When Spring Burns - Chapter 48

Sheng Tingmian hadn’t been orphaned from birth. When she was six or seven years old, her parents died in a car accident. At that time, the wave of layoffs had just passed, and with the loss of secure jobs and the need to raise a child, no one wanted to take on the burden of a dependent.

Back then, Sheng Xiaoyun had passed the teacher qualification examination, a job envied by everyone in the surrounding villages. But Sheng Xiaoyun, young and spirited, found teaching dull and monotonous after just over a year. She turned to opera instead and, with her natural talent, quickly gained a considerable reputation.

It wasn’t until news of her sister’s death reached her that she hurried back from another city to attend the funeral. Upon her return, she was faced with her sister’s orphaned child. Her family advised her not to take on this “hot potato,” warning that it would make it difficult for her to marry in the future.

Sheng Xiaoyun was also conflicted. Her work involved performing in villages and towns, traveling up and down the countryside, how could she bring a young child along? But a timid cry of “Auntie” made it impossible for her to harden her heart.

After the funeral, Sheng Xiaoyun took her niece with her, changing the child’s surname to her own and keeping her by her side. Initially, matchmakers had been persistent in trying to set her up, but once they saw she had a dependent in tow, they stopped coming around.

Fortunately, Sheng Tingmian was shy and quiet, never crying or causing trouble. When Sheng Xiaoyun took her along for performances in the countryside, she would sit quietly nearby.

While Sheng Xiaoyun applied her makeup, Sheng Tingmian would cling to the edge of the table, wide-eyed, watching her rouge her cheeks, outline her lips, attach the traditional opera headdress, and adorn it with flowers.

When it was time to change into costume, she would watch as a group of people helped Sheng Xiaoyun into her female warrior attire, fastening the armor and inserting the flags. And when Sheng Xiaoyun took the stage to perform, Sheng Tingmian would hide behind the curtains, watching her sing and wield the spear.

Everyone remarked how easy this child was to care for, she never clamored to go out and play, never demanded this or that, and never caused trouble for others. As a result, people were happy to look after her when Sheng Xiaoyun was busy.

Later, when it was time for Sheng Tingmian to start school, Sheng Xiaoyun reduced the number of out-of-town performances and joined a local theater, performing in a fixed location to make it easier to pick her up from school.

The troupe members watched as this talented and versatile actress gradually took on a maternal glow, a transformation that left them deeply moved.

Throughout all the years Sheng Tingmian spent by her aunt’s side, no one ever asked her whether her aunt was better than her parents or whether she preferred her aunt over her mom and dad. Such questions never came up, not even from her aunt herself.

Now, her sister was asking whether she wanted the prince or her sister. For a moment, Sheng Tingmian was stunned, but then she found the question incredibly simple. “Of course I want my sister. The prince belongs to Cinderella, but I belong to you.”

He Jianxue curled her lips, fairly satisfied with the answer.

…

As soon as the Top Ten Programs aired, the female lead of the Liqing Opera Troupe once again became a hot topic.

The assistant compiled the footage and posted a vlog.

Fans flooded the comments with praise.

【Sweetie, they all underestimated you, but you’re the one who proved them wrong!】

【The Top Ten Programs at the Shengdian Awards! This trophy is awarded by CCTV itself, the prestige is immense.】

【Mianmian is so adorable in the vlog. Such a beauty, why cover your chest? Don’t be shy, let us see!】

【There will definitely be more trophies to come. I have high hopes for you!】

Just as fans were celebrating, a wave of accusations surged like a tide, claiming that Sheng Tingmian’s award was a result of capital manipulation, that she had used connections to push aside opportunities for ordinary people.

“Kunqu Opera Huadan Backed by Capital,” “Buying Awards,” “Capital’s Watered-Down Goods,” “Privileged Celebrity”, these topics flooded the hot searches like a burst dam, accompanied by a deluge of malicious posts.

“A maid feeling sorry for her mistress? Don’t come crying when opportunities are snatched away by capital.”

