Chapter 2: Your System Has Arrived

“System?”
“The system is here?!”

Lin Yi—now known as Cheng Cheng—could hardly contain his delight.

The predicament of his predecessor wasn’t impossible to turn around, just a bit tricky. At the moment, he not only had lost his livelihood but was also facing a hefty compensation claim. His reputation had collapsed, making it unlikely he could remain in the entertainment industry. He’d have to rely on his talents from his previous life: perhaps join a gaming company, recreate the games he’d made before, or analyze the differences between this timeline and his former one. With the disparity between the two worlds, there ought to be a way to make money.

Yet just as he was pondering solutions, the system arrived!

With the system, Goose City would be peaceful!
With the system, justice would shine!

A virtual panel appeared before Cheng Cheng’s eyes.

[Beautiful Mental State System
Description: Whenever the host performs behavior that is considered abnormal and prompts others to exclaim “Are you insane?”, “Are you sick?”, “Nuts!”, or other expressions questioning your mental state, you gain points. Each such remark earns one point. For every one thousand points, you can draw a prize.
PS: Severe warning: The host is forbidden from using inducive language, including but not limited to claiming to be mentally ill, posting diagnostic certificates, or any overt or borderline behavior. All remarks must be genuinely uttered by others; otherwise, the system will initiate self-destruction.
Prize draw description: Prizes include but are not limited to movies, TV dramas, poetry, novels, songs, singing experience books, acting experience books, dancing experience books, swordsmanship manuals, boxing manuals, the skill of never getting drunk, beauty pills, energy pills, and more.]

Cheng Cheng asked, “System, how many points do I have now?”

Another panel appeared before him.

[Host: Cheng Cheng.
Points: 0
Age: 21
Height: 180cm
Weight: 69kg
Appearance: 88 points.
Singing: 62 points.
Acting: 45 points.

Dance: 72 points.
Skills: None
Inventory: None]

Cheng Cheng’s face twitched, at a loss for words.

This status panel was truly pitiful!

Singing 62, acting 45, dancing 72—what sort of scores were these? Among ordinary people they might not even be considered high, yet this was supposed to be a top-tier idol?

“Brother, what have you been busy with all these years? With these scores you managed to release an album, star in two movies and a drama, and even served as a mentor on a dance show? Fans in this parallel world must be starving—they’ll accept anything!”

“As for the 88-point appearance—”

Cheng Cheng switched on the vanity lights and examined himself carefully in the mirror, admitting he was indeed handsome, but not exceedingly so.

The original Cheng Cheng was the type of refined, atmospheric beauty whose looks depended on styling and makeup. His features were smooth and skin delicate, no obvious flaws, but he couldn’t compare to those epoch-defining heartthrobs.

In his past life, actors like John Lone, Daniel Wu, and Takeshi Kaneshiro were truly handsome! No filters or makeup needed, their charm was unmatched. Most importantly, their aura was extraordinary; to call them peerless was no exaggeration.

No matter, Cheng Cheng noticed the prize list included beauty pills; he could improve his appearance later when he got them.

But the pressing question now was: how should he make use of this system?

Cheng Cheng analyzed: at its core, this was an entertainment system. Acting wild wasn’t the goal. The point was to earn entertainment works from his previous life and build a new empire. If he simply ran around biting people for points, he’d end up in a psychiatric hospital and the system would be useless.

So, simply put—

Sustainable madness!

“System?” Cheng Cheng called out, “I’ve seen other systems grant newbie packages or starting points. Do we have that?”

[Sorry, this system does not offer that service.]

“No newbie package or starting points? How stingy. Well, never mind. Everything depends on oneself. If there’s nothing, so be it!”

Cheng Cheng narrowed his eyes, pondering how to leverage the system, when a sudden idea struck him:

Everyone online was waiting for his response, waiting for his next move.

Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity?

He would respond, then!

—

Online.

“#Chase the Wind, Youth# The post-production editing is incredible… Even after losing a member, everything remains seamless and bug-free, with a clear storyline! But because of Cheng Cheng, Shi Shi and Jiang Nan barely have any screen time! Kneeling to the director!”

“The editing is really impressive—so meticulous and clean. Without official spoilers, you’d never guess there were supposed to be eleven cast members. It’s so natural!”

“Haha, so powerful! This just proves that losing Cheng Cheng didn’t affect the show at all.”

“Honestly, I was terrified. Earlier, his fans claimed, ‘The channel would rather not broadcast than cut or blur out Cheng’s scenes.’ But look now? The delay wasn’t because they couldn’t bear to remove him—it was perfectionism. Instead of using mosaics, they edited him out entirely, which was a massive workload. Now Cheng’s fans are losing it!”

Cheng Cheng’s fans really were falling apart! Now, only the most extreme die-hards remained.

They probably realized Cheng Cheng was all but finished, yet refused to accept it!

They flooded social media, tagging Cheng Cheng and his studio.

“Please, if you weren’t unfaithful, respond quickly, alright?”

“These twenty days have been so hard. At first, I was shocked and didn’t believe it, but you never responded while trending every day. Gradually, I doubted things were as wild as rumored, but something happened. Watching everything ferment daily, reading comments from strangers and netizens, it’s exhausting and helpless. Every morning, the first thing I do is check social media, waiting for your reply. Sometimes I really don’t want to be a fan anymore! But after four years of loving someone so wonderful, how can I let go? So I keep waiting for your response. Please, can you give us an explanation?”

“I hate idols who don’t respond and leave fans exposed to ridicule. Loving you isn’t easy—we endure so much mockery from strangers and haters, how can you treat us like this?”

And the bystanders mocked:

“He’ll respond? Does he dare? The evidence is rock solid! There are even photos of him asleep—how can he explain?”

“If he doesn’t respond, only the fans suffer, only their reputations are ruined. But if he does, he’ll suffer himself. He has no idea how much evidence his ex has—refuting one accusation might bring ten more. Shoving fans forward, how is that responsible?”

“How does Cheng Cheng have the nerve? Planning to wait out the scandal and brush it off? He’s ruining the entertainment industry’s reputation!”

Even major influencers weighed in, criticizing Cheng Cheng for “playing dead,” for “silent idols,” demanding he step up and face the music.

At this moment—or rather, ever since the scandal began—fans, haters, bystanders, rivals, influencers, and marketing accounts had all been waiting for Cheng Cheng’s response.

And Cheng Cheng did respond. At six in the evening, amid the anticipation of the masses, he posted a message from his account:

“One like, I’ll abstain from handiwork for a day.”

All across the internet: Huh?