Fortunately, her grandparents couldn't read, so they were blissfully unharmed by the digital vitriol. If they could read, could they possibly withstand such a concentrated barrage of insults from the outside world, hurled at their granddaughter? The thought made Jing Shu's fists clench, her knuckles itching with the desire to strike something.
Being scolded by tens of thousands of people online, how many ordinary people could truly endure that psychological pressure without breaking?
Jing Shu had returned from the apocalypse, a world that had covered her in physical and emotional wounds and scars. She wasn't a melodramatic person, but she lived by one core, hardened principle:
Take life or death lightly, but challenge anyone who disagrees. Don't back down.
If someone bullied her now and she thought about just waiting until the apocalypse to deal with them later, that wasn't her style. That was passive. Jing Shu preferred to see the hatred and frustration in their eyes immediately, even as they had no choice but to kneel and beg for mercy in the present. Instant, tangible consequences.
Watching the intricate drama in palace shows like Story of Yanxi Palace, where scheming characters died spectacularly every episode, was satisfying for a while. But Jing Shu's personal preference was different. She liked to keep a mental list of enemies who had survived the initial chaos of the apocalypse, digging them up every few chapters of her life and rubbing salt into their old wounds, ensuring their suffering was prolonged.
The best approach now, she decided, was not to sink to Zhu Zhengqi's level and hire her own army of trolls to fight his trolls in the livestream comments. That would be a waste of money and accomplish nothing but noise. Jing Shu's livestream was just a front, a convenient way to process and store food. She didn't want to become inexplicably internet famous from a troll war.
She picked up her phone and dialed a number. "Hello? Heng Jin? I need you to check someone's background and online history for me. His name is Zhu Zhengqi. I will send his phone number and known aliases to your WeChat. Good, good. I follow the Sun Yinrui updates every day. You're doing great work. The final blow should be ready soon, right?"
She listened, her expression shifting. "What? He claims to have found the woman who originally accused him of misconduct, and that woman is now willing to testify she was bribed to make false accusations? Haha, I'm curious where Sun Yinrui managed to find a convincing fake."
"Don't worry," she assured the voice on the other end. "I will give my testimony when the time is right. At this final stage, whether my involvement stays secret or not is irrelevant."
After hanging up, Jing Shu thought for a while. Could it be that Sun Yinrui had boasted about his shady dealings not only to his son but also to another woman? Could that woman be Su Meimei? If so, exposing their affair would be the final, crushing hammer. Once Jing Shu landed that blow, Sun Yinrui would be utterly finished, both professionally and personally.
Sun Yinrui's wife, from what she remembered, was famously domineering and controlling. His entire position relied on her, his logistics company was technically owned by his wife's family, which was why he got to manage the Wu City branch in the first place. Even if Sun Yinrui had been exposed for corruption before, the company might still reluctantly back him, unwilling to lose a capable, if dirty, manager.
But if his wife found out he was seeing another woman, her retaliatory tactics would be so personally terrifying that even a hardened Sun Yinrui, ten years after the apocalypse, wouldn't dare to live openly. One could only imagine the extent of her methods.
Perhaps precisely because of his wife's overpowering personality and tendencies, Sun Yinrui had sought out someone like the plain but cunningly gentle and submissive Su Meimei.
It was worth noting, Jing Shu thought with dark amusement, that in this era of universal beauty filters, Su Meimei was the rare person who still looked naturally, unfilteredly plain even after the camera added its special effects.
For the next several days, Jing Shu continued her busy schedule with various pickling tasks, using the livestream as her cover.
Among them, traditional pickled mustard greens were the simplest in concept but required patience. It needed heavy salt to dehydrate the vegetables, then repeatedly draining and re salting the brine. That's how it got its characteristic name and intense flavor.
Pickled mustard greens eventually occupied thirteen of her largest stoneware jars, the single largest quantity among all Jing Shu's pickle varieties. It wasn't the tastiest, but in the apocalypse, it was inconspicuous, incredibly long lasting, and hardy, a reliable staple.
She also made five large jars of sweet pickled garlic, which needed initial salt dehydration, then a complex sweet sauce preparation, and required daily turning before final sealing.
Next came batches of pickled radish, sauced cucumbers, celtuce stems, bamboo shoots, and pickled long beans. All followed the same basic principle, dehydrated with salt to draw out moisture and then marinated in various flavored sauces following proper procedures.
