang was released. As the only two young male idols in the cast, he and Jing Ling inevitably got compared. In every aspect—acting, looks, height, and professionalism—Yu Leyang was utterly outclassed. Mocking posts had popped up by the dozens, each with thousands or tens of thousands of replies. Apart from fans of both sides, there were also many onlookers.

 

What hurt the fans most was that Jing Ling was the lead, while Yu Leyang was just a minor character.

 

During that time, Zhao Linlang, along with other fans, seized every opportunity to attack Jing Ling. Especially after the Huaxia Plaza incident when Jing Ling appeared in the media, they went berserk with the hate. But unexpectedly, they were quickly slapped in the face by the national news broadcast.

 

But for fans who had gone completely delusional, what did the news broadcast matter? They didn’t care even if national leaders spoke—it only made them quiet for a little while. Now that the black posts on Xingguang Forum and media coverage were out, they began a new round of frenzy.

 

After using her third alternate account to bash Jing Ling on Weibo a few more times, Zhao Linlang switched over to chat in her group.

 

They had a private group, all die-hard Yu Leyang fans from the same university—people who actually knew each other in real life.

 

After a few exchanges, someone suddenly dropped a screenshot into the group. The image showed a new Weibo post from Jing Ling.

 

Jing Ling—Second Most Handsome Under the Heavens V: To the girl who took this photo, you should clean up your friend circle. Don’t let another dark-hearted person take your photos and spread filth everywhere next time. [Photo]

 

After reading it, Zhao Linlang was so angry she immediately cursed out loud. “What kind of trash! Calling out netizens! Seriously, even garbage can be a celebrity nowadays!” The reason she was so mad was that the post on Xingguang Forum had been made by her. The so-called photo from a friend’s Moments was actually one she had taken herself. Excuses like “my friend said my coworker said” had long been overused online.

 

Unable to hold back, she made another post on Xingguang Forum.

 

zzzz: So celebrities these days have such low standards? Calling out netizens over nothing! [Photo]

 

4z was one of her alt accounts. The previous smear post was still trending on the homepage. Now she had posted a new thread accusing Jing Ling of targeting her—talk about blatant double standards. As a result, replies were overwhelmingly one-sided, with most people attacking her.

 

Xiao Q: Watching a double-standard dog in action!

 

Monica: I don’t even like the guy in the photo, but I’m siding with him this time. He’s not wrong. Taking someone’s photo from Moments and twisting it to slander—if that’s not dark-hearted, what is?

 

Cat Owning Dog Lover: Did the OP graduate from elementary school? The guy in the photo didn’t even say who took it or who smeared him. How is that targeting netizens? And he just stated facts, didn’t he?

 

After being roasted for dozens of replies, Zhao Linlang was almost losing it. While cursing, she kept posting in defense.

 

zzzz: I was at the scene! I saw the police dog run toward him barking like mad. There were so many people on the road—why didn’t the dog bite anyone else? A slap doesn’t sound without two hands, flies don’t land on seamless eggs. He was suspicious himself! I was just making a reasonable guess—how dare he call me dark-hearted!

 

When people get emotional, they easily lose their rationality. Zhao Linlang was such a case—so angry that she exposed herself.

 

Unsurprisingly, she got scolded even harder in the thread. It quickly gained several more pages. She couldn’t take it halfway through and slammed her laptop shut.

 

But the matter didn’t end there. Around ten o’clock that evening, the official Weibo of Peaceful Imperial Capital posted a clarification for Jing Ling, stating that the incident in the Cuihu District earlier that afternoon was just a routine inspection and released the full video. However, within five minutes, the Weibo post was urgently deleted. Later, they reposted a nearly identical statement, but this time, the faces of all people in the video were blurred.

 

Netizens who noticed this detail immediately began to speculate wildly.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 65

 

 

The internet has only entered a phase of rapid development in recent years. Currently, the authorities are turning a blind eye to this virtual land. But now, with News Simulcast in the front and Peaceful Imperial Capital in the back, both clearing up rumors about the same celebrity twice in a short span of time, this behavior naturally arouses suspicion. Add to that the fact that fan circles are inherently prone to overthinking—suddenly, all sorts of parties began showing up in full costume, digging deep into the hidden meanings.

