Chapter 78: Stirring Up Envy Everywhere

The stage presence Lin Chuan displayed had reached an extraordinary level. As the crowd witnessed this familiar figure, seemingly within arm’s reach, their shouts became hysterical; some of the more sensitive girls even shed tears of happiness. At this moment, Gao Mingyuan, too, was beaming like the fans, his face nearly blossoming with joy. He could never have imagined that Lin Chuan would wield such influence.

The chaotic scene was instantly transformed into frenzy upon Lin Chuan’s arrival. All the glow sticks lit up like stars in the audience, and LED signs emblazoned with “Lin Chuan” or “Chuan Fan Club” were raised high. Equally shaken by the spectacle was Jiang Xia, sitting not far away. From the beginning of the commercial performance, at least a dozen singers had appeared, but the reception was starkly different: there had been boos, ridicule, insults, and of course, sparse applause. Yet compared to this moment, all those were worlds apart.

Standing on stage, Lin Chuan seemed a dazzling superstar, every movement guiding the audience’s emotions. Simply standing there elicited waves of screaming. For a singer, a group, or even a company, this was a supreme honor. Jiang Xia, seated in his place, cast a glance at the smug Gao Mingyuan nearby; his expression was so grim it seemed he might bleed from his face. Yet when his gaze shifted to the man on stage, his eyes intermittently flashed with sharp light.

Next, Lin Chuan ended the commercial performance with “Old Boys” and “Ten Years.” That evening, the forum at Kyoto University buzzed with a single topic.

“Tonight was incredible—if you weren’t there, you can’t imagine what happened. I’m so excited I can’t even describe it.”

“That’s right! At first, I was about to leave, thinking our idol wouldn’t show up, that it was all a scam… but then Lin Chuan appeared, and the entire audience stood up, shouting his name. I felt like I was floating…”

“Haha, this was totally worth it. Who knows where Brother Chuan’s next show will be? I have to see him again.”

“Huh… I cried! For the first time, it felt like my idol was so close. ‘Old Boys’ made me tear up, and the first song—wasn’t that a new one he wrote? Does anyone know the name?”

“Rumor has it, Brother Chuan’s first song was called ‘Matchstick Heaven,’ supposedly about a little girl selling matches. But I don’t know the details.”

“Ugh, you’re just showing off—just stirring up jealousy…”

“Why didn’t I buy a ticket? Why didn’t I believe Brother Chuan would come? Why… it’s all tears.”

“Hey, can you stop flaunting? Is there any video or photos from the event? Share them so we can see too…”

“Yeah! There was no live stream—wasn’t there even a recording? I want to hear Brother Chuan sing ‘Old Boys’ and his new ‘Matchstick Heaven.’ Please, we need those resources!”

Seeing these attendees discussing the scene without restraint, many expressed envy, jealousy, and resentment—some could hardly bear it.

“Enough, shut up! The show’s over, what’s the point of talking? What matters now is where Brother Chuan’s next event will be. Does anyone know the time and place?”

“No idea, but the news about Brother Chuan coming to Kyoto University was announced by the Chuan Fan Club. Why not ask the president?”

“What are we waiting for? Join the Chuan Fan Club now! I can’t wait for the next show…”

Ding Min, president of the Chuan Fan Club, was busy as ever. Aside from her job, most of her energy was devoted to Lin Chuan. News of Lin Chuan representing Heaven and Earth Culture Company at the commercial show had come from a friend in Kyoto. She had wanted to attend, but was delayed by other matters.

Now, the Chuan Fan Club was much larger than at the start; just their chat groups numbered five or six, and many fans hadn’t even joined. Otherwise, who knows how many it would need. But being president was no easy task. After work, she’d sit at her computer, chatting with fans about Lin Chuan, exchanging the latest news. If disputes arose, she had to mediate; if arguments erupted, she had to calm things down. She monitored major websites, forums, and microblogs—any negative news about Lin Chuan required immediate action, rallying the group to counter the trolls.

