Chapter 58: Anti

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Entertainment Around Me, No Pop-up Ads
Timeframe of the story: June 2005 — November 2005
Recommended song: Wheesung — Even If I’m Hurt
Statement: This story is purely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental!

“Jaejoong, I’ll go home for a quick shower and come right back.” With his foot injury healed, the filming had returned to its normal rhythm. Since Jiang Yihan didn’t have any scenes for the next few takes, he planned to go home, take a shower, and then come back to continue shooting. For the past few months, this had been his daily routine—finding a gap in the schedule, running home to shower, and returning. At first, everyone found it odd—how could someone insist on showering rain or shine, every single day, and never skip? But after a while, they got used to Jiang Yihan’s quirky habit and stopped being surprised.

“Alright, go ahead and get some rest too,” Kim Jaejoong replied, looking up from his script with a smile.

Jiang Yihan greeted Park Youngho and then left with Li Ran.

Soon, the car entered Jiang Yihan’s apartment complex. He leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep. Suddenly, a deafening crash sounded right beside him, startling him awake. The window next to him had been smashed to pieces. Jiang Yihan quickly glanced around and spotted a massive rock lying in the aisle of the car.

Li Ran floored the accelerator, speeding the car into the complex. When they finally stopped, Li Ran immediately jumped out of the driver’s seat and rushed to check on Jiang Yihan. “You okay, you damn cat?” he exclaimed, pulling Jiang Yihan up and anxiously inspecting him for injuries.

“I’m fine, really,” Jiang Yihan replied, checking himself for wounds. “Just a few scratches on my hands from the broken glass. Nothing serious.”

“Who the hell would do something like this?” Li Ran burst out, a string of curses expressing his fury.

At that moment, the car was hit by another barrage of thuds—evidently, those people were still at it, and there seemed to be quite a few of them. It wasn’t long before the windows, unable to withstand the assault, began shattering one after another.

Li Ran shielded Jiang Yihan, and both of them crouched down. Rocks of all sizes flew through the broken windows, some landing hard on Li Ran’s back, others striking Jiang Yihan, who was pinned beneath him.

The sudden hail of stones lasted a minute or two before it finally let up, though now and then a stray rock would still fly in. Seeing the attack had lessened, Li Ran wanted to get up and go outside to confront them, but Jiang Yihan held him back tightly. “We don’t know how many are out there. Don’t go out recklessly, or we’ll be the ones getting hurt.”

Li Ran hesitated, glanced at the panting Jiang Yihan, and finally decided not to insist.

“Jiang Yihan, be careful. Next time, it won’t just be like this.” A clear woman’s voice rang out, followed by another large rock crashing into the car, striking the spot behind Jiang Yihan and sending sharp fragments into his clothes, stinging his skin.

The outside gradually fell silent. Li Ran patted Jiang Yihan and slowly stood up to survey the darkness—nothing could be seen, the blackness erasing all traces of what had just happened. Were it not for the rocks scattered everywhere, the ruined van, Li Ran’s bloodied back, and the fresh cuts on Jiang Yihan, one might have thought it was all a bad dream.

Jiang Yihan stood as well and turned Li Ran around. The back of Li Ran’s shirt was torn, a flash of red visible beneath. Jiang Yihan hurriedly pulled him upstairs to treat his wounds. Suddenly, Li Ran stopped. Jiang Yihan looked at him in confusion as Li Ran bent down to pick up the last rock thrown into the car. Tied to it was a letter. Li Ran untied it, and only then did they continue upstairs.

In less than ten minutes, a sudden, inexplicable disaster had struck and vanished like a bolt of lightning. Both Jiang Yihan and Li Ran were exhausted, drained in spirit, not even sure what had really happened.

Back at home, the two sat on the living room sofa. Li Ran opened the letter. Inside was a note made up of letters cut from magazines:

Jiang Yihan, go die. I hate your songs, I hate your dancing, I hate your face. Don’t get too cocky!

Jiang Yihan and Li Ran were left speechless, at a loss for words.

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“Uh… today…” Jiang Yihan stammered. “Did I offend someone? Or is this about Cheng Shi?”

“Such childish behavior—it can’t be Cheng Shi,” Li Ran muttered, staring at the letter.

