Xie Xiaobao was floored by the flood of abusive comments.
His Weibo had always been a cozy corner where fans of him and Orange Bao gathered, joking, gushing over cats, or discussing crafts in a warm, harmonious vibe.
This was his first encounter with such a massive wave of negative, orchestrated attacks.
His fans were still battling the water army, but as Xie Xiaobao pondered what to do, Old Wang’s call came through.
“Have you seen Weibo?”
Xie Xiaobao mumbled that he had.
Old Wang soothed, “Don’t respond to anything. Someone hired a water army to smear you. We’re handling it.”
“Okay, got it,” Xie Xiaobao nodded obediently, then, realizing Old Wang couldn’t see, added, “I won’t cause trouble.”
Knowing Xie Xiaobao’s good nature, Old Wang advised him to stay off Weibo for a few days to avoid the negativity and hung up.
Xie Xiaobao clutched his phone, feeling glum. He was already affected.
Though he promised not to reply, he couldn’t resist scrolling through the comments. Many familiar fans were defending him, but the water army was relentless, ignoring reason, spewing repetitive insults, and drowning out the fans’ efforts.
The more Xie Xiaobao read, the angrier he got. He pounded his pillow, claws scratching it fiercely, barely restraining himself from jumping into the fray.
Thankfully, Old Wang worked fast. Within half an hour, the marketing accounts fanning the flames deleted their posts.
Xie Xiaobao remembered the ID of one account that had called him out for showboating. Checking it, he saw their post was gone too.
With the marketing accounts silenced, the trending topics and hashtags were pulled down. Within an hour, the buzz had noticeably faded.
Without the instigators, the crowd of passersby dwindled. The remaining water army kept at it under Xie Xiaobao’s Weibo, but without backup, they couldn’t make waves and were soon overwhelmed by furious fans.
Under Old Wang’s efforts, the storm subsided quickly. Netizens’ short attention spans meant the issue would fade from memory in a couple of days.
***
At He’s Entertainment’s top floor, Old Wang reported the investigation to He Yu. “We’ve got the full picture. It was a little streamer under Zong Wei.”
That streamer was the woman who clashed with Song Kewen in the meeting room. Fang Huaiyue’s blunt dismissal of Zong Wei’s flattery had embarrassed her, and she felt mocked by Xie Xiaobao’s group. Jealous of his sudden fame, she lashed out.
“Just her?” He Yu asked.
“Yes,” Old Wang confirmed. “Our evidence points to her alone.”
He Yu’s eyes lowered, fingers tapping the desk. “Alright. Keep an eye on Xiaobao’s situation. Fang Huaiyue will handle the rest.”
Old Wang nodded, sensing from He Yu’s expression that there might be more behind this, but he wisely left without pressing.
After Old Wang left, He Yu made a call. It was picked up after two rings, and Fang Huaiyue’s voice came through. “President He?”
He Yu briefed him on Xie Xiaobao’s situation, then instructed, “Deal with the person. Also, keep tabs on anyone interacting with Zong Wei lately.”
Fang Huaiyue, long accustomed to He Yu’s ways, understood without needing details. He Yu’s sudden takeover of He’s Entertainment, with his tough methods, had clearly ruffled feathers, and someone was stirring trouble behind the scenes.
***
A few days later, the storm had indeed died down. Xie Xiaobao wasn’t a celebrity, so once the hype faded, so did the attention.
Old Wang posted a Weibo update on Xie Xiaobao’s behalf to calm fans and deleted the abusive comments, signaling the matter was over.
But Xie Xiaobao remained downcast. He knew it was a targeted smear, but his weight was a sore spot. Whether the insults were genuine or not, they stung.
Sprawled on the sofa, furry belly pressed against the cushions, paws tucked under his chin, he moped for a bit before rolling upright and scampering to the mirror.
He sat, twisting his head to inspect himself. As much as he hated to admit it, he *was* fat. His furry ears drooped, and he pressed a paw to his belly, letting out a low meow. Starting today, this cat was going on a diet.
He Yu, with a rare day off, checked Xie Xiaobao’s Weibo. No new posts. He visited the livestream channel—empty. It had been days since the incident, and Xie Xiaobao hadn’t updated since.
Imagining Xie Xiaobao holed up at home, sulking, He Yu frowned and sent a WeChat message.
[*He Yu: You there?*]
Xie Xiaobao was jogging on the treadmill when his phone pinged. He paused, hopped off, transformed back to human form, and checked it.
[*Xiaobao: Here. What’s up, President He?*]
The reply was quick. He Yu’s fingers moved.
[*Call me He Yu.*]
[*Got time? Let’s grab lunch this afternoon.*]
Lunch… Xie Xiaobao’s stomach growled. He scrunched his face, politely declining: [*I already ate.*]
He Yu rubbed his phone screen, then replied: [*I haven’t eaten yet, and I need to talk to you about something. Come keep me company.*]
With He Yu putting it like that, Xie Xiaobao reluctantly agreed. He hadn’t eaten dinner in two days, sticking to veggies, fruits, and a bit of beef for lunch. On day three, the mention of food made his stomach protest loudly.
They agreed to meet downstairs. He Yu drove to pick him up.
Xie Xiaobao changed, smoothed down his bedhead, grabbed his phone, and headed out.