Chapter Seventeen: Li Shixin, Actor at Rong Shop – I Swear I Didn’t Fake It!

Fuming as he packed up his things, preparing to move upstairs, Li Shixin sat at the small desk and switched on his computer.

The machine was an old model with modest specs, clearly seldom used. But Li Shixin, well accustomed to elderly devices, found it perfectly adequate.

He squinted, slowly opening the browser, and suddenly felt a pang of annoyance.

Age—how it creeps up. Presbyopia, to put it plainly: farsightedness. He could see distant things clearly, though that was rarely needed. The close, everyday objects he had to handle appeared a jumble of colors, as if covered in fine mosaic.

"Shuo, come here."

"What is it?"

"Fetch my reading glasses from the suitcase. The print's too small, it all blurs together."

Zhang Shuo sighed, muttering as he climbed out of bed and opened Li Shixin's suitcase.

"Why are you chasing after trends at your age? Weibo is full of young people; I can barely keep up myself. You're over sixty—can you even make sense of their jokes and memes? Instead, let me install DouShou on your phone, so you can scroll through short videos."

Li Shixin chuckled, saying nothing.

He took the reading glasses—metal frame chipped, lenses scratched—and put them on, nodding with satisfaction.

Much clearer.

Now, Li Shixin deftly opened Weibo.

On Weibo, the topic “Liu Xin Throws a Tantrum, Pushes Elderly Actor on Set” had fermented through the day, climbing to ninth on the trending list.

More than thirty thousand comments had piled up.

Drawing on his experience from before his transmigration, Li Shixin saw at once that Liu Xin’s PR team had gone into full gear, steering the narrative and minimizing damage.

Earlier that morning, he’d seen Liu Xin’s detractors still sparring with paid commenters on his phone. But after only a few hours, the overwhelming force of the PR army had begun to push those critics back.

Li Shixin scanned the top hundred comments, finding only a handful who, amid the tide of Liu Xin's defenders, accused her of not memorizing lines, lacking professionalism, and demanded an apology.

Just then, a pop-up appeared on the Weibo page.

The headline read: “Liu Xin Posts Self-Recorded Video Addressing Set Incident.”

Oh?

Li Shixin quickly clicked the link.

As the page loaded, torturously slow, the video finally appeared on screen.

Liu Xin was lightly made-up, wearing a baseball cap that shaded half her face, looking somewhat tired—whether genuinely or deliberately, who could say.

“Hello, beloved fans and all netizens, I’m Liu Xin. Regarding the recent incident on set, I originally didn’t want to respond. Because the innocent need no explanation; I know exactly what I’ve done and have nothing to hide! But online discussion has grown increasingly heated, so I must step forward to prove my innocence!”

Here, Liu Xin's expression turned angry.

“I wish to clarify officially!

The so-called incident began because the extras hired by the ‘Forbidden End’ production were extremely unprofessional, repeatedly making mistakes during filming. While the director dealt with the extra, I returned to my vehicle to rest. Later, this extra entered my car under the pretense of apologizing. When I was about to get out and resume filming, he suddenly fell out of the car and claimed I pushed him!

What is this behavior?

It’s a blatant attempt at extortion!

I even suspect that certain unscrupulous media and extras, exploiting my current popularity, deliberately manufactured this incident for malicious hype!

So here, I solemnly declare: The actual events sharply contradict the narrative, started by Starwind, about me ‘throwing a tantrum and mistreating elderly actors’. The claim that ‘the elderly extra suffered facial bruising’ is false; it was simply stage makeup.

I have now entrusted Tiancheng Jinbian Law Firm to safeguard my rights and sent a legal warning to Starwind, demanding immediate removal of false videos!

I also urge netizens not to blindly follow rumors or let themselves be manipulated by media seeking malicious hype.

Finally, thank you, beloved fans, for your unwavering support! You are my strength to press forward! Thank you!”

The video was brief, barely two minutes.

After watching, Li Shixin chuckled.

He knew this PR playbook all too well! In truth, the process was well-coordinated: first, the PR army sweeps in to clean up, minimizing impact; then the celebrity herself steps forward to clear her name; finally, she plays the victim, rallying fan support.

In the video, Liu Xin appeared aggrieved, angry, recounted the “incident,” and issued warnings to those who started the controversy.

She didn’t forget to comfort and rally her own fans.

A masterful touch, truly.

As expected, within half an hour of the video’s release, it had garnered over six hundred comments.

“Unconditional support for Xin! You’re always the best and coolest!”

“Told you, Xin would never do that! She just volunteered at a nursing home, did those messy jobs so seriously! How could she disrespect elders?”

“That scummy extra is rotten to the core! Some people only get worse as they age!”

“Exactly! Strongly condemn that extortionist extra! That old man ought to blow up right where he stands!”

...

All were rabid “Xin fans.”

Ignoring the childish insults from obviously young fans, Li Shixin smiled quietly.

The moment he’d been waiting for, ever since that successful extortion, had finally arrived.

He slowly took out his ID card, opened the Weibo registration page, and meticulously filled in his personal information.

For the username, he pondered, then entered: “Rongdian Extra Li Shixin—I swear I didn’t extort anyone!”

After registering, he ignored the jumble of friend recommendations, opened the laptop’s video recorder, and sat upright before the camera.

“Huh? What are you doing?” Zhang Shuo, now packed up and ready to move upstairs, asked in puzzlement.

Li Shixin didn’t answer. With a single finger, awkwardly manipulating the unfamiliar touchpad, he pressed “record.”

“Hello everyone, my name is Li Shixin. I’m sixty-five years old, and I’ve only been in Rongdian for a day as an extra actor...”

On the laptop screen, the serenity and clarity in Li Shixin’s eyes vanished.

What appeared was a sixty-year-old, face gloomy, frail, on the brink of old age.

Just seeing him made one sigh for the passage of time.