“Not Cheng Shi? Then who else could hate me this much?” Jiang Yihan read the note again, but found no clues. “It’s terrifying—this person truly hates me.”

Li Ran suddenly thought of something and rubbed his head hard, only to wince in pain as the motion pulled at his wounded back.

Jiang Yihan finally realized how much Li Ran had been hurt protecting him and rushed to fetch the first aid kit. He gently dabbed medicine on Li Ran’s wounds with a cotton swab. Every touch made Li Ran hiss in pain, the muscles in his back tensing up.

“Lazy cat, I’m guessing today’s your anti-fans at work.” Li Ran tried to distract both himself and Jiang Yihan, sensing the tremor in Jiang Yihan’s hands and knowing that he was feeling guilty about what had happened that night.

“Huh?” Jiang Yihan took a deep breath, trying to calm his agitation.

“Those are people who dislike you, fans who are opposed to you,” Li Ran sighed. “They’re probably mostly young. There were a lot of them tonight—they were just there to protest you.”

“Protest? Why? I haven’t done anything wrong,” Jiang Yihan was bewildered, unable to understand what he’d done to deserve this.

“They’re against you simply because they don’t like you, or maybe something you did annoyed them, or maybe you’re a rival to their favorite star. The reasons can be simple, but the dislike can be intense—even irrational,” Li Ran explained helplessly. In Korea, anti-fans were always a headache for celebrities, and most couldn’t avoid them. Li Ran hadn’t expected Jiang Yihan to encounter such a fierce attack so soon.

Maybe it was because Jiang Yihan was rising so quickly, or maybe he’d been getting too much exposure, or perhaps he’d made a comment or gesture that rubbed people the wrong way. Whatever the reason, the anti-fans had appeared—decisive and audacious. Li Ran realized he’d have to think more carefully about Jiang Yihan’s safety in the future.

At that moment, Jiang Ziyi came out of her room, saw the scene, and was startled, quickly asking what had happened. Once Jiang Yihan explained, Jiang Ziyi was left speechless with fear, not knowing what to do or what might happen next. “Brother, actually, there have already been people saying nasty things about you on our Cyworld and on the website. They pick on your performances, your songwriting, even your quick rise since debut. There are even rumors…” She bit her lip and finally said it, “They say you’re a toy boy for a rich woman, that’s why you became famous so fast.”

Li Ran slammed his hand down on the table. “That’s just bullshit! They’re making things up!” His expression was terrifying, but Jiang Yihan was calm.

“From the moment I entered this industry, we knew this day would come, didn’t we?” Jiang Yihan massaged his forehead. “Besides, the scandal in January was a group incident—compared to that, this is nothing. You can never please everyone. Let’s just accept it calmly.”

First the issue with the seniors, then an injury, and now anti-fans. Jiang Yihan’s career might have looked smooth, but so much had happened beneath the surface. Li Ran felt stifled, unable to speak; Jiang Ziyi worried about what might happen next; but Jiang Yihan remained calm—life, after all, was full of unexpected blows. Injuries were accidents, anti-fans were accidents—such was life.

The three sat in silence for ten minutes, not knowing what to say or do, until Jiang Ziyi finally told Jiang Yihan to go shower. After he cleaned the wounds on his hands, Jiang Ziyi quickly dressed them.

When Li Ran had finished showering, the two of them still had to return to the set—work couldn’t wait.

Jiang Ziyi saw them off downstairs. The car outside was a wreck—dented, nearly every window shattered, a scene of utter ruin. There was no way they could drive it out—it would only draw police attention—so they hailed a cab to the set. As she watched them leave, Jiang Ziyi pulled her jacket tighter, feeling a chill, and lingered for a moment before heading back in.

“Yihan, why are you only just getting here? Your scene is coming right up—go get your makeup done!” The crew member hurried over as soon as Jiang Yihan arrived, dragging him to the makeup area.

“What happened to your hand, bro?” Kim Jaejoong asked. He had just finished filming, and most of the crew were inside; only a few people were outside. Seeing Jiang Yihan’s hand bandaged, he looked worried.

“It’s nothing, just a little accident on the way home,” Jiang Yihan replied simply, telling him briefly what had happened. Kim Jaejoong fell silent.

