On the other side of Hua City, in a sleek penthouse overlooking the skyline, Cao Yirou's fury boiled over. She snatched her phone and slammed it across the room, the screen bouncing against the marble floor.
Her assistant stood frozen, face pale, body trembling. They knew what Cao Yirou had done—the whispered messages in her fan groups, the backup accounts, the carefully planted rumors—but seeing her rage now made fear grip them like ice.
"They're… they're all praising her!" the assistant stammered. "Even Xie Jingchi… the clip… it's all over!"
Cao Yirou's eyes flashed, sharp and cold. "A newcomer? A girl who just stepped in? And people are actually believing her over me?" Her voice was a hiss, barely contained fury. "After everything I've done—working my way up, taking every chance, making sure I stood out—this little girl just waltzes in!"
The assistant flinched. They had seen it all: the backroom deals, the investors, the favors, the schemes to frame other actresses to climb the ranks. Every step Cao Yirou had taken to secure her B-list status was calculated, ruthless. But now… all that effort was crumbling in real time.
Cao Yirou's fury didn't cool. If anything, it fueled her further. She picked up her phone again, fingers shaking—not from fear, but from raw determination. "We're not done," she growled. "They can't just let her take over everything!"
Her assistant's stomach sank. "Ms. Cao… maybe we should—"
"No!" Cao Yirou snapped. "I'll show them. I'll remind everyone why I've been on top for so long!"
Within minutes, she began messaging gossip accounts, fan influencers, and online commentators she had quietly cultivated. Each message was loaded with subtle accusations and hints—carefully worded to appear "anonymous" yet damning.
One suggested Muyao had bullied a classmate in high school. Another hinted that her travel vlogs were staged to win fans artificially. A few even questioned whether her "rising star" label was genuine or a product of Xing Xia's push.
The assistant watched, wide-eyed, as Cao Yirou typed and sent, each tap a nail in her own coffin—yet she didn't care. "They think they can rise without paying their dues?" Cao Yirou hissed. "I'll make sure everyone doubts her. Everyone!"
After the influencers and gossip accounts posted their claims, the reaction wasn't what they expected.
Instead of instantly believing the rumors, many viewers hesitated. Some had already watched Muyao's audition video. Others remembered her quiet presence online before she ever entered the industry. The timing felt too sharp, too sudden.
Comments slowly began to change.
"Why are all these 'insider tips' coming out at the same time?""This feels organized. Like someone wants her gone.""If she really did all that, why wait until now to expose it?""I don't know her well, but this looks like a setup.""First casting rumors, now high school bullying? That's a classic smear pattern."
People started pointing out similarities between the posts—same wording, same tone, same accounts reposting each other. The accusations no longer felt like truth being revealed but like a story being forced into place.
Instead of pushing Muyao out, the rumors sparked suspicion.
Suspicion of whoever was hiding behind the screen, pulling the strings.
And once the public began questioning intent instead of attacking the target, the damage no longer landed where it was meant to.
The reaction online wasn't what Cao Yirou had imagined.
She refreshed the page again and again, her breathing growing shallow as she scrolled. The comments weren't attacking Lin Muyao the way they should have been. Instead, people were questioning the rumors themselves.
"This feels fake.""Why does this look like a planned smear?""Who's trying so hard to ruin her?"
Cao Yirou's fingers trembled.
"No… that's not right," she muttered. "They're supposed to believe it."
She slammed her phone onto the table, the sound sharp in the silent penthouse. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, anger and fear tangling together until she couldn't tell them apart.
Her assistant stood frozen nearby, face pale.
"Why aren't they turning on her?" Cao Yirou snapped, spinning around. "I gave them everything! Every rumor people love to eat up!"
The assistant swallowed hard. "People already saw her audition… and Xie Jingchi spoke for her. They're… more careful now."
Careful.
That word lit the fuse.
"So now they're smart?" Cao Yirou laughed harshly. "Since when has the internet been careful?"
She grabbed her phone again, scrolling through private chats. Some gossip accounts had gone silent. Others replied late, hesitant, asking for "more proof" before posting anything else.
Proof.
Her grip tightened until her knuckles turned white.
"They're backing out," she realized, voice cracking. "They're afraid."
Afraid of being wrong. Afraid of getting sued. Afraid of standing on the wrong side of the story.
Cao Yirou's control—so carefully built over the years—began to slip.
She had climbed this far by pushing others down. By moving first. By never letting anyone get ahead of her. But now, for the first time, the crowd wasn't listening.
The assistant took a cautious step back as Cao Yirou paced the room, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
The doorbell rang
The sound cut through the air like a warning.
Cao Yirou froze. Her eyes flicked toward the door, irritation flashing across her face. "Who is it now?"
The assistant swallowed. "It's… Sister Chen."
Her manager.
Before Cao Yirou could respond, the door opened and Sister Chen stepped inside. Her face was tense, her phone still in her hand, the screen dark from being clenched too tightly.
"This stops now," Sister Chen said flatly.
Cao Yirou let out a cold laugh. "You rushed over just to say that?"
"I rushed over because you're about to destroy your own career," Sister Chen snapped. "Do you have any idea what's happening outside?"
She turned her phone toward her. "Gossip accounts are backing away. Influencers are refusing to post. People are asking for proof—and lawyers are starting to move."
Cao Yirou's jaw tightened. "They're scared because the truth is coming out."
"No," Sister Chen said sharply. "They're scared because this smells like framing."
Silence fell
"You still have good scripts waiting," Sister Chen continued, forcing herself to stay calm. "Real roles. Projects that can keep you stable. But every rumor you push, every message you send—you're cutting off your own way back."
Cao Yirou's fingers curled into fists. "So I'm just supposed to watch her rise?"
"I'm telling you to stop before there's no stage left for you," Sister Chen said. "This industry doesn't forgive people who lose control."
The assistant stood stiffly by the wall, barely daring to breathe.
Cao Yirou turned toward the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. Her expression was sharp, furious—but for the first time, uncertain.
"…I won't lose," she said quietly.
Sister Chen watched her for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.
"That's exactly why you're in danger."