The Top Star Fell for Me at First Sight After I Transmigrated as a Dog-Like Streamer - Chapter 22

Chapter 22: A Masterclass in Failed Character Assassination

“Little Orange”? Who on earth was “Little Orange”?

Bai Xun racked his brain for a long time but couldn’t recall anyone by that name. Just then, a notification popped up indicating the video rendering was complete, so he promptly pushed the question to the back of his mind.

However, he didn’t expect the company to sink even lower than he had imagined. Shortly after he posted his video, Didi started his first livestream since the scandal broke.

Bai Xun switched to his burner account. The moment he entered the room, he saw Didi’s face, looking as if he were on the verge of tears. The title of the stream, [Restoring the Truth], was certainly eye-catching.

Bai Xun, along with the rest of the “melon-eating” netizens, waited for the drama to unfold. He didn’t expect the fire to be redirected toward him.

“Actually, this theme wasn’t originally meant for me to film. It was prepared for another streamer in the company,” Didi said, wiping away a tear and taking a deep, shaky breath.

“But that person recently got close to some… unmentionable connections. For certain reasons, they didn’t want to film it anymore. Since the company had already done the prep work, I was forced to step in.”

“I’m not saying this to act pitiful. I just want everyone to know I was thrown into this. I was only told to do a review, so I took over a theme completely different from my usual niche.”

The viewers weren’t idiots. They weren’t going to be fooled by a couple of vague sentences.

[Unmentionable? Did they hold a knife to your throat? I don’t believe a blogger of your size has zero choice.]

“In fact, that person’s ‘unmentionable’ background gave me—and the company—no choice. I admit we had some friction in the past, but that was due to his own personality issues back then. It’s been so many years…”

Didi’s words heavily implied that the “other person” was someone he had known for a long time and who had recently “come into money.”

[I remember that Xiao Bai guy was your university classmate, right?] [Wait, ‘unmentionable background’… are you talking about Yu Congyue?] [Hey, leave Xiao Bai out of this! Why is it that when something good happens, no one thinks of him, but when there’s mud to be flung, you’re all ready to splash him?] [Exactly! Stop with the insinuations. Leave Xiao Bai alone, he still needs to update his videos for us!] [But according to the streamer, it really could be Xiao Bai…] [Use your brains! If he was truly forced, didn’t he enjoy the traffic from the first two episodes and the livestreams? If this hadn’t backfired, would you even be doing this stream?]

Bai Xun recognized the ID of that last comment; it was the same blogger who was the first to “hammer” Didi.

[Address the traffic issue. Your last few posts had endorsements from Brand A—they’re an international brand. You collected quite a bit in fees, didn’t you?] [Why are you always trying to pin your mess on someone else? If it’s Xiao Bai, just say it. I don’t believe he has the power to silence everyone.]

…

Seeing that playing the victim wasn’t working, the brands Didi endorsed quickly released statements of disassociation. Not only did they pull his posters, but they also declared they would hold his team legally liable. In a fit of rage, Didi began cursing in the livestream, which led to the room being reported and banned instantly.

At the same time, a massive “water army” from the same IP started flooding the comments of the “hammer” videos with conspiracy theories about Bai Xun. Had this happened earlier, it might have worked. Now, it just looked like desperate flailing.

Ironically, this high-intensity comment blitz drove curious onlookers to Bai Xun’s teaser video. Instead of losing followers, he surpassed 500,000 and gathered even more evidence of the company’s contract violations.

“Ge, how did they even build this company? Watching them makes me feel like I could do it better,” Bai Xun muttered as he finished recording the evidence and sent it to his legal team. Yu Congyue shrugged, equally baffled.

…

With a solid chain of evidence and the help of Yu Congyue’s legal team, TaoMai’s lawyers finalized a plan within a week. Bai Xun had no desire to keep bickering; after his business collaboration was blocked for the fourth time, he officially sent a notice of contract termination.

