Chapter 9: Taking the Internet by Storm

Early the next morning, the internet was in an uproar with sensational rumors linking Lin Xi and the boss of Xingchen. The stories flooded all the trending lists, and this time, not just idle gossip—there were incriminating photos as well.

Headlines sprang up in rapid succession:

—"Shocking: Lin Xi’s Rise Through the Casting Couch"
—"Xingchen CEO Gu Jue Caught Cheating with Actress Lin Xi"
—"The Leading Lady of ‘Flourishing Age’ Lin Xi’s Scandalous Private Life"

Online, these kinds of rumors always drew the harshest condemnation. There was zero tolerance, and the older generation was especially indignant and scornful. Suddenly, Lin Xi became the target of universal criticism—distant relatives and family acquaintances all rushed to the moral high ground to chastise her, and her Weibo was besieged within minutes.

The comment section was a battlefield: “Shameless homewrecker,” “Get out of showbiz,” “Don’t ruin ‘Flourishing Age’”—the attacks were relentless.

Zhou Xin immediately took charge, requested leave for Lin Xi from the crew, and ordered her to stay off Weibo for the next few days, waiting for President Gu to handle the situation. Miya stayed by her side, reassuring her not to pay attention to the online abuse, insisting it was nothing but fickle public opinion, all bark and no bite.

Lin Xi knew it was her third brother who feared she might be devastated by the attacks. But she was far from fragile. Since Miya had confiscated her phone, Lin Xi barely reacted outwardly. Nevertheless, she could easily guess at the kinds of things being said online.

While the entire internet was waiting for Lin Xi to issue an apology and face the music, the boss of Xingchen, Gu Jue, suddenly retweeted a police announcement from the Ancient City Police Department, including a video.

Curious netizens clicked on the video and were stunned: the paparazzi’s faces were pixelated, but the video revealed everything—their stalking, secret photography, malicious leaks, and, crucially, it identified Shen Yingying as the mastermind behind it all.

The police immediately summoned Shen Yingying.

At that very moment, Shen Yingying was gleefully scrolling through the comments, savoring the online outrage directed at Lin Xi, while waiting for her own scene on set. But the next instant, the police appeared before her. In full view of everyone on set, still dressed in her costume, she was taken away by officers before she could even process what was happening.

A video of Shen Yingying’s arrest was soon circulating online.

Then, Gu Jue posted on Weibo: “@Lin Xi, my sworn sister, the Gu family’s young lady. As for some of the inappropriate remarks circulating online, we reserve the right to pursue legal action. Consider yourselves warned.”

The internet exploded. The Gu family’s young lady?! Shock, disbelief, suspicion—some thought it was just an excuse, others kept hurling insults because “she’s not even a real sister, so who knows what’s going on.”

But then, the tables turned in an instant.

Gu TingV: “@Lin Xi, my goddaughter. If you have any trouble, come to me.”

Gu Ting, the legendary industry figure, confirmed it himself on his verified account.

Overnight, Lin Xi became a sensation! An overnight star in showbiz, revealed to be the recognized young lady of the Gu family by none other than Mr. Gu himself—the little princess of Xingchen! Who could possibly rival such a background?

No one had anticipated that Mr. Gu would personally step in to refute the rumors.

Gu Ting, former president of Xingchen, had built the company from the ground up into the industry leader it was today. The artists he mentored had all gone on to become award winners—now respected veterans of the field. He was the discoverer of countless talents, a true legend of his age.

For a moment, the whole internet fell silent.

Instantly, the one-sided tide of public opinion shifted. Sanity returned: if she was his goddaughter, there could be no talk of her being a “mistress.”

Some more cautious, liability-fearing fans and netizens hurriedly deleted their insults toward Lin Xi, lining up to apologize, admitting they had wrongly accused her.

Miya handed Lin Xi her phone. After reading the Weibo posts, Lin Xi felt a pang of guilt—her godfather was still thinking of her even while traveling abroad. She really was causing him too much worry.

She watched coldly as the fans, netizens, and keyboard warriors redirected their fury, now unleashing a torrent of venom upon Shen Yingying. The internet was awash with vitriol.

Lin Xi knew Shen Yingying would never recover from this. She felt no sympathy—she’d been warned, but chose this path herself.

Lin Xi sometimes wondered when she would be able to make her own way, without relying on her brothers. But for now, it seemed impossible. Truly, in this world, money and power reign supreme.

Ironically, this whole ordeal had gained her a wave of new fans—a blessing in disguise.

People commented, “Wow, talk about luck, being chosen as Mr. Gu’s goddaughter.”
“Just a word from Mr. Gu and any industry veteran would help her rise. No wonder her first show was ‘Flourishing Age.’”
“With looks like that, I’m a fan. Can’t wait for her drama with Master Xiu!”

Of course, there were also sour remarks:

“She’s not a real daughter, what’s the big deal?”
“The Lin family heiress is the true aristocrat—so low-key!”
“Just a goddaughter, nothing to brag about. Hmph!”

Meanwhile, in their family group chat, it took all of Lin Xi’s patience to calm Lin Tianyou and Gu Yao. If either of them posted on Weibo again, she’d never survive in the industry—four menacing guardians behind her, who would dare cast her in anything?