In contrast, various quick pickled vegetables were much simpler. Leftover carrot sticks, long bean segments, cabbage cores, celtuce, and cucumbers were just cut into pieces, divided into smaller jars, covered with a simple brine of water, vinegar, and seasonings, and ready to eat in two or three days. Their bright, vinegary taste was completely different from the deep, fermented flavors of the traditional pickles.
Sweet and sour radish was slightly more complicated, requiring the radish to be simmered slowly in the sweet and sour vinegar mixture for four to five hours to fully absorb the flavorful juice.
The absolute simplest was pickled garlic stalks, just cut into sections and soaked in plain vinegar. Take out whenever you wanted, add more whenever you had them.
The recent marathon of pickling had used such vast quantities of salt that Jing Shu had to place another urgent order for 500 jin, roughly 250 kilograms, of sodium free salt.
It was worth mentioning that in the midst of all this, over the past few days, Jing Shu had actually sold ten portions of the sweet garlic, over ten portions of the sauced cucumbers, and dozens of portions of the sweet and sour radish, each priced at that steadfast 998 yuan. Jing Shu felt a wave of helpless bemusement. Who were these buyers?
Perhaps her sarcastic retort about the trolls' lack of historical knowledge that day had an unexpected effect. The next day, her viewer count, which had been a steady 50,000 bots, suddenly skyrocketed to over 100,000. She went from being a little known streamer to one of the platform's top ten most popular live channels, inexplicably dominating the real time comment charts, the virtual "egg throwing" charts, and the fastest rising charts.
Jing Shu briefly wanted to just turn off the livestream to escape the madness and relax, but Grandpa Jing discovered her attempt and scolded her soundly, asking why she would turn off the "family business" when they were "getting so popular."
The trolls, seeing the inflated numbers, were likely ecstatic, thinking their campaign was working. The bizarre spectacle also attracted countless genuine, curious onlookers who came to see why a streamer had over a hundred thousand virtual rotten eggs thrown at her in a single day. But most of the hateful comments were clearly pre programmed bots, spouting the same crude, generic insults repeatedly. Savvy observers quickly understood what was really happening.
Some of these onlookers began to argue in the chat in her defense.
"Who did this streamer even offend to get roasted so badly by a bot army?"
"A rich second generation who remains aloof? She doesn't even seem to care. Look, she didn't even hire counter trolls to fight back."
"I checked her old, deleted videos. Her ingredients are really top quality, and she handles everything so cleanly. I believe her that she's making this for relatives and herself, not as a commercial scam like they claim."
"Honestly, there's nothing even to insult here. She's just peacefully pickling vegetables."
"Wow, she got pushed down so fast by the bots. Everyone, charge. Beat the trolls."
A spontaneous wave of support emerged from the real viewers. Observers began sharing her livestream link across forums and Tieba, and it even started trending slightly on Weibo. More and more people joined the fight against the obvious bot army, turning it into a game.
Just as the original trolls were being overwhelmed by real human comments, another massive wave of an estimated 100,000 fresh bots surged in, placing Jing Shu's channel in the top three on the platform. As the numbers grew absurdly large, a few genuinely wealthy, bored viewers were attracted by the spectacle, and the topic in the chat began to shift.
"Okay, but look at that produce. That's premium, organic stuff. The price is high, but it might actually be deserved."
"She didn't even ask any of you to buy it. She said it's for relatives and herself. Classic rich kid hobby."
"I actually love the grandma. She seems to know how to pickle everything. I've learned a lot just watching."
"I like the grandpa. He's a proper old school carpenter, skilled at everything, and he likes to brag in a cute way."
"The streamer herself seems almost invisible. Why is she always just washing vegetables in the background?"
"She's got this cold, detached goddess vibe. Jing Shu doesn't talk much, but she's demonstrably best at washing vegetables."
"Unbelievable. One portion is 2 liters. The glass containers she uses are so nice, must be expensive. Everything's clean, hygienic, no additives, with great ingredients. I wouldn't dare eat pickles from outside even if I were pregnant. For food, quality is everything. I'll try a portion first."
One brave, wealthy viewer tipped the 998 yuan first. Then, seeing it was possible, many others followed suit. During the ongoing troll versus citizen battle, a subset of viewers began actually buying various pickles out of curiosity or to show support.
Within a few days, some of these rich viewers became regulars, dominating the livestream chat with extravagant gifts, fiercely defending Jing Shu, and even posting unboxing videos on other platforms proving how delicious and high quality the pickles were. Others, seeing the proof and intrigued by the drama, bought portions too. The situation, to Jing Shu's complete astonishment, became utterly unstoppable. Her cover operation was accidentally becoming a genuine, lucrative business.