Chapter 15: The Real Conviction—The Big Reveal After the Trial (Revised)

The negotiations for an out-of-court settlement with the members of the Backstabber Cult began rather swiftly, but before anyone could celebrate, Ouyang Jing presented terms that left everyone dumbfounded. A public apology was the bare minimum, but the crux lay in the compensation amount. Chen Mo had authorized Ouyang Jing to demand a minimum of five million yuan per person—a sum so outrageous it defied all reason.

As mentioned earlier, the investment in the drama "Watching the Meteor Together" was only ten million yuan in total. If the settlement demands were all met, that would truly be absurd.

From the start, Chen Mo never intended to settle; the sky-high compensation demands were a deliberate tactic, with no expectation that anyone would actually pay such a staggering sum. Yet, Chen Mo underestimated the situation: one person, Wen Zhang, actually grit his teeth and agreed.

The more pressing reason was the intense media frenzy over the "First Case of Online Defamation." This made the parties increasingly eager to finalize an out-of-court settlement quickly.

Unfortunately, Chen Mo remained adamant, insisting on the five million yuan figure as non-negotiable. Naturally, the vast majority either could not or would not part with such a large sum to avoid trouble.

As for Wen Zhang, Chen Mo could only say, “What a spender!”

Wen Zhang’s agreement was actually beneficial for Chen Mo. After all, he had committed to negotiations and made concessions; if not a single settlement had been reached, anyone could see he was merely playing people.

But now, look—someone agreed and settled! Chen Mo, the honest and trustworthy gentleman, said he would settle, and he did. As for the others, he reasoned, “You caused me such widespread psychological harm, and I’m just asking for a bit more money to compensate. You’re unwilling? That’s insincere, everyone!”

Of course, the most scrutinized figure was Du Chun, the leader of the Backstabber Cult. Others, including Wen Zhang, were merely followers rallying behind him, so the public constantly gathered beneath his official social media accounts, pouring all manner of sarcastic comments.

Eventually, he couldn’t bear it and shut down the comment sections, but this only fueled the controversy further.

Meanwhile, as the trial date approached, legal experts from various fields voiced their opinions—debating whether Du Chun and the others’ statements constituted online defamation. Opinions varied widely; some firmly believed it did not amount to defamation, while others argued the opposite.

Du Chun and his followers found themselves in the eye of the storm. Though their trial was still pending, anxiety plagued them daily. Despite his lawyer claiming his case was different from Fang Xiaoxiao’s, the mounting public pressure weighed heavily on him.

During this period, many Backstabber Cult members lived in constant fear. Numerous previously agreed-upon film contracts were halted, and Du Chun’s newly secured endorsement deals evaporated.

Though Chen Mo had agreed to show some leniency toward Mr. Li Bin, this did not guarantee the negotiations’ success. Agreements were one thing, but who said they would be honored? Chen Mo was no tycoon; just because others demanded huge compensation didn’t mean they could counter-sue. The conditions set by Hongjing were simply unacceptable to him.

Thus, despite ongoing talks, no real settlement was reached.

Soon enough, the trial date arrived, and Chen Mo appeared in court. Although Fang Xiaoxiao had hired a renowned lawyer, the evidence was overwhelming, making the trial proceed smoothly.

In this day and age, public live broadcasts of trials were not yet common; otherwise, the media frenzy would have escalated even more.

When the verdict was announced, Fang Xiaoxiao and the whistleblower Xiaoyu both broke down in tears on the spot.

Chen Mo watched Fang Xiaoxiao’s sobbing without a shred of sympathy—such people did not deserve it.

Only Du Chun’s fate was somewhat better. His lawyer was formidable, and since the nature of his statements remained ambiguous, he was not sentenced as harshly as Fang Xiaoxiao and Xiaoyu.

“Everyone, please rise…”

Though the case only concerned the entertainment industry and thus had a limited social impact, Fang Xiaoxiao, as the mastermind and instigator, received a heavy sentence: two years and six months. Another received a lighter sentence of one year and six months, plus fines.

The key point: this time, likely due to its notoriety and severity, the usual probation was not granted. This was a prison sentence—real jail time.

For Fang Xiaoxiao, this was catastrophic. The verdict branded her a disgraced artist, effectively ending her career.

In contrast, Du Chun and the others fared better. While his statements were not classified as defamation, he was still found civilly liable, ordered to delete previous remarks, issue a public apology to restore Chen Mo’s reputation, and pay damages.

The fines imposed, however, were less than what Chen Mo’s legal team had demanded during settlement talks.

Even so, this case cemented Du Chun and the Backstabber Cult’s names forever in the annals of the “First Online Defamation Case.”

There was no chance for redemption; the court’s ruling demanded public apologies, which in itself was hard evidence of their questionable character.

For a celebrity, this didn’t mean the end of everything, but certainly spelled a difficult period ahead. No one wanted to be stabbed in the back like Chen Mo.

Chen Mo’s goal was achieved—he secured over five million yuan in compensation, thanks to Wen Zhang’s settlement and the court’s civil damages against the Backstabber Cult members.

Before being taken away by court officers, Fang Xiaoxiao suddenly shouted wildly, “It was Yu Youde! It was Yu Youde who made me do this! Presiding Judge, it was Yu Youde who instigated me!”

This shocking revelation caught many off guard, though the trial was already over.

