Royal Ch.96

Chapter 96: Fight

These past few days had been pure torment for Zhu Zhu. Ever since his Zhihu account was exposed, his reputation had plummeted.

For the sake of hype, the production team kept pushing traffic to “Zhihu Bro,” while his company did nothing. As a result, the internet was filled with scolding and condemnation directed at him.

The production team’s betrayal—Zhu Zhu could still console himself about that.

The extra traffic was just to stir up buzz for the finals; he would debut.

B*llying wasn’t a big deal. Netizens had the memory of a goldfish—just clear things up for the fans. As long as the fans believed him, the rest wouldn’t matter. Once he debuted, few people would bring it up again.

But the company didn’t act, nor did they propose any plan to clear his name.

Was the company planning to give up on him?

Zhu Zhu couldn’t believe that even with people backing him, he would still be pushed down like a collapsing wall. Only now did he slowly realize he had already been cornered.

The company’s words of comfort and persuasion all sounded perfunctory to him.

He was unwilling to accept this.

Zhu Zhu thought of many ways to retaliate against Yue Zhaolin. The one that made his blood surge the most was planting condoms in Yue Zhaolin’s dorm room.

Just imagine: fans happily watching his livestream, only to suddenly see something like that—what kind of reaction would they have?

For someone like Yue Zhaolin, the moment he got associated with “sex,” his whole image would collapse.

But it would be too easy to trace.

There were cameras in the room—even if they were turned off—and surveillance in the hallway. If anyone investigated, he wouldn’t be able to get away with it. Regretfully, he had to abandon that plan.

So he came up with another.

If a scandal blew up during a livestream and damaged Yue Zhaolin’s image, the production team would definitely panic. To clear things up, they would have to start from him.

Just like when the company had whitewashed the b*llying incident before—have the person involved come forward and say, “It was just friends joking around,” or “It was a dare from Truth or Dare,” and muddle through.

That would put the initiative in his hands.

As long as he said the word, fans—wanting to protect their idol’s innocence—would close their eyes and believe him.

Zhu Zhu’s goal was clear: he had to debut. As long as the group was formed, he could ride on Yue Zhaolin’s popularity and reap the benefits.

Besides, once they debuted, Yue Zhaolin would definitely be carrying the group. Out of the “eight” he’d be dragging along, he already had a spot. He was only fighting for what was his.

Zzzla—

Zhu Zhu crushed the cigarette butt against the window sill. Before long, he had already smoked half a pack. The window had a privacy film, so he wasn’t worried about being photographed.

He glanced at the screen. Yue Zhaolin had come down from the rooftop—his spirits lifted instantly.

—

In the livestream room.

[The Cantonese version of “Lonely Orphan,” please please]

[Has Zhaolin seen the gif of Toothless dancing? Hope he can cha (this is really super cute, waaahhh)]

[“Puppet Show”]

[Take some photocards]

[Wear black-rimmed glasses, we want Husband Yue]

The soon-to-be “widow” Tide was firing off all kinds of requests in the barrage.

This livestream was the last public appearance before the finals, so they needed material—lots of it. Otherwise, how would they survive this blank stretch?

—Technically, there were still three more episodes left, but that wasn’t enough. Without Yue Zhaolin, Tide was like a lotus in a pond with no water—wilting away.

The endless stream of comments rolled by so fast that Yue Zhaolin couldn’t even keep up.

He stood up and said, “Shall we head back to the dorm? It’s a little chilly here.”

He rarely got sick, but when he did, it tended to turn serious. Back during the initial evaluation, he had run a fever for a long time.

[Okay—]

[Baby, hurry back, don’t catch a cold]

[So that’s why the title says ‘Left-behind Xiao Yue’ 233]

Since there was no lighting on the rooftop, the production team had set up a standing fill light to make sure Yue Zhaolin’s face was clearly visible on camera.

Before leaving, Yue Zhaolin turned off the light, planning to carry it down first.

Holding the lamp in one hand and his phone in the other, he pushed open the rooftop door—only for a staff member wearing a mask to suddenly pop out: “Zhaolin, let me take that.”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t really “sudden.” The staff had been waiting there the whole time, his job being to monitor the livestream and provide assistance whenever Yue Zhaolin needed it.

[Scared me to death]

[Didn’t expect someone to be in the stairwell]

[I actually screamed out loud]

The barrage was startled at first, but after noticing the outfit and staff badge, they realized it was just a staff member.

Yue Zhaolin had been so focused on streaming that he’d forgotten about it himself, so he also got a little startled. After a two-second pause, half his soul that had flown away seemed to return.

