The Weeping Star and the Awakening of Bao Ngạnh Cương

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At the set of a travel variety show on a picturesque island, I found myself standing in the eye of the storm. Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn — the name synonymous with the title of “the most weepy female star on the screen” — was enduring an intense wave of criticism. On the live comment screen, insults surged like a torrent:

“I bet a jar of pickled peaches. Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn will cry at least 10 times this episode.”

“10 times? I’m betting a whole box of tissue. Weepy Bao is about to go home crying for her mommy!”

In the past, the original Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn never failed her anti-fans. Every time the production team gave her a task (such as acting as a tour guide, managing logistics, and completing challenges), she would burst into helpless tears, earning her the title of “the nightmare of 130 million young men and women” and a record number of anti-votes. People joked that if women were made of water, Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn must be made of pineapple — sour and prone to causing a rash.

But this time, netizens were utterly disappointed. Throughout the entire season’s filming, I did not shed a single tear. On the contrary, I cursed so fiercely that the guests, the director, passersby, and even the netizens themselves were reduced to tears.

“Is she Mạnh Khương Nữ’s true disciple?” (A legendary figure known for her powerful sorrow/anger)

“This is the first time I’ve seen someone cursed into unconsciousness in the restroom. Is this a joke coming to life?”

That person being mocked, Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn, was her. But I… am not her. I transmigrated.

Standing in front of the sink, looking at the swollen eyes in the mirror, I sighed. With a single blink, I was in this body, same name, but a world away in soul. Before transmigrating, I was known as Bao Ngạnh Cương (Hard Steel Bao) in my circle — a person so tough that I might accept crying on camera, but I was a master at making the audience on the other side of the screen cry instead. I decided that from now on, the name “Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn” would only be a shell for the thorny “Bao Ngạnh Cương.”

After washing my face, I rejoined the set. The program featured six celebrities. The Popularity Group included Movie Emperor Giang Xuyên (sharp brows, bright eyes, sculpted features), Movie Queen Diệp Mỹ Huệ (elegant, clearly an imperial sister type), and veteran elder Trương Long. The Annoying Group included myself (leading with 130 million votes), faded singer Đường Tùy, and the old diva Vạn Điềm. The top trending search that day was “The Nightmare of 130 Million Young Men and Women.”

It was 4:30 PM, and we still hadn’t secured accommodation. The production team, aiming for drama, gave us only 6,000 Tệ (RMB) and confiscated all our phones and cash. 6,000 Tệ on a foreign island for five days and four nights for six people was clearly meant to mess with us. Unfortunately for them, they underestimated a former travel blogger and crepe vendor like me.

Đường Tùy, the faded singer, wearing sunglasses and with a swagger, walked over, speaking arrogantly: “Nhuyễn Nhuyễn, where are we staying, exactly? Have you figured it out?” As he spoke, he attempted to put his arm around my shoulder.

I distinctly remembered his indecent behavior earlier. An indecent hand is not at fault, but daring to touch my head is courting death! I grabbed his arm, yanked it over my shoulder, and slammed it straight to the ground with a loud BOP.

“Don’t you dare touch your dad! Your dad has germaphobia.” (Note: Bố mày is a highly aggressive first-person pronoun, translated here as “your dad.”)

The camera captured Đường Tùy’s expression: three parts bewildered, seven parts terrified, and twelve hundred thousand parts of sheer incomprehension. Not just him, but all the guests and the production team were shocked by this display of force.

The room assignment was still pending. The old diva Vạn Điềm started acting up, claiming she “couldn’t share a room with others, or she’d get a rash.” She looked at me, forcing an explanation: “Nhuyễn Nhuyễn, don’t overthink it, I don’t mean to look down on you.”

I didn’t bother with her excuses: “We’re here for a variety show, not to cultivate to become immortal. Why do we need a private room for her solitary cultivation?” I nodded as if a realization had struck me: “Ah, she gets a rash sharing a room? Then it’s best if she stays alone.”

Just as Vạn Điềm smugly smiled in triumph, I pointed to the downstairs living room sofa: “That living room sofa specializes in curing such peculiar ailments. It’ll help her realize that sharing a room isn’t so bad.”

Vạn Điềm was stunned, the audience was stunned. “Bao Thanh Thiên! Peak handling!” Later, before bed, Vạn Điềm reluctantly knocked on my door, claiming she had brought anti-itch medicine, so she was fine, and shamelessly moved in to share the room. I just scoffed and let it slide.

