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Luo Mingjing skimmed through the posts briefly, spotting the original tweet that sparked the controversy. He asked Shi Min, “What is this? A promotional plan?”
“It was scrapped and discarded,” Shi Min replied. “No one would include such annotations in a formal proposal submitted to me.”
“What’s all this about? Is it because of this?” Luo Mingjing tapped on the post, glanced at it, and said earnestly, “It’s completely unnecessary.”
He continued, “I did drop out of university, but I don’t think it’s a big deal. While some people do value academic credentials, there’s no need for such an extreme reaction—it’s too much. You were worried earlier because you thought I’d be upset seeing this?”
Shi Min took her phone back and smiled. “I overthought it.”
“Wait,” Luo Mingjing asked, “Will this affect the release?”
“Not really,” Shi Min said. “It depends on how the company handles public relations. If handled well, not only can we catch whoever leaked internal information, but it could also enhance our publicity.”
Not long after, Fiona sent over the company’s response.
Xu Qianqian’s post showcasing transcripts had been executed quite effectively. The PR team quickly followed up with an official statement, asserting that Fishing Live had always believed talent and academic qualifications were unrelated. They emphasized their confidence in individuals with genuine abilities shining regardless of their background. Furthermore, they confirmed that the document posted by user Zeus-Thunder-In-Hand was forged—it was deliberately created to mimic the company’s format in an attempt to tarnish the platform’s streamers. Fishing Live stated, “Given that user Zeus-Thunder-In-Hand forged our company’s documents and smeared our platform’s streamers, causing adverse social impact, our company will immediately investigate the identity of this slanderer, preserve relevant evidence, and initiate necessary legal actions to defend our rights.”
Shi Min gave it a quick glance and said, “It’s settled. Let them handle it.”
Seeing that Luo Mingjing truly wasn’t bothered by any of this, she felt slightly relieved.
“Since it has no impact,” Luo Mingjing handed the cat to Shi Min, “hold this for me while I call Xu Qianqian.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed Xu Qianqian. She answered quickly, launching into an excited rant about the matter. “Brother, have you seen the Weibo post?! Never mind, don’t look—it’s nasty stuff. Anyway, some jerk decided to use your education to attack you! I’ve already cursed him out for you. Damn, what a bastard! Does he worship academic credentials? Do you need a degree to earn a living?! I’m just waiting to see when he’ll post his own transcript to embarrass himself!”
“Why are you even getting involved in this nonsense?” Luo Mingjing turned away discreetly, lowering his voice. “Can you focus on something meaningful for once? Have you submitted your thesis? Did it pass? What does your advisor say? And last time—were you stupid? Cursing Ke Ge as a dog online—he might not be your advisor, but aren’t you afraid he’ll trip you up later? If you were focused on your work, would you be wasting time scrolling through Weibo and reacting to these things? Stop meddling… Are you even studying anymore? Did you pass your language exams? How many times have I told you to stop being so distracted? How much more time do you want to waste on meaningless things?”
Shi Min held the kitten, stroking its chin with her finger while murmuring softly to herself, “President, hmm?”
The cat rubbed against her chest, kneading its paws. Shi Min frowned slightly and gently grabbed its tiny paw.
Luo Mingjing continued lecturing his sister: “Don’t respond again. I’m done talking—hanging up now. Eat well and study hard… I’ll be streaming tomorrow, not tonight… That’s it, don’t play with Weibo anymore. Control yourself.”
Shi Min asked, “Are you done?”
“Yes,” Luo Mingjing replied. “If it doesn’t affect the release, there’s no need to bother with it. She’s always like this—if someone says something remotely negative, she rushes to prove them wrong. I’ve told her countless times not to do this. Once you put yourself out there on the internet, anyone will face criticism. The wider it spreads, the more doubts arise. Some things require explanations; others don’t deserve such a fuss—it’s really unnecessary.”
“Let’s not go back to the studio either.” Shi Min pulled the cat off her chest and handed it to him. “Take the cat and head home directly.”
“…” Luo Mingjing suddenly asked, “Does this mean bringing a child home?”
Shi Min laughed—a rare occurrence—and teased, “Whatever makes you happy.”
When Luo Mingjing arrived at Shi Min’s house with her, Ms. Zhang was still busy in the kitchen. Dinner wasn’t ready yet, and the main dishes hadn’t been cooked. When Shi Min’s younger brother opened the door and saw his sister returning earlier than expected, he turned toward the kitchen and called out, “Ms. Zhang, they’re here—stop fretting.”
Before Luo Mingjing arrived, Ms. Zhang had been pestering Shi Min’s younger brother: “Xiao Feng, when people talk about the taste of ‘mom’s cooking,’ what comes to mind? Millet porridge, eight-treasure congee, or dumpling soup? Stir-fried green beans or cold spinach? For meat, wouldn’t braised pork be better than roasted duck or chicken?”
At the announcement of their arrival, Ms. Zhang instantly slipped into her pre-rehearsed role. She emerged dramatically, exclaiming warmly, “Oh my goodness—finally, you’re here!”
