Volume Two: Shadows of the Past Chapter Sixty: Declaration of War

Hearing the crowd’s rising clamor, Chen Jing was momentarily taken aback. Yet, he didn’t bother to find out who had started it; instead, he waved his hand to quiet everyone down before smiling and saying, “I know you’ve all been working yourselves to the bone lately and desperately want a break. But since this film needs to be finished and released on schedule, I’m going to have to ask you all to hang in there a little longer.”

“Ahhh—”

“Nooo!”

“Sigh, I knew it would come to this.”

But the restless crew members wouldn’t settle down so easily; the set remained a bit noisy.

Seeing no other way, Chen Jing played his trump card: “Alright, here’s the deal. We’re almost done with filming. Just push through these next two days. Once we wrap the movie, I’ll give everyone a big bonus, alright?”

Sure enough, money isn’t everything, but it sure is persuasive.

At the mention of a bonus upon wrap-up, all complaints ceased immediately.

“Honestly, I don’t mind not having a break. The movie’s gotta get done first.”

“Exactly, the bonus is secondary; I just want to work.”

“...”

Their attitudes shifted instantly. Chen Jing rolled his eyes, too tired to argue with these seasoned veterans.

After three continuous weeks of positive word-of-mouth and growing buzz, Ling Ruohan’s album *Heavenly Queen* finally surpassed the sales record set by Chen Jing’s debut album.

Thanks to the album’s soaring sales and the two hit singles, “A Girl’s Prayer” and “Later,” many fans believed Ling Ruohan was now worthy of the title “Most Popular Female Singer of China.” Yet, such playful fan remarks unwittingly plunged Ling Ruohan into serious trouble.

Li Wen, a renowned diva from Tomorrow Entertainment who had long been established as a queen of the music scene, suddenly posted a Weibo message:

“Newcomers nowadays have no sense of humility. They become arrogant just because one album and a few popular songs come out. Claiming to be China’s most popular female singer? What a bold claim. Don’t you all agree?”

Although she didn’t name anyone, it was obvious to all who she was targeting: Ling Ruohan.

At first, Li Wen’s fans echoed her remarks beneath the post, openly disparaging Ling Ruohan, saying she didn’t even deserve to tie Li Wen’s shoes. As comments grew increasingly hostile and even descended into personal attacks, the situation became unsightly.

Upon learning this, Ling Ruohan’s fans were furious and flooded Li Wen’s Weibo comments, demanding she delete the post and apologize. Just when everyone thought Li Wen might back down—after all, she had started this—she instead doubled down with another post:

“What a joke! Am I wrong? Why should I apologize? It’s true that an idol’s fans reflect her own character. Low quality fans only know how to insult others.”

This was classic hypocrisy, and Ling Ruohan’s fans lost all patience, launching a fierce counterattack in the comments. Li Wen’s supporters fought back just as fiercely. Thus began the full-blown fan war between the two divas.

“Ahhh! I’m so annoyed with Li Wen! She must be bored and looking for trouble on purpose. She’s driving me crazy!” Ling Ruohan’s voice came through the phone, full of frustration. Chen Jing shrugged helplessly; some people truly do seek out trouble.

After finishing his shoot that day, Chen Jing received a call from Ling Ruohan and learned about the fan war between her and Li Wen.

Ling Ruohan said angrily, “This really pisses me off. Maybe I should just ask Sister Lin Xi to hire some online warriors to fight back hard. Hmph.”

Chen Jing chuckled at her sulky tone. “She’d love that. No matter how this war ends, it won’t hurt her at all. She’s firmly established already. This whole argument is just empty noise. Even if she loses, she won’t take a hit—at worst, she’ll have offended you, but since you’re competitors anyway, it doesn’t matter. She’ll gain tons of attention and traffic. So why not?”

Hearing his analysis, Ling Ruohan replied with a hint of grievance, “I know, but am I supposed to just say nothing and let her be so arrogant? I can’t stand that.”

Chen Jing pondered for a moment, then said, “Here’s what you do. Post a Weibo saying... then... just send it like that.”

Upon hearing Chen Jing’s suggestion, Ling Ruohan’s eyes lit up and she laughed heartily. “Haha, you’re something else, Ah Jing. I’m posting it right now.” She hung up briskly.

