40: Chapter 40: Four Years of Chat Logs Exposed; The Entire Internet Has Criticized the Wrong Person

Su Wantang's hand hovered for a full nine seconds.

Eleven million people were online. The barrage of comments turned into a solid white wall— "Pick it up!" "If you don't pick up, it means you're guilty!" "Sister Wantang, don't be afraid of him!"

The tenth second.

The camera shook. She lowered her head, raised it, and wiped the corner of her eye with her fingertip.

"Okay. I'll pick up."

The comments section exploded.

"But—"

She sniffled, her chin slightly raised.

"I need to end the stream first to prepare. I can't let him see me like this, can I?"

She paused for a beat.

"I don't want him to think I'm not doing well after leaving him."

The sentiment in the comments shifted— [My heart aches for Wantang! Stay dignified!][Even after breaking up, you have to look beautiful!][That scumbag doesn't deserve to see you cry!]

Su Wantang turned off the livestream.

The screen went black.

Li Li stood on the beach, the phone screen reflecting the darkened livestream room.

"She said she's preparing."

Jiang Rumu held her tablet, her bangs plastered against her face by the sea breeze.

"Do you believe her?"

"No. But the audience does."

"Just wait."

Jiang Rumu didn't move.

"Go back to the room." Li Li tilted his head. "Those four pieces of dirt on you are still up. If you stand with me, the marketing accounts will have another round of material—'Wicked Woman Conspires with Scumbag Late at Night,' I've even thought of the headlines for them."

"I'm not afraid."

"I know. But you going back to watch the stream is more useful than standing here. If Su Wantang makes a move, tell me."

Three seconds passed.

Jiang Rumu tightened her grip on the tablet and turned to walk toward the hotel.

She walked five steps, then stopped. She didn't turn back.

"Li Li."

"Yeah."

"When you flip the table—don't go soft."

Li Li sat alone on the beach.

The livestream camera was still on. The comments were uniform— "When is Su Wantang going online?" "Brother Li, are you chickening out?" "Wait to get slapped in the face, you scumbag."

He ignored them.

Twenty minutes passed.

His phone vibrated. A message from Jiang Rumu.

"She hasn't started the stream. Weibo hasn't updated. TikTok hasn't updated. But there are two more pieces of dirt on me—someone dug up photos from my college days, saying I had plastic surgery."

Li Li replied with two words: "Fake?"

"Obviously."

"Then no need to rush."

"I'm not worried about myself." Jiang Rumu sent another message. "Your livestream lost eight million viewers. Online—thirty-one million. It's definitely dropping. If they can't wait for the confrontation, the audience is leaving."

He leaned against the rock, unmoving.

Forty minutes passed.

The tone of the comments began to subtly crack— [Is she coming or not? Does washing your face and changing clothes take forty minutes?][Didn't she say she'd pick up...][I'm starting to have a bad feeling about this]

Li Li rotated his left wrist.

Blue text floated up— [System Prompt: Target "Su Wantang" current status—Currently on a call with her agent (duration 37 minutes). Call content cannot be monitored, but it can be determined: Not preparing for a livestream.]

He finished reading. No expression.

Just wait.

One hour and three minutes.

Su Wantang's Weibo updated.

It wasn't a notification that she was going live.

It was a post with an image.

The picture was of a pitch-black screen, with the corner of a computer desk and a piece of charging cable visible in the bottom right corner.

The caption— "The power breaker at home suddenly burned out, the whole building lost power, and none of the livestream equipment will turn on. I was ready to explain everything to everyone... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stand you all up. I'll explain to everyone once the power is back."

A wronged emoji at the end.

Li Li stared at the image.

A black screen.

Just a black screen.

You could just point your phone at any wall and take a picture.

The breaker burned out.

An hour-long call, and this was the excuse they came up with.

The comments split into two camps— [Poor Wantang! The power went out! It's not her fault!][??? The breaker burned out? That's it?][The power cut at such a convenient time these days]

He rotated his left wrist.

Blue text popped up— [System Prompt: Real-time power data for the target's residential area (Xinglan Mansion, Binjiang District, Hangzhou) has been retrieved—There has been no power outage record in this area for the past 24 hours.][Current public opinion window is approximately 35 minutes. If this time passes, the "power outage" excuse will be accepted by default, and public opinion will solidify again.]

Li Li finished reading these two lines.

Locked his phone.

Stood up.

Brushed the sand off his pants.

That's enough.

He propped his phone on the rock.

The camera faced his face and the sea behind him.

Online—twenty-nine million.

He started speaking.

"Su Wantang said the breaker burned out, she can't come."

Comments: [Hahaha, the scumbag got stood up!]

"Fine. Then I'll do it myself."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, screen facing the livestream camera.

Opened WeChat.

Clicked into the chat box with "Su Wantang."

"I've known Su Wantang for four years and two months. From the first message to the last. It's all here. I haven't deleted a single one."

He adjusted the font to the largest size.

"First, look at the screenshot she posted—'Don't bother me.'"

His finger slid precisely to the corresponding position.

The full context was hung on the screen.

The timestamps were continuous, the message order complete.

"She cropped this sentence."

He tapped it.

"But this sentence was said by her, not me. She cut out the three messages above and the five below. The original text was her telling me not to worry about her former colleague pursuing her. She moved this sentence, changed the context, and grafted it onto me."

