The True Young Master's Metaphysical Road to Fame in Showbiz Ch. 82

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Without hesitation, he called a medic over for another examination.

Chi Qingning murmured a soft "thank you," face full of quiet sorrow.

Several guests exchanged glances, then stepped forward to check on him.
They were still on camera, after all—no matter what they were really thinking, they couldn't let it show.

The whole scene felt very familiar.

Lu Man raised an eyebrow, a touch of emotion in his eyes.

At the very start of this show, the other guests had treated Mr. Chi with exactly this same kind of concern.

How should one describe this scene?

This was called the cycle of fortune.

Earlier, Lu Man had thought he might eventually find a chance to return Mr. Chi's favor. Who would've guessed that Chi Qingning would turn out to be so ruthless he'd end up sabotaging himself—before Lu Man even had the chance to act?

With things turning out this way, Lu Man quietly decided to find other ways to help Mr. Chi instead.

If he remembered correctly... weren't they signed under the same management agency?

Chi Qingning tilted his head back slightly and gave a soft "Thank you, Brother Lu," voice tinged with just the right amount of vulnerability.

Lu Man smiled warmly, not letting a trace of his true thoughts slip. He offered a few modest replies with perfect poise.

Their gazes briefly met—then a shout came from the logistics team, filled with cautious excitement:

"Director Hu! Director Hu! The livestream room cut off just now—does that mean we're finally safe?!"

The director's eyes lit up. For the moment, he couldn't care less about Chi Qingning. His chubby figure moved with unexpected agility as he squeezed through the crowd, practically sprinting toward the logistics tent.

Sure enough, on the monitor, the livestream had indeed disconnected, and the comment section was filled with confused viewers wondering what had happened.

The director's expression grew even more animated. He rubbed his hands together and turned to the staff member in charge of public sentiment monitoring.

"You keeping an eye on Mr. Chi's livestream room?" he asked, lowering his voice. "What was he doing when it cut off?"

The staffer nodded, "Of course I was watching! He was just sitting in the forest, enjoying the scenery. Everything looked super peaceful."

"What about the chat?" the director pressed.

The staff member glanced over at Chi Qingning, who was still having his ankle treated, and lowered his voice as well.

"About what you'd expect," he said. "Most of the new viewers came from the trending topic. Mr. Chi got dragged so hard earlier that now everyone's siding with him."

"Plenty of random viewers are cheering him on, and while they're at it, throwing some shade at Chi Qingning and the people who were part of the dogpile."

"Even some of the people who insulted Mr. Chi earlier are showing up to apologize—and they're sending him livestream gifts too."

"A few folks are just talking about the actual show, wondering why Actor Song wasn't with him, that kind of stuff."

"And the rest are trying to piece together what the hell just happened. Some are fairly objective, others are deep in conspiracy theory territory... but at least no one's blaming Mr. Chi."

"As for Chi Qingning's fans and the trolls from earlier..." The staffer shrugged. "Chi-whatever is pretty popular among young idol actors. His fans are famously loyal, so yeah, a few of them showed up to randomly blame Mr. Chi for their brother's suffering. But they got shouted down by randos in seconds. And the trolls? Same old loudmouth nonsense."

He gave a half-laugh, recalling one particularly brain-melting comment:

[Putting aside the facts, can we really say Chi Qingzhou is completely blameless?]

Like—putting aside the facts?! What are we even talking about then?

The staffer pulled up a playback log and pointed to a few timestamps on the screen. "Some viewers... might've had a weaker spiritual constitution or something. They said they saw white mist, and these two guys."

He clicked on a few usernames:

[Did anyone else hear weird noises?]

[Hey upstairs neighbor, can you stop beating your kid?]

"They insisted the livestream room actually did black out, and right before it cut, they swear they saw Mr. Chi's shadow stand up."

The director's eyes widened as he suddenly remembered Chi Qingzhou's solo camera feed. His heart skipped a beat. "Wait, so did the livestream actually cut out?"

The staffer shook his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Nope! Look here, Director Hu—livestream duration matches perfectly. No blackout on the backend."

The director glanced at the data—completely unaware that the livestream duration had already become desynchronized from real time. He nodded solemnly, as if the staffer's words had convinced him completely.

"Let's delete those two comments along with the ones about the white mist," he said. "This whole situation's already messy enough. If someone uses superstitious talk as an excuse to shut the program down, that'd be a real disaster."

"Got it," the staffer replied, clicking twice to permanently erase the comments.

It took the on-site medic a little while to check over Chi Qingning's ankle.

This time, it wasn't dislocated—but he had definitely sprained it again.

To avoid making it worse, he was advised not to move around too much.

Several crew members, newly motivated by promises of a raise, offered to carry Chi Qingning up the mountain themselves.

He didn't hesitate. After thanking them, he even took out his own money to give them a generous tip.

With that kind of bonus in hand, the staff had zero complaints. Brimming with energy, they hoisted Chi Qingning up and began marching briskly toward the summit.

The other guests collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

Even though the livestream had cut out—suggesting they might finally be safe—no one could fully relax until Chi Qingzhou personally confirmed it.

After everything that had happened that morning, everyone—cast and crew alike—was now painfully aware that Chi Qingzhou was far more than just an ordinary celebrity.

People in showbiz tend to be superstitious anyway. From raising little ghosts to wearing Thai amulets to worshipping fox spirits, they've seen it all. But to personally witness someone with real supernatural skills? That changed things.

Even someone like Zhong Lingshu, a diva with rock-solid status, felt more awe than anything toward Chi Qingzhou now.

All credit goes to the original author
Feel free to pinpoint us if there are any grammar error or typos
Please don't use Guazi's translations to re-translate in other languages

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