Over the next three days, Yu Lun released two statements.
One said that the incident was a fan’s personal behavior that he could not control and that he felt deeply saddened by it. He hoped everyone would view the matter rationally, not place responsibility on him, and wait for the final judgment.
The other urged fans not to keep fighting each other. There was no need for them to be arguing in the first place, and they should pay more attention to his works instead.
Was there anything wrong with this kind of PR? Of course not. It truly had nothing to do with Yu Lun, and he did not instruct anyone to do it.
But was it smart PR? Not at all. In fact, it could even be called somewhat foolish.
For some fans, this stance made sense—calm down, don’t argue, don’t escalate things.
But for another group of fans, what did it sound like? It sounded like: “You’re fighting hard for me, but I’m saying it has nothing to do with me. If you get insulted or attacked, that’s your own problem and reflects your lack of quality.”
Even if those fans didn’t initially think that way, it only took a bit of outside guidance for them to be pushed in that direction. It did not take much effort at all. Zong Xuan’s PR department only needed to use a few alternate accounts posing as “fans” to steer the narrative.
Normally, Wen Hui would not let the PR department do something like this. After all, dragging a small actor into a prolonged fight was beneath their level.
But Yu Lun’s team was acting one way publicly and another behind the scenes. They even used fake fan accounts to guide public opinion, claiming that Zong Xuan being poisoned was “karma”—that he deserved it for being rude online and insulting others, and that he had finally hit a wall and gotten retaliated against.
Could Wen Hui tolerate that? Obviously not. So she responded in kind—using the same tactics against them.
Wasn’t it about pretending to be innocent and manipulating public opinion? The latter two were not really Zong Xuan’s style, but the former? No one could beat them at that.
Xu Tang saw all of this, but he merely read it and let it go without comment.
Early in the morning, Xu Tang got up on time. He had no work today, only a banquet to attend in the evening.
After breakfast, he had nothing to do, so he turned on his computer and started browsing the news.
Sometimes he really felt that being a celebrity was quite dull. On days without work or inspiration, he became like an internet-addicted youth, endlessly scrolling—news, movies, music—feeling inexplicably idle.
But overnight, he suddenly noticed that the trending topics had changed. The top headline was:
#Shi Duo Accepts Unspoken Rules (casting couch rumors)#
What?
Xu Tang quickly clicked in to look.
The post came from a small anonymous account, claiming they feared retaliation but felt guilty for not speaking up for an actor who had been replaced by Shi Duo, so they used a burner account.
It alleged that Shi Duo had always had good resources not because of acting ability, but because he accepted unspoken rules. It claimed this was an open secret in the industry. Everyone knew what kind of person Shi Duo was, but due to the strength of his “backer,” no one dared offend him. As a result, major directors, screenwriters, and even top male actors frequently promoted him. Because of this backing, roles that had already been cast would be replaced if Shi Duo showed interest.
The post also included several blurry photos, with Shi Duo circled in red. In the images, he appeared to be in an intimate posture with another man, arms around the waist and shoulders.
Shi Duo was not a top-tier superstar, but he had a solid fanbase—just not strong enough to compete with the flood of public opinion.
In this industry, “unspoken rules” certainly existed, but people rarely exposed them. There were too many entanglements; one wrong move affected everything. Even paparazzi who obtained such information usually used it to blackmail for money rather than publish it, because they still needed to survive in the same circle. Those who dared to expose it were either not insiders or spreading falsehoods.
Xu Tang leaned toward the latter. The photos were too blurry to identify anyone clearly; only the hairstyle looked somewhat similar—but that style was not unique to Shi Duo.
Moreover, if this were real, Shi Duo had already signed with Huayan. Would his brother not have known in advance? The industry was not that large—things like this could not be completely hidden.
And the fact that Huayan’s PR had not yet responded also suggested something: they were not prepared. Which meant most likely, the rumor was false.
The comment section was even worse. Anonymous online spaces always brought out the ugliest language.
Because Zong Xuan had worked with Shi Duo twice, some of the blame was dragged toward him as well, with people claiming Zong Xuan was one of those using influence to push Shi Duo.
Zong Xuan’s fans defended both him and Shi Duo, but compared to the scale of the internet, their voice was weak. Others took the opportunity to stir trouble or ride the trend, making the situation even messier.
While Xu Tang was scrolling, his phone received a voice message from Kang Duo.
“Don’t speak up about Shi Duo’s situation yet. I’ll go find out what’s going on first.”
Shi Duo had no connection to Xu Tang, but he was a Huayan artist. A scandal like this would affect the company itself. As the son of Huayan’s owner, Xu Tang might also be dragged into it if he responded publicly.
Xu Tang replied: “Got it. Keep me updated. Since he’s a Huayan artist, external PR coordination matters too.”
Kang Duo responded: “Mm. Shi Duo is under Sister Xiao Xi’s management. It shouldn’t be a big problem. I can’t call right now, I’m going to the company later—I’ll ask her directly.”