That night, I noticed comments mentioning Giang Xuyên. The Movie Emperor was mostly silent all day, but VIP fans discovered him writing in a small notebook with a mysterious smile. A moment later, the program’s temporary phone received a short text from him: Good night. A tingling sensation ran down my spine.

On the second day, I came downstairs for breakfast (simple milk, eggs, and bread). Vạn Điềm appeared, looked at the food, and her first comment was a complaint: “Is this even food fit for human consumption?”

I took a sip of milk and answered directly: “It is indeed food for human consumption. It is not for you to eat.”

Vạn Điềm then cited allergies to eggs and lactose, saying she couldn’t eat any of it. I had only intended to accumulate a little bit of khẩu nghiệp (bad karma/verbal sparring), but her excessive posing got the better of me. I retorted: “Since you can’t eat human food, should I prepare some dog food for you to be satisfied?”

Vạn Điềm’s face turned beet red with rage. She accused me of speaking poorly. I replied: “Then let me find a dog language translator to translate it for you to hear!” Vạn Điềm screamed and ran upstairs in tears.

“Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn hasn’t cried once, but Vạn Điềm was cursed into tears first! A new peak!”

Đường Tùy appeared while I was washing cups in the kitchen. I thought the incident yesterday would have taught him a lesson, but clearly, calling him brainless was a compliment. Despite my cold shoulder, he sidled closer, demanding to know why I hadn’t apologized.

I turned to leave, but he blocked my way, adopting a self-righteous tone: “We’re on a show together, do you need to have such an attitude?”

I replied bluntly: “You are not an ancestral photo enshrined on my wall. If you cause any more trouble, I’ll scatter your ashes.”

Đường Tùy pressed forward, pinning me against the refrigerator, using a domineering CEO gaze, and said: “You are cuter now than before.”

I suppressed my nausea and cursed him: “I’m not a straw boat for you to shoot your garbage arrows at!” If the director hadn’t warned against physical confrontation, I would have pulled out his pajama drawstring and shot it at his face.

The comments immediately turned on Đường Tùy, calling him disgusting and laughing hysterically at the “drawstring weapon.”

Just then, Giang Xuyên’s cold voice rang out: “What are you all doing?” He had just returned from jogging, his brow glistening with sweat. His deep, dark eyes were fixed on Đường Tùy’s arm propped against the fridge door, creating a heavy, suffocating pressure. But when he looked at me, his gaze softened instantly.

Giang Xuyên calmly separated Đường Tùy, then tilted his head and asked me: “What’s the next plan?” His voice was so soft and gentle it made one’s heart flutter. The comments dwindled, leaving only one thought: “Am I the only one who thinks Giang Xuyên’s eyes look very doting when he looks at Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn?” A new ‘ship’ began to sail.

I announced the money-making task: everyone needed 280 Tệ for tonight’s bonfire show. With only 1,500 Tệ remaining, it was clearly not enough.

I led everyone to find work. Diệp Mỹ Huệ (store clerk), Trương Long (street singing). Đường Tùy and Vạn Điềm shamelessly admitted they couldn’t do anything.

I asked directly: “Can you wash dishes? 50 Tệ/hour.”

Vạn Điềm showed disgust: “I’m this old, and my hands have never touched water.”

I gave a cold laugh: “Never touched water? So you’ve never showered either? It seems everyone else grew up in amniotic fluid, but you cracked out of a rock!”

Đường Tùy questioned me: “We all have jobs, what about you? What are you doing?”

I smoothed the strand of hair behind my ear and answered seriously: “I’m making crepes (bánh kép).”

The surroundings instantly fell silent. Even the director looked at me with an expression that said, “Did I mishear?” I said irritably: “What are you staring at? I’m just making crepes, I’m not building a rocket, why the surprise?”

I turned to Giang Xuyên: “And what about you? What do you want to do?”

Giang Xuyên answered exactly like the two brainless ones: “I don’t know anything.” But he added: “But I can learn to make crepes with you.”

The comments exploded: “Giang Xuyên won first place in a pastry competition! Don’t be fooled! He’s just finding an excuse to be with Nhuyễn Nhuyễn!” Diệp Mỹ Huệ’s face visibly darkened.

Giang Xuyên and I started making crepes. Out of practice, my first attempt was clumsy. The first crepe was misshapen, making the anti-fans cheer and laugh: “Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn must have Parkinson’s, her hands are shaking so much!”

