Sickly Bigshot CH 22 That's Enough
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
Since Shi Zhou's subtle endorsement of the "ChengZhou" ship in front of the media, Qin Yancheng's fans—egged on by professional anti-fans—had been relentlessly mocking him, eagerly waiting for the faceslapping to occur and for him to be put in his place.
But two whole days passed, and Shi Zhou continued business as usual—not only unpunished but increasingly visible in the public eye, his career seemingly on an upward trajectory. There was no sign of the expected faceslap or humiliation.
As the ship's fanbase grew, Qin Yancheng's fans grew restless:
[Does President Qin not check Weibo? Does he seriously not know some shameless little bitch is riding his coattails?]
[He’s got assistants and secretaries—someone must’ve told him by now. His name’s literally in the trending tags!]
[Maybe President Qin is just too magnanimous to bother with a nobody like him. Anyone with half a brain knows the ship is fake.]
[If there’s even a sliver of truth to this ship, I’ll livestream eating shit upside down!]
Meanwhile, Shi Zhou had been locked in an epic battle with cake-making. He’d burned countless cake bases, undercooked or collapsed even more, and even managed to explode one, coating the entire oven in sticky batter. Aunt Zhang had seriously considered whether they needed a new oven.
Shi Zhou wasn’t a patient person by nature, and two days of failure had him on the verge of a meltdown. But his stubborn competitive streak kept him going—he had to make a decent cake.
Since this was meant to be a surprise birthday gift for Qin Yancheng, he naturally had to keep it under wraps.
So Qin Yancheng kept catching whiffs of a strange mix of sweetness and burnt odor from the kitchen, while Aunt Zhang innocently shrugged, claiming she had no idea where it was coming from.
Qin Yancheng sighed at Shi Zhou. "I told you—you’re banned from the kitchen."
—And for good reason. Shi Zhou had long since earned his title of Kitchen Menace.
Once, after seeing Qin Yancheng cook, he’d stubbornly tried making scrambled eggs with tomatoes—only to set the pan on fire. In his panic, he’d grabbed a small fire extinguisher and sprayed it everywhere, leaving himself and the kitchen covered in foam.
Another time, attempting stir-fried cabbage, he’d forgotten to turn on the exhaust fan, filling the entire first floor with smoke. Qin Yancheng had come home to what looked like a house fire.
After countless such incidents, Qin Yancheng had finally issued a decree: Shi Zhou was not to enter the kitchen.
Shi Zhou huffed. "I didn’t go into the kitchen! That burnt smell is all in your head!"
Qin Yancheng could only sigh, wondering what bizarre experiment Shi Zhou was conducting now.
"Keep an eye on him," he told Aunt Zhang. "If he wants something to eat, you make it for him. Or just order takeout. It’s too dangerous letting him near the stove."
Aunt Zhang, sworn to secrecy about the surprise, nodded obediently. Thankfully, Qin Yancheng rarely pressed for details.
Later, she quietly suggested to Shi Zhou, "Mr. Shi, maybe you should take a class at a bakery—maybe the online recipes are just bad?"
Shi Zhou glared at his latest disaster—a cake base so deformed it looked like it had been through a war. He scooped up a spoonful and shoved it into his mouth... Blech!
Not only ugly, but disgusting. He chugged half a glass of water to wash it down before lamenting, "Great minds think alike! It has to be the recipe’s fault—no way someone as brilliant as me could fail this hard!"
Shi Zhou chose a popular bakery that just felt right. After explaining his mission and paying for lessons, he even bought small gifts for the staff. They were pleasantly surprised—Shi Zhou was funnier and more down-to-earth in person, not to mention even more handsome than on-screen.
Who wouldn’t adore a charming, good-looking guy? Shi Zhou quickly won over the entire bakery staff.
And the question of who the cake was for became the shop’s hottest gossip.
Despite Shi Zhou’s pleas for secrecy, whispers spread like wildfire—
"I’ll only tell you—don’t spread it around, but Shi Zhou is..."
Or outright posts like: "Shi Zhou is learning to bake at our shop! OMG, he’s even hotter in person—so cool yet adorable! Instant fan. Who’s the lucky one getting his cake?!"
Shi Zhou had overestimated their ability to keep secrets—and underestimated his own star power.
The news exploded.
Anti-fans who’d been lying in wait for days, hoping to see Shi Zhou humiliated, were furious to hear he was happily baking cakes instead. The more they saw of him, the more irritated they became.
Combined with the original host’s long list of enemies and rival studios buying trolls to stir the pot—everyone knew Qin Yancheng’s birthday was coming up. Baking a cake now? Either he was deliberately baiting shippers or planning some shameless, green tea-dripping gesture to win Qin Yancheng over. Either way, it was disgusting. (TN: green tea: someone who is fake, manipulative and calculating).
Qin Yancheng’s fans, already riled up, couldn’t stay silent. No one had ever dared to force a ship with Qin Yancheng so blatantly.
Shi Zhou’s long-standing anti-fan army went ballistic, their rage spilling over into unchecked vitriol:
[Look at his trash-tier acting—a coma patient has more expression than him.]
[Heard he’s an orphan—explains why he’s so shameless and ill-mannered.]
[That long hair makes me sick. Trying so hard to be ~unique~, huh? Looks like a genderless freak.]
[SHI ZHOU, GET OUT OF THE INDUSTRY! Still no explanation for that shady history with Qixing’s Zheng Qi? Found a new sugar daddy already? Can’t stand on your own two feet without a man? PATHETIC.]
