The Breakup Didn’t Stop Me From Owning the World - Chapter 13

The reporters acted swiftly, and before long, coverage of the press conference flooded the internet. Curious netizens flocked to the scene, expecting to witness a loving couple, only to uncover a scandal of epic proportions.

After watching the events unfold at the press conference, even with hired trolls muddying the waters, the online backlash against Fu Yao grew increasingly intense:

“People shouldn’t be as shameless as Fu Yao—keeping one eye on the bowl while eyeing the pot. She cheated, yet still threatened Lan Muyu.”

“Just think about how long Lan Muyu endured cyberbullying. I still remember the trending hashtag ‘Lan Muyu, Get Out of the Entertainment Industry.’ I wonder how those who supported it feel now—must sting, huh?”

“Thankfully, Lan Muyu wasn’t completely blinded by love and kept evidence. Otherwise, wouldn’t Fu Yao and that homewrecker be gloating right now?”

“Exactly! That contract from Tianhao Entertainment was no ordinary agency agreement—it was practically an exploitative ‘indentured servitude’ deal. I can’t believe artists only got 5%. How ruthless can a company be?”

“I heard Tianhao Entertainment originally made its fortune in the coal mining business but had to stop after a miner incident. They’re repeat offenders—why would they care about anyone’s well-being?”

“Lan Muyu’s contract probably wasn’t an isolated case. Who knows how many other Tianhao artists are stuck with the same terms?”

“Investigate Tianhao Entertainment! Boycott unethical artists!”

“Investigate Tianhao Entertainment! Boycott unethical artists!”

Fu Yao and Jiang Qianrou were escorted away from the press conference by bodyguards, struggling through the chaos. Jiang Qianrou sobbed the entire way, lamenting that her family would never forgive her and might even disown her.

After all, Jiang Qianrou was her ticket into mainstream cinema—money alone couldn’t open those doors. She needed Jiang Qianrou’s connections and wasn’t about to let her go.

Fu Yao’s guilt toward Jiang Qianrou deepened with every word, but so did her resentment toward Lan Muyu, who had pushed her into this mess.

Time was not on Fu Yao’s side. By the time they returned to Tianhao Entertainment, the online outcry against the company had intensified. Despite the PR team’s desperate attempts to suppress the trending topics, Tianhao remained pinned to the top of the hot search list.

Fu Yao pressured the PR team to bury the negative coverage while deploying trolls to whitewash the situation. Meanwhile, Jiang Qianrou sought help from her family, leveraging her grandfather Jiang Yu’s influence in the film industry to pressure media outlets. As a result, while netizens knew Fu Yao had cheated, the identity and appearance of the other woman remained hidden—effectively shielding Jiang Qianrou from exposure.

At the same time, fans grew concerned that their favorite stars might also be trapped in exploitative contracts like Lan Muyu’s. A new hashtag emerged: #TianhaoArtistsSpeakUp#.

Tianhao’s artists stepped forward to defend the company, insisting their contracts were standard for the industry. But after being deceived too many times in this scandal, netizens were wary. Every time they believed something, Tianhao proved them wrong—why should they trust them now?

The hashtag gained momentum, with netizens even calling for government regulators to investigate Tianhao Entertainment.

The immediate consequence of this incident was the fluctuation of Tianhao’s stock prices. Without Xingyao or Lan Muyu needing to lift a finger, other entertainment companies slightly weaker than Tianhao had already quietly jumped in to muddy the waters, diverting the blame toward the company itself. Accusations of shady contracts, tax evasion, and exploiting artists into selling themselves emerged one after another.

Tianhao’s stock prices plummeted repeatedly until, with no other choice, the company called an emergency board meeting.

The quickest solution was to push someone out to apologize. However, on one hand, Fu Yao’s father had founded Tianhao Entertainment, making it difficult to simply throw her under the bus. On the other hand, Fu Yao had Jiang Qianrou by her side, and Tianhao was reluctant to lose such a valuable connection.

Someone then suggested that the incident was caused by an internal mole. If they could identify the person who leaked the contract, they could pin all the blame on them.

After all, aside from the accusation of forcing Lan Muyu to sign an unfair contract, Fu Yao’s infidelity could be easily explained away—blaming it on drunkenness and then cleaning up her reputation with some PR.

