Socializing Gone Awry

“Fame and fortune?”
“Won’t that just turn fans into haters!”
Hearing this, Chen Jue suddenly lost the peace of mind he felt when he returned, and his thoughts began to wander.

He was just an ordinary wage earner. Although he had considered using skills like dart throwing and stone skipping to earn a bit of money online, he had always intended to remain anonymous, simply showing off his abilities to attract some attention and pocket a little spare cash.

But according to Zhu Hongbin, once he accepted an interview, he’d have to appear on camera. Then, under the scrutiny of countless netizens, it would be revealed that Chen Jue was just a small part of the rescue effort—the real credit belonged to Wu Fang and the sanitation worker. Chen Jue had merely finished off the fleeing pit bull.

If this were made public online, someone would surely accuse him of riding the wave and grabbing undue credit for himself. In that case, he wouldn’t become famous—he’d become infamous.

Moreover, Chen Jue had no intention of becoming an overnight internet celebrity. Didn’t people know that the fate of influencers was to sell products? Shouting into the camera, “Trust me, this is the best buy,” and making a quick buck, would forever stain his reputation, no matter how he tried to explain himself.

He did want to earn a better living, but not by making dirty money.

He aired his concerns over the phone, and Zhu Hongbin laughed, “Brother, if you don’t want to be famous, that’s fine! After all, fame brings trouble!”

“But this is a great opportunity to promote our club. I’ll have the TV station blur your face with a mosaic, so your privacy will be protected.”

With the conversation at this stage, Chen Jue could only agree.

Zhu Hongbin had helped Chen Jue once before; if not for his connections, Chen Jue wouldn’t have gotten into Heng Tong, such a top company. An interview would be a way to repay that favor.

...

After hanging up, Chen Jue went online and filmed several types of dart throws. From short sword darts to willow leaf darts, meteor darts, and steel needles, he decided to practice them all.

Now that his dart skill had reached level four, the difficulty had increased. He needed to try various techniques and challenge himself to accelerate his progress.

But unexpectedly, only half a day later, the incident of the pit bull attacking the boy in the park had spread across the internet. It even trended on the hot search!

The surveillance video from the park was edited into short clips by enthusiastic netizens and uploaded online. Soon, different versions appeared—some with special effects, some with background music. The rescue had gone completely viral.

The comment section was ablaze with popular remarks:

“My heart aches for the boy. I was bitten by a mad dog as a child (praying) Hope he’s okay.”

“Walking a dog without a leash is just letting the dog walk you (dog emoji)”

“The girl who saved him is so cool! Love it (heart gesture)”

“This guy is amazing! One dart took down the pit bull! That’s a big, fierce dog (awesome emoji)”

“They both use darts—could they be disciples of the same master in real life? (curious)”

“Twin dart heroes emerge in Hangzhou’s martial arts world (tongue out emoji)”

Scrolling through the video, Chen Jue couldn’t help but laugh.

“Twin dart heroes?”

“Already got a nickname in the martial arts world?”

His face flushed, and with a shaky hand, he forwarded the video to Wu Fang, whom he’d just added as a friend, with the message: “Looks like we’re famous now?”

Wu Fang must’ve caught wind of it too and replied with a face-covering and cold-sweat emoji.

Her phone and WeChat were overwhelmed by calls and messages from friends and relatives, since netizens had already identified her. As a high school PE teacher—beautiful, kind-hearted, and talented—she was already well-known in the school and the park. A quick search by netizens easily revealed her identity.

As for Chen Jue, he hadn’t shown his face in the footage, and as a workplace nobody who had just started at a new company and hadn’t even worked a day, it was no wonder he hadn’t been recognized.

“Did any reporters contact you?”

“My phone’s about to freeze with all the calls and voice messages (awkward emoji)”

“If it gets any worse, I’ll just turn off my phone tonight and sleep (face-covering emoji),” Wu Fang messaged.

Seeing Wu Fang so overwhelmed, Chen Jue shared with her that he was going to be interviewed.

Unexpectedly, Wu Fang was also forced by her school’s leadership to accept an interview with 1818 Golden Eye, supposedly to give the school some positive publicity.

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence?” Chen Jue grinned, his heart starting to beat with excitement.

Whether flirting with men or women, the hardest part was breaking the ice. With a shared experience and topic, the conversation flowed naturally. Both practiced darts and shared interests—such a perfect beginning. Whether fate would bring them closer depended on Chen Jue’s own efforts.

...

That night, Chen Jue felt sweet as honey.

By nature, he was an introverted admirer—always attracted to pretty girls, but lacking the courage to approach. If not for his newfound confidence, he would have agonized over every reply.

Early the next morning, he found several new messages on his phone.

One was from a reporter at 1818 Golden Eye, who had added him privately, hoping to understand the situation before the formal interview and arrange questions accordingly.

The second was from Zhu Hongbin, saying everything was set up and the interview could happen as soon as that morning.

Such efficiency stunned Chen Jue!

But on second thought, for someone like Zhu Hongbin, money wasn’t the issue—he wanted a good reputation. The International Dart Club had always been obscure in Hangzhou, but after this exposure, a wave of new members was inevitable.

For Zhu Hongbin, the club owner, this was a win-win.

As the saying goes, no one rises early without profit!

Chen Jue had underestimated the impact of the event.

He checked his phone and saw several trending topics related to the dog attack. Normally, dog lovers were vocal online, but now they were silent, and even the dog owner’s information had been exposed, making them the target of public outrage.

