The CEO of ShuiDi Body Wash and the former boss of BiChen, Mr. Chen, had a particularly good relationship.

Mr. Chen was an astronomy enthusiast. Ever since he found out that Shang Xinglu was knowledgeable in the field, he would turn to her whenever he had questions.

Although Shang Xinglu wasn’t a top expert and hadn’t made any groundbreaking research achievements before she was thrown into this story, the difference between a professional and an amateur was still significant.

Answering Mr. Chen’s questions was an easy task for her.

As a result, their relationship was no longer just one of acquisition and acquisition target. Mr. Chen even politely insisted on calling her “Teacher Shang.”

The first time Shang Xinglu heard it, she got goosebumps.

Me… a teacher?

Well, actually… back when she helped her professor guide students, she had been called “Teacher Shang” before.

Thinking back to those naïve young students and their innocent eyes…

Her mind immediately wandered—maybe she could get President Lin to call her “Teacher Shang” one day, and then her life would feel complete.

If he refused… well, she could call him “Teacher Lin” instead!

Shang Xinglu quickly shook her head. No way! I am not that kind of flirtatious and suggestive Huang Lulu!

Mr. Chen had aged and was no longer involved in business, but he still had connections.

When he heard that “Teacher Shang” wanted to contact the CEO of ShuiDi Body Wash, he immediately made the introductions and facilitated the process, making everything go smoothly.

Shang Xinglu hadn’t expected much from this arrangement.

But it was still necessary to make the effort—what if the clarification actually worked?

…And to her surprise, it did.

Previously, ShuiDi had been falsely accused.

But nowadays, people online were used to seeing narratives flip back and forth.

Netizens had been slapped in the face too many times by sudden reversals, so they were now more cautious in picking sides. Seeing the tide turning, many decided to “switch to the winning team.”

With that, BiChen’s crisis was finally stabilized.

Many customers who had previously demanded refunds from their flagship store decided to keep their orders. In fact, all the online discussions ended up promoting the brand even further.

However, even after the clarification, some malicious detractors remained active.

Some people said: “Fine, there’s no hormone issue, but what about the burning sensation on my cheeks?”

Others accused them: “So you just skipped over what the doctor said?”

And some outright dismissed them: “This PR cleanup is so obvious. A cosmetics company that isn’t good at hiring paid shills isn’t a good cosmetics company.”

Within BiChen, internal meetings were held, and the team unanimously agreed—they needed to track down whoever was orchestrating these attacks from the shadows.

Their sales were growing fast, but the cosmetics market was only so big. The more they took, the less others got. Naturally, competitors weren’t happy.

Even a giant like McDonald’s had been competing with Burger King over store numbers and sales, waging an advertising war for decades. Competition among cosmetics companies was no different.

There were several suspects, but the most likely one was Yizhuang—who had a rocky relationship with Yin Yao.

BiChen used its connections to reach out to the blogger who had initially posted the accusations.

The blogger thought BiChen was coming to settle scores. Now that the truth had come out and BiChen was proven innocent, he refused to admit any fault.

He simply stated, “I didn’t dig up this info myself. I don’t take responsibility. I just post whatever submissions I get—I run a gossip page, that’s all.”

BiChen’s legal representative took a firm stance.

And for good reason—their lawyer was Shang Xinglu’s personal attorney, a highly competent professional.

The blogger immediately caved under pressure and pulled a surprising move—he revealed the identity of the person who had fed him the information.

BiChen wasn’t necessarily looking for revenge. They just wanted to get to the bottom of the whole situation.

Meanwhile, the online war between haters and defenders raged on.

Just then, an e-commerce seller who had attended BiChen’s first product launch spoke up.

She posted a long message on Weibo:

*”I’ve been selling cosmetics for years. I’ve worked with all kinds of brands, both domestic and international, so I have a pretty good understanding of the market.

For a long time, domestic brands have been seen as cheap and low-end. And let’s be honest—many are, relying on being affordable dupes for big-name brands. Some of their designs and formulas leave much to be desired. This stereotype didn’t appear out of nowhere.

I personally love luxury brands. If I can afford them and they work well, why wouldn’t I use them?

But here’s my question: If there were a product that performed well and was much more affordable, but it was a domestic brand, would you use it?

And why is it that just because it’s a domestic brand, people immediately assume it’s low quality?

I looked into the ingredients. There’s nothing harmful. The brightening effect comes from niacinamide, which can be slightly irritating for some people. All major skincare brands have used this ingredient before.

When XX Brand was popular, plenty of people experienced tingling in their cheeks—but instead of blaming the brand, they said, ‘Oh, I must be sensitive to it.’

So why, when it happens with BiChen, does it suddenly become the brand’s fault?

From the packaging to the formula, BiChen clearly put effort into their products. I’m not surprised they’re gaining popularity.

It just disgusts me when people see a successful brand and immediately try to smear it. Makes me want to throw up my dinner from last night!”*

The post went viral.

Though this seller had less than a million followers—far fewer than major beauty influencers—she had strong personal connections with many of them. As soon as she posted, her influencer friends shared her message.

