Lin Huai waved at the guard, signaling him to come closer.
The guard glanced at the surveillance camera, noting that it was pointed elsewhere, and then leaned in cautiously. “What exactly do you want to do?” he asked.
“Do you surf the internet?” Lin Huai inquired.
“Huh…?”
“Let me see your phone,” Lin Huai said.
The guard unlocked his phone and explained the uses of various apps to Lin Huai. After a brief moment of thought, Lin Huai asked him to open the largest social media platform, Wenbo, and instructed, “Search for my name.”
The guard replied, “No need to search, you’re already on the trending list.”
With that, he opened the trending list. Ranked seventh was the phrase “Greenhouse No. 81.”
Just as he was about to say something, he noticed that the previously listless No. 81 became instantly excited upon seeing himself on the trending list. He pressed his face against the glass, brimming with excitement. “Let me see, let me see the comments!”
He even started pounding on the glass in his excitement, resembling Su Daqiang who was desperate to marry Cai Genhua.
For some reason, when the guard met Lin Huai’s sincere and fervent gaze, he felt a pang of pity.
‘He has no idea what kind of online abuse he’s enduring,’ the guard thought to himself. ‘Although he’s a potential criminal, he seems like nothing more than a naive and innocent child, even believing that he’s trending because people like him…’
At that moment, a complex feeling welled up inside the guard, and then he heard Lin Huai’s voice: “Let me see how they’re cursing me!”
The guard: …
He wondered if this guy had already gone mad, but under Lin Huai’s persistent demands, he filtered out some of the less harsh comments and held them up against the glass for Lin Huai to see. Lin Huai looked at them with great interest, and after a while, he sighed deeply. “Ah…”
His voice was filled with endless regret.
“If it hurts you, don’t force yourself to look,” the guard crouched down to comfort him. “These things are inevitable…”
“But I can’t understand why…”
“Everyone gets cursed at some point…”
“I can’t understand why! I performed so hard, why aren’t people cursing me?” Lin Huai lamented angrily. “Why does being praised for being handsome increase my reputation?? These shallow people, they only see my gorgeous exterior, but not my vicious interior. Ugh, it’s so infuriating!”
The guard: …
—For some reason, this No. 81 always had this kind of magic: just when someone was about to treat him like a human being, he could always turn the tables and make that person see him as a lunatic again…
The guard swallowed the comforting words he was about to say, and then he heard Lin Huai’s voice: “I have a small request.”
The guard: “What?”
“Every day, print out all the comments that curse and praise me online.”
The guard: “Why do you want to print these?”
“I’ll keep the curses for appreciation,” Lin Huai said nonchalantly. “As for the praises, I’ll refute them one by one…”
The guard: …
Under the weight of the bet, by the next morning before the museum opened, Lin Huai’s room was filled with many printed comments. Lin Huai carefully stacked them one by one and placed them by his bed.
The chubby guy, watching Lin Huai’s bizarre behavior, felt a bit embarrassed. “What are you doing?”
“As the saying goes, ‘Know thy enemy and know thyself, and you can fight a hundred battles without disaster,'” Lin Huai said. “As the public enemy of the Greenhouse, the most uncouth villain, I must stay up-to-date with the trends, seize every point of criticism, and crush any potential true fans…”
The chubby guy: …
That day, before the museum even opened, the staff was stunned by the unprecedented crowd.
“The number of visitors today is even higher than the past two days,” said Staff Member One to his colleague. “This is the first time that on the third day, the number of visitors hasn’t decreased but actually increased.”
“Do we need to deploy more staff?” someone else asked. “The security department, allocate twenty temporary guards to the Eden Hall, and add four guards to each corridor…”
As she spoke, a voice came through her earpiece.
“…No need to deploy guards to other corridors, send them all to the fifth corridor,” the guard’s voice was hoarse. “Those people… they’re all here for No. 81…”
On the third, fourth, and fifth days, the same spectacle continued to unfold in the Greenhouse Capital Museum, even growing more intense. After the initial frenzy and curiosity, the citizens of the Greenhouse gradually divided into three factions regarding Lin Huai.
