Send a lawyer's letter? To whom?
Sister Li was confused, but before she could ask, she saw Qin Ran take out her phone. While working, Qin Ran had set her phone to silent, knowing that Yu Shuman wouldn't need her during the shoot since she was right there. Also, Yu Shuman wouldn't have her phone during filming, so Qin Ran kept hers on silent to avoid distractions.
Of course, there was always the chance of something like this happening, where the company president and Wu Tezhu both reached out to her.
Qin Ran wasn't particularly concerned. She had already given them instructions on how to handle things, and the messages she received now were about their progress. Besides, it was time to settle the score for the earlier incident of rearranging the lineup. After all, they were all in the muck together—why should Ling Miaohan be the one to emerge unscathed?
Didn't Pei Qi's company help Ling Miaohan strategize and hire bots? The slander and false accusations in Yu Shuman's comment section likely had traces of bot activity.
As long as they didn't mess with Yu Shuman, Qin Ran didn't care if they crushed 99 Entertainment underfoot. It was just a company, after all. If 99 Entertainment collapsed, Qin Ran could easily start a new one. But Pei Qi was a businessman, and he deeply loved Ling Miaohan, so he'd do anything to clear obstacles for her.
Qin Ran couldn't say he was wrong—she'd do the same in his position. The only reason she hadn't taken such extreme measures was that Yu Shuman didn't aim to dominate the entertainment industry. As long as Yu Shuman was happy, that was enough. But if Yu Shuman had wanted to rule the industry, Qin Ran would have been even more ruthless than Pei Qi.
They were two of a kind, with no need to look down on each other. The only area where Qin Ran could scoff at Pei Qi was in his inexperience. After all, Pei Qi was only in his twenties, still wet behind the ears.
But if Pei Qi dared to reach out, he shouldn't regret it when she cut off his hand. Qin Ran hadn't intended to target Ling Miaohan directly—picking on a young girl felt beneath her. But Ling Miaohan's fans, even if manipulated by others, had attacked Yu Shuman, and that was something Qin Ran couldn't tolerate.
Qin Ran was vengeful, and she cherished Yu Shuman like a precious gem. Now that they were trying to drag Yu Shuman down for Ling Miaohan to climb up, Qin Ran would go after both the fans and the idol.
Qin Ran replied to the president and Wu Tezhu with a simple, cold "Mm," then glanced at the fan group, where everyone was furious, vowing to fight back in Yu Shuman's comment section. But they were outnumbered and no match for the bots. With only about 300 members in their small group—less than the 500-member limit—they were far from being a formidable force.
The collective anger was a good sign, strengthening the group's cohesion.
After the afternoon shoot, training resumed. With little work left for the staff, Qin Ran returned home with Sister Li. Sister Li dropped her off before heading back to her own busy schedule, managing other artists.
Back in her empty home, Qin Ran no longer felt the loneliness she once did. Having lived there for so long, the initial discomfort had faded, and the house was now just an ordinary space to her.
It was no different from her previous residence—spacious, luxurious, and devoid of anyone else.
Being a homebody, Qin Ran had no intention of going out once she was home. After a shower, she didn't bother drying her hair, slipping into her pajamas and toweling her hair dry as she lounged on the sofa, playing with her phone. Her large apartment was air-conditioned year-round, so she didn't worry about catching a cold with her hair still damp.
The staff at 99 Entertainment worked quickly. The company's official account immediately flagged several of the most aggressive users and sent them lawyer's letters, suing them for defamation. This wasn't the kind of empty threat often made by celebrities; these letters came with case filing receipts, making it clear that unless they could prove 99 Entertainment had hired bots, these individuals would face fines and potential detention.
The comment section didn't improve much—some netizens mocked 99 Entertainment for making a mountain out of a molehill, accusing them of targeting ordinary people. But 99 Entertainment stood firm, openly challenging big companies and directly holding individual netizens accountable for their slander.
Most companies wouldn't do this, as it's considered disgraceful for a large company to sue individuals. But 99 Entertainment was different—it belonged solely to Qin Ran. With no shareholders to answer to and no higher-ups to control her, the company only followed her orders. And since Qin Ran funded everything, it didn't need to worry about profits or reputation.
