Chapter Seventeen: Mysterious and Profound

Chapter Seventeen: Unclear Yet Impressive

After the movie premiere concluded, the major media outlets rushed to report on it, each focusing on their own angle. Yet, there was one person who, aside from attending the premiere, had absolutely no connection to the film, but still became the subject of extensive coverage. Especially online, the discussions about him rivaled those about the movie itself.

Purely in terms of this incident, he was far luckier than the other guests at the premiere. With so many stars present, any celebrity who wasn’t an A-lister and had no ties to the movie would likely not even see their name mentioned, blending in as just another anonymous attendee.

But Li Ming was different. His encounter with Zhang Le was reported in detail by several media outlets, especially their conversation, which many embellished and sensationalized. Of course, Zhang Le’s two lines exploded across the internet, becoming instantly memorable.

“Who let you out?”
“Don’t stop the meds!”

These two phrases became trending topics online.

Still, the movie remained the centerpiece of the premiere. As the most anticipated film of the new century, coverage about it dominated the headlines. Although the film did not receive unanimous acclaim, most critics and moviegoers praised it overall, best summed up as: its flaws did not overshadow its brilliance.

While there were some unsatisfactory aspects, the film had plenty of highlights. The plot avoided cliched twists, and the spectacle lived up to the moniker of a blockbuster.

Zhang Le’s original theme song, “Cold Fireworks,” which he both wrote and performed, was undoubtedly one of the movie’s greatest highlights, earning nearly unanimous praise from film critics and music producers alike. Fans of both movies and music adored the song, propelling it to the top of the search charts the very next day. After the premiere, “Cold Fireworks” was released on all major music platforms and quickly soared to number one.

It was an instant classic, and combined with the film, it touched audiences even more profoundly.

“The Return,” “Cold Fireworks”—the movie and its song became hot topics overnight.

After the premiere, Zhang Le vanished from the public eye like an ancient assassin, having accomplished his task and receded into obscurity. He disappeared again from the public stage.

Of course, he could hide himself, but his name was now widely known! His and Yang Xin’er’s exposure during this period utterly outshone all the other stars in the industry.

A single song, “Cold Fireworks,” utterly silenced those who had doubted him, and Zhang Le’s invitations for commercial performances multiplied exponentially. However, with Yang Xin’er busy promoting the film, the task of assembling a new film studio fell entirely to him.

Previously, Zhang Le had sought out his friend Feng Lei, hoping to leverage his connections—or his father’s—to form a temporary crew. But with the creation of a film studio underway, a temporary crew was no longer suitable.

So he began recruiting talent directly. Big names were out of reach, so his targets became those with ability but little opportunity.

“Haha! This guy still hasn’t learned his lesson! After you scolded him so badly, he still dares to flap his gums!” Feng Lei laughed, handing his phone to Zhang Le.

Zhang Le took the phone and glanced at it, his expression darkening. Li Ming, now thoroughly discredited by Zhang Le’s public rebuke, still refused to restrain himself. He was now back online, insulting people with vile language. If it were only aimed at himself, Zhang Le might have just sneered, but Li Ming’s words had now involved his parents.

If it were just some random netizen, Zhang Le wouldn’t bother; there are plenty of trolls online with little influence. But Li Ming, as a public figure, behaving like this was simply disgraceful.

Seeing the torrent of criticism under Li Ming’s post, Zhang Le’s mood did not improve.

“Screw him! We should force him to apologize, and if he does, take him to court! His post is already personal attack,” Feng Lei said.

“Take him to court? What would that accomplish? He’d just delete the post and apologize. Isn’t that letting him off too easily?” Zhang Le shook his head. “Leaving the post up only harms him. Didn’t you notice that since he posted it, most of his former supporters have gone silent?”

“So you’re going to stay silent too?” Feng Lei asked.

“What do you think?” Zhang Le shot him a glare, then picked up his phone and posted: “Li Ming, last year I bought a watch!”

“‘Last year I bought a watch’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Feng Lei asked, puzzled.

“Figure it out yourself!” Zhang Le didn’t bother to explain to this troublemaker.

“Damn! You two are showing off your relationship again? You just posted, and your girlfriend has already reposted it. ‘Unclear yet impressive’? What does that mean? Birds of a feather flock together, huh? Why do you always say things that make no sense?” Feng Lei remarked.

“‘Unclear yet impressive’—it means you don’t understand it but feel it’s awesome! Didn’t my post give you exactly that feeling?” Zhang Le laughed.

Yang Xin’er had reposted Zhang Le’s message, adding: “Unclear yet impressive, please explain!”

Zhang Le’s fan count and social media influence had undergone a dramatic transformation. His post was instantly reposted by countless people, with Yang Xin’er being the fastest. Her repost also sparked a wave of shares.

“Unclear yet impressive”—these four words were quickly interpreted by the collective wisdom of netizens, and soon became widely memorized. But Zhang Le’s phrase remained elusive; everyone knew, given his style, that it resonated with many: unclear yet impressive!

Its ambiguity only fueled greater curiosity. Some bored online communities even opened forums dedicated to dissecting its meaning, but only reached one conclusion: it definitely wasn’t a compliment.

When someone curses you by name, and even insults your parents, you can hardly expect kind words.

Everyone knew it wasn’t positive, but couldn’t quite define it, which was maddening. Many called for Zhang Le to clarify his statement. Some wealthy netizen even offered a reward of a hundred thousand to figure out its meaning.

Li Ming’s influence was already substantial, but with Zhang Le’s response, Yang Xin’er’s repost, and thousands of netizens discussing it, the impact grew rapidly. Now, with a high-reward bounty thrown in, the topic became explosive news.

Many of Li Ming’s fans fell silent, their silence reflecting disappointment.

Meanwhile, Zhang Le’s fans were highly active, flooding Li Ming’s forum and almost taking it over. The criticism was nearly unanimous: questioning Li Ming’s character. Or rather, not questioning, but outright declaring he had none.

For a public figure, being accused of poor character—let alone poor conduct—is a serious matter.

Li Ming had never imagined things would escalate so far. Now, his agent was berating him, as if dousing him in cold water, forcing him to calm down. He was filled with regret, but it was too late to fix anything. Too many people knew, the impact was too great, and deleting the post would solve nothing.

“You’ve been in this business long enough; why didn’t you consider the consequences? This has seriously damaged your reputation. You must delete the post immediately and apologize to Zhang Le!” his agent said.

“What, you want me to apologize to that pretty boy?!” Li Ming’s moment of calm vanished, replaced by irrational anger. He’d been so tormented by Zhang Le lately that just hearing his name made him furious. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have posted such a thing.

“That’s what the company wants! Also, all your public appearances are canceled for now. The company needs you to disappear for a while to let this blow over,” the agent said coldly, thoroughly disappointed in Li Ming’s behavior.

Sometimes, smooth sailing is not a blessing.

Li Ming had advanced too easily before.