“No wonder other talented Kunqu Opera Huadan performers weren’t selected, they don’t have capital backing them.”

“Didn’t she get that performance slot for the Yan City TV Dragon Boat Festival program by using capital to push out her competitors?”

“How can this privileged celebrity still have fans defending her? People earning 3,000 a month sticking up for someone making 2.08 million, hilarious!”

【Clear Soup Lord】 logged in only to find the overwhelming backlash leaving no room to step, and argued back with reason:

“You’re insane. If she could earn 2.08 million a day, the Kunqu Opera world wouldn’t be suffering from a talent drain. Use your brain a little, even when bashing someone, you should have some logic.”

A hater immediately fired back, posting a picture of Sheng Tingmian receiving her award, pointing out that her gown was a Chanel haute couture piece, her shoes were Christian Louboutin crystal heels, and her entire outfit cost hundreds of thousands.

“Where’s the poverty? Real struggling opera teachers are still making one or two thousand, maybe two or three thousand a month, some even performing part-time.”

【Clear Soup Lord】 took a deep breath: “What does what she wears have to do with her singing? Winning an award for singing well, what’s wrong with that? The criteria are vocal skill and performance, not wealth. As for opera teachers making one or two thousand a month, whose fault is that? Traditional culture is declining, no one pays attention. If you keyboard warriors would just buy a ticket and support them offline, you’d be doing something useful. Ridiculous.”

Hater 1: “If it weren’t for capital backing her, how would she have gotten the Dragon Boat Festival slot, pushing others out? This award isn’t hers, she stole it and has the nerve to act proud.”

Hater 2 chimed in: “This is clearly a capital game. What does it have to do with her singing? Without capital privilege, she wouldn’t even qualify to stand on that stage.”

Hater 3 went on a rant: “During the Yan City TV Dragon Boat Festival broadcast of The Jade Hairpin, the ads were even more numerous and impressive than those for singing shows with big stars and veterans. Isn’t that capital backing? Ha! By convention, opera programs are aired last, but The Jade Hairpin jumped straight into prime time. If that’s not privilege, what is? The whole world made way for her.”

Hater 4: “So eager to be a capitalist lapdog? Worry about your own parents first.”

Soon, the entire platform was overrun. Fans who usually stayed in the niche Kunqu Opera circle were fiercely attacked just for speaking up for Sheng Tingmian, with some attacks escalating to personal insults.

When Sheng Tingmian woke up, her sister had already left for work. Sheng Xiaoyun immediately called her, telling her not to look at her phone today.

Confused but not pressing further, she went to the theater for practice, where the hesitant and evasive expressions of others made her uneasy.

Sheng Xiaoyun pulled her aside: “That’s enough practice for today, Mianmian. You should go home.”

Sheng Tingmian grew increasingly anxious: “Auntie, did something happen?”

Why wasn’t anyone as happy as she expected after she won the award last night? Even Du Jingya was being evasive and beating around the bush.

Sheng Xiaoyun spoke to her in a calm tone, “What’s going on in that little head of yours? Nothing’s wrong. You won an award, so your aunt is giving you two days off. Just rest at home these next couple of days.”

Sheng Tingmian was momentarily fooled by her tone and got in the car to go home, but the more she thought about it on the way, the more something felt off.

As soon as she got home, she quietly went online.

After just five minutes, her hands and feet turned cold as if plunged into an icy abyss, it turned out the world had turned against her…

Everyone was condemning her, saying she didn’t deserve the award, accusing her of privilege, and calling her a fraud propped up by capital.

Her comment section and private messages were filled with unspeakable filth, harsh verbal attacks, and even ugly, photoshopped images sent to mock her.

Tears welled in Sheng Tingmian’s eyes as she stared at the dress her sister had picked out for her, now maliciously defaced with ugly paint in the images…

Her eyes instantly reddened. Her trembling fingers touched the screen, gently tracing the image of the dress. Why would they do this…

Suddenly, He Jianxue called. Sheng Tingmian stared blankly at the screen, only realizing belatedly that she needed to answer. She wiped away her tears, sniffled, and tried to sound as natural as possible.

