Chapter 105: Whose Fault Is It

"Cheng Shi, tell me what is going on here." Lee Soo-man’s voice was so chillingly calm that it instilled a sense of dread.

Cheng Shi felt a shiver run down his spine. "President, I... I don't know what happened either."

"What do you mean you don't know? Didn't I tell you to ensure the videotape wasn't lost? How did you handle this?" Lee Soo-man practically spat the words through gritted teeth, his fury evident.

Cheng Shi, at a loss for how to respond, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. In the vast office, only the hum of the air conditioner could be heard. Cheng Shi could feel his heart hammering against his chest with every beat, and the sweat trickled down his back, drop by agonizing drop. Suddenly, Lee Soo-man stood up, startling Cheng Shi into taking several steps back.

Lee Soo-man walked slowly toward him. Cheng Shi fought to keep his trembling legs from giving out, forcing himself to stand firm. Lee Soo-man stopped right in front of him. "You had better pray they don't trace this back to our company." Lee Soo-man left the consequences unsaid, but Cheng Shi choked, his breath hitching. Just thinking about the outcome was enough to make his skin crawl.

On the seventh floor, someone was pacing the office in agitation. Suddenly, the door opened; it was Cheng Shi. The person inside, none other than Lu Xianfeng, hurried over. "Cheng Shi, what does the company say? Are they going to protect us?"

Ignoring Lu Xianfeng’s anxiety, Cheng Shi sat in his chair, trying to relax his tense muscles. Lu Xianfeng continued to pace back and forth nearby, wringing his hands like an ant on a hot pan—the perfect description for his state of mind.

After a long silence, Cheng Shi finally spoke. "All we can hope for now is that they don't dig any deeper. If it were just the initial incident, the company might have protected us, but if everything is uncovered, we may have no way out."

"What?" Upon hearing this, Lu Xianfeng collapsed into his chair. The matter had blown up so significantly that investigators were surely on the trail. If even one link in the chain leaked, they would both be finished. Devastated by the news, Lu Xianfeng fell apart.

It was hard to imagine that just a few months ago, he had been basking in the spotlight, enjoying the sympathy of others. Now, with the truth exposed, he could barely fathom what was to come. As he thought about how he, a senior in the industry, had fallen to such a state, he couldn't help but wonder: whose fault was it?

For the past few months, Min Xiaoli had tried her best to remain calm, only to find that beyond despondency, she didn't know what else to feel. Believing in the "Young Master" was something she felt she ought to do, but she couldn't understand why the other members of the "Castle" (fandom) couldn't maintain that same conviction.

When she saw the Young Master express his heartbreak over the Castle’s lack of trust during that final press conference, Min Xiaoli could do nothing but cry, whispering to herself, "Young Master, I believe in you. I believe in you."

Throughout the months of silence, Min Xiaoli had always believed he would one day appear before everyone again. Even though he seemed to have vanished, and even though she could only listen to his CDs on repeat to express her longing, her faith remained unshaken. She knew he understood that there were still those in the Castle who supported him, and for the sake of these steadfast fans, he would return.

Sure enough, when the Young Master’s manager, Lee Ran, appeared at the press conference—broadcast even on television—Min Xiaoli could feel her heart racing. After such a long wait, news of him had finally surfaced. She didn't have an overly dramatic reaction to the conference itself, because she had always known and trusted in his innocence; it was a blind, unconditional faith. As Jiang Yihan and Lee Ran had said, the Castle should, in some ways, know him better than he knew himself, and his music would never lie. Thus, Min Xiaoli was only concerned with when he would appear again.

When the Young Master finally appeared on the big screen at the end of the conference, Min Xiaoli could no longer control her tears. The warmth that had been buried deep within her heart was rekindled. "To those who didn't trust me, I wish you happiness. To those who gave me their trust, thank you—truly, thank you." His words made Min Xiaoli feel that all her devotion and faith had been worth it.

At this moment, the Castle was in chaos. A large group of fans had surrounded Li Yimei, smashing her windows and sending threatening items. Beyond direct confrontation, Li Yimei’s life had become impossible; with her doors locked, she couldn't even step outside without sunglasses and a hat. She was on the verge of a breakdown. Meanwhile, Jiang Yihan’s official fan forum was in an uproar.