Fang Xiaoxiao’s accusation held little weight without evidence. Nevertheless, Chen Mo was amused. He didn’t know what arrangements Fang Xiaoxiao and Yu Youde had made or how Yu Youde had calmed her to prevent her from exposing this earlier. It was likely a mix of threats and bribes.

Such matters seldom leave solid proof, but many had attended the trial. While Yu Youde would not face charges, this was indisputably a major scandal.

As expected, after the case closed, public interest surged.

This was the first time in recent years that an online defamation case resulted in actual imprisonment.

Moreover, given the high-profile celebrities involved, the “First Online Defamation Case” involved more entertainers than ever before in entertainment history.

Naturally, the media pounced on this major story.

This case truly proved the saying, “The internet is not beyond the law.”

Online speech was instantly cleaned up, with Fang Xiaoxiao and Xiaoyu serving as a cautionary example.

Even entertainment reporters and media outlets reined in their behavior; many netizens joked that celebrities should be grateful to Chen Mo.

Following the verdict, Ouyang Jing mentioned that Hongjing Law Firm suddenly received numerous inquiries about similar cases.

For years, celebrities had suffered from online slander. For example, Liu Tianxian was once maliciously accused online of being transgender—classic defamation.

Many entertainment journalists and editors, eager for clicks, often began with a single image and fabricated content.

But after this incident, though they still opened with an image and fabricated the rest, they no longer dared to name names so blatantly.

Yu Youde’s name became widely known due to Fang Xiaoxiao’s desperate outburst.

“Who exactly is this Yu Youde?”

“What grudges or hate could drive someone to such lengths? How dirty!”

“Yu Youde is a famous TV drama director currently filming the idol series ‘Watching the Meteor Together.’ Fang Xiaoxiao was apparently a supporting actress in that show!”

“So this is where it all started! Anyone with insider info, please explain!”

One must admit, netizens can be remarkably resourceful.

Soon, someone offered analysis: “According to insiders, Chen Mo had once auditioned for the third male lead in ‘Watching the Meteor Together’ but failed. Why he offended Yu Youde remains unknown.”

“What else could it be? Heh, didn’t expect Yu to play such dirty games!”

“Wow, the industry’s really messed up! This guy even has such a strange fetish?”

“Feel sorry for Chen Mo for a few seconds—now everything’s clear. Otherwise, why would Fang mess things up? It’s all about interests!”

“The culprit’s been found, but those who understand know Fang can only make empty threats—no evidence!”

Chen Mo himself had never expected much from this matter. Once in court, solid proof was necessary. Fang’s accusations against Yu Youde had limited impact—at most, they were a nuisance.

After all, Yu Youde was a director working behind the scenes, not a public figure.

Nonetheless, this incident ensured Yu Youde’s name stuck in the audience’s minds, though for how long was uncertain.

Chen Mo paid little attention to the matter—it was settled for the time being, though only temporarily.

Meanwhile, the filming of “Watching the Meteor Together” was in full swing.

Without any major stars, the crew’s atmosphere was surprisingly harmonious.

The young wealthy woman often visited out of boredom; her arrival was always the happiest time on set.

This was mainly because she brought a large amount of snacks and fruits to reward everyone.

With her frequent visits, gossip about her and Chen Mo naturally spread among the crew.

Though usually quiet, she always followed Chen Mo with curious eyes, watching him act during filming.

“Chen Mo, I’m going to shoot another drama,” she announced proudly.

“What drama?” Chen Mo asked, curious.

After his near-traumatic experience with “The Warring States,” he was wary of what strange projects she might be involved in next.

“‘Time-Traveling Rescuer’!” she replied.

Chen Mo scratched his head, perplexed. What on earth was that?

“What’s it about?” he couldn’t help but ask, his curiosity piqued.

She explained, “It’s about a down-and-out scholar named Erdan who, with the help of a jade pendant, travels back to the Tang Dynasty and becomes a heroic figure who sacrifices himself to save others. After achieving both career and love success, he returns to the present with an ancient person to escape pursuit, and they experience all sorts of hilarious adventures.”

Chen Mo was utterly resigned. As expected, this was likely another terrible film.

He wondered why her resources always led to such odd projects.

“Who’s directing?” he asked again.

“Same as yours,” she said. “An actor-turned-director named Lin Zichong.”

“You…” Chen Mo was at a loss for how to advise her.

“Don’t you think it’s bad?” She caught his hesitation instantly, proving she was no fool—just lacking good judgment.

“By the way, why do you want to be an actor?” Chen Mo asked, genuinely baffled.

She tilted her head adorably, pondering but unable to come up with an answer, leaving Chen Mo speechless.

As for her family background, Chen Mo didn’t know much, but their wealth was undeniable.

In a previous life, many rumors swirled about the young wealthy woman, but none were true.

Chen Mo suspected her family might not want her to be an actor, deliberately giving her terrible roles to discourage her.

Otherwise, it would be hard to explain why, despite top-notch resources, every project flopped. Later, once viewers saw her involved, they voted with their feet—unfailingly giving one-star ratings.

Only with later works like “Glory of the Tang Dynasty” and “Si Teng” did opinions start to shift.

In fact, Chen Mo believed her acting range was quite narrow. Particularly in “Si Teng,” her breakthrough was largely due to her authentic, natural performance.

Truly, she embodied the phrase “a worldly flower in full bloom.”