The company head had never considered Bai Xun a priority; he only signed him to get a lead on Yu Congyue. After assigning him a random team, he had ignored him. When the manager began funneling Bai Xun’s business deals to top streamers, the team assumed Bai Xun didn’t care about the small fees. Between that and the manager’s interference, they grew increasingly negligent.

They were so busy dealing with Didi’s disaster that no one noticed Bai Xun’s email for five hours. It was only near closing time that an intern spotted it.

The team’s first reaction was relief, followed by the joy of an expected massive “breach of contract” fee. Didi’s penalties were looking to be in the seven-figure range; if Bai Xun quit early, the money they squeezed from him could plug the hole.

As they basked in their fantasies, the intern zoomed in on the two official seals at the bottom of the document.

“Um… Bai Xun’s termination agreement and materials… were sent jointly by TaoMai and Yu Congyue’s legal teams.”

“Who cares who he found? Our lawy—wait, who?” The manager, who had been planning a celebratory drink, signaled for silence.

“It was… TaoMai and Yu Congyue’s legal teams… a joint filing.”

Dead silence.

“When did he get in league with TaoMai? He was just there to film a video!” The manager scrolled through his phone, finding the group chat with Bai Xun. The last message was from the day Bai Xun was supposed to come in to discuss the new theme.

“I don’t know…” the business rep stammered. “He shouldn’t… why would he care about this little bit of money?”

The executive in charge of the department walked in, sensing the awkwardness immediately. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Bai Xun. He had some friction with Didi, another deal got pushed, and now he’s demanding to leave.” The manager omitted the part about stealing deals and making threats.

“Really? He has Yu Congyue behind him. Why would he blow up over one deal? He seems simple and unlikely to cause trouble,” the executive said, his image of Bai Xun still stuck on the “clumsy, inflexible beastman.”

“Simple? A ‘simple’ person manages to hop onto both Yu Congyue and TaoMai’s ships in such a short time?”

“Solve this immediately,” the executive barked. “I’ll handle the big boss. Just make sure you don’t offend those two companies. We have other streamers collaborating with them.”

The staff stayed up all night, arguing between “keeping him” and “letting him go.” The former meant shifting resources to Bai Xun, which would anger other artists and require cutting ties with Didi. The latter meant facing the entire ecosystem controlled by his two backers.

As they argued, a system notification popped up, silencing the room instantly.

[Platform Alert]: Due to a sub-account triggering content compliance risk management, certain functions of your company (including commercial collaborations and earnings withdrawals) have been restricted.

The Big Boss received the alert while on a business trip. He flew back to Lushi city overnight and went straight to the company. When he pushed open the conference room door, the chaos stopped. He looked at the mess on the table and the terrified, exhausted faces.

“So,” the Boss said, rubbing his brow and fingering a string of beads, his face unreadable. “This is the ‘insignificant minor artist’ you told me about?”

No one dared to answer.

“Are you all mute? I pay you to give me this look?” He slammed the lawyer’s letter onto the table. “funneling business deals to other artists… you approved the paperwork?” He looked at the manager.

“Boss, I can explain…” the manager stammered. “We’ve always done it this way. Top streamers have much higher commercial value. We didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think? I hired a hundred idiots and not one of you could think?”

“Boss, stay calm. There’s still a chance. Bai Xun is easy to manipulate. We just need to deal with Yu Congyue and TaoMai. We’re thinking of convincing him to stay…”

The Boss lost his patience. He hurled his cup at the manager’s feet, nearly screaming: “Shut up! Contact Bai Xun right now and request a peaceful termination. Give him whatever he wants. If this isn’t resolved, you’re all fired!”

“And you,” he pointed at the manager, “your bonus for the year is gone. Once this is fixed, you’re being demoted to the branch office. Now get out and solve it!”

The manager sat on the floor like a frightened quail, not daring to breathe. It was only after the Boss slammed the door that the people in the room felt the crushing weight of their regret.

Why on earth had they listened to the manager and offended Bai Xun?