Through all this, Lin Xi herself had yet to speak. As the internet waited for her statement, she finally delivered:

Lin XiV: “Peach blossoms burn bright, the music of joy rings clear; flowers like beauties, wishing to confide in you, dear. Life and death, the cosmic wheel; the Way of Nature, Heaven and Man as one. Who will promise you a lifetime’s glory, and who will stay by your side through the years? Fireworks—who is beauty for? Fireworks—who laughs in silk and brocade?”

“‘Flourishing Age,’ an epic costume drama—please look forward to it! [Image][Image]”

Netizens were dazzled by her move:

“What a brilliant play! I’m impressed!”
“Haha, our little Xi is so laid back, no wonder—her background gives her confidence!”
“Say no more, can’t wait for her new drama! Let’s blind those keyboard warriors!”

No one expected Lin Xi would use the scandal as a springboard to promote “Flourishing Age.” She was unfazed—most stars, when wronged, would post something gloomy or pitiful, maybe a crying meme, to win sympathy and gain new fans.

But Lin Xi did the opposite—and it worked even better. The internet cheered:

“This actress doesn’t play by the rules—I like her! What a satisfying reversal!”
“Calling all Little Xis—this is the Lin Xi Global Fan Club, come join us!”
“Our girl was born a princess but never acts like one. Love it! Where are the keyboard warriors now? Don’t back down!”

In the end, Lin Xi trended for a full day, her popularity exploding across the web. The producers and investors rode an emotional rollercoaster—one of the wildest ever. Their moods swung from highs to lows all day, but when Lin Xi posted her Weibo, they finally relaxed, beaming with relief. Who knew how much it had saved them on publicity costs?

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Meanwhile, Lu Yuxiu was busy filming his male lead scenes on set.

It wasn’t until the evening, after shooting wrapped, that he finally had a moment to check his phone. Out of habit, he opened Lin Xi’s Weibo to see her latest photos, only to realize she’d just weathered a vicious online attack—and the crisis had already passed.

Lu Yuxiu summoned Zhou Jun, his expression dark. “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening online?”

“Boss, you told us before not to let anyone disturb you while you’re filming,” Zhou Jun replied nervously.

The atmosphere around Lu Yuxiu grew icy, his usual calm replaced by an oppressive chill that made it hard for anyone nearby to breathe.

He struggled to keep his temper in check. “You’re regressing, Zhou. Remember—she’s not just anyone. Her business comes first, always.”

“Yes, Boss! I—I understand!” Zhou Jun stammered, realizing he’d underestimated how much Miss Lin meant to his boss. What a fool he’d been, forgetting she was his boss’s one true weakness.

He hadn’t felt this intimidating aura from his boss in ages—the last time was when some brazen woman tried to seduce him. Now, Zhou Jun only wanted to get as far away as possible, terrified of being dismissed in a fit of anger.

Once Lu Yuxiu waved him away, Zhou Jun practically fled the room.

Lu Yuxiu was filled with guilt, unable to forgive himself for not stepping up to defend Lin Xi in time. He knew she wasn’t as fragile as he sometimes imagined, but it pained him that he’d failed to protect her as promised, failing even to notice when she was in trouble.

What’s more, Lin Xi and Gu Jue, Gu Yao weren’t even related by blood—yet they were so close. Clearly, “good brother” Gu Yao was a rival he needed to keep an eye on.

Lu Yuxiu fished out his phone and hesitantly opened WeChat, his mind a jumbled mess—he’d never felt anything quite like this before.

Fish: [Little Xi, are you alright? I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you right away.]

He typed, deleted, rewrote, and finally hit send.

Meanwhile, Lin Xi was on the sofa, studying her script, when her phone lit up. “You’ve received a message from ‘Fish.’”

Fish? Lin Xi was puzzled. When had she added someone named “Fish” on WeChat? Had she really forgotten?

She opened the chat and, seeing their previous conversation, realized it was Lu Yuxiu. When had he changed his WeChat name?

Reading his message, Lin Xi almost laughed. What was with this Master Xiu, apologizing to her—so polite! She guessed he felt, as her fourth brother’s friend, he ought to have spoken up, or perhaps it was a sense of camaraderie as co-stars.

Yes! Lin Xi nodded to herself, marveling at her own cleverness.

If Lu Yuxiu knew what she was thinking, he’d probably cough up blood in frustration.

Little Stream: [Brother Yuxiu, don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll be back on set tomorrow.]

Once he saw her reply, Lu Yuxiu finally relaxed. Looking at his and Lin Xi’s WeChat names—“Fish” and “Little Stream”—he smiled contentedly.

May you be like fish in water, always together, never apart.

Their relationship had taken another step forward.

As Lin Xi ate dinner, scrolling through her phone, another message popped up.

[Little Xi, don’t pay attention to what’s online. They’re just keyboard warriors.] It was Qi Qi.

Lin Xi felt a warmth inside, remembering she’d promised to treat her to a meal. [Sister Qi Qi, I’m fine. Free tomorrow? Let me buy you dinner?]

Qi Qi replied with a laughing emoji: [Haha, it’s fine. I only said that on the show. I’m pretty busy these days. Next time, my treat.]

Lin Xi liked straightforward people—she and Qi Qi hit it off instantly, quickly becoming good friends.