Chapter Ninety-Nine: The Black Mutt

On the other end of the line, Zhang Han’s expression grew serious. “It’s not about singing, Xiao Zhou—you’ve caught the attention of the black paparazzi.”

Zhou Miao’s smile faded slightly. “Black paparazzi?”

He’d heard of paparazzi before, but what kind of breed was this “black” variety?

“These guys aren’t employed by any media outlet. They have close ties with major online influencers and specialize in digging up and tracking celebrities’ private scandals and dirt. They use it to extort and threaten you: if you don’t pay, they’ll sell the information to influencers for public exposure.”

Zhang Han’s description immediately brought to Zhou Miao’s mind that notorious “top paparazzo” from his previous life—many celebrities had fallen into his hands. Rumor had it that only a small portion of his material was ever exposed; the rest paid the so-called “crisis management fee” to keep their secrets buried.

These people could no longer be called paparazzi. They were wolves—hungry, greedy predators. For any celebrity, being targeted by them was nothing short of a nightmare.

Zhou Miao frowned. “Han, how did you find out I’m being targeted by the black paparazzi?”

Zhang Han replied, “Someone from our station is being targeted too. I can’t tell you exactly who, but when the black paparazzo was blackmailing him, he let something slip.”

“He said he had a lot of dirt on the biggest names in the industry and listed several names—yours included. After our artist came back, he borrowed money from me and told me everything. That’s why I’m warning you, so you can be prepared.”

Zhou Miao didn’t doubt Zhang Han’s sincerity. The fact that he’d come to warn him at all was already a great favor. “All right, I understand. Thank you, Han.”

Zhang Han sighed, hesitating as if he wanted to say more. He didn’t know what kind of dirt the paparazzi might have on Zhou Miao, but he sincerely hoped that such a talented singer wouldn’t have his career destroyed by them.

“Xiao Zhou, take my advice—don’t be stingy with the money. As shady as they are, these people keep their word. Once they take the money, they’ll never come after you again.”

Zhou Miao chuckled. “Don’t worry, Han. I probably know what kind of material they’ve got. It’s nothing serious. But thank you for letting me know.”

Hearing Zhou Miao’s confident tone, Zhang Han said no more, though he couldn’t help but speculate—was the kid caught up with a fan?

He could hardly be blamed for thinking so. These “fan incidents” were extremely common in the current entertainment scene, especially among young stars like Zhou Miao, who were in the prime of their youth, surrounded by beautiful, eager female fans. What man could resist such temptation?

Zhou Miao ended the call and, after a moment’s thought, dialed Hu San, who had just returned to Beijing. “The paparazzi caught our relationship on camera. For now, just stay in the dorm and don’t come over.”

Hu San, who was eating in the cafeteria, dropped her spoon straight into her tray, her face suddenly anxious. Her friend next to her asked with concern, “What’s wrong?”

Covering the phone, Hu San replied, “It’s nothing, just something at home. I’m going outside to take a call.” She found a quiet corner before continuing, “So what now? Should we have your company clarify things, say we’re just friends?”

Zhou Miao was amused by her naivety. “You really don’t want anyone to know you’re my girlfriend, do you?”

“No!” Hu San was nearly in tears—how could he still be joking at a time like this?

“Of course I want the whole world to know you’re mine! But you’re on the rise now, and if your relationship is revealed too soon, it could affect you a lot…”

Zhou Miao listened to her ramble with a gentle smile, his fingers unconsciously picking at the wallpaper until he left a small hole in it. The landlord would certainly be heartbroken to see that.

After she’d talked for a while, Hu San glanced at her phone in puzzlement. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Zhou Miao laughed. “I just enjoy listening to you analyze everything so thoroughly.”

“Seriously, enough jokes. What are you actually planning to do?” Hu San pressed.

“It’s nothing to fuss over. If we’re exposed, we’ll just admit it. That way, we don’t have to hide anymore,” Zhou Miao replied.

Hearing this, warmth spread through Hu San’s heart. Zhou Miao’s attitude gave her a deep sense of security, and she replied softly, “Really?”

“Really! Get ready to become the rival of nine hundred million girls,” Zhou Miao teased.

“Please! There aren’t even nine hundred million women in the whole country!”

“Well, there are still women abroad, aren’t there?”

…

They chatted for over half an hour before reluctantly saying goodbye.

A week after Zhao Li’s “Chaser of Light” was released, Li Qin’s debut solo album, “One of a Kind,” dropped across all platforms.

It was the first direct clash between the two former “Sisters of Summer’s Foam” since they’d gone their separate ways. Even though neither company tried to hype up the rivalry, netizens still fueled the fire with great enthusiasm.

But with the brilliance of “Chaser of Light” preceding it, Li Qin’s “One of a Kind” failed to garner universal praise upon release.

Not that the songs were bad—the title track, “One of a Kind,” had a strong rhythm and catchy melody and immediately went viral on short video platforms. The problem was that its style was too similar to other singers under the Wave label, essentially the same framework with new lyrics and melody. It hardly deserved its title and was, in essence, a forgettable pop tune.

Many netizens thought Li Qin’s move to Wave was a mistake—it cost her money, ruined her reputation, and lost her unique style.

Meanwhile, Rainbow never uttered a harsh word about her, even sending their best wishes. They focused on their own business, developing rapidly—especially after Zhou Miao’s overwhelming victory over Lin Zekai on “Summit Showdown,” which the industry saw as a sign of Rainbow’s rise.

A breakup isn’t scary. What’s embarrassing is who fares worse afterward.

In the general manager’s office at Rainbow, Zuo Qiu swirled a glass of red wine and said to Zhou Miao, “At first, I really couldn’t understand why Li Qin chose to leave. Until I remembered something later.”

“What was it?” Zhou Miao asked curiously.

Zuo Qiu took a delicate sip from her glass. “Actually, my original plan was to have Zhao Li debut as a solo artist. I felt there was something special about her voice—something deeply moving.”

“But one night, she came to me and begged to debut as a duo with Li Qin. I didn’t agree at first, but she kept pleading, so I listened to their duet. Their voices really did complement each other, and since Rainbow was short on talent anyway, I agreed.”

“Maybe, deep down, Li Qin always felt she only debuted because of Zhao Li’s request. That’s why she worked so hard—to prove herself.”

“What truly made Li Qin decide to jump ship, apart from Lin Zekai’s influence, was the recognition and importance Wave showed her.”

Zuo Qiu sighed and shook her head. “Enough about the past. What brings you here today?”

“I’ve got some bad news for you.”