I put down the spreading tool and glared directly at the camera: “How are you talking to your dad? Even if your dad has Parkinson’s, I’ll pass it on to all of you in the future! What are you rushing for? Your painting might be good, but can it feed you? Since you know you’re uneducated, read more books. Your existence is a waste of your father’s (my) one evening!”

The livestream room fell dead silent. I continued making crepes. But the reality was harsh: passersby weren’t buying.

Just then, Giang Xuyên pulled out a signboard. He wrote: “Organic Vegetable Egg Roll with Secret Japanese Sauce” (in reality, just a crepe with an egg) and “Crispy Smoked Flavor Crepe with Red Sausage” (crepe with a grilled sausage). He also negotiated with the Chinese restaurant for free bottled water in exchange for advertising.

The crepe’s price, originally 10 Tệ, quadrupled through his wordsmithing: 40 Tệ each!

Customers started to flock. I made the crepes, Giang Xuyên packaged them. We coordinated perfectly, like a fish to water. Comments were flooded with the new ‘ship’ name: “Truyền Gia Bảo! (Heirloom)!” Giang Xuyên’s lips curled up in a knowing smile. By the end of the afternoon, the net profit was 3,000 Tệ. I generously gave Giang Xuyên 1,000 Tệ.

At dinner time, everyone reported their earnings. Trương Long: 300 Tệ. Đường Tùy and Vạn Điềm: zero Tệ, and they had spent the 100 Tệ I gave them. Me: 2,000 Tệ. Giang Xuyên: 1,000 Tệ.

Diệp Mỹ Huệ arrived late, pulling out a wad of cash with a smug expression: “I’ll cover the bonfire show tickets tonight! Is 5,000 Tệ enough?” Vạn Điềm and Đường Tùy immediately exaggerated their praise for her.

I asked directly: “What did you do to earn this much money?”

Diệp Mỹ Huệ glanced at me coolly: “This is my privacy. I can choose not to answer.” Vạn Điềm interrupted: “Hey Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn, she said it’s private, why are you so thick-skinned and keep asking?”

Just as I was about to unleash my rage, the director suddenly stepped forward: “Mỹ Huệ, this money can’t be used.” It turned out she hadn’t worked, but had leisurely sat in a café, texting fans to borrow 5,000 Tệ. The director explained: “The program rule is to earn money through labor. This money must be returned to the fan.”

I had no choice but to front the ticket money for them (280 Tệ each). I then made everyone write an IOU, stating they must repay by 8:00 PM tomorrow, or I would not be responsible for their itinerary on subsequent days.

Đường Tùy frowned: “Is this necessary? It’s only 280 Tệ.” Vạn Điềm chimed in: “You earned over 3,000 Tệ this afternoon, and you’re still bothered by these few coins?”

My suppressed anger boiled over. I cursed them directly: “You ungrateful children! Not only do you not thank your dad for generously saving you, but you dare talk back to your dad? If you were just a little less useless, our father-child relationship wouldn’t be this bad! Your dad isn’t angry about 280 Tệ! Or maybe you want to anger your dad to death to split the inheritance (the 3,000 Tệ)?”

That day’s comment segment was cut into a viral short video, with over 100 million views. My fan club was established that very night, named Bao Thanh Thiên (Bao Justice).

On the third day, the mission was beach fun. Diệp Mỹ Huệ was unusually active, preparing breakfast, getting water, applying sunscreen for everyone, and even wearing a similar (though differently colored) T-shirt to Giang Xuyên.

She smiled and handed me her phone: “Nhuyễn Nhuyễn, help me take a picture of Giang Xuyên and me.” She stood close to him, full of intent.

I was about to slip away when my wrist was grabbed by Giang Xuyên. He smiled: “You’ve taken a picture for her, what about yours?” He put his arm over my shoulder, gently pushing Diệp Mỹ Huệ aside, and said: “Ms. Diệp, your photography skills are good, help me take a few pictures of Nhuyễn Nhuyễn and me.” Afterward, he even patted my head innocently and asked: “What are you playing later? Can I come with you?”

At the beach, I was wearing a modest one-piece swimsuit. Đường Tùy eyed me hungrily: “Didn’t realize, Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn, you’ve got some curves too.” Giang Xuyên glanced down at his stomach: “You’ve got some curves too. Tuck that fat belly in, you’re blocking my way.” I almost ruptured my internal organs laughing. Giang Xuyên, in a tank top, with his solid muscles, was indeed a muscle-killing machine.