The first faction, led by Dr. Qiao Qi, firmly believed that Lin Huai’s existence was a disgrace to society, seeing him as nothing more than a clown seeking attention. Some even despised him so much for his arrogant attitude that they wished they could throw sulfuric acid at him, though the glass case prevented them. They were obsessed with writing seemingly rational articles in various media outlets, questioning, “Can clowns really rise to prominence? What is happening to the future of the Greenhouse? When the avalanche comes, no snowflake is innocent!”
This group brought Lin Huai a steady stream of increasing hatred, and he was deeply grateful to them.
The second faction was more radical, represented by the high school leader whom Lin Huai had humiliated. While they despised and hated Lin Huai, they also united to consistently report on him and cause him trouble. Some of them found a twisted pleasure in being cursed at daily, joining their peers in insulting No. 81 while secretly voting for Lin Huai. Others had simpler motives.
“We can’t let No. 81 be eliminated so easily!” the male high schooler angrily declared in the Wenxin group. “If he’s just disposed of, it would be too easy for him! We must keep him here until the end! Let him fully experience a month of torment and humiliation!”
“Yes!”
This group brought Lin Huai votes while also solidifying his hatred. They even volunteered to participate in daily performances as tools. Lin Huai once sincerely told Fatty Wang, “They’re really good people.”
The third faction, initially seen as odd, was now growing rapidly. At first, they were divided into two groups: one consisted of straightforward fans of his looks, both male and female, who had an unusual fondness for Lin Huai based solely on his appearance. Later, after Lin Huai made his earth-shattering declaration, “I don’t want anyone to like me because of my face. Such people have no depth. I hope everyone can see my vicious interior and despise me for it. Thank you,” a few left, but most became even more enamored with him because “Ah, he’s so interesting and unpretentious.” This group brought Lin Huai a small amount of positive reputation, making him wish he could paint his face like the Joker to deter these fans, whom he deeply loathed.
The other group was mainly spectators. Most of them were just curious onlookers who had fallen into the pit because of a few funny videos or short clips. While enjoying the humor, they also developed an unusual affection and fondness for this sharp-tongued No. 81. Some even traveled thousands of miles by subway to the Greenhouse Capital Museum just to catch a glimpse of Lin Huai. They made up the majority of the factions and were continually growing.
The newest group was somewhat peculiar. They were envious of Lin Huai’s lifestyle, awed by his courage to stand against the world, and idolized him, spreading his fame everywhere… Most of them were rock enthusiasts, drama lovers, art students, or general students, calling themselves the “81 Sect,” with the goal of opposing all conventions and norms. Lin Huai was their “81 Sect Leader”…
Of course, these fans who seemed like anti-fans also gave Lin Huai a nickname: “Brother Mean,” and they called themselves “Mean Knights,” the knights of Brother Mean.
Their slogan was simple.
“One vote from you, one vote from me, Brother Mean debuts today!”
“Brother Mean flies slowly, Mean Knights follow forever!”
Amid this grand and celebratory atmosphere, the first Sunday of the Eden Exhibition, the vote-counting day, finally arrived.
At this moment, Su Li sat in his dormitory, eating takeout while watching his computer.
After two consecutive days of visiting the museum, Su Li could no longer bear the pain of getting up early. He declined the invitations of his two roommates and stayed in the dorm with the only remaining roommate, who was famous for being a homebody, to enjoy a luxurious dorm life.
However, for some reason, his usually quiet homebody roommate was hiding behind a curtain today, occasionally letting out “pfft” laughter. Su Li, who was quietly reading a novel, was getting annoyed. He took off his headphones and asked, “Chen Ke, what are you watching?”
“…Look at this,” Chen Ke poked his head out from behind the curtain, signaling Su Li to look at his screen.
Curious, Su Li leaned in and saw that the screen was showing a live broadcast from a Greenhouse Capital Museum streamer.
The title of the video was “First Vote-Counting Day of the Eden Exhibition.”
