Chapter Sixty-Eight: Exposed

Unbeknownst to them, as time passed, even the seasoned journalists—those who had witnessed much and eaten much—found themselves growing increasingly fond of Liu Qingshan. Of course, much of this fondness stemmed from the sense of promise and intrigue he carried; how many people could face a young man, pure-hearted as a newborn calf, daring to confront injustice and uphold righteousness, without feeling admiration and goodwill? Everyone has been young once, and before life’s hardships wore away their edges, a rebellious and passionate spirit was a common occurrence.

Yet not everyone anticipated Liu Qingshan’s outburst. Lawyer Wang, sitting beside him, watched anxiously, his nerves frayed and unsettled. Liu Qingshan caught sight of his unease and, with a hearty laugh, announced the end of the press conference. He even found the time to comfort Xu Danni, whose role as host he had inadvertently usurped: “Sorry, I let my mouth run wild for a moment and complicated things unintentionally!”

In truth, this was always part of his plan. A bland, painless official announcement was never his goal; this rare opportunity to leverage public righteousness was not one he wished to squander. Hadn’t that female journalist just pointed out? Fame and fortune—they are inseparable. Without fame, where does profit come from? In this circle, one must make the most of every chance.

Unexpectedly, the seemingly delicate and beautiful Xu Danni responded to him with a fierce glare, as if to say, “Only a fool would believe you.”

Dinner that evening was held at Liu Qingshan’s new home, attended by those present the night before; among them, only Kunal represented the foreign guests.

“Simple-minded? Oh, please. I dare say every one of us here—including our shrewd and capable Sister Hui—couldn’t match the cunning of just one of his fingers! Lawyer Wang, you’ve been duped!” It was Mao Shaochong who spoke, a rough-hewn man with little talent for martial arts, yet obsessed with emulating the strategists of old, never sparing Liu Qingshan any mercy.

Since the press conference, Lawyer Wang, feeling aggrieved, had scarcely acknowledged Liu Qingshan, quietly blaming him for breaking the rules. They had agreed beforehand to proceed with a sympathetic attitude, ensuring the conference went smoothly. Yet, unexpectedly, Liu Qingshan had launched into an impassioned monologue without warning, thrusting himself into the spotlight.

The problem was, Liu Qingshan was, at present, merely a little-known actor. What right did he have to utter such grand, concluding statements? Moreover, his all-encompassing, reckless eruption of righteousness was simply incomprehensible!

“Cunning? He’s nothing but a braggart!” Lawyer Wang scoffed.

As these thoughts churned, Lawyer Wang decided not to continue complaining. The tide of grievances that had been stimulated by others’ chatter surged again within him.

Yet Liu Qingshan remained serene, undisturbed by praise or blame. “That’s right, Lawyer Wang. It’s much better to speak your mind—don’t you feel relieved now? Look at Mao Shaochong, he says whatever he thinks, and isn’t he all the happier for it?”

A giggle, girlish and shy, escaped from Park Hyejin. She had caught the implied meaning: the more relieved you feel now, the more trouble awaits you in the future.

As one of the organizers behind the press conference, Park Hyejin hadn’t attended in person, but she had her informants in the studio. While Liu Qingshan and Lawyer Wang were busy dealing with reporters, she’d already received a full account.

Initially, she too was furious at Liu Qingshan’s impulsiveness. But unlike Lawyer Wang, she had Kim Seokhyun, Liu Qingshan’s confidante, as her insider. In a heated phone call full of complaints, she received advice akin to Mao Shaochong’s: never be fooled by Liu Qingshan’s apparent youth. His mind is so meticulous that even Yang Wancheng, a veteran of the industry, agreed wholeheartedly.

This influential boss of Qinghuang Pictures had once shared his opinion of Liu Qingshan with Cui Mingxiu, and Kim Seokhyun received feedback from her fellow townsfolk. In fact, she was probably Liu Qingshan’s closest person in the world, even if only temporarily, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know more about his character than outsiders.

Thus, with just a few words, Kim Seokhyun extinguished Park Hyejin’s anger, even turning her into a budding fan of Liu Qingshan. The reason was simple: he masterfully used his strengths to influence those around him, and to date, he had never failed. Those who knew him well were aware that from his first production, nearly all the martial artists had become his followers, including Yu Chenhui, a renowned swordmaster, and Chen Long, celebrated on the international stage.

Even in distant India, he managed to forge friendships with Kram and Treasure Pictures under similar pretenses. Examining each victory, did he ever act like an inexperienced youth? So the naive, immature persona he displayed at today’s press conference was surely just a facade—perhaps the beginning of yet another scheme, for how else could one explain his prior maturity?

With such a shift in her feelings, Park Hyejin, upon arriving at Liu Qingshan’s home, refrained from meddling in Lawyer Wang’s grievances. She preferred to observe as an all-knowing bystander, watching the banter and quarrels to satisfy her slightly mischievous, though ultimately benign, curiosity. She had no intention of correcting Lawyer Wang’s misunderstandings any time soon; since Liu Qingshan refused to explain his motives, she felt compelled to cooperate.

What she hadn’t anticipated was Mao Shaochong’s blunt insight into Liu Qingshan’s cunning nature. Compared to Mao Shaochong, who loved to flaunt his intelligence, his elder brother Yu Yi was far more composed.

“Lawyer Wang, perhaps Qingshan has his own intentions. Think about it—every seemingly impulsive word he said had a strong purpose behind it, didn’t it? The entertainment industry is full of deceit and hypocrisy, corroding souls and eroding conscience. The ones who feel anguish aren’t just those who feign ignorance, but even the mainstream forces at the national level, wouldn’t you say?”

“Why must you drag those big shots into this?” Lawyer Wang questioned Yu Yi.

Yu Yi smiled, “Just consider: phrases like ‘cutting out ulcers and purging corruption’—when do they usually appear, and who tends to use them?”

It was clear—Lawyer Wang fell silent. Yu Yi’s point was obvious: such stirring rhetoric, often echoing official language, if heard by those in authority, could lead to unpredictable outcomes.

“And furthermore,” Yu Yi continued, “if one indulges personal desires under the cover of fame, it inevitably leads to self-destruction. No one is above the law, and no circle is outside its reach. Don’t these words sound familiar?”

Park Hyejin, who had been quietly observing, finally burst out laughing. To her, though Yu Yi’s selection of phrases felt awkward, they were undeniably filled with positive energy.

Having spent much time on the mainland, she had encountered plenty of official speech and understood its implications well. Yet the amusing thing was that this rhetoric had come, almost magically, from the mouth of a mere twenty-one-year-old actor, and that was enough to make her laugh out loud.