ABSML Chapter 21: Making Someone Famous

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A captivating voice recounted a disgraceful story from long ago.

Some were enchanted by his siren-like voice, only to be jolted awake by the stormy narrative…

Yin Ronglan wasn’t sure how others felt. In the past, he had only caught glimpses of these stories when Chen Zhan updated his works. But now, listening to the full Confession Record for the first time, he found it both absurd and amusing.

“Hiss—”

A faint gasp came from beside him.

Using his peripheral vision, Yin Ronglan noticed that the girl sitting next to him was fiercely pinching her thigh, seemingly trying to squeeze out a few tears.

You can do this, Li Yuanyuan. You have to cry!

She cheered herself on in her heart.

Perplexed by her strange behavior for a few seconds, Yin Ronglan suddenly recalled what Chen Zhan had mentioned earlier in the car—that he had hired a water army to display "genuine emotion" for the media cameras.

As a seasoned professional in astroturfing, the girl had extensive experience. Gritting her teeth, she pinched even harder, finally managing to well up a few tears.

“This is so touching.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and abruptly stood up. “I understand—really! Who hasn’t loved fiercely in their youth?”

“…”

The people sitting nearby exchanged complicated looks.

Feeling the weight of the audience’s stares, the girl grew visibly awkward, unsure of what to do with her hands.

At that moment, Chen Zhan gave a perfectly timed wistful, bitter smile.

The man on stage smiled.

The woman in the audience cried.

A flawless performance, with both parties deeply immersed in their roles.

“That rainy day,” Chen Zhan continued reading, “each drop of rain that fell shattered my heart once. Over the course of that night, it broke a billion times.”

The tears she had painstakingly mustered instantly dried up.

The girl was at a loss—on the verge of tears, yet unable to cry.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to start over.

Yin Ronglan sighed lightly. Young people these days sure work hard for their money.

He recalled Chen Zhan transferring 2,000 yuan that morning. At the time, he had thought it was an excessive amount for just a few camera shots. But now, seeing the struggle firsthand, he realized how tough the job actually was.

“Keep… going…”

The girl gasped for air, urging herself on as she pinched her palm hard enough to draw blood. Finally, managing to push past the hypnotic effect of Chen Zhan’s narration, she focused on a past heartbreak of her own.

Tears flowed down her face.

The media cameras captured the moment in its rawest form.

A senior journalist, unable to stand it any longer, coughed lightly to get the girl’s attention. He had a daughter about her age, and seeing her struggle like this tugged at his conscience. Girl, if you’re being forced, just blink twice.

Other media personnel had similar thoughts. They, too, had written exaggerated reports before. But what kind of person had to be so morally bankrupt to cry over this kind of reading?

At that moment, Chen Zhan slightly paused and spoke:

“A sense of mystery is crucial for a meet-and-greet event. Otherwise, it won’t be beneficial for future gatherings. I’d like to ask our media friends to stop recording.”

The reporters’ faces darkened.

Was this even human speech? He had deliberately let them film up to this moment and then suddenly imposed restrictions afterward.

Since they hadn’t been invited in the first place, and Chen Zhan had been lenient about filming earlier, they had already gathered plenty of material—especially the crying scene, which could serve as the highlight of the event.

The senior journalist shivered involuntarily. Was this a coincidence, or had Chen Zhan planned it all along? If it was the latter… that was terrifying.

As everyone’s thoughts swirled, the already-thin stack of papers was quickly read through.

Chen Zhan looked back at the audience.

“As a token of appreciation for your support, I will randomly select ten audience members to receive a special gift.”

The mention of free gifts instantly made everyone sit up straighter.

The host brought out a box and, in front of everyone, poured in numbered balls representing the seating arrangements. After shaking it a few times, he placed it at the center of the stage, and Chen Zhan drew ten numbers.

The host read them out one by one, then announced with a smile, “Congratulations to these ten lucky audience members! You will receive a charm personally crafted by Mr. Chen Zhan.”

His smile seemed on the verge of collapsing, but his professionalism kept it intact.

“You are also the first testers of this product.”

The implication was clear: these charms would be mass-produced and sold in the future.

Looking at the eager expressions of the chosen audience members, the host fought to maintain his composure as he presented the small charms.

The media, despite having stopped recording, habitually snapped a few pictures.

When they focused their lenses on what was being called a “charm,” their fingers stiffened over the shutter buttons.

It was… a broken doll.

The once-envied lucky winners now looked utterly dumbfounded.

Chen Zhan said flatly, “These were all personally sewn by me, carefully selected from many prototypes. Their effectiveness is outstanding.”

The human eye is deceptive. When people see beautiful things too often, they become dull and uninteresting, whereas ugly things, when seen repeatedly, start to look more acceptable—even charming in an "ugly-cute" way.

As Chen Zhan earnestly showcased his work, those who initially thought it was ugly enough to be cosmic trash gradually found it rather endearing.

First, despite the distorted features, traces of Chen Zhan’s expression could be seen. Second, ordinary protective charms were too common—young people naturally had a desire to stand out with something unconventional.

The promotional segment concluded smoothly.

The host wrapped up with some humorous remarks and reminded everyone to leave in an orderly manner.