Even Luo Mingjing was startled by her exaggerated performance—Shi Min blinked in surprise, signaling for her mother not to overdo it.
Unfortunately, Ms. Zhang missed the cue entirely. She snatched the cat from Luo Mingjing’s arms and said, “Why bring gifts? Xiao Di, take it—the young man brought us a cat! Aren’t you thrilled?”
Shi Min’s father’s eyes gleamed with excitement.
“No…” Luo Mingjing hesitated, unsure how to explain. Mr. Shi, holding the cat by its neck, shot him a sidelong glance, waiting for him to finish speaking.
Shi Min bravely interrupted her parents’ fantasy, saying, “The cat is ours—we just adopted it today. Leave it alone. We didn’t bring anything else except two extra mouths to feed.”
Her taciturn father reluctantly handed the cat back to Luo Mingjing, looking somewhat disappointed.
Though reluctant, Luo Mingjing quietly suggested, “Maybe we should give it to your dad…”
“Give President to them?” Shi Min interjected. “Once a name is given, I assume ownership by default.”
Luo Mingjing had a premonition. Before he could stop her, Shi Min leaned close and whispered seductively in his ear, “Fairy, mine.”
Luo Mingjing handed her the cat, blushing as he rolled up his sleeves and silently headed to the kitchen. “Auntie, let me help you…”
“Don’t call me auntie!” Ms. Zhang immediately reverted to her overly enthusiastic tone, smiling kindly. “Young man, call me Xiao Dong Sister.”
“…” That was impossible to say.
Meanwhile, Yuefeng Entertainment was working overtime. Shi Chu convened a meeting, texting home to ask what was for dinner while saying, “I don’t care if our signed streamers get slandered or whatever. Every month, Fishing Live signs hundreds of new streamers—there’s no shortage of scandals involving mistresses, gambling, or prostitution. People dig up dirt on us daily. Are we supposed to intervene every time? No. But this time is different. Do you know why it’s different? Why did I call you all here?”
Fiona thought internally, “Isn’t it because he’s your brother-in-law?”
Thankfully, she kept quiet, as Shi Chu’s next words were, “Because there’s a mole. Why were our internal documents photographed and leaked? Where did this marketing plan come from—a draft that should’ve been destroyed? Has it been traced? Who owns the phone number? Has the cardholder been identified? What are the analysis results? What’s the motive behind this? Why post it? Was it an attempt to drag Yang He down?”
Shi Chu slammed the table. “It’s been half a day, and we still haven’t figured out this simple information leak. The PR team’s response has been mediocre—are you proud of yourselves? With this level of handling, when we go public next year, what happens if competitors throw bombs at us? Will you all collapse?”
Ms. Shi texted back: “Dinner’s lavish—chicken, duck, fish, and meat galore. Come home and eat.”
Shi Chu tucked away his phone, stood up, and announced, “Meeting adjourned.” Then, feigning seriousness, he hurried out of the room, practically skipping with excitement as he called Shi Min to boast, “Hahaha, Mom’s letting me come home to eat delicious food!”
Shi Min replied, “Mm-hmm, hurry back—we’ll save some for you.”
Shi Chu: “…” Step-sister! No wonder it’s so lavish—it’s not because Shi Min came home!
Fiona worked overtime until seven before finally receiving feedback from the phone company, which provided the cardholder’s name and registered address.
Cardholder name: Wang Zhenyu. Registered address: Huan Yu Design Company.
Fiona screamed, “Holy crap! What the hell?!”
Her colleagues, also working late amid the gloomy atmosphere, shared her reaction: “Wang Zhenyu? Kevin Wang? Really?”
“…Did I hear that wrong?”
Fiona cursed loudly, “Holy crap, could it actually be true?”
For the thirtieth time, she clicked into Zeus-Thunder-In-Hand’s profile, forcing herself to endure the nauseating content. “This shatters my worldview!”
After reflecting, she glanced around, lowered her voice, and gossiped with her colleagues. “Hey, let me tell you something.”
“What? What?”
“It’s about Luo Mingjing…” Fiona covered her mouth and whispered, “He claims Kevin Wang’s Chinese Crane series plagiarized his work.”
“…Really? Fake or real?!” Her colleagues expressed disbelief. “This is too surreal…”
“I was skeptical at first…” Fiona admitted, “But now I believe it—it must be plagiarism. Last time, a designer friend of mine mentioned how strange Kevin Wang is. Aside from Chinese Crane , all his other works are tacky. His fame rests mostly on those who don’t understand design admiring Chinese Crane . In reality, his work isn’t great. My friend said his skills aren’t even as good as hers, and she’s fuming.”
“No way…” One colleague remarked, “You guys shouldn’t jump to conclusions before anything’s confirmed.”
“It’s true!” Fiona insisted. “Didn’t you hear how the stage director at Three-Terrace insulted him last time? Said his aesthetic was like Emperor Qianlong’s—piling gold and jade together.”
Another colleague chimed in calmly, “By the way, did you know? Over half of Huan Yu Design’s revenue still relies on Chinese Crane .”
