He is a good child.

“Since when does a manager hope their own client gets sent to the editing room? Why not just send me to a factory to screw bolts?”
Li Jie grumbled indignantly, almost ready to block his manager, Brother Chen, but after a moment’s thought, he refrained.
After all, Brother Chen was already in his thirties this year, and still single. When they first met, Chen was in his twenties—full of youthful vigor, pointing out the course of the world. Now, day by day, he’s either messaging some young woman, “Wanna meet up?” or sending “Hey? Take a look at X” to some older lady.
In short, though Brother Chen still functions biologically, sociologically he’s nearly beyond rescue.
Taking the high-speed train to Jianye, Li Jie opted for business class. Besides being able to recline and scroll through his phone, the main perk was the meals—eat and take as much as you like.
He polished off four meal boxes in one go, and the attendant’s expression shifted as she looked at him. She couldn’t comprehend, but Li Jie felt nothing but understanding.
He opened the “Back Wave” Weibo to check his fans’ mental states. Thankfully, as usual, they were all a bit off. Li Jie’s Weibo bio was simple and clear—both his achievements and identity.
First, he’s the creator of “The Vastness of Heaven,” marking him as a former “child prodigy.” The phrase “atypical orphan” was mainly to prompt new fans to comment “6.”
Li Jie’s avatar was a crab.
The origin? Someone once mocked him as a bug. His name contains “Jie,” and adding “bug” gives “crab.”
Past events drift like clouds, fans shine like immortals.
Most of his followers are anti-fans, their childhoods haunted by parental coercion to sing “Only Mama Is Good” and “The Vastness of Heaven.” Resentment brewed, so they’ve been trolling him for ten years straight.
“Crab Bro, ‘Wang the Fairy’ is starring in ‘Immortal Lovers’ this year. Maybe you could cameo as a mount?”
“Watch your tone! Show some respect to Crab Bro! Crab Bro, let’s not stoop to his level—just block him, so I can comment instead.”
“Crab Bro, when will you appear on a proper variety show? Next time, don’t smash stones on your chest, okay?”
“Hey hey hey, what’s going on? Crab Bro rarely leaves his mountain. Three years—just one variety show. That shows restraint, principle, and a solid bottom line.”
“Crab Bro, wanna play ‘League of Kings’? The new hero ‘Qin Qiong’ is fierce—twenty thousand on the national server, guaranteed win.”
…
Seeing the fans he’d accumulated over the years, Li Jie was moved. These were highly active followers, not dead accounts.
Sadly, he’d failed to endorse a local fake liquor from Pingjiang last time—or else he’d have let these fans taste it.
“Wait a sec! Isn’t Crab Bro taking the college entrance exam this year?”
“Damn, I totally forgot. Anyone know which university he’s going to?”
“Definitely not an art school.”
“Not +1.”
“Surely not a film academy.”
“Not +1.”

“Of course, it won’t be a music conservatory.”
“Not +8086.”
The comment section burst into cheerful banter. Li Jie’s fans truly were kind-hearted—except when they heard “Only Mama Is Good” or “The Vastness of Heaven,” which triggered manic reactions...
“Children, your biological father is heading to college!”
Li Jie posted a new Weibo and logged off, planning not to check again for at least three days.
No doubt, even with only twenty thousand fans, every time he engaged in low-quality banter, there’d be seven or eight thousand replies—the essence is “concentrated is refined.”
Are these anti-fans?
These are die-hard fans, no question!
Li Jie didn’t throw his phone, but Brother Chen, his manager, slammed his in the office.
It was just too hard. Really, too hard!
This year the TV station said if Brother Chen didn’t deliver results, the artist management department would be cut. Not only do they generate zero value, but the artists’ low quality makes people question Pingjiang TV’s class and taste.
Glancing at Li Jie’s “Back Wave” Weibo, Brother Chen felt he was a single step from being kicked out.
In his thirties, no wife, no house, no savings. Every project he’d found for Li Jie in recent years either flopped or caused a scandal. Brother Chen felt brain hemorrhage was inevitable.
He grabbed his phone and called Li Jie—no answer.
Of course not. They knew each other too well.
Brother Chen howled in frustration in the office.
Meanwhile, in the business class cabin, Li Jie was playing “League of Kings,” warmly addressing the young player still griping about the last match: “First pick, you take Meng Tian, I’ll play Daji.”
First pick: “Try a different mage, fifth pick. Daji isn’t that great.”
Second pick: “6.”
Third pick: “……”
Fourth pick: “????”
Li Jie replied to the young man: “Alright, next time we match up, you take Meng Tian, I’ll play Daji.”
First pick youth: “Okay… huh? That sounds kinda weird?”
Li Jie smiled faintly and cut the voice chat.
As usual, a quick defeat in game, so he scrolled through some videos—mostly “Da Lei,” his only real hobby, though he never sent gifts.
After all, all twelve mothers had taught him to be frugal.
Since childhood, Li Jie always listened to his mothers.

He was a good boy.
“Is there G? If not tech, I’ll eat it!”
Li Jie, feeling bored, swiped past the “Da Lei” video and watched another.
Still bored, he sighed—how could he make twenty-seven billion?
Just as he was fretting, the neurotic system started chiming nonstop.
[“Superstar System” reminds you: Be cautious when filming, harmony ensures safety.]
[Please check “Masked Gourd Man Filming Guide.”]
[Please check “Film Pyrotechnics and Explosion Technology Classification.”]
[Please check “Action Scene Analysis and Production Explanation.”]
…
[Wishing you success in raising production funds, and may you offer classics to this beautiful world!]
He ignored it completely.
“Raise production funds soon? Hell no—if I spend a penny on this, I lose.”
The system didn’t even give coins, just asked for charity—what a joke.
[Ding]…
“Go ahead, keep dinging. I’ll treat it as tinnitus.”
[“Superstar System” reminds you: Darkness envelops all, you are the dawn in the dark, shattering the night with thunder!]
Hmm?
That’s different.
What did the system mean by that?
Li Jie noticed the change and grew curious, deciding to see what was going on.
A while later…
Li Jie, student Li, looked at his phone with the expression of an old man on the subway.