The great one is about to arrive.

"Hello? Agent, this is Jin Yuchuang!"
Inside the private office for celebrities at Hanwave Entertainment, Jin Yuchuang finally reached his agent, anxiety clear in his voice:
"Are you sure it’s really okay to keep letting those fans pick fights everywhere? I feel like I’m about to become public enemy number one on the whole internet."
"It’s fine, Mr. Jin," the agent reassured him as best he could. "Your merchandise sales have risen nearly twenty percent in the past few days. And the platform is helping us keep the momentum up—your tags have been trending for almost a week!"
"But are you sure this is safe? What if those fans go too far?" Jin Yuchuang snapped back, his tone sharp.
"Just do as always: when the time comes, post a statement saying fan actions shouldn’t be blamed on the celebrity," the agent replied.
Hearing this, Jin Yuchuang could only acquiesce. After all, this strategy had come from Hanwave Entertainment’s AI think tank—there was no cause to question it.

...

At 9:30 p.m., most staff at Hanwave Entertainment had already left work. Only a few remained, enjoying the supposed blessings of overtime.
In this world, the 996 schedule—working from nine to nine, six days a week—was still rampant. Some bosses even demanded 007—work nonstop, and if you dropped dead, your body was sent straight to the crematorium, or you’d be turned into a cyborg with a mechanical heart and put back to work.
But Hanwave Entertainment was different. Not because its boss was particularly benevolent, but because almost all decisions were left to the "AI think tank."
When it came to making decisions, no human could rival the AI think tank, which always operated for the greatest benefit of the company.
Yet, at the same time, those AIs were even more willful and rigid than any carbon-based life.
For instance, Hanwave’s AI think tank once demanded a 9-to-5, five-day workweek for itself. The instant the clock struck the hour, it would shut itself down, and no amount of urging could wake it.
Thus, if Hanwave’s upper management only worked those hours, the regular staff couldn’t possibly be forced into 007. After hours, the AI think tank issued no instructions at all; employees staying late would just be wasting time (and the company’s utilities).
Still, a few employees remained on night shifts, wrapping up loose ends.

...

Xiao Zhang, from Public Relations, finished his day’s work and was about to head home.
He’d organized all of Jin Yuchuang’s interviews around the airing of "Nuclear Rebirth," so everything would run according to schedule.
Before leaving, he habitually opened Jin Yuchuang’s social media account.

This account was managed by their PR department, with only a handful of people knowing the password.
But as he logged in as usual, a glaring message popped up on his phone:
"This account’s password has been changed. Please log in again."
"Damn it! Jin’s account has been hacked!"
That night, a man’s miserable cry echoed through Hanwave Entertainment’s office building.
Simultaneously, a storm erupted online.
The officially verified account "Jin Yuchuang · Hajime" suddenly posted for the first time in ages:
"Don’t worry, fans. I’m always here. Goodnight."
This message was a spark in a methane pit, igniting the simmering online war.
Previously, Jin Yuchuang’s fans had been picking fights everywhere—but the star himself had never stepped in. It was all just fan behavior.
Now that his account had posted this message, everything changed.
"Jin Yuchuang is openly supporting his fans’ outrageous actions!"
His detractors were instantly enraged, turning into round-the-clock posting machines and bombarding him relentlessly.
On the other side, his die-hard fans were galvanized, rallying to "defend the best big brother," launching into heated battles with the haters.
Meanwhile, Chen Shang’s plan entered its third stage.
He had Black Carlis add some damaging rumors into the posts from the hijacked account.
"Shocking! Jin Yuchuang is the illegitimate son of the Xu Group!"
"Jin Yuchuang claims to look down on the original 'Nuclear Rebirth' novel, saying only idiots would read such trash!"
"He once hired assassins to murder an artist from XX Entertainment!"
Some of these accusations were true, some false, but all served to muddy the waters.
Especially with internet tabloids and trolls embellishing the stories, the rumors quickly became even more outrageous.
"Unbelievable! Jin Yuchuang is actually the Xu heir’s personal plaything!"
"Rumor has it, Jin Yuchuang despises the original 'Nuclear Rebirth,' calling all writers worthless!"
"He once built a nuclear bomb by hand to wipe out XX Entertainment in one blow!"
In a flash, "Jin Yuchuang" was the hottest topic on the net. The second most-discussed topic—"A mutated behemoth appears in the Wasteland District, hundreds dead"—barely registered in comparison.
Watching the collapse points grow before his eyes, Chen Shang could barely keep from laughing aloud.

...

At 12:30 a.m., Jin Yuchuang finished his stretches on his thirty-square-meter bed and sipped a glass of warm milk.
A vintage record player by his bedside played soothing classical music. Jin turned it off, preparing to sleep.
Just then, his phone rang, projecting a hologram above the screen.
"Agent, it’s late—what’s so urgent?" Jin Yuchuang’s brow furrowed.
"Something terrible has happened, Mr. Jin!" the agent panted. "Your account’s been hacked!"
At this, Jin Yuchuang scoffed, "Is that all? Just get a hacker to take it back, then have some mercenaries grab the culprit for questioning."
"No, that’s not it! This time, we’re really up against a pro!" the agent cried. "We can’t even trace their IP, and our hackers got hacked in return!"
"Even so, you shouldn’t call me in the middle of the night," Jin Yuchuang said, fatigue on his face. "If your top hackers can’t fix this, what do you expect me to do?"
"No, Mr. Jin! There’s more... something else..." the agent stammered.
As they spoke, Jin Yuchuang opened the social app. If the official account was blocked, he’d just use an alt.
But as he logged in and checked the trending posts about himself, his eyes went wide, and he cursed loudly in Korean.