Chapter Forty-Three: The Press Conference

The next day, Zhou Miao asked Zuo Qiu to help organize a press conference. Although he didn’t want to explain himself, recent events had caused trouble for many people besides him, so he felt it necessary to say a few words.

At two in the afternoon, more than a hundred reporters packed Rainbow’s conference room to overflowing. Some media outlets, eager to capture the first wave of traffic, started live broadcasts on the spot, streaming the press conference in real time.

The reporters didn’t have to wait long before Zhou Miao, accompanied by Zuo Qiu, appeared before them.

The moment he entered, the reporters surged forward with their cameras, eager to interview him. Zhou Miao, seeing their behavior, simply stood there, looking at them expressionlessly without saying a word.

After a brief standoff, the reporters realized they wouldn’t get anything this way and reluctantly returned to their seats.

Glancing at the notes in his hand, Zhou Miao began, “There won’t be an interview session today. I’ll speak, you’ll listen. No questions allowed. If anyone interrupts, I’ll have you removed.”

The reporters’ expressions soured at his words, but none dared to test Zhou Miao’s patience; they could only keep listening, albeit resentfully.

“Regarding some of the rumors circulating online recently, I will address them one by one here today. I won’t respond further after this.”

With a cold expression, Zhou Miao continued, “First, there are claims that I engaged in campus bullying and assaulted a classmate. I admit, I did hit someone once—a male classmate who tried to grope me. If there are any other such claims, please bring them forward and I’ll give him the beating he’s fantasizing about.”

“Second, someone claiming to be a former trainee at our company said I manipulated her, which led to her dismissal.”

Zhou Miao gave a wry smile. “Forgive me, my memory is a bit hazy. Were you the one who knocked on my door at midnight wrapped in a towel, asking to borrow a hairdryer, or the one who pretended to be drunk and entered the wrong room? Please come forward, and I’ll send you the surveillance footage.”

The comment ignited a frenzy online.

“There’s just too much going on.”

“I just want to know what happened next—after he opened the door.”

“There’s so much information—this press conference is more entertaining than a gossip show!”

“These women are crazy—Miao is still a kid… Let me handle this!”

...

“Third, about my romantic life.”

This was the main topic of the conference, and the reporters perked up, straining to catch every word, while netizens waited eagerly.

Taking a sip of water, Zhou Miao continued, “After the photos leaked yesterday, many asked if I’m in a relationship. Here’s my official answer: it hasn’t reached that stage yet. If one day we confirm our relationship, I’ll let you know. There's nothing to hide.”

“But after yesterday, many people claiming to be my fans went and hurled nasty insults at her.”

Zhou Miao’s eyes swept over the cameras. “To those people, I advise you to seek help if you’re unwell—especially those saying she ‘stole your husband’…”

He paused, feigning confusion. “You don’t actually think that being a fan of a celebrity gives you a shot at marrying him, do you? If so, there’s definitely something wrong with you.”

Zhou Miao’s words left countless netizens stunned. Until now, no celebrity had ever publicly called their own fans out as delusional.

Let alone insult them—these days, every star is busy cultivating an image of doting on their fans, running fan communities, offering little perks and sweet words at every opportunity.

But Zhou Miao? His romance sparked fan outrage, yet instead of calming them, he doubled down and slapped his fans in the face.

Zhou Miao’s fans watching the livestream were dumbstruck. They had thought he was holding the press conference to clear up rumors about his love life, but he came out swinging instead.

Zhou Miao was well aware of the potential impact—how many fans he might lose by saying these things—but he didn’t care. His purpose today was to make his stance clear.

“Please focus more on my work, not on me as a person.”

“If you like me just because of my looks, I suggest you find another artist to support, because I will date—maybe in university, maybe more than once, maybe two or three times, or even more.”

“I hope my fans support me for my work, not just for my so-called good looks. Frankly, that kind of admiration is far too shallow.”

...

With the last issue addressed, Zhou Miao crumpled his notes into a ball. “That’s all for today’s press conference. Thank you all for coming.”

With that, he left the venue without looking back, escorted by security, leaving a crowd of excited reporters shouting after his departing figure.

In Zuo Qiu’s office, Zhou Miao gulped down water while Zuo Qiu watched him with a complicated expression. This guy’s personality was as astonishing as his talent, but being so blunt was risky in the entertainment industry—too much rigidity could easily make him a target.

“Aren’t you worried that your remarks just now will make fans leave in droves?”

Zhou Miao shrugged indifferently. “If they leave over something like this, I’d actually be happy. My songs are for those who understand me; I don’t care about the rest.”

Zuo Qiu laughed. “Aren’t you something. For now, try not to go out. If you have to attend class, bring a bodyguard. I’ll handle the mess online. Things are chaotic now, but it’ll blow over soon enough.”

Zhou Miao nodded. “This whole thing was stirred up by Hu Xiaoqian. He tried to poach me, I refused, so now he wants to ruin me.”

Zuo Qiu patted Zhou Miao’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my people aren’t so easy to push around. Download Weibo and get ready for some drama.”

Zhou Miao raised an eyebrow—seemed like Zuo Qiu had something up his sleeve.

The video of Zhou Miao’s press conference was quickly uploaded online, and netizens flocked to discuss it with festival-like excitement. In Zhou Miao’s super-topic thread, people declared they’d been insulted by their idol and were leaving the fandom, while the comment section was full of sarcastic replies.

“So you’re one of those shallow fans Zhou Miao mentioned? Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Need me to recommend some good-looking idols who also spoil their fans? Maybe you’ll even get a shot at marriage—who knows~”

...

Although Zhou Miao lost some fans who only cared about his looks, his bold and straightforward attitude won him a wave of support from the general public.

In today’s entertainment industry, every celebrity is busy crafting a persona, putting on a façade—each more polished and formulaic than the last. It had been a long time since anyone had seen someone as unapologetically individualistic, even reckless, as Zhou Miao.

People are always more forgiving of those bursting with talent. Even though Zhou Miao’s response was excessive and dripping with sarcasm, most felt it was just youthful bravado and didn’t judge him too harshly.

Only Hu San, after watching the video, messaged him: “So you want to date a bunch of times?”

Zhou Miao was speechless—was this guy a monkey? Why did he always focus on the weirdest details?