Ch 7: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Mu Xing quickly learned the whole story.

Xiaoxi Village was nestled against the mountains, and every household had mountain land. In the past, before the village became so desolate, everyone had made a living by growing fruit trees.

Fruit farmers worked hard all year long, relying on the harvest season to earn money.

But in recent years, it had become increasingly difficult. Xiaoxi Village was remote, with no sales channels. Fruits like persimmons grew in every household here, and they couldn’t fetch a good price even in the town or the county.

Boss Xu had been an old customer of Xiaoxi Village, buying nearly half of the village’s annual production each year. The rest would be carried to town or the county when ripe, selling whatever could be sold. The remainder would be dried and made into persimmon cakes to sell later.

Even so, a whole mountain of fruit trees could barely make any money in a year.

On top of that, the work was exhausting—fertilizing, pest control, worrying about diseases… all toil, no profit. So most of the younger generation had left to work elsewhere.

Uncle Fang said, “If Boss Xu doesn’t want our persimmons, they’ll just rot on the trees.”

He sighed. “Even if we sell them for cheaper, it’s still better than selling nothing and not getting back a cent.”

It was already September, and Mu Xing had seen that the persimmon trees in the back mountain were heavy with fruit.

He fell silent. He knew the village’s situation well. Uncle Fang’s family was doing relatively okay, but families like Old Zhang’s and Xiao Bin’s really counted on this money.

He suggested, “If we can’t find a buyer, why not try selling online? I’ve seen lots of farmers selling on Taobao.”

Uncle Fang sighed. “You think we haven’t thought of that? Two years ago, your cousin Zhilan even opened an online shop, but nothing sold.”

For a completely unknown shop with no customer base, there was almost no exposure—unless they joined platform events or paid for advertising spots.

But who in Xiaoxi Village had thousands, let alone tens of thousands, of yuan to spend on that?

It was simply impossible.

Mu Xing was speechless. He’d eaten the village’s persimmons countless times—they were big, sweet, and had excellent flavor. He’d thought that something so delicious would sell itself, but he hadn’t considered that no matter how good it was, customers wouldn’t buy it if they didn’t know about it.

But Uncle Fang’s words gave him an idea.

No exposure, no traffic—that was the village’s biggest problem.

But Mu Xing wasn’t afraid.

He had traffic. Even though most of it came from haters, hate-fame was still fame.

He hurriedly said goodbye to Uncle Fang, went home, and began searching for information.

He knew perfectly well how hot livestream selling was these days—so much so that even many celebrities were now making guest appearances in major livestream rooms to make money.

If only I’d kept my Weibo account, Mu Xing thought. If I’d known, I could’ve just quit the industry without deleting it.

Then he wouldn’t have to worry about drawing traffic.

If he’d had more time, he could have slowly figured out ways to draw an audience. But it was already September—at most a month before the persimmons would fully ripen.

He didn’t have time to build things up gradually.

After browsing several livestream platforms, Mu Xing chose a reputable one called Yunduo Video and directly contacted their partnership account.

The name “Mu Xing” still carried some weight.

Sure enough, they replied quickly.

Livestream platforms were always eager to have celebrities join. Ordinary people relied on the platform’s traffic to gain exposure, but celebrities could bring traffic to the platform.

And Mu Xing’s high-profile retirement from the industry had been all over the news six months ago—since then, he had completely vanished from the internet. If his first reappearance after quitting was on their platform, it would be a huge draw.

After confirming his identity, Yunduo Video quickly sent him a collaboration invite.

Mu Xing didn’t accept their contract offer, but he said he would join the platform and livestream and post videos there.

His only requirement was that Yunduo Video promote him and give him a certain level of exposure.

They would have done that anyway, even without him asking.

Once they settled the details, Mu Xing registered his Yunduo Video account and sent them his ID.

YunduoVideo: Alright, I’ll give you official verification right away.

Less than a minute later, a verified badge appeared next to his account.

YunduoVideo: Your verification is done. Let us know when you want to do your first livestream, and we’ll arrange promotions accordingly.

Mu Xing thought for a moment and replied: Three days from now, in the morning.

His equipment from an online order hadn’t arrived yet.

Once that was set, Mu Xing spent the next few days waiting for his gear and lurking in various livestream rooms to study how others sold products.

Yunduo Video did its part, too—one day before his debut, they put him on the app’s main banner:

#MuXingishere! Tomorrow morning at 9, join famous idol Mu Xing on Yunduo Video!

Netizens: ???

These days, celebrities joining video platforms wasn’t unusual, but the name “Mu Xing” was… different.

In fan circles, he was unpopular.

Among general video platform users, celebrities in general weren’t liked, and pretty-boy idols with “only a face and no talent” like Mu Xing were even more disliked.

His livestream room wasn’t even open yet, but the comment section under Yunduo Video’s official post was already flooded:

[Mu Xing? Didn’t he say he was quitting the industry? Why’s he doing livestreams now?]

