Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Consequences Are Dire

Su Tong logged off, and with no way to reach him, everyone was furious. They all flocked to his microblog, unleashing a torrent of attacks, curses, and insults.

“You heartless monster! You killed my Biyou. Don’t let me see you around—I’ll make you pay!”

“Murderer! I’m calling the police. Is there no justice left?”

“You evil wretch, may your whole family burn in the crematorium!”

“Bastard, I curse you to get in a car accident tomorrow!”

“Damn you! You killed an innocent person—do you have any conscience at all?”

“Murderer, rapist, you should be executed and fed to dogs.”

And so on.

His microblog descended into chaos. Several administrators called him, complaining about the mess and warning him that something serious had happened.

The comment section on Su Tong’s latest post exploded, reaching nearly ten thousand comments in just a few minutes. Among them, only a few tried to reason and calm things down, but those voices were quickly drowned out. The page was flooded with venom and vitriol.

Su Tong’s heart raced as he read. Some threatened to track him down and kill him. The barrage of threats sent cold sweat trickling down his back.

In the world of Xiao Ding, when he first wrote "The Immortal Executioner," the internet was just beginning; few people were online. By the time readers saw his book, years had passed—how could anyone react so violently?

But this world was different; even elementary school kids had smartphones, and the internet was the perfect place to vent emotions. Su Tong expected some backlash, but he hadn’t anticipated anything so overwhelming, so terrifying.

Sweating, he realized he had killed Biyou in front of millions during his live broadcast. The resentment was immense.

Nian Nujiao also had a fan group for her show; together, they numbered tens of thousands, all messaging him through the group or directly.

Su Tong noticed his computer slowing down, almost freezing under the flood of messages. After much effort, he finally managed to open the settings page, hoping to block group chats. But before he could finish, the page crashed—the computer shut down completely.

He had no choice but to reboot.

After restarting, he logged into QQ. The notification sound kept pinging nonstop, and soon the system froze again—even the mouse wouldn’t move.

Just as he was feeling helpless, the door to the live studio was violently flung open.

He turned his head, and Su Tong couldn’t help but tremble as he stood up.

There, in the doorway, stood Yang Feifei in a pale green dress, her eyes red, blazing with fury.

“Feifei…” Su Tong sensed trouble and regretted not leaving immediately after the broadcast. Instead, he had foolishly waited at home for her return—he was asking for this.

“Su Tong, you bastard! Go to hell!” Yang Feifei had clearly been crying. Seeing him, she looked as though she’d seen her worst enemy, and hurled her phone at him.

Su Tong jumped in fright. He knew Feifei was stubborn and childish, but hadn't expected her to be so fierce—she rivaled even Li Wen, who came from a gang family.

Feifei’s aim was true, targeting Su Tong’s head. Luckily, he was quick enough to catch it in his flustered state.

But she wasn't done. She tossed her bag at him next.

Su Tong had no time to dodge, nor did he want to. He took the blow squarely.

With nothing left to throw, Feifei still wasn't satisfied. She lunged at him, pounding her fists against his chest.

“Why? Why did you do this to me? Why did you let my Biyou die? Sob…” Feifei cried as she beat him.

Su Tong, miserable, shielded his lower half and let her thrash him, his eyes pleading for help from Sister Yaya at the door.

Sister Yaya pretended not to see. In truth, she’d been listening to Su Tong’s stories, even catching up with Feifei on the way home via phone. When she heard that Biyou had died by the Immortal Executioner’s blade, she too felt disappointed in Su Tong.

Not only Feifei—even Yaya herself, for a moment, wanted to hit him.

She thought as Feifei did, believing Biyou was modeled after Feifei. Such a wonderful girl—how could she be written off? Especially since the real-life inspiration was right beside him.

“Leave, go! You’re not allowed in my house,” Feifei shouted, shoving Su Tong out of the studio.

Su Tong hung his head, awkwardly expelled from the room.

Outside, he saw a girl with slightly disheveled hair standing prettily in the living room, her big eyes filled with curiosity.

With a loud slam, the door shut and Su Tong was left standing outside.

“My phone, my wallet…” He stood there in a daze for a while before realizing he hadn’t brought anything with him.

It was late—the campus gates were long locked, and without a phone or money, he couldn’t go home.

Su Tong stood there helplessly, feeling wronged. Xiao Ding, you’ve ruined me.

With nowhere else to go, he sat down at the door.

Soon, the door opened again.

Su Tong quickly stood up and saw Sister Yaya emerge, still dressed as she had been when she left earlier: a professional outfit, white blouse, black skirt.

“Wait here. Feifei’s still furious, so I’ll stay with you for a while,” Sister Yaya said, relieved that Su Tong hadn’t wandered off. She’d only just realized he’d left his phone behind.

“I’m fine,” Su Tong replied with a laugh, taking the phone she handed him.

“Let’s wait by the elevator,” Yaya suggested, and the two moved away from the door to stand by the window near the elevator.

“Is Feifei really that angry?” Su Tong asked cautiously.

Yaya smiled. “Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it. She’s been acting since she was young, and gets deeply into her roles. Sometimes, after finishing a drama, it takes her a long time to snap out of it. It’s both her strength and her weakness… I never expected you’d have Biyou sacrifice herself—even I found it hard to watch.”

Su Tong was surprised to learn that Yaya watched his broadcasts.

“Your microblog must be in chaos. I even snuck in to scold you myself,” Yaya said, winking mischievously, looking so playful that Su Tong was momentarily entranced.

Usually icy and elegant in public, Yaya revealed a gentle, playful side only to those close to her.

“Log in with your phone, check your microblog now,” she said, ignoring Su Tong’s infatuated stare.

Su Tong snapped back to reality, his face burning, as he fumbled to open the microblog app.

He had tens of thousands of followers, and his latest post had amassed nearly a hundred thousand comments.

But Su Tong didn’t care about the numbers. He opened the comments and asked, “Yaya, what’s your microblog nickname?”

Yaya only smiled, saying nothing.

Su Tong sighed—it seemed Yaya had no intention of telling him.

“The City That Never Sleeps. Even this late, there are so many cars and people,” Yaya mused, gazing out the window, overlooking the city. The night breeze played with her hair, and her soft smile and bright eyes made Su Tong glance, then quickly look away.

He hadn’t known such a breathtaking profile could exist in this world.

Suddenly—

“Yaya,”

A doll-like voice called out. The girl Su Tong had seen earlier in the living room appeared at the corridor corner. “Feifei just went in to shower. You can come back in now.”