Chapter Twenty-Nine: The First Pot of Gold on the Road to Prosperity

Chen Fang was still happily surfing the internet when someone gently patted his back. Turning around, he saw Xi Yuanyuan.

“How come you’re out here?” Chen Fang asked, a bit surprised.

It seemed as though he was the star of today’s event, but in reality, only the upper management of Future Stardom truly wanted to build a good relationship with him. The artists in the company preferred to gather around Xi Yuanyuan.

Chen Fang had realized this: all the male artists in the company, to varying degrees, liked Xi Yuanyuan. Kang Zikai wasn’t pitiable—he was simply one of the many hopeless admirers.

“I didn’t see you inside, so I came out to look for you,” Xi Yuanyuan said, handing her glass to Chen Fang.

He waved her off, “I don’t drink.”

Drinking depended on the company: with Ji Mei, drinking meant hugs, kisses, and playful games; with Xi Yuanyuan, there was nothing to gain.

Xi Yuanyuan scoffed, “It’s juice.”

Only then did Chen Fang accept the glass. He continued to look at his phone, ignoring Xi Yuanyuan.

Xi Yuanyuan frowned slightly, feeling a bit affronted that she, a great beauty, was being ignored. “What kind of song do you plan to write for An Tinghan?” she asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

Chen Fang thought for a moment. “I’ll listen to her previous songs when I get back. I need to understand the style she’s best at before composing.”

“You don’t seem to care much about An Tinghan,” Xi Yuanyuan said, sipping her juice.

Chen Fang nodded. “I don’t know her. Why should I care?”

For a brief moment, Xi Yuanyuan’s lips curled into a faint smile, quickly suppressed.

“But I heard you’re a fan of An Tinghan,” she said, tilting her head, her wine-red hair cascading over one shoulder, eyeing Chen Fang with curiosity.

Night was falling. Darkness descended. With his back to the light, Chen Fang’s face was haloed by a thin shadow, his confident, unruly smile both charming and dangerous.

Fine. I really am drawn by looks, she admitted to herself.

Chen Fang was taken aback and looked at Xi Yuanyuan in confusion. “Where did you hear that?”

Xi Yuanyuan snapped back, unable to meet his gaze, her eyes drifting to the distance. “There was a trending topic saying you liked and followed An Tinghan’s personal account. People thought you were her fan.”

Chen Fang: What? When did I like and follow An Tinghan?

Suddenly, Chen Fang remembered something. He scrolled down the trending topics and found it at the very bottom.

“Chen Fang liked and followed An Tinghan’s personal account—turns out Chen Fang is a fan too.”

He clicked in. The more he read, the darker his expression became.

Fatty! Of course it was him!

Xi Yuanyuan noticed Chen Fang’s mood shift and thought she had said something wrong.

“Ms. Xi, Mr. Chen, the banquet is about to begin,” a staff member said respectfully from behind.

Chen Fang put his phone away, determined to deal with that fat troublemaker later.

The two walked back side by side. The banquet was lively and warm.

By ten o’clock, everything was finally over.

Just as Chen Fang was about to hail a cab home, a luxury car slowly pulled up beside him. The window rolled down. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

“That’s too much trouble!” Chen Fang protested, even as he naturally opened the car door.

Along the way, sleepiness crept up on him again.

Who knew how much time passed before Xi Yuanyuan woke him up.

Chen Fang’s eyes were blurry; he shook his head. Next time, he shouldn’t ride in Xi Yuanyuan’s car. This woman must have something in her car that made him drowsy—every time he got in, he wanted to sleep.

When he got back to the apartment, he called out, but there was no response.

Pang Tong wasn’t home. At this late hour, he was probably out for another midnight snack.

Chen Fang sat on the sofa and called Ji Mei. After a sweet, affectionate conversation, he hung up.

Just then, Pang Tong returned.

Unaware of the gravity of what he had done, Pang Tong set his takeout bag on the coffee table, proudly declaring, “That’s what brothers are for! If I have something to eat, you have something to eat! Dig in, it’s still hot!”

Chen Fang narrowed his eyes, dangerous light flickering within, a smile on his lips. “Fatty, you didn’t use my account to like and follow some beauty, did you?”

“Of course not,” Pang Tong replied, having long forgotten about liking An Tinghan’s account.

“Give me your phone,” Chen Fang beckoned.

Pang Tong handed it over. Chen Fang opened the QuickSound app, switched to his account, and checked the following list.

An Tinghan was right at the top.

Pang Tong froze instantly.

Then, as if recalling something, his expression became unnatural, and he laughed awkwardly. “Chen Fang, barbecue’s best when hot—it’s no good cold.”

Chen Fang smiled kindly.

But to Pang Tong, it was downright terrifying.

“Fatty, your diet starts officially tomorrow!”

“If you don’t lose thirty pounds in a month, I’ll post your browser history online.”

Chen Fang’s smile was radiant.

But Pang Tong’s eyes gradually filled with fear.

“Chen, I was wrong,” Pang Tong stood up straight, trembling.

Chen Fang patted Pang Tong’s shoulder. There was no room for negotiation. Pang Tong needed a proper lesson.

Turning his attention back to the phone, Chen Fang glanced at his follower count and was momentarily stunned.

He rubbed his eyes.

Pang Tong leaned in curiously.

The next moment, a squeal like a pig escaped him. “Holy—!”

“Two million followers!”

He snatched the phone, eyes wide, trying to see the numbers clearly.

In just a day or two, Chen Fang’s followers had jumped from just over fifty thousand to two million!

Chen Fang was stunned as well.

This surge was outrageous.

Was it because he signed with Future Stardom that his follower count spiked again?

No, that couldn’t be it. With Future Stardom’s reputation, it was a miracle not to lose followers.

He randomly opened a few personal collections and found every one was related to An Tinghan.

“I’ve become a bit famous, and An Tinghan’s fans think I’m one of them, so they’re flocking to follow me,” Chen Fang mused, incredulous. Was this what they called loving someone by extension?

Not only that, he had only posted two videos on his account. With An Tinghan’s fans pouring in, both videos’ views and likes skyrocketed.

Each video had over a million likes!

Chen Fang’s eyes sparkled.

Money! All of this was money!

After so many days, the backend must have accumulated quite a bit of revenue.

On Earth, short video apps didn’t earn money from likes; high like counts just made monetization easier.

But in Huaguo, things were different.

Likes actually generated income.

Fans could even tip gifts on short videos.

Chen Fang checked his wallet in the personal center and immediately stood up. “Fatty, we won’t need to sing on the streets anymore.”

With income from likes and fan gifts, just two videos had brought his wallet balance close to fifty thousand.

Street performances were just forced business.

Strictly speaking, this was the first real bucket of gold Chen Fang had earned in this world.

An Tinghan, what a wonderful person!