 

Main Topic: Seeking to uncover the positive-energy background—officials have debunked rumors twice in time. Even our top-tier stars don’t get this treatment!

 

Gossip Account V: Deep dive into the fresh-faced celebrity surnamed Jing, astonishing background!

 

[Watercooler Chat] Peaceful Imperial Capital has come forward to clear up the rumors. What kind of background does Jing Ling have? Anyone paying attention?

 

In forums, fan communities, and on Weibo, everyone’s focus turned to Jing Ling’s background. As for certain media outlets, they seized the momentum and published news stories, combining online speculation into yet another article.

 

Besides the so-called background, quite a few people also noticed the incident itself.

 

Gossip Talk V: Everyone is speculating about Jing Ling’s background—am I the only one who noticed the very first post from Peaceful Imperial Capital? I happened to scroll past it before it was deleted and watched it all. There were quite a few people taking photos in the video, but based on the angle of the picture, most of them can be ruled out. I’ve also checked out the two tall buildings at Starlight Forum. That zzzz staged a scene and tried to throw dirt, only to accidentally expose herself. Indulge me while I wildly guess—could it be that the original video was urgently deleted and the new one blurred out because the poster who fabricated the story was in it?

 

This account, Gossip Talk, has nearly six million followers and is one of the more influential marketing accounts in the entertainment circle. Once this Weibo post went up, a lot of people were led by the narrative and began digging deeper along those lines.

 

Compared to Jing Ling’s post, this was true doxxing.

 

Zhao Linlang followed this account. After reading that Weibo and glancing at the comments below, it felt as if her heart plunged into an abyss, and she began to shiver uncontrollably.

 

The internet is a virtual land, and here, legal and moral restraints are nearly nonexistent. It can infinitely amplify the malice in people’s hearts. Zhao Linlang was one of them—she had done this sort of black PR and rumor-slinging many times. After all, hiding behind a computer screen, no one knew who she really was. At worst, she’d get cursed by fans of the person she targeted, but soon her teammates would jump in and curse them back. It felt like nothing more than a harmless scuffle.

 

But she didn’t expect things to get this serious this time.

 

She had taken part in doxxing others before, so she knew well what happened to people once they were exposed. But back then, since the knife hadn’t cut her own flesh, she didn’t feel the pain. When that one girl couldn’t take it and dropped out of school, Zhao Linlang even joined the chorus saying she “deserved it.”

 

Now, she was afraid. Just imagining her classmates pointing fingers behind her back once they knew what she had done online, strangers sending her terrifying things in the mail, and even her family being harassed…

 

Zhao Linlang curled up under the covers, trembling all over.

 

“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to…”

 

Shen Ze had been following the situation closely. He had several windows open on his computer for real-time updates. When Peaceful Imperial Capital came forward to refute the rumors, he was just as shocked as the netizens. But before he could ask questions, he heard Jing Ling calling for help with dialing a number.

 

“Officer Xu, this is Jing Ling. I’d like to ask for your help. There’s a problem with the video attached to Peaceful Imperial Capital’s Weibo post…”

 

After hanging up, Shen Ze asked directly, “You knew who took the photo from the start?”

 

Jing Ling nodded. “I didn’t notice at the scene, but when I saw that photo, I knew who it was. Light pink jacket, white shirt, jeans, pink-framed non-prescription glasses, a mole on the tip of her nose—looks like a student. You know how terrifying cyberbullying is. If she really got doxxed, her life would probably be ruined.”

 

Such observation and memory were downright frightening. If he had even a trace of malice, that rumor-mongering netizen’s fate would’ve been easily predicted. Fortunately, he didn’t just lack malice—he was truly kind-hearted.

 

After the official rumor clarification, Shen Ze kept following up. When he saw all the posts digging into Jing Ling’s background, he got a little worried, but the person involved brushed it off lightly: “It’s fine, let them dig.” Influenced by this calm, Shen Ze also stopped worrying and followed the posts out of curiosity, even sharing the funnier speculations with Jing Ling.