Having staff monitoring the livestream was the most normal thing in the world.

Yue Zhaolin handed the equipment over. “Thanks, brother. I’ll head back to the dorm now.”

[Polite Xiao Yue]

[I remember baby’s dorm room number is 504, that means he’s on the fifth floor, right?]

[Oh yeah, the fifth floor only had A-rank and F-rank trainees, but since it’s vacation now, most of them must’ve gone home?]

Not looking at the barrage, Yue Zhaolin pressed the elevator button. “I’m going into the elevator now, the signal probably won’t be very good inside.”

“My roommates all went home, so singing back in the dorm won’t bother anyone.”

Ever since Meng Yu left, Yue Zhaolin only had two roommates: Chu Li and Cen Chi.

Before leaving, Chu Li had told him in person that he was going to Peacock Spread and would return the morning after tomorrow.

As for Cen Chi, since he hadn’t said anything about his plans, Yue Zhaolin hadn’t asked either.

Once inside the elevator, the signal really was bad—the screen kept freezing. When the doors opened with a “ding,” he strode straight toward the dorm.

Pointing the camera toward the dorm, he waited for the picture to stabilize before saying: “Today we still have the city walk spin-off—the dormitory walk.”

[This one I know—dormitory, it means dormitory. Not a high-frequency word for the CET-4/6 exams, so no need for everyone to memorize it (dignified tone)]

[When idols teach me, I still can’t absorb it. He just said it, and I already forgot. Do… what?]

[Graduated three years, and the only words left in my head are dog, cat, monky (smile)]

[Just remembered something I’d forgotten—CET-4/6 exams are in June]

If he hadn’t entered the entertainment industry, Yue Zhaolin would also have to take the exam. For now, though, it could only be put aside.

Even so, Yue Zhaolin would still be going back to school in June—for the school anniversary gala. The principal had asked if he could come back to perform.

The company had considered it and decided the performance was valuable, so they agreed.

On top of that, with the packed schedule that would come after debut, Yue Zhaolin’s calendar was basically non-stop.

Collecting himself, Yue Zhaolin began introducing the dorm: “This is the entryway, there’s a full-length mirror next to it. Ah, my hair’s a mess.”

It must have been blown by the night wind—a little tuft stuck up like an ahoge.

[wwww]

[Even fixing his hair looks good]

But among the peaceful, cheerful comments, suddenly a flood of completely unrelated ones appeared.

[Did the sis-dog couple go to a live house together?! I’m dying from the sugar!!!]

[Sis-dog is real]

[I knew my CP didn’t break up, waaah. Before, when Cen Chi dyed his blond hair black, I thought it was to break the ship. But Leopard-Cat couple hasn’t divorced!]

[If I’d known, I wouldn’t have left. Even if I couldn’t see Yue Zhaolin, I could have seen Cen Chi]

Yue Zhaolin was riding a wave of high popularity at MOODY CLUB, and some sharp-eyed fans recognized the people standing next to him: Fu Xunying and Cen Chi.

But CP fans, well—they only ever saw what they wanted to see.

So even with three people in the picture, they still managed to pair them up two by two.

The livestream had a filter set up to block overly aggressive comments, but that kind of barrier couldn’t stop these “miracle workers” who had no sense of barrage etiquette.

It was clearly Yue Zhaolin’s solo livestream, his own stage—yet they brazenly brought up someone else, and even made it CP-related.

Worried that Yue Zhaolin wouldn’t see it, they spammed the same lines hundreds of times like a broken recorder.

This mindset was hard to understand. So what if Yue Zhaolin saw it? What kind of reaction were they expecting from him?

Whatever reaction he gave, didn’t CP fans have formulas ready?

—If his gaze wavered, it meant he was still in love.

—If his gaze stayed steady, it meant he was forcing himself to stay calm.

—If he looked away, it meant he was avoiding suspicion.

—If he frowned, it meant the “little couple” had fought.

[?]

[If you’re playing “don’t make me slap you while I’m happiest,” I declare you win]

[Is face-to-face ult your tradition? Haha, healed from the last beating and already forgot the pain, huh?]

[No one’s cleaning the square anymore, feeling lonely?]

As expected, Cen Chi’s fans blacked out in frustration—these people were really going to stir up trouble again.

Having once suffered badly at the hands of CP fans, the “Seraphs” knew the moment this “sugar point” exploded, this crowd would inevitably start up again.

Even solo stans couldn’t figure out whether CP fans truly loved the pair, or hated them—shipping sugar everywhere regardless of time and place, like androids programmed only to ship.