“Sis…”

“Don’t pay attention to what’s happening online. Just rest at home these two days. I’ll handle it.”

“Okay…”

After hanging up, Sheng Tingmian stared vacantly at the trophy, her chest tight with suffocating pressure. Her mind was filled with all the comments saying she didn’t deserve the award.

She couldn’t help but recall the program selection process, how she had been trapped in the studio, only to be rescued by her sister. It was likely her sister who had arranged for her second chance in the selection as well.

Her sister knew the station director, had promised to invest in advertising for her show, and had ensured she received the grandest treatment. Had her sister also demanded that “The Jade Hairpin” be slotted into primetime?

Sheng Tingmian’s thoughts were a muddled mess. Had she really taken someone else’s opportunity because of her sister’s influence?

Before long, the online backlash intensified, growing more and more severe.

The focus shifted from condemning the Kunqu opera performer to scrutinizing the actions of GULAN Group’s chairman.

Past scandals of her turning against her own family were dragged into the spotlight. People condemned her for sending her own father, aunt, and cousin to prison in her quest for power, labeling her as ungrateful, an executioner, and even a mobster.

Influential figures spouted harsh criticisms, and the public followed suit, boycotting GULAN Group’s products. A massive wave of cyber violence spread across the internet.

Soon, news of GULAN Group’s falling stock prices only fueled the excitement of netizens and competitors alike.

The focus of the backlash swiftly turned to He Jianxue. Seeing these shocking comments, Sheng Tingmian’s face grew pale, especially when she saw the plummeting stock prices and the gleeful mockery directed at her sister.

Curled up on the sofa, Sheng Tingmian felt her breath catch, tears streaming down her face. She trembled uncontrollably, as if being swallowed by darkness.

Weren’t they only attacking her? Why had it escalated to stock prices falling, and why were they still relentlessly targeting her sister?

Bearing immense guilt and pressure, Sheng Tingmian mustered her courage and opened her phone again.

[Sheng Tingmian]: Please don’t hurt my sister. I’m willing to return all the awards I received.

Her statement caused an uproar, pushing the backlash to an unprecedented peak. All attacks were now directed at her, with people mocking and criticizing her relentlessly.

“He Jianxue is such a coward, sending you out to take the fall. If she has any guts, she should respond herself!”

“I’ve seen fools, but never one this foolish, getting targeted by the mob just for speaking up. Did you really think your sisterly bond meant anything? Sheng Tingmian, you’re nothing but her pawn.”

“Absolutely ridiculous. Did you think returning a trophy you stole would make everything okay?”

“Your sister is no saint, and you’re no better. Disgusting.”

“If you had any conscience, you’d just drop dead!”

Sheng Tingmian stared at the vicious comments, tears welling in her eyes. It felt as if even her breathing was a mistake…

She buried her face in her knees, too afraid to look any further.

…

GULAN Group.

“Director Zhao, I appreciate your help.”

He Jianxue had just ended the call with Director Zhao when her assistant hurried in. “Chairman He, Miss Sheng, she-”

He Jianxue frowned. “What happened?”

The assistant showed her the screen. “Miss Sheng posted on her platform, urging people not to harm you. She said she’s willing to return the trophy.”

He Jianxue took the phone, staring at the message for a long time. She scrolled through the comments below, venomous, undisguised attacks telling Sheng Tingmian to die.

“Contact the legal team to preserve evidence. I want every one of these people held accountable for personal attacks, defamation, and insults.”

The assistant had just acknowledged the order when He Jianxue stood and strode out of the office. This public opinion crisis had escalated from targeting Sheng Tingmian to attacking Chairman He herself, causing stock prices to plummet. Besides the two opera performers from Jinyuan Troupe who deliberately stirred the pot, GULAN’s competitors and so-called allies had been fanning the flames behind the scenes, all with the goal of bringing down GULAN Group.