The speed of the comments slowed by half.

"The second one. 'You decide for yourself.'"

He slid to the original text.

"The full original quote—'Buy whichever one you like, you decide for yourself, I'll transfer the money to you.'"

He swiped, the transfer record followed immediately behind.

Four thousand eight hundred yuan.

Note: "Buy a phone for Wantang."

The comments started exploding— [??? This is called cold violence???][He was transferring money to her to buy a phone!!!]

"The third one. 'I said I'm not going.'"

Original text— "I said I can't get out of it, I promised them."

It was about a coworker's wedding that he couldn't get out of.

Not refusing to accompany Su Wantang.

"The fourth one. The fifth one."

The full context of every screenshot, in black and white.

Cropped. Spliced. Grafted.

He didn't flip through them quickly.

He paused for three seconds on each one, for the camera, for the comments, for those twenty-nine million people to see clearly.

Someone in the comments posted a side-by-side comparison of Su Wantang's screenshot and the original text.

It was reposted twenty thousand times within ten seconds.

"The last one. One week before the breakup."

He slid to that conversation.

Su Wantang said her agent suggested she take the independent woman route, couldn't make the relationship public, needed a cooling-off period.

Li Li's reply— "Okay."

Three days later.

Su Wantang said in a livestream in front of eighty thousand people, "I don't have a boyfriend, I've always been alone."

The next day, Li Li received a breakup text.

"Four years. Every 'Okay,' 'Fine,' 'Transferred,' 'As long as you're happy.'"

He locked his phone.

"It's all here. She deleted all of these, only kept the snippets of cold violence taken out of context, and threw them onto the entire internet. Whether you believe it or not, judge for yourselves."

The sentiment in the comments avalanched— [I was deceived. I'm fucking really deceived.][So she didn't dare to connect for an hour because she knew it would be over once they confronted each other??][The breaker burned out—what a coincidence! Life is full of coincidences!][Brother Li... four years... what was the point of it all...]

There was a small group— [What if Li Li is also photoshopped? Wait for Su Wantang's livestream to say!]

Li Li glanced at it.

Ignored them.

This group of people would always exist.

They didn't not believe the evidence—they just didn't want to admit they had been deceived.

He put his phone in his pocket.

Walked away.

The elevator reached the twentieth floor.

The doors opened.

Jiang Rumu was sitting on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the door of 2005, her tablet on her lap, holding a popsicle stick in her hand—the ice cream was already finished.

She looked up.

"Finished watching."

"Yeah."

"How many points?"

"Ninety."

"Where's the ten points deducted?"

Li Li swiped his key card, the door opened.

Li Li was stunned.

"Her place didn't have a power outage."

Jiang Rumu stood up, brushed off her pants, "Why didn't you say so?"

"Saving it."

"Saving it for what?"

"She'll make another move. When she makes up another story, I'll flip this trump card again. By then, her credibility will drop to zero, and no one will even be able to help her clear her name."

Jiang Rumu stared at him.

Two seconds.

"Fine. You're really devious."

Li Li entered the bedroom, threw his phone onto the nightstand, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed onto the bed.

"Tired. Sleeping."

"The trending topics are still up. Some people still don't believe you. Those four pieces of dirt on me are also still—"

"Talk about it tomorrow."

He pulled the quilt over, covering half his face.

Ten seconds.

His breathing evened out.

The internet war was a total mess, occupying three of the top five trending spots, over a hundred million people waiting for the follow-up—this guy was asleep.

Jiang Rumu stood at the bedroom door.

Didn't close it.

Turned around, went back to the sofa, sat down, and picked up the tablet.

Browsed for twenty minutes.

The direction of public opinion was visibly turning.

Sixty percent were scolding Su Wantang.

Thirty percent were watching from the sidelines.

Ten percent were die-hard fans trying to defend her.

She closed Su Wantang's page and switched to the four pieces of dirt about herself.

"Insider reveals: Jiang Rumu bullied makeup artist on set"—90,000 reposts.

"Jiang Rumu's former assistant speaks out: She has no respect for staff"—70,000 reposts.

She looked at the publishing accounts one by one.

The first one, marketing account "Entertainment Buzz."

The second one, marketing account "Gossip Frontline."

The third one, marketing account "Star Scout Express."

The fourth one—

Her finger stopped.

The publishing account for the fourth one was called "Wantang's Little Garden."

Follower count: 370,000.

Verification information: Su Wantang's Official Fan Club account.

Jiang Rumu backed out and checked the posting history of these four marketing accounts—in the last three days, all four accounts had simultaneously reposted Su Wantang's livestream announcement.

Simultaneously.

All four accounts.

She also checked Su Wantang's agency.

Xingcan Media.

Her finger clicked into the business registration page.

Xingcan Media's parent Company—Company.

Company.

Jiang Rumu rested her hand on the edge of the tablet, tapping her fingernail lightly.

Company.

Her former agency.

To be precise—the Company that was pressuring her to renew her contract while simultaneously releasing dirt to ruin her reputation.

Su Wantang's agency and her former agency had the same boss.

Jiang Rumu flipped the tablet face down on the coffee table.

In the bedroom, Li Li was dead to the world.

She didn't wake him.

She picked up her phone, typed a line, and saved it to her notes— "Company? Su Wantang? A setup?"

Locked the screen.

The living room went dark.

Only the standby light of the tablet flickered on and off.