Those who had always believed in Jiang Yihan began to accuse those who had abandoned him of being "fake fans." Of course, their defenses were weak and hollow. Most of them, looking back at the whole affair, realized their own vacillation, their immaturity, and the devastating blow their actions had dealt to him—but it was too late.

Then, a post brought everyone to a standstill.

"I am an anti-fan of Jiang Yihan. When I saw him achieve such great success so easily after his debut, I was initially jealous, then felt it was unfair. In our hearts, we felt that he hadn't put in any effort to earn his success, that there must be something shady going on. So, we couldn't stand his songs, his dancing, or anything about him, and we even engaged in some extreme behaviors. I won't deny that in the past few months, I spread a lot of false information to smear him and make things worse. I was happy to see the overwhelming negative news about him.

"However, after watching that press conference, I suddenly felt how immature I was, as if I were being used by others to bring Jiang Yihan down. Looking at how everything unfolded, I suddenly asked myself: what did Jiang Yihan actually do wrong to deserve this? I carefully read through all the information since his debut and realized he was also just a hardworking kid—someone who would faint from over-practicing, someone who bowed and greeted seniors everywhere to make a good impression, and someone who would tear up at the support of the Castle. When I listened to his songs again, I realized they really did show the most authentic Jiang Yihan, just as the music critics said.

"The matter has now settled, and Jiang Yihan does not want to pursue it further. As the Castle, you should also let it go. But you should ask yourselves: why did you believe the rumors we spread so easily? Was it because the rumors were too realistic, or because you never truly understood him? This is why he was so heartbroken. You should search your own hearts and not give anyone else the chance to hurt Jiang Yihan again.

"Originally, as an anti, I have no standing to say these things. But this matter escalated so far that it went beyond our expectations. Only when we calmed down did we realize that things shouldn't be this way. I sincerely hope to receive everyone's forgiveness.

"From now on, I am also a member of the Castle—a steadfast one."

Jiang Zaimin pinned this anti-fan’s post to the top of the forum. As more people read it, the arguments began to subside. Indeed, if even an anti-fan could say this, what else was there for the Castle to say? Everyone began to calm down and contemplate what an artist should represent to them, and what Jiang Yihan meant to them personally.

Once everyone cooled off, the retaliatory actions against Li Yimei ceased. After all, having made mistakes themselves, what right did they have to blame others?

On the other side, things seemed to be heading in a positive direction. The anti-fan websites, which originally numbered nearly 300, had plummeted to under 50, and the number of anti-fans dropped rapidly from over 5,000 to fewer than 200. This was quite rare in Korean history. It could be said that this incident made many hot-headed fans stop and think about whether such intense opposition was necessary. As for Jiang Yihan, his albums and movies were now widely accepted across South Korea, and even the anti-fans, catalyzed by this event, gradually began to accept this "hottest" artist of 2006.

The decline of the anti-fans was a major development, but for Jiang Yihan, there was an even bigger one: the expansion of his demographic. Originally, his fans were primarily females in their teens and twenties, with a small number of male fans. However, because this event had become a national sensation—and with the high ratings of Lee Ran’s televised press conference—the indirect reach was astonishing. Combined with the high box-office success of "Can I Love You?" and the gentle confession ballad of the same name, Jiang Yihan’s fan base now spanned from teenagers to those in their fifties, with both men and women recognizing this kind and resilient young man. His image was now that of a comprehensive idol: one who had endured setbacks but remained unyielding, possessing immense talent in both singing and acting.

If one had to use a single term to describe Jiang Yihan, it would be "National Idol." Teenagers and those in their twenties saw their aspirations in him; those in their thirties and forties saw the resilience of someone who had overcome hardship; and those over fifty saw the hope of a well-behaved, clever child. He was arguably the most recognizable person in all of Korea.

When people learned that Jang Dong-gun had also stood up for Jiang Yihan; when they realized how good his albums and movies were; and when they learned he had recently won Best Actor at Cannes—the first international acting award in the history of Korean cinema—even those who noted that Jiang Yihan was Chinese had no reason to say anything more. The result was that everyone grew even fonder of him.

Especially when Jiang Yihan mentioned his grandmother in Chinese during his acceptance speech at the Cannes Film Festival—coupled with the special circumstances of the time—his resilience and filial piety became hot topics of conversation.