The strange thing was, He Jianxue hadn’t been angry when she herself was attacked. She had merely quietly investigated which competitors were fueling the fire. In the world of business competition, surface calm often hid undercurrents of fierce battles, struggles, and mergers, silent, deadly waves that could drown a person without a sound.

So, when stock prices fell, He Jianxue remained unruffled. She had already reached out to CCTV, Yan City Television, and other relevant parties, with public relations strategies well prepared.

But the moment Sheng Tingmian posted that message, He Jianxue immediately ordered the legal team into action.

The assistant glanced again at Miss Sheng’s post. It could hardly be considered damage control, if anything, it had worsened the negative backlash, as the increasingly harsh comments proved.

Yet Miss Sheng was also a victim, just a young girl. It was no surprise she was terrified facing such a situation.

Still, that plea, “Please don’t hurt my sister”, was the most sincere emotion a young girl could express, braving the greatest public opinion pressure she had ever faced, genuinely begging the public not to attack her sister.

So sincere that she would rather admit she didn’t deserve the trophy, would rather return it, just to protect Chairman He.

What a foolish girl…

The assistant looked down from the floor-to-ceiling window, watching Chairman He’s car speed away from the group, racing toward the He family home.

Raising her phone to her ear, the assistant dialed. “Hello, Attorney Liang…”

…

Half an hour after Sheng Tingmian made her plea, Yan City Television officially released a recording of the Dragon Boat Festival opera program selection.

Once again, netizens were in an uproar. It was clear that this was part of the standard selection process, to determine whether Sheng Tingmian, who performed The Jade Hairpin, had been slacking off or singing passively. If her negative performance had been noticeably inferior to her competitors, it would confirm suspicions that she was being pushed by capital interests, deliberately squeezing out others’ opportunities and undermining the fairness of the competition.

However, after watching all the competing performances, everyone fell silent. Anyone with eyes could see that The Jade Hairpin was clearly superior to the other entries, with solid vocal skills and a performance level that stood a cut above the rest.

Thus, The Jade Hairpin stood out unquestionably.

“Why do I feel like The Jade Hairpin was even better?”

“As a opera student, I have to say: my teacher recently used Sheng Tingmian’s video as a teaching example. To have such vocal skill and a unique singing style at 19 is truly gifted. I really don’t get what everyone’s criticizing.”

Many opera students spoke up, offering professional explanations and sighs of regret.

“The online environment these past couple of days has been terrifying. It’s like they won’t rest until they’ve driven someone to despair. Kunqu opera is already on the verge of becoming a living fossil. Finally, someone has sparked a bit of interest, and we opera students were hoping for a revival and better opportunities. Who exactly is stirring the pot?”

“Exactly. Earlier, GULAN Group even funded a call for new scripts, hoping to inject fresh blood and spur innovation. But just because she’s backed by capital, people are dismissing all her efforts.”

Even though the selection process was compliant, some still criticized the prime-time slot as evidence of capital manipulation, claiming it was fundamentally unfair.

Just then, the expert who regularly analyzes CCTV and provincial TV data suddenly reappeared:

[Kevin]: This really can’t be considered capital manipulation. Local TV stations are struggling with revenue. Once a program is selected and submitted for approval, the scheduling is up to the station. If advertisers are willing to invest and request a prime-time slot, that’s completely normal. CCTV buys over a dozen series every year, and the scheduling, whether prime time, secondary prime time, or late night, is negotiated with advertisers. Moreover, the CVB ratings during The Jade Hairpin’s broadcast period lifted Yanshi TV to a whole new level, breaking records and even surpassing CCTV. That’s something Yan City TV can boast about for life.