99 Entertainment wasn't concerned about losing face, as it wasn't aiming for public approval. The company's aggressive stance made it powerful, and dealing with ordinary netizens became straightforward. While many criticized 99 Entertainment online, they didn't dare spread rumors. Those who had been sued initially scoffed, but soon received text messages and court notifications.
When registering accounts, users always provide their information, and 99 Entertainment's lawsuits targeted not the bot companies, but the "enthusiastic netizens" who joined in the attacks, some of whom were actual bots.
But it didn't stop there. 99 Entertainment escalated the situation, exposing Pei Qi's company for hiring bots, and even sued them for slandering their artists. Conveniently, they also had screenshots of conversations between Pei Qi's company and the bot leaders.
Of course, Qin Ran wasn't a hacker, nor did she know any. As a socially anxious person, where would she even find a hacker to infiltrate someone's computer for screenshots? The screenshots leaked by that blogger were likely obtained by Ling Miaohan's genius hacker brother.
Qin Ran had no technical skills, but she had money. With enough money, those bot leaders, who had little integrity to begin with, were quick to switch sides and hand over the chat logs. This was understandable—hiring bots didn't cost much, maybe 100,000 to 200,000 yuan for a typical job, with important tasks going up to 300,000 to 500,000 yuan. That was the ceiling; it wouldn't go higher.
There were few legitimate bot companies, usually just a bot leader with a network of people who took on botting gigs as a side job, earning a small cut. When Qin Ran approached them, she offered 800,000 yuan, haggling up to a million, which was more than enough to secure their cooperation.
Though these bot leaders had little integrity and would do anything for money, Qin Ran wasn't planning to deal with them now. She didn't need to act herself, but she kept all their information on file, ready to deal with them when the time was right. Eventually, these people would cross a line, and the entire online environment would undergo a cleansing.
99 Entertainment expanded the conflict, making it clear that Ling Miaohan, who was portrayed as innocent and victimized, was actually just as dirty as everyone else. Her votes weren't manipulated by others trying to trap her, nor was she spotless—everyone was equally tainted.
Dreaming of stepping on others to rise to the top? In your dreams. Qin Ran would drag Ling Miaohan down with her. They were all in the same filthy pit; no one was cleaner than the rest.
With 99 Entertainment taking such drastic measures, other companies weren't far behind. After all, they had also been attacked, and it didn't take long for someone to leak the incident of Ling Miaohan's lineup being changed at the last minute during the first public performance.
"Everyone agreed to draw lots, so how did you suddenly jump the queue?"
This post quickly climbed the trending charts, attracting curious onlookers who found a conversation between a well-known agent and the production team. The agent questioned why, despite their artist drawing third place, Ling Miaohan had been allowed to jump ahead, bumping their artist to fourth. What right did Ling Miaohan have to put their artist at a disadvantage?
The agent's message was clear, and the production team's response was hesitant, eventually admitting, "Well, President Pei personally requested it. We couldn't refuse. This will be the only time."
This revelation left Ling Miaohan's supporters confused, and a top comment soon emerged: "So this is a story where everyone's a villain?"
Ling Miaohan's public image took a hit, and while 99 Entertainment's strategy seemed to be a lose-lose one, tarnishing both their own and Ling Miaohan's reputations, they gained little advantage. Now, whenever people mentioned 99 Entertainment, they'd think, "Oh, that's the crazy company that sues regular people."
Even insiders from other companies were baffled by 99 Entertainment's self-destructive tactics. Even if they won the lawsuits, the most they'd get would be a small compensation. Pei Qi did all of this for the girl he loved, but what was 99 Entertainment's motive for sacrificing its reputation just to stir the pot?
Standing at the filming base, Sister Li watched Qin Ran smile while sticking close to Yu Shuman, and she understood.
It was clear that only 99 Entertainment and Ling Miaohan had lost face in this online battle, with Pei Qi's company getting dragged in as collateral damage. But Pei Qi's company quickly denied everything and sent 99 Entertainment a lawyer's letter, though without filing any actual lawsuits.
While 99 Entertainment's reputation suffered, Yu Shuman managed to stay out of the fray. From now on, anyone in the industry would remember that Yu Shuman had a crazy company backing her, and it was best to steer clear.
Moreover, Yu Shuman had truly distanced herself from the mess.