“Bro, we work so hard—we just want to do our best. What did we do wrong to deserve this kind of hate?” Kim Jaejoong said, feeling powerless. “Don’t they see how hard we try? If they don’t like us, can’t they just ignore us? Why put so much energy into hating us? I just don’t understand.”

Jiang Yihan let out a long sigh. “Maybe in their eyes, all our efforts, all our strengths, are easy to overlook, while any flaw is magnified until we seem worthless.”

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Neither knew what to say next. Jiang Yihan looked up at the midnight sky—utterly black, with only a few stars and no sign of the moon. Clenching his injured hand, he felt the pain and etched it into his memory.

The next day, Begin News quickly reported the incident. Zhang Nian received a call from Li Ran and stayed up all night writing an article, strongly condemning the attack and including a photo of Jiang Yihan’s battered van.

Suddenly, the topic of anti-fans, long dormant, was being talked about throughout the industry once again. Many artists had suffered at the hands of anti-fans, and now many stepped forward to denounce such behavior. After all, celebrities are people too—they shouldn’t have to endure both physical and psychological harm. To put it bluntly, such acts are criminal.

Jiang Yihan didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but he knew it would never leave him.

“Yihan, are you alright?” It was Lee Hyori on the phone, her voice full of concern, which warmed Jiang Yihan’s heart. Despite all the hardships he’d faced since entering this world, knowing he had such caring seniors brought a genuine smile to his face—just before, Jang Dong-gun and Kang Ho-dong had also called.

“Don’t worry, Hyori, I’m fine,” Jiang Yihan replied with a smile.

“That’s good, that’s good,” Lee Hyori breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Hyori, do you have time tonight? Would you have a drink with me? I’m still a bit upset.” It was rare for Jiang Yihan to suggest drinking—after all, the anti-fan incident was weighing on him.

“Well, that’s a surprise! Our Yihan wants to drink—of course I have time.” Lee Hyori’s hearty laugh came through the phone.

After agreeing on a time and place, they hung up. Lee Hyori looked at her phone, a happy smile spreading across her face, until someone called her to get ready and she snapped back to reality.

That evening, they met at a small restaurant near the TV station. The owner was used to entertainers dropping by, so he paid no special attention to Lee Hyori or Jiang Yihan.

“Yihan, back when we were in Fin.K.L, our popularity was sky-high, but the anti-fans were just as fierce,” Lee Hyori said after a few drinks, reminiscing about her girl group days. “Our youngest, Yuri, once received a pair of bloody scissors in the mail—it scared us all to death.”

“It seems anti-fans are part of every star’s journey,” Jiang Yihan said with a wry smile. “I honestly don’t know whether we should thank them or resent them.”

“They only become anti because they care enough to pay attention. That’s why people say the more antis you have, the more famous you are,” Lee Hyori said, taking another shot of soju. “The suggestions from antis can actually help us improve—we read their criticism, see what we’re lacking, and try to get better. But when they cross the line—like hurting you—that’s not okay.”

Jiang Yihan nodded and took a drink as well.

“For us, being in the spotlight is a double-edged sword. When people pay attention, they say I’ve had plastic surgery, or that I’m arrogant, or even that I’m someone’s kept woman. Sometimes I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at these rumors,” Lee Hyori’s tone choked as she spoke, perhaps recalling painful memories. “But if there’s a stretch with no news, I start to worry people have forgotten me, and then my manager tries to stir up some publicity, which just gets misunderstood again. Being a star is hard.”

Jiang Yihan didn’t know what to say, and both of them fell silent, quietly sipping their drinks.

After a few glasses—Jiang Yihan was never a drinker—he began to feel dizzy. He turned to look at Lee Hyori. In the yellow light, her skin glowed with a strange beauty.

Suddenly, Lee Hyori looked up too, her eyes glistening with tears. Jiang Yihan, unable to help himself, reached out and gently wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes. Her lips were full and pink, the gloss shimmering temptingly. Driven by an impulse, Jiang Yihan slowly leaned in. Lee Hyori closed her eyes.

Their lips met—soft, scented, gentle. After a long moment, they parted.

Lee Hyori opened her eyes, a strange, tender light shining in them—ambiguous, warm. Jiang Yihan put his left hand behind her head, pulling her into his embrace. Neither spoke again. They simply sat quietly together.