[Kevin]: Let me add one more thing: breaking CVB records is a testament to The Jade Hairpin’s quality. Why? Because it was the grandparents who switched channels for her. They loved watching it, which is why the ratings broke records. The market has spoken. Standing out in the selection was just the judges recognizing talent, ensuring gold wasn’t left buried in the dust.

With more professionals speaking out, those who had been swept up in the emotional tide of public opinion began to realize they had participated in an online witch hunt. Feeling complex emotions of regret, they quietly deleted their aggressive comments and unliked mocking posts.

Fans, seeing the public opinion shift, were nearly moved to tears:

“Oh my god, my treasure has finally been vindicated…”

“I knew you weren’t at fault. You were just singing opera earnestly and got targeted by a cyberbullying storm, so unfair. Sending hugs.”

“I don’t know how we made it through this period. I almost quit the internet. Those haters are truly despicable.”

“Truly exceptional people will always attract envy. Mianmian, treat others’ suspicious gazes as flickering will-o’-the-wisps, and boldly walk your own path through the night. The road ahead is clear and bright, you will climb higher and go further.”

…

He Jianxue rushed back to the He residence. Without waiting for the butler to open the car door, she pushed it open herself and stepped out. Normally, she would drape her coat over her shoulders, but now it hung over her arm. Dismissing everyone with a wave, she entered the house with a grave expression.

The living room was empty of the figure she sought. He Jianxue turned and headed toward the bedroom. Pushing the door open, a wave of darkness enveloped her.

After a moment’s hesitation, she switched on the light. Her gaze swept over the empty, neatly made bed before finally settling on the sofa.

Through the obstructed view, she spotted a pair of slender, pale hands clutching knees, the figure curled up in the corner of the sofa. Faint, intermittent sobs echoed through the bedroom.

Step by step, He Jianxue approached until the slender, weeping form huddled on the sofa came fully into view.

“Mianmian…” she called softly as she reached her.

The girl on the sofa lifted her head, eyes red-rimmed, tears instantly welling up and blurring her vision.

“Si-sister…” Sheng Tingmian choked out, her voice barely audible between sobs and hiccups.

He Jianxue sat beside her, watching her tear-streaked face. All the emotions converged into that one plea, “Don’t hurt my sister”, catching in her throat.

“What are you crying about?”

Sheng Tingmian remained curled up, hugging her knees as she stared back between hiccups and sobs. “I-I’m sorry… it’s my f-fault… I made sister’s stock prices drop… I’m guilty.”

Hearing those last three words, He Jianxue felt an impulse to laugh, but couldn’t. The girl before her was so heartbroken, as if the drop in stock prices meant the sky was falling. She wept uncontrollably for having implicated her sister, even clumsily speaking up in her defense, begging only that no further harm come to her.

He Jianxue’s gaze fixed on that delicate, tear-streaked face, the reddened nose, the swollen eyes, yet with skin and lips pale as paper. Her eyes were filled with fear and guilt.

In that moment, He Jianxue felt a powerful urge to kiss her.

To transform the fear and guilt in her eyes into shock and delight, ultimately losing themselves in passion.

But alas, she was no prince who could turn fear into love in this moment.

She was merely her sister. To kiss her would only frighten Mianmian more.

Pressing her red lips together, He Jianxue raised a hand to caress her cheek, gently wiping away tears with her thumb. Her voice remained steady: “Who said you’re guilty? Don’t cry. This isn’t your fault, the blame lies with others.”

“Sister…” More tears welled up in Sheng Tingmian’s moved eyes. She took a deep, shaky breath and lowered her gaze, noticing her tear-soaked “bean bubbles” had dampened her sister’s ring once again.

Her heart gave an inexplicable flutter. Lifting tear-dampened lashes, she asked uncertainly, “Is it really okay that the stock prices fell?”

He Jianxue shook her head. “It’s fine. They’ll recover.”

With this reassurance, the tension in Sheng Tingmian’s heart finally eased. As if she had finally found someone she could trust completely, she threw herself into her sister’s arms, pouring out all her grievances.

“Sister, wuwuwu…”