Chen Jing shook his head, deciding not to meddle further. The film *Savage Wolf* would wrap filming tomorrow; then he’d have to busy himself with censorship approvals and release arrangements. Time was tight.

He hoped to release the movie during the May Day Golden Week, just over two weeks away—whether they could make it was uncertain.

Later that night, well past ten, Ling Ruohan’s fans finally saw her new Weibo post:

“First, let me clarify that I’ve never claimed to be China’s most popular female singer. I hope everyone isn’t misled by those with ill intentions. Also, that title is decided by all listeners, not by anyone’s self-declaration; so please stop arguing over it. Regarding a certain someone’s ‘declaration of war’ against me, I accept it. From now on, whenever she releases a song or album, I will do the same simultaneously. If she thinks I’m no big deal, then let’s see how it goes.”

Ling Ruohan’s post instantly boosted her fans’ morale. They flocked to Li Wen’s Weibo, asking when her next album would drop so they could properly clash with their own Ruohan’s release.

Li Wen’s fans retorted defiantly, “Bring it on. Do you think Wen Wen is scared?”

Despite the heated exchanges between fans, Li Wen herself remained silent, posting no further comments.

In Li Wen’s office at Tomorrow Entertainment, she slammed the items in her hands down and shouted, “Damn it! Didn’t I say everything would be fine? Now that bitch Ling Ruohan has declared war on me, what do you think I should do?”

The company’s planners lowered their heads, unwilling to speak, enduring Li Wen’s tirade.

Her manager waved at her, saying, “Alright, alright. Don’t be so angry, Wen. It’s just a Weibo declaration—ignore her. Besides, even if we respond, our album release dates don’t overlap with Ling Ruohan’s. We won’t really collide. I don’t believe Ling Ruohan would wait for us to release her work.”

Taking a deep breath to calm her anger, Li Wen’s expression remained unsettled.

One can never be too careful. If Ling Ruohan really intends to battle her to the end, things could get serious.

Though she publicly downplayed Ling Ruohan’s album online, Li Wen knew full well how popular and well-received the songs were—especially since every track was written by Chen Jing. This fact stoked her envy and resentment to the extreme.

Because of this, no female singer in the country dared claim to be more popular than Ling Ruohan. If they ended up releasing albums simultaneously, Li Wen dreaded to imagine the outcome.

Thinking this through, Li Wen’s face darkened as she declared, “From now on, immediately stop hiring online trolls to bash Ling Ruohan. Find a way to end the Weibo war; no more insults.”

Her manager hesitated, “Should we really stop the Weibo battle so soon? Letting it heat up a bit more might be good.”

Li Wen shook her head decisively. “No. Trust me on this. Stop it immediately. And don’t provoke Ling Ruohan again—I don’t want to get entangled with her anymore.”

“Wen… alright, we’ll do as you say,” the manager conceded, seeing her resolve.

The next day, on the set of *Savage Wolf*, Chen Jing, playing Ma Jun, and Wang Zhou, playing Wang Bao, engaged in intense hand-to-hand combat. The fight scenes, with every punch landing solidly, thrilled everyone on set.

When Chen Jing slammed Wang Zhou’s stunt double down with a bridge throw right onto the center of the bar, it marked the filming of the last action scene.

“Cut!”

At the call, Lin Xi and Lin Zitan hurried to Chen Jing’s side to check for injuries. After all, the broken glass scattered everywhere during the fall could easily have cut him.

Lin Zitan carefully examined Chen Jing, concerned. “Ah Jing, are you alright? Let me see.”

Chen Jing raised his hand and twirled it around so they could inspect more easily, then smiled, “I’m fine. The clothes protected me.”

Relieved, Lin Zitan exhaled deeply.

Lin Xi frowned slightly, displeased. “If possible, for these dangerous scenes, let the stunt doubles handle them. One or two shots won’t make a difference.”

Lin Zitan nodded in agreement.

Chen Jing understood their concern but shook his head with a smile.

The more dangerous the scene, the more it needs the real actor. It shows respect for the film and the audience.

If all the scenes were done by doubles and he only showed his face, would it still be his movie?

(End of chapter)