This person’s mental state is rather unstable.

Liu Qi’s face was dark, his gaze icy as he stared at Song Qing.

“Song Qing, the bus leaving Robin Island is about to depart. What are you doing here?”

Song Qing bit her lip, attempting to explain, “I just—”

“If you’ve already been eliminated, then leave at once.” Liu Qi cut her off, teeth clenched. If it weren’t for the fact that the livestream had already begun, and the investors and agents were watching, he would have lost his temper long ago.

Without another word, Liu Qi signaled to two security guards to escort Song Qing away.

“Please! Just give me half an hour!” Song Qing had already spotted a crowd of renowned company agents, each well-known in the industry.

Especially the agent at the front, Shen Zhiyao from Jiangshan Entertainment, whose clients were either film kings or TV queens. If she took a liking to someone, it wouldn’t take more than half a year for them to secure a place in the entertainment world.

Seeing the agents approaching, Song Qing grew desperate, trying to break free from the security and rush forward.

Noticing her struggle, Liu Qi waved his hand, indicating the guards needn’t be gentle. The guards, taking the cue, seized Song Qing from both sides and carried her away.

“What’s happening up ahead?” The commotion caught the attention of the agent team, and Xi Yuyang from Fengxing Entertainment inquired.

The staff member responsible for reception had already received Liu Qi’s instructions via the Bluetooth earpiece and calmly explained, “It’s nothing, just an eliminated contestant whose mental state is unstable. We’ve already persuaded her to leave.”

Hearing the explanation, Xi Yuyang didn’t press further. He glanced at Shen Zhiyao from Jiangshan Entertainment beside him, silently cursing his luck—this nemesis had shown up again! Memories of repeatedly losing talent to her flashed through his mind.

Every agent arriving on the island today was here for Ji Fanxing. Originally, he had the best chance to recruit her, but with Shen Zhiyao present, he needed to devise a backup plan to avoid returning empty-handed...

After packing Song Qing off, Liu Qi breathed a long sigh of relief, took out his phone, and reposted Song Qing’s post from yesterday with a comment.

@Liu Qi, Producer of “King of Songs”: Song Qing was eliminated yesterday. The song “Angel’s Wings” has nothing to do with this program.

Regarding recent trending incidents, I hereby declare on behalf of the show: the actions of individual contestants do not represent the position or values of the production team, and we firmly oppose any form of illegal or immoral behavior.

He mercilessly attached a video of Song Qing being escorted away by two security guards in front of the crowd.

In the video, Song Qing’s image was utterly destroyed—she looked utterly disheveled.

Li Wei, who had been following closely, frantically liked the video on his phone, feeling a surge of pride. In his eyes, this was proof that even capital had to bow down.

But this was still not enough! In his mind, this woman was malicious and promiscuous—her very existence was a mistake! Li Wei was excited, finally finding an outlet for the frustration he’d suffered in reality.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, transforming himself into a judge, just as he had when he joined the online mob against Ji Fanxing, standing atop the moral high ground and trampling this woman beneath his feet.

In the official conference room of Haishi, the leader at the head of the table signaled for the final decision to be read aloud.

“In response to the recent surge in socially damaging sexual assault cases, our company has officially passed the Chemical Castration Bill for rapists.

Due to the egregious nature and conclusive evidence in Li Sheng’s case, which has significantly impacted society, it is decided that Li Sheng will be the first to undergo chemical castration, and his punishment will be publicized.”

The moment the meeting ended, the decision was immediately announced.

“Well done! This guy is disgusting! Not only did he film himself, he taught others how to secretly film, and then used those photos to blackmail innocent victims.”

“My cousin was one of the officers responsible for arresting Li Sheng. He said the guy hid very well—they initially detained him as a normal suspect. If it weren’t for a good samaritan who exposed what he did, he might have escaped.”

“The recent mass arrest news was based on that samaritan’s clues! Those scumbags! They all looked respectable, but they even targeted children!”

“Call for their collective castration!”

“I’ll pay big money for the identity of that good samaritan. My sister almost committed suicide because of those scumbags—he saved her life!”

…

Meanwhile, the good samaritan Ji Fanxing was leisurely enjoying the sea breeze by the shore.

“King of Songs” had only two episodes left to record. Alongside the agents, many brand representatives had also arrived on Robin Island.

Yiniu’s success had drawn the attention of major brands to the commercial potential of “King of Songs,” especially the contestant Ji Fanxing, who single-handedly revived the entire product.

For the production team, investment was always welcome, but there was only one Ji Fanxing, and she still had to compete—it was impossible for her to endorse every brand.

Liu Qi was counting on Ji Fanxing to continue propelling the show forward. He dared neither to disturb this master nor offend the investors.

Thinking that she was always independent and fearless, he adopted a carefree demeanor, sending the brand representatives to approach her themselves.

From morning to noon, Ji Fanxing hadn’t had a moment’s rest.

No sooner had she seen off the brand managers than the agents arrived, leaving her no time to breathe.

Ji Fanxing, dressed in a light jacket, lay on a clean, flat reef, resting her arm beneath her head. She wasn’t afraid of interacting with the constant stream of visitors, but their goals didn’t align with hers.

Rather than waste her breath, she preferred to steal a half day’s leisure.

What surprised Ji Fanxing was that Jinhubao didn’t send anyone this time—no wonder Liu Qi had come to her with the contract yesterday.

Liu Qi was right: as an artist, without capital backing, it was impossible to make a name in the entertainment industry.

But the domestic entertainment capital was too dark for her tastes; she saw no reason to compromise.

Having been a wage slave for thousands of years, Ji Fanxing declared: working for others was out of the question—not in this lifetime.

The late spring sea breeze carried a hint of chill. The pale waves crashed against the shore, producing a soothing white noise. With the sound of the surf, she slowly closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

At the same time, in Jin City, Huayun Theater.

The performance hall, its decor now outdated, echoed with the last notes of a Peking opera.

A few elderly audience members, hair white as snow, applauded, their voices calling, “Bravo!” The cheers reverberated in the theater, creating faint echoes.

The old seats creaked as the scattered audience dispersed.

On stage, the veteran actor Xu Guosheng watched their cane-supported figures disappear through the door, the spark in his eyes fading. He had to admit that this century-old theater had fallen into decline.

He thought of the glory days of his youth learning the craft, his master’s spirited demeanor, and the grief in his master’s eyes before passing.

“Three thousand strands of white hair, all born of sorrow.” The painted face of the old actor, his resonant singing voice, revealed deep desolation.

As Xu Guosheng was lost in memory, a loud bang snapped him out of his reverie—a gang of thugs, faces brutish, barged in.