No sooner had the words been spoken than Fu Yiming, who had been smug just moments before, took a step back and bumped into a chair. This unusual reaction quickly drew attention. Fu Yao immediately had someone check the surveillance footage, which revealed that the person who had stolen the contract from her computer was none other than Fu Yiming—Old Mrs. Fu’s favorite and someone who had long coveted Fu Yao’s position.

With the stock prices in freefall, Tianhao had no time to deliberate. They issued an emergency PR statement, shifting all responsibility onto Fu Yiming alone.

The public statement claimed that the contract in question was not Tianhao’s official document but rather the work of Fu Yiming alone, who had swapped it out due to internal power struggles within the company. Tianhao issued an apology to Lan Muyu, announced Fu Yiming’s removal from his leadership position, and vowed to enforce stricter management policies to prevent such incidents in the future.

As the announcement went out, Fu Yao acted swiftly. Footage of Fu Yiming partying recklessly, behaving like a dissolute playboy, was soon leaked online, his extravagant and vulgar conduct disgusting the public.

With the help of hired trolls diverting attention, netizens began praising Tianhao for its impartiality, and the incident gradually died down.

As for Lan Muyu, she had never expected this single incident to completely topple Fu Yao. Jiang Qianrou and Fu Yao wouldn’t break up, and since they were all in the entertainment industry, there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

After leaving the press conference, Lan Muyu was taken by Ling Shan to meet people at Xingyao. Even disregarding her marriage to Fu Qian, Ling Shan was Xingyao’s top agent, often handling tricky emergencies for other artists, which earned her high regard.

The entertainment industry was full of shrewd individuals. Anyone who could get Ling Shan’s support clearly had connections. Out of respect for Ling Shan, even high-profile artists treated Lan Muyu with courtesy.

By evening, Ling Shan had gone a step further, gathering all Xingyao artists available in Yuncheng for a dinner in Lan Muyu’s honor. Not wanting to refuse Ling Shan’s goodwill, Lan Muyu accepted every toast that came her way. Ling Shan, keeping an eye on Lan Muyu’s alcohol tolerance, stepped in at the right moment to smooth things over, and the gathering soon wrapped up.

Ling Shan dropped Lan Muyu off at the entrance of Boyue Huating Villa. Leaning against the gate, Lan Muyu let the cold wind sober her up before telling Ling Shan to go ahead and leave.

Even after the drinking session, Lan Muyu still didn’t know how to face Li Ruonan, thinking about the Tianhao contract she had somehow obtained for her. She fished out the key card from her bag, opened the door, and cautiously peeked inside.

It was already 9:30 p.m., and the living room was pitch dark. Lan Muyu let out a small sigh of relief. Not wanting to disturb Li Ruonan, she carefully closed the door behind her and quietly slipped off her high heels.

But before she could take more than a few steps, Li Ruonan’s icy voice cut through the silence: “Finally decided to come back?”

Lan Muyu froze, searching for the source of the voice. A sharp click sounded as the lights flicked on, flooding the room with a harsh glare. Li Ruonan sat on the sofa, staring straight at her—like a wife catching her spouse sneaking home late.

Under that gaze, Lan Muyu felt a chill run down her spine. She tentatively asked, “You… why didn’t you turn on the lights?”

Li Ruonan pointed at her watch. “What time do you think it is?”

“9:30.” Feeling the cold air in the room, Lan Muyu suddenly regained her confidence and walked over. “It’s way past nine. Why didn’t you turn off the AC?”

Li Ruonan’s eyes flickered for a moment. “This is my house. I’ll turn on whatever I want.”

“So, you’ve been mistreating me all along, deliberately cutting off my electricity and water?”

“Don’t twist my words.” As Lan Muyu got closer, Li Ruonan’s expression shifted to disgust. “You’ve been drinking?”

Lan Muyu nodded.

“With whom? Clearly not decent company.”

Lan Muyu felt she had to explain. “I was meeting some of Xingyao’s other artists today. I only had a little. Sister Ling was with me—nothing could’ve gone wrong.”

Li Ruonan scoffed, grabbed Lan Muyu’s wrist, and dragged her upstairs. Without mercy, she shoved Lan Muyu into the bathroom and left her with a warning: “If you come back after nine again, don’t even think about entering.”

Lan Muyu: ???

What kind of relic had she ended up with? Who still enforced a curfew these days?