Learning from experience, the Seraphs didn’t bother to argue this time. They just kneeled down, slid into the comments, and sent blessings.

[Tide, please see clearly, Seraphs absolutely have no such intention! The comments above are definitely fake fans in disguise!]

[Seraphs together: Tide and Moon 99]

[Tide and Moon 99]

[This couple is real]

[May you be together a hundred years]

The barrage turned bizarrely harmonious.

Tide: …

Well… the anger level did go down a bit.

Meanwhile, Yue Zhaolin had already carried his phone around for a full loop of the dorm.

Finally circling back to the desk, Yue Zhaolin set the streaming phone on the stand and adjusted the angle. “Is this okay?”

[Looks fine]

[Eh?]

[There are quite a few books on the desk, but the only one visible is Basic Music Theory?]

Yue Zhaolin sat down and used his own phone to search for the song. Since he hadn’t heard the original, he held the phone toward the comments: “Is this the one you mean?”

…

This was the perfect chance, Zhu Zhu thought.

Yue Zhaolin was already back in the dorm. All he had to do was knock on the door—under the eyes of everyone in the livestream, Yue Zhaolin would never dare shut him out.

Zhu Zhu immediately sat up in bed, his pupils tightening with excitement.

He practically rushed to the door, but before leaving, he stopped and straightened his hair in the full-length mirror by the entryway.

Just imagining Yue Zhaolin’s always calm and steady face turning pale because of him gave Zhu Zhu a thrill of indescribable delight.

By the time he stepped out, Zhu Zhu was actually smiling.

He stopped in front of Yue Zhaolin’s dorm room, raised his hand, and knocked. Knock knock—

…

Knock knock—

Yue Zhaolin: “Who is it?”

[Who?]

[Someone knocking this late—staff member?]

[Did anyone else notice? Zhaolin’s tone just dropped a notch]

[Me too!]

[All cat owners know—when a cat sees a stranger, it instantly turns into a little clipper]

[Baby, you’re a clippy cat]

The person outside didn’t respond, so Yue Zhaolin was sure it wasn’t staff.

He repeated, “Who is it?”

After a moment, faint voices could be heard outside the door—deliberately lowered, unnaturally rushed, and more than one person.

One of them even sounded like a trainee manager.

[What’s going on?]

[This doesn’t sound right]

[When I used to live alone, I also heard sounds like this outside—could it be people arguing out there?]

[How could anyone be arguing on the show set?]

Yue Zhaolin frowned. He wanted to just end the livestream, but since he wasn’t sure what was going on, he decided instead to mute the audio and step out to check. After all, this was a livestream—if anything related to show secrets got leaked, there’d be no way to take it back.

“Sorry, the host will be offline for a moment.” Yue Zhaolin glanced at the desk, spotted the stuffed toy used for the third performance, and placed it in front of the camera.

“Let Xiao Yue keep you company for now, I’ll be right back.”

Just as Yue Zhaolin stood up, a loud thud hit the door, making the panel shudder.

Followed by a cry of pain—someone had definitely crashed into the door. Yue Zhaolin strode over and yanked it open.

Fu Xunying, who had been leaning against the door, suddenly lost his support and stumbled backward.

“F*ck—”

Yue Zhaolin: “?”

The confusion only lasted a moment. He quickly took in the scene—Zhu Zhu panting heavily, trying to rush inside, while staff members held him back. Yue Zhaolin immediately understood.

So the earlier noise was Zhu Zhu, Fu Xunying, and the trainee manager arguing. Fu Xunying had most likely been trying to stop Zhu Zhu, only to be shoved against the door.

The instant Zhu Zhu saw the door open, his whole expression flipped. He shouted dramatically: “Yue Zhaolin, I was wrong! I really was wrong, please forgive me!”

“These past few days I haven’t been able to sleep—my neck hurts so much, I keep feeling like someone’s strangling me…”

Not a joke—at that moment, Fu Xunying’s blood ran cold. Scrambling to his feet, he lunged to cover Zhu Zhu’s mouth. Was this guy insane?! Yue Zhaolin was still livestreaming!

Yue Zhaolin tilted his head at him.

Zhu Zhu’s acting burst into full bloom. In just a few lines, he was practically sobbing with emotion—truly gifted. But—

Yue Zhaolin said calmly: “I muted the livestream.”

…

Fu Xunying froze for a beat, then dropped Zhu Zhu’s mouth with a disgusted toss, and burst into laughter.

“Hahahahahahahahaha—”

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