Reading these hateful comments—clearly from people projecting their miserable lives onto him—Shi Zhou just wanted to roll his eyes so hard they’d detach. Even his usual "don’t argue with idiots" attitude was fraying. He ached to scream "FUCK YOU" and slap each and every one of them through the screen.
Fine. If they wanted to play dirty, he’d fight fire with fire. Hiding behind anonymity to spew venom? Well, he’d make sure they choked on it.
With professional guidance, Shi Zhou finally produced a semi-presentable cake. He quickly posted a photo of it with the perfect caption to piss off the haters:
[Teehee~ Getting better at baking!]
There was no doubt that what would follow would be a wave of crazy backlash.
After all, rumors of "Shi Zhou learning to bake" were one thing—him confirming it during this firestorm? That was a direct provocation.
Anti-fans lost it, puffing up like stepped-on pufferfish, screeching even louder and even dragging his ancestors from eighteen generations back into the mud.
Shi Zhou logged off after posting—no point reading the hate. He switched to his alternate account, "Runaway Airship," where the comments were actually fun.
On weekdays, his evening activities were checking his phone, reading comments, and entertainment gossip. Now, because he didn't want to check Weibo, he had turned to playing games or writing smut.
Normally, Qin Yancheng would find Shi Zhou curled up on the couch like a little fox, giggling at his phone. Now, he was silently gaming, sipping fresh juice Aunt Zhang had made. Although he was very well taken care of, instinct still let Qin Yancheng know that he might not be very happy or that he had encountered something troubling.
Qin Yancheng checked Weibo—and his frown deepened at the flood of vicious comments. No wonder Shi Zhou had stopped browsing.
As antis kept howling, Qin Yancheng’s fans, convinced they were defending their idol’s honor, were mid-rant when—
Qin Yancheng’s official account followed Shi Zhou.
People rubbed their eyes, refreshing repeatedly.
[Wait... what? President Qin followed Shi Zhou?]
[AHHHH! DOUBLE FANDOM EUPHORIA! SAY IT WITH ME: CHENGZHOU IS REAL!]
[Bullshit! It’s fake! Maybe President Qin just wants to keep tabs on Shi Zhou’s antics.]
[Ooh, I can analyze this! President Qin’s basically saying: "I’ve seen your little stunt. That's enough—don’t push your luck."]
[Agreed.]
Most sided with the "warning" interpretation, cheering Qin Yancheng for putting Shi Zhou in his place. Believing they could now verbally abuse Shi Zhou even more with President Qin's official stamp of approval.
But just as the fastest typers were gearing up for another round of bashing—
Qin Yancheng didn’t just follow Shi Zhou.
He commented under the cake photo: "Good progress."
And posted a standalone message: "That's enough."
Everyone froze.
Taken alone, the message could be read as Qin Yancheng telling Shi Zhou to back off. But paired with the comment? It sounded more like a rebuke to the trolls.
Qin Yancheng’s wording was deliberately ambiguous—avoiding outright confirmation of any relationship (to shield Shi Zhou from gold-digger accusations) while implying he’d been paying attention to Shi Zhou all along.
The "that's enough" suddenly felt much broader. Everyone could only stop for the time being, but when they came to their senses, they felt indignant.
[Maybe it was Secretary Bai who posted this? She's usually the one managing the account.]
[Right, this might not be from President Qin himself.]
But such self-deceiving arguments couldn't hold water. While Secretary Bai Ran typically managed the account for business promotions and reposting major announcements from Qin Corporation, only Qin Yancheng would be this terse and cold in tone. Just reading those few words, one could practically envision his indifferent expression.
Moreover, the phone model used for Qin Yancheng’s personal posts was different, and unlike Bai Ran—who always signed off with a "Bai" to distinguish her posts—there was no such marker here.
Onlookers who had been following the drama were stunned. Though the exact nature of Qin Yancheng and Shi Zhou’s relationship remained a mystery, one thing was certain: Qin Yancheng was undeniably defending Shi Zhou.
Shi Zhou’s legion of anti-fans, who had been eagerly awaiting his long-anticipated humiliation, instead found themselves brutally slapped in the face by Qin Yancheng.
But there was nothing they could do except stare helplessly.
—Any further attempts to stir the pot or muddy the waters were futile. After all, Qin Yancheng’s own fans could now at least confirm that Shi Zhou and Qin Yancheng were definitely on good terms, and that Shi Zhou wasn’t some random clout-chaser forcing a connection.
The simple words—"That's enough."—loomed large. Everyone quietly shut their mouths, some even stealthily deleting their nastier comments. Only the slowest trolls and paid antis were left awkwardly stranded, their hateful remarks now painfully exposed.
In stark contrast to the antis’ fury and misery, the shippers were ecstatic—as if celebrating the New Year.
[Zhouzhou made a cake himself? 100% for President Qin!]
[President Qin personally shutting down the haters? HUSBAND MATERIAL!]
[IT’S NEW YEAR'S! SWEETER THAN THE NEW YEAR'S! OUR SHIP MIGHT BE REAL?!]
[Hey, isn’t Airship Madam writing a fic about birthday cake, aphrodisiacs, and ahem? WRITE FASTER, WE NEED FOOD!]
[Also, whoever said they’d "eat shit upside down if this ship had any truth to it"—how’s that face slap feeling? LIVESTREAM WHEN?]