I chose diving (480 Tệ). Giang Xuyên: “Okay.”

Diệp Mỹ Huệ, in a bikini, cut in: “Diving costs 480 Tệ. Six of us won’t have enough money. How about we just play the water surface sports?” She ignored me and only looked at Giang Xuyên.

Giang Xuyên said calmly: “We have enough money.” Diệp Mỹ Huệ frowned: “Enough?” Giang Xuyên pointed to me: “The two of us are enough.“

Diệp Mỹ Huệ’s expression was a spectacle of “layered emotions.” She suddenly softened her tone, whining slightly: “How about you two lend me a bit, so the three of us can go diving?”

I was genuinely shocked. She hadn’t even repaid yesterday’s debt and was asking to borrow again. I stepped in front of her: “Did Ms. Diệp use her big toe to come up with this constructive proposal?”

Diệp Mỹ Huệ looked down on me with a self-righteous expression: “Don’t be so selfish! I want to dive too. If the money is gone, we’ll earn it back. At worst, I’ll sell crepes with everyone.”

I laughed coldly. “Wow, you actually said that? Can I please have a few layers of your face skin? Since your face skin is three layers thick inside and three layers thick outside, surely losing a few layers won’t hurt? So shameless and heartless, you must be very light. I suspect when your mother gave birth to you, she might have cut the wrong umbilical cord and thrown away your brain.”

Diệp Mỹ Huệ immediately countered: “Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn, you are too much! My mother has never cursed me like that!”

I smiled brightly: “Then maybe you should change mothers. Your dad won’t spoil you anyway.”

Unable to argue further, she was so angry her eyes welled up, and she turned to Giang Xuyên for help.

Giang Xuyên finally spoke, his voice cold: “Yesterday, when you were sitting there drinking coffee, did you ever think about buying a cup for us?”

Diệp Mỹ Huệ froze, unable to utter a single word. The comments went silent, then exploded: “That slap in the face, I felt it through the screen!” “The Movie Emperor has principles, he knows not to eat things given by others in front of his wife.”

Giang Xuyên gestured with his chin towards me: “Let’s go.” I quickly followed: “Hero, wait for me!”

After our dive, we returned. Diệp Mỹ Huệ, in a final attempt to salvage her image, kindly prepared chilled coconut water for us.

Giang Xuyên politely declined: “I’m sorry, I’m allergic to ice water.”

I choked on my spit. If he had claimed an allergy to coconut, I might have believed him, but the Movie Emperor lying without batting an eye about an ice water allergy was a first. Netizens were in stitches: “The Movie Emperor’s divine constitution, how can a mortal understand?” “It’s clearly an excuse; he knows he shouldn’t consume anything given by others in front of his wife.”

I turned my head and met Giang Xuyên’s direct gaze, almost choking again. Trương Long asked what was wrong with me. Giang Xuyên answered for me: “She is also allergic to ice water.”

Because the game had been criticized too much by netizens, the director was forced to cover our food for the next two days and pay off the debts of the other three. But the final mission could not be avoided: renting a yacht to go out to sea cost exactly 10,000 Tệ, which we had to earn ourselves.

Everyone racked their brains. Vạn Điềm asked curiously: “What’s in that big suitcase of yours, Nhuyễn Nhuyễn?” Đường Tùy impulsively opened it. Inside was a suitcase full of tissues.

Netizens burst into laughter: “Haha. Is Bao Nhuyễn Nhuyễn planning to cry out an artificial lake?” The tissues were bought by the original owner; I hadn’t used a single pack, only given them to others to wipe their sweat and tears after being cursed.

Giang Xuyên was silent, reaching to take off his watch (likely to sell). I pressed his hand down. I said I had figured out a way to earn money; if all went well, earning ten to twenty thousand overnight was not a problem.

Đường Tùy asked in shock if I was planning to lead the group to sell themselves.

I laughed: “If he wants to, he can go ahead, but I don’t know if anyone would even want him.” I patted his shoulder: “Anything else, you ungrateful child?”

I laid out my plan: “Night fishing. I have already hired a…”

My words trailed off, but my eyes burned with confidence. Netizens and guests alike held their breath, awaiting Bao Thanh Thiên’s next move. The nightmare was over; it was time to witness the sharp rise of “Bao Ngạnh Cương.”