The Ex's Tears Are So Hot - Chapter 5

At first, the barrage was filled with jokes. Guan Jinnian gritted his teeth and pushed through the live broadcast, trying to focus only on answering the handful of questions that were actually about persimmons.

But once viewers noticed he was deliberately ignoring the questions about Xie Zhixin, the tone shifted.

[Host, if we buy your persimmons, will you finally talk about Xie Zhixin?]

[Name your price — how many gifts until you spill the tea?]

[Don’t play dumb! Why did you break up? Why? WHY?!]

The screen was flooded. With no other option, Guan Jinnian finally responded.

“Please keep unrelated comments to yourselves. I won’t be answering any personal questions. Thank you for your support.”

[“Unrelated comments” 😭😭😭]

[@XieZhixin, you’ve been officially downgraded to ‘unrelated’]

[So savage. Top-tier star reduced to ‘irrelevant’ — I’m screaming]

[Breakup = strangers. Got it.]

[Never thought getting dumped could be this funny]

Although most viewers were just spectators having fun, the growing traffic meant more people started placing orders out of curiosity — especially since the prices were decent.

By the end of the hour-long stream, sales had more than doubled compared to his first broadcast. Just as Guan Jinnian was about to relax, a second wave of viewers stormed in — this time with fury.

[How could you be so heartless? Xie Zhixin’s crying his eyes out and you’re out here selling snacks?!]

[You dumped him just because he couldn’t offer you better resources? And now you’re milking his popularity? Disgusting.]

[He treated you like royalty and you turned him into a wreck. What more do you want — his career too?]

The comments were scathing. At first, Guan Jinnian was confused. Then, he noticed all the usernames had some variation of Xie Zhixin in them — these were fan accounts.

He could understand them being upset. But the accusations were way off — twisted narratives full of resentment.

More and more people piled on. Some confused viewers asked what was going on, and someone dropped a clue:

“Go check out the Weibo account: ‘Zhizhi You Have To Try Hard.’”

Guan Jinnian barely had time to react when his livestream was suddenly reported and taken down.

The screen went black, leaving his own reflection staring back at him. Grim-faced, he tapped open the text message from Xie Zhixin.

[Xie Zhixin]: Jinnian, the situation’s blown up. Don’t check Weibo yet — wait till I sort it out. I’m really sorry it dragged you into this. Can you call me later? I can’t talk freely through text.

Ignoring the warning, Guan Jinnian went straight to Weibo.

Seven out of the top ten trending hashtags were about them.

#XieZhixinGuanJinnian
#XieZhixinRelationshipRevealed
#GuanJinnianNPDScumbag

…NPD?

He looked it up: narcissistic personality disorder.

“Charming on the surface, emotionally manipulative at heart. Uses others for personal gain. Cold, detached, and devoid of empathy. Also known as emotional vampires.”

A wave of cold washed over him. How did I get turned into that?

He clicked the top trending post, made by the Weibo user “Zhizhi You Have To Try Hard.”

“I didn’t want to interfere, but I can’t stay silent anymore. They were together for years. After Xie got popular, the other guy — still a nobody — started acting jealous. He gave nothing back. Xie was loyal and loving, but the guy just used him. And now this. Poor Xie…”

It was crafted like a confession, intimate and believable. Worse, a string of verified users chimed in, echoing the narrative — framing Guan Jinnian as manipulative, bitter, and cold.

[No wonder he cried like that — poor Zhixin 💔]

[Wait, is this real?]

[They’re from the same company. Dozens of people have backed it up. Are they all lying? Doesn’t look like it.]

[This Guan Jinnian guy… just trash.]

He recognized almost none of the people who claimed to “know” him. Those he did recognize were distant industry acquaintances at best — yet they wrote as if they’d known him for years.

His DMs were a mess. Insults, hate messages, even photoshopped “memorial” images of him.

Panicked, he slammed the app shut.

Fearing that his mother would notice something was wrong, he made an excuse and returned to his room.

He was shaken. Mind blank, he instinctively called Xie Zhixin.

The line picked up quickly.

“Jinnian? You saw the posts?”

“Yeah. What the hell is happening?”

“This shouldn’t have escalated like this… My company took control of my account. I tried to clarify through a friend’s post, but it didn’t help. I think my old agent Lin might be behind this — I’m investigating. I’m really sorry.”

Guan Jinnian’s tone sharpened.

“Tell Lin if he pushes me, I’ll take the videos to the police. I’m done playing nice.”

“I understand. I’ll handle it. I had no idea it’d affect you like this… I’m so sorry, Jinnian.”

Guan Jinnian stared at his sheets, his voice suddenly weary.

“Let it go. It’s done now.”

There was a pause.

“Can I come see you?” Xie Zhixin asked quietly.

“No.” Guan Jinnian answered without thinking. Even he was surprised by how quickly he said it.

Xie Zhixin went silent for a beat, then tried again, softer this time.

“I just want to see you…”

“We’re not together anymore. You need to accept that.”

“I can’t!” His voice cracked. “I can’t pretend nothing happened. And the internet’s still exploding. You think I don’t care? Do you think I’m that heartless?”

As the crying began again on the other end of the call, Guan Jinnian massaged his temples.

“Do whatever you want,” he muttered, and ended the call.

He collapsed into bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Eventually, he curled up under the covers and forced himself to sleep, desperate to shut everything out.

By the next morning, Guan Jinnian’s social media accounts were in shambles.

His video comment sections were bombarded. His shopping links were flagged and taken down.

The ban on his livestream had been lifted, but he no longer had the mental strength to go live again.

Thankfully, his relatives in the village were blissfully unaware. The drama hadn’t made it into their world — yet.

But his cousins and friends? Bombarded him with messages. His phone buzzed nonstop.

When he finally checked, he saw a series of messages from Lin Shen:

[Lin Shen]: Wait… your ex is Xie Zhixin??

[Lin Shen]: I’ve been slammed with work and just saw all this drama — are you okay? Who are these people making stuff up??

[Lin Shen]: I have a lawyer friend if you want help. Really solid. Want his info?

Guan Jinnian thanked him politely and declined.

[Guan Jinnian]: Zhixin said he’ll deal with it. No need to drag outsiders in.

[Lin Shen]: Alright. But I’m here if you need anything.

He figured that if he just stayed offline, this would all pass.

For now, he focused on editing content and helping in the orchard. Maybe in a few days, once things cooled off, he could post again.

That afternoon, he was filming near the village entrance when a car with an out-of-town license pulled up.

A group of young people got out — stylish, holding phones — and hurried toward him.

As they neared, he heard them talking.

“That’s him! Quick!”

“Ugh, this backwater place is wrecking my suspension.”

“Of course he’s from some dump like this. Where else would someone like him come from?”

Realizing what they were here for, Guan Jinnian stepped forward to stop them — only to be shoved.

“You’re Guan Jinnian, right?”

“It’s really him! Ugh, he’s even more average in person. What did my brother even see in him?”

A girl lifted her phone, filming or maybe livestreaming.

“Smile for the camera, trash. Let’s show everyone your real face~”

When he raised his hand to block the camera, the boy shoved him again.

“Don’t cover up. Didn’t you want fame? Let’s get you trending again.”

The phone came closer and closer to his face—

And then, a hand shot out, shielding the lens.

Guan Jinnian looked up, and there stood Xie Zhixin — face cold, eyes stormy.