For a time, public opinion shifted once again. Some even started discussing serious topics, like whether the public had become too insecure about domestic products.

Because Bi Chen had recently hired a PR firm to manage public perception, they immediately noticed when this post came out.

Someone from the PR firm asked Shang Xinglu, “Do you know this person?”

Shang Xinglu hesitated. “…No, I don’t.”

The PR person clapped their hands and laughed, “Then you’re really lucky! This person wrote so well. We actually considered reaching out to her, but she posted it on her own!”

Shang Xinglu, confused, went to find Yin Yao.

She said, “Could I be some kind of lucky charm?”

Yin Yao was also aware of the situation.

She replied, “I skimmed through it. She said that you take product development seriously, and she herself is also sincerely selling goods—not just blindly following trends, but genuinely wanting to introduce good products to her buyers. She seems like a straightforward, genuine person.”

Online opinion had now completely flipped. Many people revisited the previous defamatory posts on Weibo and said, “It’s already past 500 likes.”

“No need to help anymore—let them go to jail.”

Some even speculated, “If you dig a little deeper into the details, you could probably figure out who it is.”

Immediately, others responded:

“Calling all experts!”

“+1, please help!”

Since the PR firm was managing public opinion, things never escalated to doxxing.

Still, the shifting trend frightened the whistleblower.

Forget whether the allegations were true or not—just the fact that the whole internet was now attacking her was terrifying. And the thing was, her accusations weren’t even true; she had genuinely made them up. Seeing the backlash grow, she started to panic.

Then Bi Chen’s legal department reached out to her directly.

After just a few minutes of conversation, the lawyer gave her a symbolic scare, saying things like, “The government is cracking down on internet misconduct. Do you know the maximum prison sentence for this?”

The whistleblower immediately tried to shift the blame, claiming she had nothing to do with it. She said she was just following orders and that the so-called medical records were photoshopped.

The lawyer then carefully guided her through more questions, and finally, the whistleblower revealed the true mastermind behind it all.

Shang Xinglu was stunned.

She had assumed it was Yi Zhuang or another competitor. After all, dividing up the market meant some people would resort to dirty tricks—it was expected.

But the real person behind it turned out to be Li Xinyue.

Thinking about it, though, it made sense. This tactic was exactly like how the entertainment industry smeared celebrities—throwing dirt first, regardless of whether it was true.

And Li Xinyue had the resources to pull this off. Finding people to do this kind of work was easy for her.

What Shang Xinglu didn’t understand was whether Li Xinyue was targeting her or Yin Yao.

After all, Li Xinyue’s current sponsor had taken an interest in Yin Yao and even tried to set up a blind date between them.

As for Li Xinyue herself, Shang Xinglu had pulled her ads before, and she had made a complete fool of herself in Tahiti.

But to directly confront Li Xinyue? Shang Xinglu wasn’t interested.

For one simple reason:

It would be way too embarrassing if her best friends found out.

Seriously—getting into a direct fight with a second-rate celebrity? How low-class would that make her look?

Instead, Shang Xinglu decided to test Yin Yao’s opinion first.

Even though she thought Ye Songtao was a total loser unworthy of Yin Yao, she couldn’t be sure if Yin Yao had other thoughts.

Plus, as far as she knew, there was some messy history—one of Yin Yao’s old circle friends, Lu Xiatao, used to be Ye Songtao’s mistress. Things were complicated.

As soon as Shang Xinglu brought it up, Yin Yao sighed in frustration.

“Who knows who introduced me to him? He’s driving me crazy! You have no idea—forced flirtation is the most cringe-inducing thing ever. Let me show you some of the stuff he’s been saying.”

Yin Yao pulled out her phone and scrolled through WeChat.

Because of their mutual connection, she couldn’t just block Ye Songtao, which was becoming a real headache. Her entire chat history was full of cheesy pickup lines.

Like:

“You know what my zodiac sign is?”

Yin Yao (coldly): “No.”

“I’m yours.”

“…”

Or:

He’d send a picture of his palm: “This is my palm.”

Then a picture of the back of his hand: “This is the back of my hand.”

Finally, he’d send an image pointing at her:

“You are my baby.”

Yin Yao: “…………”

A few minutes later, she replied:

“Sorry, my phone died just now.”

Ye Songtao responded:

“Baby girl, don’t overwork yourself.”

Yin Yao: “…”

This was exhausting.

Then there was this one:

“I can’t feel my heartbeat.”

Yin Yao: “Call 911.”

“Because it’s with you.”

Yin Yao: “…………”

If that were really the case, she’d throw it away immediately!

(Emotionless.JPEG)

Shang Xinglu clutched her phone and burst into laughter.

“Hahahahahahahahahaha!”

She glanced at Yin Yao.

Her sweet and charming friend currently looked like she had lost the will to live.

Shang Xinglu laughed even harder.

“Hahahahahahahahahaha! I’m dying! Hahahahaha!”

This was next-level cheesy flirting. She would never be able to take Ye Songtao seriously again!

But despite that, she still had to call him.