Another colleague scrolled through Zeus-Thunder-In-Hand’s tweets and said, “Hey, Fei, check this one. Is he cursing Yang He?”
“Which one?”
“The one before he posted the marketing plan, insulting some actress whose name starts with Y.” The colleague smirked mischievously. “Could Y be Yang He? Maybe he’s jealous because she endorsed Luo Mingjing?”
Fiona sighed, “…That’s it. He’s done for. Not only will the board crush him, but the president will bite him to death too…”
When Shi Chu returned home, he found Luo Mingjing there and couldn’t resist ruffling his hair teasingly, “Oh, you’re here again?”
Luo Mingjing nearly choked on his soup.
Ms. Zhang smacked Shi Chu’s hand with a ladle. “Eat your food.”
After dinner, Ms. Zhang enthusiastically insisted on letting Luo Mingjing stay overnight. Shi Chu nearly popped his eyeballs out in shock: “Wait, who’s staying over? What are you planning? Is Shi Min pregnant?!”
This time, not only Ms. Zhang but also Mr. Shi came over to smack their son’s head.
Shi Min shot her brother a cold glare. Luo Mingjing, stunned, stammered, “This isn’t right… I should head back to the studio tonight…”
“No way!” Ms. Zhang declared. “We have everything prepared. We’ll make up a bed for you—it’ll be warm and cozy. Xiao Di, fetch that unused pajama set—the oversized one you never wore.”
Luo Mingjing looked to Shi Min for help, but she merely smiled at him and whispered softly, “Stay here tonight.”
Even after lying down in bed, Luo Mingjing still felt dazed. After Shi Min finished showering and came to check on him, he instinctively took the towel from her and dried her hair, asking softly, “Did you say something? Your mom seemed very concerned about me today…”
“No,” Shi Min replied. “In her eyes, you’re all just kids. It’s natural for her to care.”
“You definitely said something,” Luo Mingjing insisted. “Next time—next time, give me a heads-up. I wasn’t prepared today and barely responded to your mom. It was rude.”
“For family, there’s no need to prepare,” Shi Min smiled. “Just accept it naturally. Don’t overthink how to repay them. We’ll be family sooner or later—it’s only right for them to treat you well.”
Luo Mingjing sat cross-legged on the bed, lost in thought for a long moment. Finally, he said, “It’s because… you told her about my mom…”
Shi Min gently held his hand, giving him time.
“Shi Min…” Luo Mingjing said, “Give me tonight to think… Tomorrow, I’ll tell you some things.”
“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Shi Min reassured him. “Take your time. Whatever you say, I’ll listen carefully.”
Luo Mingjing rested his forehead on Shi Min’s shoulder and murmured softly, “Thank you…”
Suddenly, the door opened. Ms. Zhang peeked in, hiding her nosy expression, and held up the cat. “By the way, young man, do you need a cat to sleep with?”
After returning to her room, Shi Min saw a message from Fiona: “Confirmed—the phone number belongs to Wang Zhenyu from Huan Yu Design. The IP address matches too.”
Shi Min instructed, “Tomorrow, have PR contact him and arrange a meeting at the company with me.”
“Got it.”
However, at ten o’clock that night, Zeus-Thunder-In-Hand posted another tweet: “Too busy during the day to reply. To the sister named Foreplay, even excellent grades are just high school credentials. For designers, academic qualifications represent knowledge and vision, which determine taste. How could someone without a college degree possibly create good work? With this suspicion in mind, I carefully examined Mirror Realm’s Spring Begins series. Guess what I found? Don’t you think your third-rate high school-educated internet celebrity brother borrowed inspiration from renowned masters? This lake green color—I’m sure it was the main highlight of Brand C’s spring haute couture collection two years ago. And this style—doesn’t it look familiar? [Image]”
Xu Qianqian leapt out of bed, cursing furiously, “Damn bastard! Why don’t you accuse Brand F’s winter collection of plagiarizing our national flag?! Damn it…”
He Xi tried to calm her down. “Qianqian, stop. Your brother told you to focus on studying, not to scroll through Weibo.”
“How can I tolerate this when they’re bullying us right at our doorstep?!” Xu Qianqian wiped away tears of frustration, holding her phone up to He Xi’s face. “Look at the images he posted. He’s implying my brother plagiarized Chinese Crane . Screw him!”
Xu Qianqian unleashed a string of curses: “Of course it looks similar! It’s my brother’s work! This idiot has a bit of insight—at least he knows where to aim. He’s delivering his face straight to us!”
She typed a response, forwarded the tweet, and declared fiercely, “My brother’s lucky this year—all these idiots are lining up to be taken down. Time to settle accounts!”
Smiling-Qianxi: Since the blogger asked so nicely, coincidentally, why does it look similar? Blogger, why don’t you ask this famous designer @International Famous Designer Kevin Wang? Ask him clearly. Back then, who shamelessly collaborated with that despicable professor @Great Sage Ke Ge to steal my brother’s work? The internet is wonderful—it exposes shameless scoundrels one by one.
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