Such refreshing news brightened Chen Jue’s mood.

He went downstairs for his package and found it was the ancient mask he’d ordered online. Thinking it might come in handy for the interview, he took it and drove to the dart club.

...

Because the interview was scheduled for the day, the club staff had cleaned every corner thoroughly. The marble floor was so polished it reflected people’s images.

When Chen Jue arrived, he saw Zhu Hongbin directing staff to arrange details—making sure honor medals were prominently displayed, trophies neatly lined up, and plants moved to avoid blocking the view.

Seeing his nitpicky attitude, Chen Jue’s impression of the big boss dropped a few notches.

It was like when leaders visited during school days and teachers made students do deep cleaning after hours. The leaders got the honor, the school got the recognition, teachers received bonuses, and students were left with a verbal “Thank you for your hard work,” or a flag for the best class hung at the door.

In short, the boss spoke, and the staff broke their backs.

For the sake of appearances, Chen Jue didn’t point this out, but calmly greeted him.

Upon seeing Chen Jue, Zhu Hongbin greeted him warmly, calling him “Brother Chen Jue” and “Outstanding Member,” then led him to the club's reception room.

Inside were several people: a few TV station staff, and two robust young men in jackets with large logos—clearly the professional athletes and club coaches featured on the promotional board.

In the adjacent president’s office sat a sophisticated urban woman.

“Brother Chen Jue, let me introduce you.”

“This is Liu Li, President Liu of Golden Culture Media,” Zhu Hongbin said, inviting Chen Jue to the sofa.

He introduced the elegant woman, then explained further.

It turned out the Golden Eye program was backed by a major MCN company. With their coverage, it was highly likely to become viral, making someone the next internet celebrity.

Nowadays, what do influencers rely on? Naturally, live streaming and product sales, monetizing their traffic.

Ordinary people hoping to become famous couldn’t do so without the push from such MCNs.

Many celebrities had risen through Golden Eye in recent years—first gaining followers through trending news, then appearing on shows, finally moving on to livestream sales.

What began as a current affairs news program had become a star-making factory, thoroughly mastered by capital.

But when Chen Jue saw the interview contract pushed over by President Liu, and the subsequent streaming host training agreement, his brow furrowed and his face darkened, “President Zhu, this isn’t what we discussed on the phone.”

“Don’t misunderstand, Mr. Chen Jue! This is just an intent agreement—it’s standard in the industry. If you don’t want to sign, the interview won’t proceed.”

“After all, you weren’t the primary rescuer; you just benefited from the situation,” Liu Li said, crossing her legs on the sofa.

She found Chen Jue’s appearance ordinary, lacking the aura of a dart expert, and was rather dismissive. Now, seeing his displeasure, she didn’t bother to hide her disdain.

Zhu Hongbin tried to persuade him, “Brother! You have to seize the opportunity President Liu is offering!”

“These days, if an ordinary person wants to be famous, it’s seventy percent looks, thirty percent luck—hard work counts for nothing.”

“You’re riding a wave of luck now. With the news hype, you could easily become a million, even ten-million follower dart influencer.”

“Sign a professional contract with our club, and we’ll fund opportunities for you to compete abroad—bring home a gold medal and make the country proud.”

“Become a sports superstar. You might not be worth hundreds of millions, but earning millions would be easy!”

Zhu Hongbin laid it out bluntly, practically placing unimaginable riches before Chen Jue.

If he signed, he’d instantly become Hangzhou’s newest internet celebrity, living in luxury apartments, driving fancy cars, enjoying the good life.

Most people would sign their name without hesitation at such a chance.

But who was Chen Jue?

He was a financial risk control specialist. Faced with great benefits, he immediately spotted the risks.

Seeing the contracts with ten- or twenty-year terms, daily obligations to follow company orders, and prohibitions on independent gigs, commercial performances, or competitions, Chen Jue realized that these offered riches would likely never truly be his.

“Thank you, President Zhu, for your kindness!”

“I really can’t sign these contracts.”

“Sorry to waste your time; I have other matters to attend to, so I’ll be leaving now.”

He didn’t say much more, simply clasped his hands in a polite gesture, rose from the sofa, and prepared to leave.

Zhu Hongbin’s face darkened as he tried to persuade him, “Brother Chen Jue, won’t you reconsider?”

“Think carefully—once you leave, it’ll be much harder to become a professional athlete!”

Hearing the veiled threat in Zhu Hongbin’s words, Chen Jue paused and glanced back at him.

He found this attitude familiar—remembering a similar scene in the general manager’s office at Taisheng Financial, facing Zhou Yong.

“I guess I was too naive,” Chen Jue sighed inwardly.

He realized his previous thoughts had been too simple and immature.

What kind of status did Zhu Hongbin hold? How could such a big shot empathize with a nobody like him?

That night, Zhu Hongbin had stood up for him probably because he was drunk, spurred by alcohol and impressed by Chen Jue’s dart talent.

For people like him, there was little pretense or sentiment—just straightforward interests.

With this realization, Chen Jue’s good impression of Zhu Hongbin vanished completely.

He didn’t utter any tough lines like, “If you don’t want me here, someone else surely will,” but instead gave a subtle smile, pushed open the door, and left.

Leaving behind a grim-faced Zhu Hongbin, and Liu Li, who was busy touching up her makeup.

“President Zhu, since the main figure has left, let’s switch the interview to someone else. I think Coach Wang from our club would be a good fit…”