 

But that leisurely calm didn’t last long—new problems quickly arose. From fan comments under Jing Ling’s Weibo, Shen Ze discovered that a marketing account was maliciously manipulating the narrative. He looked into it and was both shocked and relieved: thankfully, Jing Ling had discovered the video issue beforehand. Otherwise, that netizen would’ve been completely exposed by now, and revealing her real-life identity would’ve been just a matter of time.

 

Don’t think this issue was just netizens slinging dirt and had nothing to do with Jing Ling—if anything happened to that netizen in the end, the blame would definitely land on Jing Ling’s fans, eventually affecting Jing Ling himself.

 

“What do we do?” Shen Ze turned back and asked.

 

The worst-case scenario had become reality. Jing Ling couldn’t help sighing. “Contact that marketing account. Have them delete the Weibo post first, then apologize. I’ll issue a statement on my end too.”

 

Shen Ze’s professional skills were unquestionable. He quickly contacted Gossip Talk, the marketing account. That account had been deliberately stirring the pot from the start, fully aware of the possible consequences, just waiting for Jing Ling to come knocking—only to make an outrageous demand. Seeing the price they asked for, even Shen Ze, who was normally very composed, couldn’t stop himself from cursing. But angry as he was, they still had to pay. Once the money was transferred, the other party promptly deleted the post and issued an apology. Some brainless fans even commented underneath praising Gossip Talk for having strong values. Shen Ze was so annoyed it made him laugh.

 

Jing Ling also quickly issued a statement: a short paragraph of text and a short audio recording. He pointed out the dangers of cyberbullying and ended by calling on everyone to use the internet responsibly.

 

If a regular person said those words, they might not have much impact. But it’s different when it comes from a celebrity. Even though they’re not national leaders, their words and actions have real influence on many people.

 

Jing Ling had just entered the industry and, besides people he’d worked with on set, didn’t have many friends. But after his post went up on Weibo, quite a few celebrities quickly followed up with reposts. One passed it to ten, ten passed it to a hundred, and eventually, a number of big names in the industry also joined in. The situation was temporarily suppressed, and once the buzz died down, the matter would be considered over.

 

Zhao Linlang, who had been following the developments, finally let out a breath of relief. The string in her mind loosened, and she could finally sleep peacefully.

 

On the other side, Cheng Sisi, Yunshu’s roommate, had also been following the whole thing. By the end, she couldn’t help but feel a chill. Like most people, she had always assumed no one online knew who she was and she could speak freely. Now she realized how naive that was. After reposting Jing Ling’s Weibo, she stayed up late scrolling through her old posts. Back when she posted them, she hadn’t thought much about it, but now, in hindsight, they felt wrong. Still, she was afraid that deleting too many at once would attract attention, so she took note of them first and planned to delete them gradually.

 

In the end, the only winner in this entire incident was the marketing account that had maliciously stirred the pot. Many people realized this afterward, but there was nothing they could do. Just like the media outlets that profit off tragedy, marketing accounts also wave the banner of free speech, leeching off celebrities like parasites to survive.

 

Every time Shen Ze thought about the money they had to pay, his heart ached—it was all hard-earned money Jing Ling made from filming!

 

Knowing he’d probably lose sleep over it for a night, Jing Ling comforted him, “A-Ze, don’t be mad. My money’s not that easy to take. Just wait—they’ll pay the price soon enough.”

 

Xu Shaohuai had backed Jing Ling out of consideration for the bigger picture, but someone exploited the opportunity. Although Xu didn’t lose money or anything like that, for people like him, saving face was everything—it was unlikely he’d swallow this easily.

 

Even if Xu Shaohuai didn’t take action, Jing Ling would’ve dealt with it himself. He hadn’t backed down even when facing a behemoth like the Jiang family—let alone a mere virtual online account.

 

But Xu Shaohuai didn’t give him the chance to act. His counterattack was swift and decisive—he took down the marketing account directly. The people involved were arrested on charges like rumor-mongering and extortion.

 

After the news broke, the entertainment industry, which had been filled with constant rumors, finally quieted down for a while.