[Lol, I knew it—no way he actually quit. He must’ve been blacklisted by the company before, and now that the heat has died down, he’s crawling back to make money.]

[Ahhh, Little Xingxing! I’ve waited half a year for you, finally there’s news!]

[How low can you go? A proper idol has now fallen to being a streamer. Everyone else is moving up in the world, but you’re going backwards. As expected, a useless person is still useless.]

[Wow, I’m really impressed with Yunduo Video—always dragging in celebrities. What can they even do? You’d be better off signing competent streamers.]

[Mu Xing livestreaming? What’s he going to do—sing and dance? And his singing and dancing is even worth watching?]

[He can sell his face. Isn’t that what these traffic-chasers all do? Like that so-and-so, the fans eat that right up.]

[Some loser guys can keep being bitter, my idol’s face is beautiful and he’s talented. You could be jealous for a lifetime and still not measure up to one strand of his hair.]

…

Seeing the insults under their post, the Yunduo Video staff, who’d been a little worried at first, suddenly felt reassured.

A lot of cursing was fine—what was scary was if nobody even bothered to curse. That would mean real obscurity.

---

At Star Entertainment, when Li Xin got a message from Chang Yiming, he confirmed, “You’re saying Mu Xing is going on Yunduo Video to livestream?”

Chang Yiming: “Yeah, they even gave him a launch-screen promo.”

Li Xin downloaded Yunduo Video, and when he saw the brightly smiling face on the splash screen, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt—pain that seemed to shoot through his whole body.

That beating he got from Mu Xing during their farewell was vicious enough to leave an eternal impression.

Over the past half-year, he’d been keeping an eye on industry gossip, but Mu Xing really had vanished completely, not a trace of news.

He asked, “So it’s just livestreaming? No other rumors?”

Chang Yiming knew exactly what he meant and nodded. “Nope, no word about him linking up with any company.”

Li Xin grunted, “Got it.”

Hanging up, he felt a mix of satisfaction at seeing Mu Xing “fall” to livestreaming, and lingering frustration. He then dialed another number.

---

The next morning at 9 a.m.

Mu Xing turned on his equipment and opened his livestream room right on time.

The moment it went live, viewer numbers skyrocketed. The comment section in the lower left scrolled so fast it was a blur, with countless messages flashing by:

[Mu Xing, get out of the entertainment industry!]

[Don’t come here and hurt my eyes!]

[Welcome everyone to watch China’s #1 talentless idol, Mu Xing, livestream!]

In perfect unison, hundreds of mocking, jeering comments flooded in within the first minute.

It was so over-the-top that even netizens who’d been drawn in by the launch-screen just to mock him were momentarily stunned.

They’d seen plenty of celebrity debut livestreams—usually the chat would be dominated by fans spamming praise and slogans, fake as anything, and unbearable for real passersby to watch.

This was the first time they’d seen a celebrity’s stream overrun by haters.

Thinking about it, it was actually kind of pitiful. And honestly, the haters were harsher than they could ever be—it almost made them embarrassed to pile on.

So instead of leaving, they decided to stick around and see what happened next.

---

Everyone assumed Mu Xing’s stream would be like any other celeb’s: sit in a chair with a beauty filter, chat with the audience, sing a couple songs, and slip in some ads.

But this stream?

The setting was clearly outdoors, with a jujube tree in the background. The video quality was sharp enough to see the branches heavy with fruit.

And the host?

As they were still wondering, a figure walked into frame.

White T-shirt, jeans, sneakers—simple as could be.

But the instant viewers saw him, their minds were filled with one thought:

Holy crap… who’s this hot guy?

Even the relentless stream of insults hit an odd pause.

Mu Xing smiled at the camera. “Hi everyone, I’m Mu Xing. Starting today, I’m officially on Yunduo Live. I’ll be streaming from time to time, so I hope you’ll support me.”

[??? Who’s this handsome guy? That’s Mu Xing?]

[I heard he used to be really popular but had no skills—people said the only thing he had going for him was his face. Honestly, that’s not wrong. With a face like that, who needs skills?]

[If I had that face, I could walk sideways through life.]

[Handsome. Seriously handsome. I usually look down on these traffic idols, but as a straight guy, I have to admit this Mu Xing looks good.]

[Yeah right, like you could get that without a million-dollar filter. We all know what Mu Xing really looks like. This is way too much P.]

[Drop the filter, let’s see reality!]

[Exactly. Can someone tell him to turn off the beauty filter before going live?]

[Half a year gone, and my idol’s gotten even better-looking!]

…

Mu Xing glanced at the chat and saw it was all about his looks.

He couldn’t help saying, “Let’s not talk about my appearance—something that has nothing to do with today’s stream. Come on, let me show you my hometown, the beautiful Xiaoxi Village.”

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