Xiao Xi was part of the same generation of agents as Wen Hui, highly capable, and had previously managed an award-winning actress who later retired after marriage. After that, she brought up several newcomers, and later focused on Shi Duo after he signed with Huayan.
Xu Tang added: “After you confirm, have Sister Xiao Xi coordinate with Wen Jie as well. This also involves Zong Xuan’s side, so their PR team will need to cooperate.”
Kang Duo: “Alright.”
After hanging up, Xu Tang stretched and closed the webpage, turning on a movie instead.
If the internet was filled with positive news, he did not mind browsing a bit longer. But right now, it was better to do something else.
At noon, Xu Tang received a call from an unknown number. Judging from the last digits, he guessed it was Zong Xuan.
He did not remember the full number, but the last four digits were familiar.
After hesitating for a long time, he answered.
“I’m downstairs at your place. I brought lunch for you. Come down and get it.” Zong Xuan’s voice came through the phone—very gentle.
Xu Tang was slightly surprised. He came to deliver food?
“What kind of strange wind is blowing today?”
No matter what wind it was, he was not going to be blown around by it.
“No need. Yuan Shang will bring me food later.” The less contact, the better. He did not want to soften again.
There had been too many times already when he had no principles in front of Zong Xuan.
A brief silence.
Then Zong Xuan asked, “Are you attending the birthday banquet tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Let me drive you there.”
His tone softened even more.
“No need. Let’s go separately.”
At this point, was there even a need to put on a couple’s act?
“I’m not trying to create news. I just want to go with you. Is that okay?”
Xu Tang buried his face into his arms.
“There’s no need. Just handle the reporters however you want. Zong Xuan, I’ve finally made up my mind to do what I think is right. Why make things harder for me?”
“Tang Tang…” Zong Xuan’s voice turned slightly hoarse. “I like you.”
Something inside Xu Tang tugged painfully—sharp and sour.
Too late.
It really came too late.
“Mm. If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up.”
He had once wanted this feeling so badly, and now that it was placed right in front of him, he did not want it anymore.
After hanging up, Xu Tang rubbed his face and forced the corners of his mouth upward.
Someone had once said that if you smile when you’re sad, your mood will not sink as much.
But that method… did not seem to work today.
Soon after, Yuan Shang arrived with lunch in hand, looking a little awkward.
“What’s wrong?” Xu Tang asked.
“Uh…” Yuan Shang smiled cautiously. “I ran into Zong Yingdi downstairs just now, and he insisted I bring his lunch up…”
Xu Tang looked at the takeout bag from a restaurant Yuan Shang rarely bought from and said nothing.
“You can eat that one. Leave mine in the kitchen. I’ll eat later.”
Seeing that he was not angry, Yuan Shang quickly agreed.
“Okay!”
“Did you pick your outfit for tonight?”
“Mm. Something slightly formal is fine.”
Later, Yuan Shang checked the suit in the wardrobe and agreed it was appropriate.
At dusk, Yuan Shang came to pick him up on time.
When Xu Tang went downstairs, he saw Zong Xuan stepping out of his car in the distance, watching him with relaxed brows—like simply seeing him once was enough.
Xu Tang did not expect him to wait the whole afternoon.
Their eyes met for a few seconds.
Then Xu Tang turned and got into the car without speaking.
Zong Xuan did not approach. Only after the car left did he drive away as well, taking a detour so he could arrive later and avoid being seen together.
The birthday banquet was held in a hotel ballroom. The elder hosting it was highly respected in the industry, so most attendees showed up unless they had work.
Both Zong Xuan and Xu Tang’s status meant they naturally attracted attention even when arriving separately. The host was clearly pleased.
The banquet also invited journalists, but guests were told in advance that everything was controlled and safe—just cooperate with photos, no pressure for interviews.
The seating arrangement placed Zong Xuan next to Xu Tang, which pleased him greatly. Even if Xu Tang did not speak to him, simply being able to see him was enough.
They sat among people of similar status. Conversations flowed naturally.
Xu Tang heard a female celebrity mention that Shi Duo had originally planned to attend but canceled due to the online scandal.
Kang Duo had not contacted him all day, so he did not know how PR was progressing.
He would check again tonight.
As expected, he did not eat much at the banquet—celebrities usually leave early.
After the toast and brief greetings from the host, their table gradually dispersed.
Xu Tang and Zong Xuan did not leave first, nor last—just enough to avoid mistakes.
Throughout the evening, many people spoke to them, but they never exchanged a single word. Even when Zong Xuan tried to serve him food, Xu Tang quietly avoided it.
Zong Xuan could sense it too—Xu Tang’s current state: full of feelings, but nowhere to place them.
A long road ahead…
Back home, Xu Tang showered and prepared to sleep. He felt exhausted—mentally drained.
Before sleeping, he checked online again. There was still no response from Shi Duo or Huayan.
Just as he was about to call Kang Duo, he decided against it.
If there was no update, it meant there was nothing worth reporting. If they stayed silent, it was better to wait.
The next morning, after breakfast, Xu Tang went online again—and saw a new top trending topic replacing Shi Duo’s scandal:
#Zong Xuan and Xu Tang Living Separately#