Experienced reporters, eager to break the news first, had already written their articles. After getting approval from their editors, they quickly uploaded the posts along with a nine-grid image set.

The hashtag #ChenZhanFanMeetingPaidCommenters shot into the trending top ten.

These days, trending topics were all about drama—only the most bizarre and unexpected events could stand out. The previous scandal about the sausage issue was a prime example.

This hashtag gained traction precisely because it was so obviously fake.

Due to recording issues, Chen Zhan’s voice wasn’t particularly clear, but the general content of his speech was still discernible. Moreover, anyone who had read Confessions would immediately recognize the familiar passages.

In the media’s still frame from the video, a girl’s lips were downturned, her nose was red, and tears streamed endlessly from her vacant eyes, as if she had been moved to tears by Chen Zhan’s reading.

【Above the Answer: How much did Chen Zhan pay you? I'll offer double!】

【hugu: I'm regretting not going in person—just seeing this moment alone would have been worth it.】

【King of Mongrel Dogs]: With acting skills like this, it's a shame she's not in the entertainment industry!】

As professional internet shills, the girl’s social media account was quickly uncovered. Of course, she didn’t bother hiding it; in fact, she posted a crying GIF, instantly gaining a million followers. Countless netizens, eager for drama, flooded her comments, asking about her thoughts.

Different people had different perspectives.

Some small-time celebrities, sensing a unique opportunity, took notice—an informal fan meeting had turned an unknown internet shill into a low-tier internet celebrity. Judging from the way the girl handled the situation, she would likely try to leverage this moment to break into the entertainment industry.

If she got lucky, a director might even offer her a few seconds of screentime in a film to perform a crying scene.

With the New Year’s film season approaching, comedy movies always welcomed sudden viral moments like this.

After some deliberation with their agents, a few minor celebrities followed Chen Zhan’s Weibo and sent him private messages to greet him.

At the time, Chen Zhan was sitting in Yin Ronglan’s car, responding to messages one by one. He simply sent a rose emoji as a friendly gesture, without any additional words.

This conveyed a subtle message—not too enthusiastic, but suggesting that collaboration was possible if their interests aligned in the future.

Yin Ronglan started the car. “I bet you saw this coming.”

Finishing his last reply, Chen Zhan put his phone back in his pocket. “Only by turning someone into an internet celebrity with a single camera shot can I prove the traffic value I inherently carry.”

Yin Ronglan: “If there hadn’t been background music at the event or if the media had recorded the full video, the impact could have been even greater.”

Chen Zhan waved his hand dismissively. “I deliberately used an interference device so my voice wouldn’t be too clear.” Without realizing it, he had already begun speaking more openly with Yin Ronglan. “There’s also a business opportunity here.”

Yin Ronglan’s fingers slightly tightened around the steering wheel, and he chuckled. Chen Zhan was like a gold-digging expert—wherever there was a gap, he would hammer away at it.

Chen Zhan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?”

Yin Ronglan had intended to say he did, but to give Chen Zhan a sense of accomplishment, he held back: “I just think it’ll be difficult.”

Chen Zhan snapped his fingers. “Wanna bet? I’ll make over 70,000 yuan in three days without selling protective charms.”

This time, Yin Ronglan was genuinely unsure. Money didn’t just fall from the sky, and while Chen Zhan’s articles were popular, it didn’t seem likely that he could earn that much in such a short time.

Chen Zhan added, “And that doesn’t include any earnings from writing.”

Yin Ronglan became interested. “What are we betting?”

Chen Zhan had spoken casually, but now that he was asked, he paused to think for a few seconds. “First of all, gambling is illegal.”

Yin Ronglan laughed and nodded. “I understand.”

“I still need to find a manufacturer for the protective charms, but for the first two days of sales, I plan to randomly include a hundred handmade ones as giveaways.” Chen Zhan continued, “If you lose, you have to help me make them by hand.”

Yin Ronglan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. With a gentle smile on his face, he replied, “…A small money bet would’ve been better.”

As they quietly stared at each other, under Chen Zhan’s knowing gaze—one that seemed to say I know you’re broke—Yin Ronglan was the first to back down.

To thank his “chauffeur” for the day, Chen Zhan took him to a familiar beef noodle shop.

Yin Ronglan noticed that Chen Zhan didn’t add chili oil today but, as always, added plenty of cilantro.

Yin Ronglan wasn’t particularly fond of cilantro, while Chen Zhan was obsessed with its flavor.

After their meal, the two waved goodbye. While the Weibo buzz was still hot, Chen Zhan wasted no time arranging his next plan.

He stayed up most of the night, dozing off for less than two hours in between, and finally succeeded in uploading an audio recording.

The South Pole Star literary website had an audiobook section. Chen Zhan had negotiated with the platform and signed an electronic contract permitting paid broadcasts. Since it was a paid feature, the website would take a percentage, but in exchange, he would receive prime placement and recommendations.

With everything set, Chen Zhan reposted the journalist’s Weibo post featuring the nine-grid image from the fan meeting, adding the caption:

【"Even if you didn’t attend in person, you can still hear the author’s original voice. Click the link for details: http://XXXXXXX.cn"】

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