Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Emoji Pack Is Finally Online!

When Ren Qian woke up, it was already the afternoon of the next day. He sprawled out on the bed, limbs akimbo, feeling as if he had been granted amnesty now that his mind had cleared at last.

“That was truly a brush with death…”

He flipped over and sat up just as the nurse came in, carrying a bag of food.

“Brush your teeth, wash your face, and come eat,” she said, her gentle eyes suffused with a trace of concern. Though she had been touched by his selfless act of blocking the food disaster, she was still worried about his well-being—the blackened mess had been a double portion, after all.

“I’m fine now, but thinking back, I’m still terrified. I swear I’ll never eat that again, not even if someone beats me. That could have been the end of me... I’ll go wash up first.”

The nurse nodded emphatically at his words.

“Oh no, I still have something important I haven’t done!” Ren Qian exclaimed, bounding out of the bathroom with a towel over his forehead. He rushed toward his phone.

The previous afternoon, he had spent hours crafting a set of meme stickers, preparing to upload them to Weiblog, but the nurse’s call had interrupted his plan. He’d thought he could upload them after dinner, but who could have guessed that meal might have been his last? So, this crucial task had been delayed until now.

Seventeen or eighteen hours had passed—he hadn’t replied to any of the @mentions or comments left by his followers on Weiblog for more than half a day.

The internet thrives on immediacy; many things are fleeting, and in the world of online celebrity feuds, if you don’t respond in seconds, you fall behind.

With Ren Qian silent for so long, many fans were genuinely despondent.

Meanwhile, the media began publishing speculative articles about Ren Qian’s intentions throughout the entire affair.

Entertainment Seeker wrote:

“In our view, from the very beginning when Ren Qian was a nobody, he skillfully used topic marketing to increase his fame. We can’t help but suspect there’s a team behind him, devising every possible way to stir up controversy.

How else could someone go from an unknown campus band singer to a red-hot internet sensation on Weiblog overnight?

Everyone knows Ren Qian was just a minor lead singer at Jiangnan University, struggling even to sign with a small entertainment company.

To create controversy, his band split up and kicked him out, causing Ren Qian to be criticized by his university peers.

In doing so, they laid the groundwork for his rise. People love a comeback story—paying off debts for his father by entering showbiz, suffering in obscurity for ten years before finally making it—these are exactly the inspirational tales people crave.

That’s one aspect.

Another is, why would Ren Qian provoke the long-established superstar Wan Feng, and even exchange insults with him online multiple times?

Some say it’s because Ren Qian once posted something negative about Wan Feng on Weiblog (which is still there).

But I believe that’s just a cover.

Plenty of people have insulted the superstar before—would he really stoop to bickering with a newbie who hasn’t even entered showbiz yet over such a small matter?

Of course not!

The only explanation is that Ren Qian and the superstar planned this together to create hype.

Look what happened: after a few rounds of online battle, a brash, fearless, and talented new star emerges, while the ‘superstar’ comes out none the worse for wear. All in just two months!

Now, Ren Qian’s silence is a sign that both his team and the superstar’s team see no more value in the drama and are ready to end it.

For the sake of appearances, the final winner must be the senior—Superstar Wan Feng!

So, it’s all clear: there is no such thing as the ‘Qian God’—it’s all just manufactured hype!”

One had to admit, this writer had quite the imagination. He was also unbearably smug, as if he had seen through everything, yet in reality, he knew nothing and was just stirring the pot.

His only purpose was to provide Ren Qian with material for a counterattack. Not long after this article was published on Entertainment Seeker, Ren Qian finally began to post on Weiblog.

“After reading Superstar Wan Feng’s Weiblog, I find myself at a loss for words. I think I must apologize to Superstar Wan Feng first.”

He finished editing and hit send!

“Hey, what are you doing? How could you apologize! Why would you apologize to that bootlicker Wan? Did you lose your mind last night?” the nurse protested, shoving him down with an angry glare. She tried to snatch his phone, but Ren Qian was prepared.

“Listen, I have a plan. I’m not done posting yet—this is just the setup for what comes next.”

“Oh ho ho ho ho… I read your Weiblog post thoroughly, Superstar, and you’ve redefined ‘idiot’ for me. I owe you an apology—I’ve been too kind to you, which only made you push your luck. Never again!”

The tone of his second post shifted dramatically, and he attached a series of maliciously crafted memes.

The first image: the newly crowned Meme King Wan Feng, his face twisted in laughter, one eyebrow raised, the other lowered, mouth open wide in a ghoulish guffaw. Caption: “Ho ho ho, are you freaking kidding me?”

The second: Meme King Wan Feng clutching a microphone, his expression a mix of constipation, contempt, and a dash of smugness, pointing at the audience and ranting. Caption: “You’re quite the advanced idiot—were you imported?”

The third: a dog with Wan Feng’s face, genetically crossed for extra cuteness and ugliness, staring ahead with hypnotic eyes, mouth twisted in an evil grin. Caption: “I’m just quietly watching you pretend.”

The fourth: Meme King Wan Feng on stage, butt sticking out—a screenshot Ren Qian had caught by accident, full of comedic charm. Caption: “Here’s a fart for you.”

The fifth: a black-and-white drawing, a little man crying bitterly, his twisted face vaguely resembling Wan Feng’s. Caption to the right: “You ugly thing.”

The sixth: a sketch of a stick figure holding a gun to his own head, blue tears streaming down his face. Caption: “Slander me again and I’ll kill your dad!”

Once all the images were lined up, Ren Qian hit send on the second Weiblog post.

However, there was a five-minute gap between Ren Qian’s first and second posts—more than enough time for his fans’ fragile hearts to shatter.

“My Qian God just apologized to Wan Feng! I can’t believe in the whole lone-hero-against-the-superstar thing anymore—it was all fake. Now that you’re famous, you’ve become timid. I’m done—unfollowing.”

“I waited all day, expecting Qian God to come back swinging, but instead he apologized. I’m devastated. He’s not the Qian God I once knew.”

Ren Qian had only posted five images so far; he was busy and had no time to consider his fans’ feelings.

He continued uploading memes:

First, the iconic grinning Panda Head meme with a caption: “Superstar, do your parents know how awesome you are?”

Second, Wan Feng giving a sidelong glance to the camera, curling his lip in disdain, with the caption: “Why… don’t… you… fly… in… the… sky?”

Third, a shot from Wan Feng’s concert, spraying mist into the air, frozen in time with bold letters: “Your mother’s ashes!”

…

In one go, Ren Qian uploaded sixty meme images with witty captions. At last, he felt a great sense of relief—this was the first major thing he had accomplished since coming to this world.