Having endured months of gloom only to achieve such an unexpected result, whose "fault" was it? Or rather, who could have predicted whose contribution it would be?

The media could only be described as "cautious." After Lee Ran’s iron-fisted tactics, many outlets had reined themselves in, and their reporting on Jiang Yihan became strictly professional. The media had not anticipated, nor could they control, the far-reaching positive impact of the explosion in Jiang Yihan’s popularity. A series of coincidences meant that Jiang Yihan had suffered no losses in this incident; instead, he had gained even broader influence.

Among all the media, *Begin* was the most eye-catching. Remember when the scandal of Jiang Yihan "hitting a senior" first broke? The editor-in-chief of *Begin* had argued fiercely with Zhang Nian over whether to support Jiang Yihan. Now, the editor-in-chief would clap and laugh at Zhang Nian’s initial persistence.

Zhang Nian still wrote a summary report, but unexpectedly, he didn't just summarize the event; he expressed his views from a broader perspective.

"The artist is a special profession—a life lived under the spotlight. Because of everyone’s attention, every move an artist makes requires special scrutiny. But looking back at the past few months, what kind of example did those artists who gave false testimony set? And who was directing these artists who spoke recklessly? Who was the black hand behind the scenes?

"Everyone knows that society is full of underground dealings that stay out of the light; almost every industry has them, and the entertainment industry is no exception. But I never expected that the baseless words of a few people could bring down an excellent artist and manufacture such a malicious image. If things can work like this, then who in the entertainment industry is worth trusting? Because anyone, as long as they are manipulated by someone behind the scenes, could become worthless. Whose fault is this? The fault of the hand behind the curtain? The fault of conflicting interests? The fault of the artist themselves? The fault of the lying artists? The fault of the media? The fault of the anti-fans? Or the fault of the audience? It is worth everyone taking the time to think carefully."

In this report, Zhang Nian carefully analyzed the causes and consequences of the incident, questioning everyone: given such collective smearing, whose fault was it really?

For a time, the social discussion regarding underground dealings in the entertainment industry and the phenomenon of anti-fans became unprecedentedly heated.

Putting aside the big picture, two individuals served as a concentrated microcosm of the situation. The first was, naturally, Producer Lee. After the news of his bribery broke, KBS quickly fired him and actively assisted the prosecutor's office in sealing his records. The list of bribed companies uncovered during the investigation shocked society. The reputations of companies including KBS and MS were severely damaged. The amount involved in Producer Lee's case reached a staggering 5 billion won (over 40 million RMB), and such a scandal forced the entire social system to reflect on its own behavior. KBS quickly visited the ABC company to apologize, and the station manager personally apologized to Lee Ran and Jiang Yihan, claiming that everything was merely the individual behavior of Producer Lee and that KBS remained a good partner to ABC. However, it was unclear how much such an act could compensate for, or how much confidence ABC still had in KBS.

The second, of course, was Lu Xianfeng of MS, the center of the incident. When the Jiang Yihan case became a social issue, the media's investigative drive naturally intensified. After the incident was peeled back layer by layer, it centered on Lu Xianfeng of MS. Before the media broke the news, Lee Soo-man quickly made a decision: he pushed Cheng Shi and Lu Xianfeng to the forefront and severed all ties with them.

When Cheng Shi and Lu Xianfeng were dragged out by the media and placed before the public, everyone finally understood that the months-long farce had been orchestrated entirely by these two. Naturally, neither had any place left in the entertainment industry.

Cheng Shi’s current feelings could only be expressed with a question mark. He didn't know how things had come to this—why he had been so dissatisfied with Jiang Yihan, why he had been so obsessed with taking him down, or why he had ended up in such a state. Suddenly, memories resurfaced. Cheng Shi remembered the first day he met Jiang Yihan. This somewhat lazy yet incredibly charming boy had a kind of magic—a power to attract strangers! Cheng Shi suddenly felt deeply disheartened, a feeling of total, submissive defeat.

Tapping his fingers rhythmically on his desk, Lee Soo-man was thinking about how to salvage the damage to the company's reputation. He had to admit that he had been somewhat negligent this time, and ultimately, he had let Jiang Yihan make a comeback. In the current situation, it was clearly unwise to continue suppressing Jiang Yihan. For a businessman, profit was the most important thing; what needed to be done now was to win him over. As for how to win him over, Lee Soo-man was already planning.