Chapter 116: The Judgment of Justice

They say fans are responsible for the actions of their idols. Lin Zekai, who had kept a low profile for a long time, felt like vomiting when he saw the news. At first, when Zhou Miao was doused with acid, he was oddly pleased, even eager to gather a few people and celebrate.

But after some investigation, it turned out the culprit was one of his own fans, who attacked Zhou Miao with acid supposedly to defend him. Lin Zekai was dumbfounded—he couldn’t believe he was being implicated just by association.

Now, he had no choice but to step forward and make a statement. Putting on a facade, he held a press conference advocating rational fandom behavior, expressed deep regret over Zhou Miao’s injury, and wished him a swift recovery.

Lin Zekai’s fans were heartbroken to see their idol forced to speak out. They rushed to defend him everywhere, insisting that Lin Zekai was innocent and that the misdeeds of fans should not be attributed to their idols.

However, thanks to Zhao Yao’s sudden notoriety at Zhou Miao’s autograph session, Lin Zekai’s fans were mockingly dubbed the “acid army” by netizens, becoming universally despised wherever they went.

Comments like, “Alright, alright, no arguments—unless you’re about to throw acid again,” became commonplace, driving Lin Zekai’s fans to near hysteria.

Soon, this fan crime case, which had captured nationwide attention, went to trial.

As a public figure with legal representation, Zhou Miao could have skipped the court appearance, but he chose to be present. He couldn’t let the bitterness go without seeing the verdict with his own eyes.

Wearing sunglasses, Zhou Miao sat on the plaintiff’s bench, while Zhao Yao, clad in a yellow vest, stood at the defendant’s side, her face gaunt and exhausted.

Zhao Yao avoided Zhou Miao’s steady gaze, unable to meet his eyes directly.

Her father had hired a top-tier lawyer at great expense, but with overwhelming evidence, the serious nature of the crime, and Zhou Miao’s formidable legal team, the lawyer could only strive to minimize Zhao Yao’s sentence.

An hour later, the trial concluded. The judge sentenced Zhao Yao to six years in prison for intentional injury and ordered her to compensate the victims, Long Fei and Zhou Miao, a total of 800,000 yuan for medical expenses, lost wages, and emotional damages.

Though the sentence fell short of the ten years requested by Hong Xue, a six-year term for a sixteen-year-old was already severe; Zhou Miao had initially hoped for just four years.

The court noted that Long Fei’s injuries were serious and that Zhao Yao’s crime was premeditated over more than half a year, showed mild antisocial tendencies, and that she had refused to admit guilt after arrest, displaying a poor attitude. These factors led to a harsher sentence.

When the judge’s gavel struck, Zhao Yao collapsed as if all her bones had been shattered.

Her life was over. After serving her sentence, who would hire or marry a 22-year-old high school dropout with a serious criminal record?

Her mother, sitting in the gallery, sobbed uncontrollably, pounding her chest as if she were the victim’s relative.

Zhou Miao remained indifferent to the scene, his expression cold as he exited the courthouse. At the long steps outside, a swarm of reporters armed with cameras and microphones swarmed him.

“Zhou Miao, how did it go inside? How many years was the girl sentenced to?”

“Are you satisfied with the verdict? Will you appeal?”

“Do you have anything to say to your fans?”

…

Zhou Miao halted and said, “She was sentenced to six years. I have no objections to the verdict. Also, I apologize for occupying so many public resources because of this matter, but there is something I want to say.”

He revealed his arm wrapped in bandages. “Attacks on celebrities by fans have happened many times before. This time I was lucky—my bodyguard blocked most of the acid. But not every artist is so fortunate.”

“For years, ‘rational fandom’ has been just an empty slogan. I pursued this case to the end partly because I couldn’t tolerate the injustice.”

“Also, I want those fans who get hot-headed to think carefully before acting rashly—are you truly prepared to go to prison?”

With that, Zhou Miao fell silent.

In recent years, fan culture has grown increasingly toxic. Fans of different celebrities tear each other apart daily.

All of them have undergone nine years of compulsory education, yet their insults are so vicious they make sworn enemies pale in comparison.

Among these bitter fans, a few reckless ones have moved their battles from the internet into real life.

They think they’re sacrificing for their idols, but the idols only want them to stay away.

After this incident, Lin Zekai’s popularity took another hit. Many fans, weary of being labeled the acid army, chose to abandon him.

In the end, everyone lost: Zhao Yao went to prison, Lin Zekai’s popularity plummeted, and Long Fei and Zhou Miao were injured.

Zhou Miao had planned a nationwide tour after releasing his album, but now he had to cancel the tour to focus on recovery.

In the van, Gu Zhiyin asked, “Are you canceling the entire tour? Why not postpone it?”

Zhou Miao shook his head. “No, cancel it all. We’ll keep the Bird’s Nest concert but push it back a bit. I need time to heal. This year, just this one show; the rest will have to wait.”

He had already promised his Countdown Band brothers he’d bring them to the Bird’s Nest to experience the legendary 100,000-person concert. He couldn’t break that promise.

One hundred thousand people! Zhou Miao could hardly imagine how breathtaking that would be—just the thought made him tremble with excitement.

With this matter settled, Zhou Miao focused on healing while preparing for the concert, and Rainbow began building momentum for his debut show.

In early August, when 100,000 tickets for Zhou Miao’s Bird’s Nest concert went on sale, they sold out within ten minutes, swept up by frenzied fans!

Countless fans, still refreshing the ticketing site, found the tickets gone and flooded Rainbow’s official social media with angry accusations, suspecting the company had colluded with scalpers.

Rainbow was wrongly accused. They hadn’t worked with scalpers; in fact, they had limited purchases to two tickets per ID to prevent scalping.

The real reason fans couldn’t get tickets was simply overwhelming demand.

According to ticketing site data, several million people were online simultaneously. The site crashed multiple times because of the traffic, preventing pages from loading.

Fans who missed out resorted to paying exorbitant prices on resale sites—front-row tickets priced at 8,888 yuan, up from 1,288; stands tickets at 4,888, up from 688. Even at those prices, tickets were almost impossible to find.

Meanwhile, Zhou Miao had already brought the Countdown Band members to Beijing. They were scattered across the country and hadn’t practiced together in a long time. They couldn’t just perform at the concert without rehearsing.

He arranged for them to stay at Rainbow’s dormitory and borrowed practice rooms to rehearse with them.

In the practice room, Zhou Miao pulled out a USB drive and smiled. “Over a year’s passed; it’s time for Countdown Band to release new songs.”

“That’s a great idea!”

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