Being president exhausted her, but as Lin Chuan’s fame grew and he attracted more attention, Ding Min felt it was all worthwhile, even experiencing a newfound sense of achievement.

At ten o’clock, the chat groups gradually quieted. Ding Min stretched, preparing to turn off her computer and sleep, when suddenly a message arrived. She opened it to find requests to join the fan group—not just one or two, but several.

“Anyone here? President? When is Brother Chuan’s next commercial performance? Is there a specific time?”

“Tonight’s show was amazing—please tell us the next event location.”

As soon as these people entered, they flooded the group with questions. Most members had been lurking, but seeing the activity, they joined in.

“What, you went to see Brother Chuan tonight? Oh wow, tell us what happened!”

“Ah, so jealous…”

“Old Bian, can you shut up? You’ve been stirring up envy in the forum, and now you’re here? Watch out before someone curses your family…”

“Oh man, Fatty, you’ve been lurking in the group all along?”

Ding Min watched the lively new fans with a bemused smile, and was quite curious about Lin Chuan’s first commercial show tonight. Since the Kyoto University performance hadn’t been streamed or posted online, they couldn’t watch; now that someone had attended, she had to ask.

Soon, the sound of typing filled the air, and Ding Min sent a message to the group.

“How was the event tonight? Any videos or photos?”

“There are some, but they’re not very clear, and only a short clip. Just take a look for now.”

Then, someone in the group sent a short phone video. As soon as it played, chaotic sounds filled the room. Yet Ding Min and the others could see, on stage, a young man holding a guitar, singing the familiar “Old Boys.” Their lingering sleepiness vanished. Ding Min and the group watched the blurry video, listening quietly to that slightly husky voice.

...

At the same time, Jiang Xia sat silently in his car. Since the show ended, he hadn’t said a word, his expression dark and forbidding. The woman beside him, in her thirties, opened her mouth several times, but said nothing. Seeing Jiang’s mood, clearly simmering with anger, she knew that any attempt at conversation would likely bring a scolding.

“Gao Mingyuan, that old fox, must be celebrating now. Not only did he survive tonight’s crisis, but he gained a treasure like Lin Chuan. He’s probably laughing his head off!” Jiang Xia stared out the window, speaking either to himself or to the woman beside him.

She listened, her expression flickering, but remained silent. At such a moment, anything she said would be unnecessary; silence was wiser. The car grew quiet again, punctuated only by the whoosh and honking of passing vehicles.

Meanwhile, in a mid-range hotel, events unfolded just as Jiang Xia had predicted. Gao Mingyuan, Lin Chuan, and the others sat in a private room, joyfully discussing the night’s performance. It must be said—the commercial show had been full of twists and turns. Before Lin Chuan appeared, everyone thought the event would end in failure. But after his arrival, the situation reversed, and the atmosphere soared to unprecedented heights.

Especially Gao Mingyuan, who had been in despair, ready for his company to go bankrupt the next day. Yet as Lin Chuan appeared and he watched the wild fans, Uncle Gao smiled through tears—a feeling beyond words, like surviving disaster, like a new rebirth.

“Here, this glass—I toast to Xiao Chuan. He saved our company,” Gao Mingyuan said, raising his glass.

Gao Meng and the driver Xiao Wu stood up as well. Gao Meng glanced at Lin Chuan with a calm expression, saying nothing. Xiao Wu was different—he was Lin Chuan’s devoted fan, and now not only could he meet him often, but also sit at the same table and drink together; it was like a dream.

At this moment, Xiao Wu’s feelings were no less intense than Gao Mingyuan’s—his hand holding the glass trembled, and he exclaimed, “Brother Chuan, though I didn’t see your performance in person, I still want to toast you!”

“Uncle Gao, Xiao Wu, you’re too kind,” Lin Chuan replied, standing and raising his glass.

Sitting nearby, Lin Yiyang looked around and saw everyone standing. He followed suit, picking up his drink and declaring in a childish voice, “Daddy, I want to drink with you too!”

Hearing the little one, Lin Chuan, Gao Mingyuan, and the others burst into laughter.