Chapter 20: Comfort Part 1

The livestream room suddenly flooded with people—curious onlookers, indignant protesters, and drama-seekers who had come to watch the spectacle.

A few odd comments crept into the originally harmonious chat.

【Tonight’s Wine, Tonight’s Drunk: Saw the real person, so fitting for Celine’s image, love this guy!】

【Scorched Earth: Get lost. A pure rookie dares to act alongside a Best Actor and Best Actress?】

【Biased: Lin Qinghe, is something wrong with you??? Did your brain get waterlogged?】

【Sweet Cone: Take my advice and bow out voluntarily. Don’t ruin the original work and drag the Best Actor and Best Actress down with you, okay?】

【Celine’s Spirit Pearl: Bro, let’s make a deal—act well, absolutely do not just be a pretty face while your acting is so awkward it’s unwatchable.】

【Seying’s Sister: I still don’t think it’ll work. A rookie simply can’t hold their own in a scene, let alone with a Best Actor and Best Actress.】

【Little Feather’s Wish: Where did you get the confidence to play the role of Celine? Be careful not to get cursed to a pulp, covers mouth laughing.】

【Bell Chimes: Looking like that, if I had the money I’d support him too. No wonder Li Ran is so tender and protective~】

【WorkThreeHoursADay: Walked into the wrong room? What’s going on?】

【ILoveFerrari: Is it lagging?】

【Full of Vigor: Who knows which big shot is backing him from behind? Getting cursed to a pulp is exactly what he deserves. Any smart person would have foreseen this outcome. He’s just playing dumb—after all, even infamy is fame. Who cares about the means as long as you can climb up?】

【Golden Nine Heavens: Must’ve had work done. I refuse to believe someone can naturally look like that. Probably went under the knife plenty.】

As these scattered malicious comments went public, like a chain reaction, the entire chat was soon dominated by insults aimed at Lin Qinghe. It all happened within two minutes—so fast one barely had time to react. Meanwhile, on Weibo, two trending topics hit the bottom of the hot search list: #Crying, Celine’s Role Is Ruined# and #Is This Face Even Real?#.

Lin Qinghe knew nothing of this. His fans, outnumbered and unsure of what was happening, could only fret anxiously.

It wasn’t until Xi Nian, holding her still-connected phone, hurried over and whispered by his ear that his thoughts broke away from the music.

The zither’s melody ceased abruptly. He lifted his gaze to the screen. Xi Nian’s first instinct was to cover it, to stop him, but Lin Qinghe slowly shook his head and said, “It’s fine.”

The comments scrolled rapidly, dense with malice and aggression. Lin Qinghe’s expression remained calm, utterly unaffected, as if the clamor had nothing to do with him. A few seconds later, he spoke, his voice gentle yet steady: “Everyone, today’s livestream ends here. It’s a bit regrettable that I couldn’t finish the second half of the piece. I’ll share the complete video on Weibo later.”

【WorkThreeHoursADay: Okay, He He, always supporting He He.】

【Tangerine Peel: Mhm, no rush, He He, always supporting you!】

【CelineIsMyWife: Cheering for He He! Don’t take those idle words to heart. I’m so happy you’re playing Celine!】

【A Moment’s Difference: You still dare to go on Weibo, buddy? Looking for more insults???】

【Have Wine: Laughing my ass off, what even is this.】

【Ningning: You dare go on Weibo once, I’ll dare come to your comments section to curse you once.】

【Little Nuo Loves Anyu: Done. First time seeing someone so shameless. Don’t you have any self-awareness? Advise you not to get cocky; be careful you don’t overturn into a ditch you can never climb out of.】

…

“Everyone need not worry.” Lin Qinghe continued, “Goodbye.”

After exiting the livestream, this wave of turmoil subsided for the moment. The clamor of the internet was cut off. Xi Nian’s expression was full of concern. This was the first time Lin Qinghe had faced such mass cursing. Compared to being outgoing and cheerful, he tended to be more introverted. She was afraid he would keep his troubles bottled up inside, and if held in too long, he might not be able to bear it. There were plenty of stars in the industry who fell into depression from online abuse—some, in severe cases, even chose to end their lives directly.

She comforted him: “Brother Qinghe, just treat the things those people say as hot air. Absolutely don’t dwell on it. Most of it is Xu Anyu’s fans stirring up trouble. Even if it were someone else, they’d still be cursed. After all, Xu Anyu lost the role of Celine. His fans harbor resentment, and you just happened to become the outlet for their anger.”

“Get some good rest these next few days. Try not to log onto Weibo, and don’t go out alone. Once this period passes, everyone will forget. As for the rest, Sister Lin and I will figure out a solution later.”

Lin Qinghe could feel it: since they’d started working together, Xi Nian’s care for him went beyond just work. She also saw him as a friend. Aunt Su was an elder, and Cen Han was very special to him. Xi Nian was, in a true sense, his friend.

He accepted her concern: “Alright, I’m fine. I’ll be relying on you and Sister Lin for what comes next.”

“What’s this about trouble? It’s our job.” After saying this, Xi Nian emphasized: “If you feel unhappy or your mood is low, you can contact me anytime. I can talk with you about everything under the sun—guaranteed to keep you happy every day before you enter the film set.”

Lin Qinghe was amused by her cuteness: “Mhm, thank you, Xi Nian.”

Xi Nian laughed along with him. How could anyone slander her idol like this? It was simply unreasonable, she thought.

Lin Qinghe took his usual afternoon nap. Aunt Su had seen the news of him being cursed online and thought he was moping in his room, in no mood to see anyone. Everyone had times of sadness and low spirits. Very thoughtfully, she didn’t disturb him, giving him time alone.

But nearing four o’clock, Lin Qinghe got up, went to the garden, and strolled around for a bit. Not long after, he returned looking refreshed and asked if there were any brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. He had taken a sudden interest and wanted to practice calligraphy.

Aunt Su’s expression was one of surprise. The house didn’t have the tools for calligraphy. In the past, Cen Han worked alone and had only prepared pens and such. Anything more would need to be purchased.

As luck would have it, she had explored many places in the Western Capital and knew of a specialty commercial street that could provide what Lin Qinghe wanted. Plus, it was convenient, no more than forty minutes round trip.

Under the circumstances, there was risk in Lin Qinghe going out. So Su Rong took the keys and drove to the commercial street.

Left alone at home, Lin Qinghe moved the desk in his room. The floor-to-ceiling window was bright and clear; the curtain fluttered gently, light shimmering, a faint floral scent lingering in the air.

.

The sound of an engine came from outside the villa, followed by a few words of conversation before silence returned.

Su Rong, on her way to buy the calligraphy supplies, had also picked up a few bouquets of flowers. She trimmed them slightly with scissors and arranged them in a porcelain vase.

She adjusted them a few times, then turned her head and said, “Sir is back.”

“Mhm.” Cen Han placed a document pouch on the counter and asked, “How is he?”

He was clearly referring to Lin Qinghe.

Zhang Hua’s girlfriend had previously wanted to cultivate some hobbies and happened to stumble upon Lin Qinghe’s video on Seven Notes. She followed him and never missed his livestreams. Also, because of Zhang Hua’s work, his name often came up. So Cen Han was very well informed about today’s events.

“I see Little He as not so fragile. His mood is quite stable.” Aunt Su reported truthfully: “He napped for a little while this afternoon, got up and told me he wanted to practice calligraphy. He’s probably in his room now, cultivating his mind.”

Lowering her voice, Aunt Su added, “If you’re worried, you can go take a look.”

Still in the mood to practice calligraphy—that meant he indeed had composure, very fitting for Lin Qinghe’s temperament. Cen Han nodded, his tone flat: “Understood.”

He draped his jacket over the armrest of the sofa and turned toward the room at the very end of the first floor.

“Thud, thud, thud.”

A muffled knock echoed, followed by a clear and cool voice in response: “Come in.”

Cen Han leaned against the doorframe. In his line of sight, Lin Qinghe stood straight. His slender hand held a calligraphy brush. The moon-white clothes he wore outlined a noble, refined aura. It was a moment of brilliant sunshine; he lifted his head to look over, and his entire person seemed coated in a layer of fine, shattered radiance, like an immortal visitor untouched by earthly matters.

“Mr. Cen.”

“Aunt Su said you’re practicing calligraphy.”

“Yes.” Lin Qinghe’s lips curved slightly as he explained: “A sudden impulse. My hands got a bit itchy; I haven’t practiced in a long time.”

Aside from his duties, he didn’t usually use the pens here to write. During his time serving in Tranquil City, whenever he encountered difficulties, he always liked to stay in the study, using the copying of books and scrolls to calm his mind and dispel restlessness.

After all, this was someone who had dared to remonstrate before the civil and military officials in the Golden Hall. He possessed a tenacity not easily crushed by the noise and chaos of the outside world. Cen Han stepped toward the desk: “Doing alright?”

Lin Qinghe lifted his sleeve, dipped the brush in ink, and tilted his head slightly as he answered: “Nothing bad.”

“Nothing bad, so why have you written so many pages?” Cen Han’s stature was somewhat tall; when he drew near, it carried a sense of pressure. He tapped a finger on the stack of paper and looked at the person before him.

A breeze slipped in through the small window, flipping over the xuan paper on the desk several times. The branches and leaves of the trees swayed, light and shadows dappled, giving rise to a sense of leisurely, peaceful times.

Silence stretched between them. Lin Qinghe averted his eyes: “Do you want to hear the truth or a lie?”

Cen Han withdrew his hand. Bold, powerful calligraphy entered his sight—flowing like clouds and water, strokes moving like a roaming dragon. It contained the numinous energy of heaven and earth, yet also a soaring freedom that scorned all creation. This calligraphy was truly beautiful, living up to the name of Tanhua, worthy of all praise.

His imposing manner softened slightly: “The truth, of course.”

Sun Lin had warned that entering the film set would undoubtedly cause a stir. Lin Qinghe had anticipated a day like this. But since the die was cast, there was no room for regret. He was mentally prepared.

Before his nap, he had logged onto Weibo and browsed some of the topics about him. Over half were insults. He had, in a sense, experienced what it felt like to be the center of attention.