Flying home for the holidays on a red-eye flight, I found myself stuck at the airport, blocked by a suffocating swarm of a female celebrity’s fans. A bodyguard pushed me back, pointing a finger at my face. “Fans, stay back!” My plane was about to take off, and I was desperate. I pulled out my megaphone and roared: “Who the hell is her fan? Get real! If you block the way again, I’m calling the cops!” I went viral overnight, and the celebrity was ripped apart on trending topics. A year later, burned by acid thrown by an extreme fan, my throat damaged, I vaguely remember falling to my death from a building. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back at that airport. “Our daughter is so beautiful! Our daughter worked so hard! Go home and rest!” “Happy New Year, sweetheart!” “Don’t forget to post selfies, baby!” In the dense crowd, I was pushed forward, stumbling right into a bodyguard’s back. Immediately, I was shoved away so hard I almost landed on my butt. But the bodyguard wasn’t satisfied. He glared at me, then stretched out his arms, creating a comfortable space for the A-lister. “Fans, stand back! Don’t get too close!” The sound of my fall still echoed in my ears. My mind was hazy, but I could clearly see the glamorous figure ahead. Everyone around was crammed and pushed, yet she stood alone, relaxed within the protection of a dozen bodyguards. She wore sunglasses, hands tucked into her pockets, walking with an air of cold arrogance. She was so imposing, it felt like this wasn’t a crowded airport, but an international red carpet. The fans’ screams pierced my eardrums, and my head buzzed. Still, I instinctively pulled out my megaphone, just like in my previous life, cranking the volume to max. Then, everyone nearby heard my furious shout— “Try pushing me again, I dare you!” “I’m just a regular passenger rushing to catch my flight, what gives you the right to stop me? And not only that, you yell at me and shove me? Who gave you the authority to be so rude to a stranger? And another thing!” “Who the hell is your fan?! Get real! Blocking the airport right before the holidays? Seriously, how messed up is that? Treating innocent passengers like your personal fan club? Do you think you’re some kind of god, that everyone’s obsessed with you? Get out of the way, or I’m calling the cops!!” The entire hall fell silent. All cameras were still on us. My outburst was live-streamed to countless people. Within five minutes, the news headlines exploded. #StellaThorneYelledAtByPassengerAtAirport #WhoTheHellIsYourFan #StellaThorneFansDisruptAirportOrder #BlockingAirportBeforeHolidaysHowMessedUp #ThinkYoureSomeKindofGodSoPopular My words were dissected, every phrase hitting the trending topics. The hashtags dominated, and the media frantically spun stories to defend her. Of course, the self-righteous keyboard warriors started popping up, claiming: “While the fans were wrong, that passenger’s language was way too harsh, wasn’t it?” They were instantly roasted. [You’d be polite if you missed your flight before the holidays? If you’re so saintly, buy her a private jet!] [Blocking the airport is wrong, but did you really have to be so aggressive?] [I was one of the passengers stuck there. No joke, when I heard the megaphone lady start yelling, my colleagues and I clapped louder than fireworks. My only regret is not bringing my own bullhorn.] While the internet was blowing up, I had already returned to my rental apartment, having missed my flight. Okay, actually, I almost didn’t make it back. If the police hadn’t arrived so quickly, the fans there might have torn me apart. Thank God for the police officers. Finally home, when I checked online again, Stella Thorne’s studio had already issued an apology. The statement said they were willing to compensate me and all affected passengers twofold for our losses. It seemed sincere, but then at the end, it tagged my social media handle. By then, my Ins page was already swarmed with curious onlookers and fans. The fans also followed suit with performative apologies. [We’re so sorry, sis! Our fans were out of line! We’re practically on our knees wishing you a Happy New Year!] [Please forgive our baby, she’s just scared from being chased by bad fans, it wasn’t intentional o(╥﹏╥)o] [Happy New Year, missy! All the Thorne fans apologize, hope we haven’t ruined your mood!] But when I checked my DMs, it was a seemingly endless stream of red notification dots, almost all filled with insults and curses. [Were you rushing home to attend your parents’ funeral? Trying to piggyback off my daughter’s fame during the holidays, huh?] [You went viral, your mom died, what a filial daughter you are.] [Was it fun yelling at a celebrity’s face? Why didn’t you get trampled to death in a stampede?] [Jocelyn Melody, elementary school music teacher, phone number XXXXXXXXXXX, ID XXXXXXXXXXX, that’s you, right? LOL, you pathetic little teacher, daring to insult my queen for clout. Want me to share your parents’ info next? Bitch!] [Already sent a complaint letter to your principal’s email, you’re welcome, hun~] 2. Looking back, I had a lot of DMs in my past life too, but I never bothered to read them. To avoid trouble, I simply deactivated my social media, thinking the heat would die down. It wasn’t until later, when I received calls from my parents and a meeting with my principal, that I realized those fans had never let me go. This time… I compiled a collage of a hundred screenshots, a full photo grid of DMs, and posted it, directly tagging Stella Thorne’s studio. [Jocelyn Melody: My flight has been missed. If you want to compensate me, you can get me a private jet. Also, who gave you the right to tag my account? Did you ask me first? Or was it intentional? Maliciously leaking private information to let your dogs attack me?] The news headlines completely blew up, turning that New Year’s Eve into an actual firework show. People were eating their holiday dinners, thoroughly enjoying the drama. My Ins page quickly gathered tens of thousands of comments. After midnight, reposts soared past a hundred thousand, becoming the first viral sensation of the year. Stella Thorne’s studio hastily untagged me and reissued an apology. But it was too late. Stella Thorne and her fans had completely become the internet’s new playthings for the holidays. [New Year’s Double Whammy: refers to Stella Thorne and her team getting publicly roasted and humiliated right at the start of the year, getting slapped on both cheeks. A double dose of holiday joy, hence the name.] [Toxic Fans: refers to Stella’s disgusting and shameless fans who relentlessly attack anyone critical of their idol, and are generally just awful.] Amidst the explosion of public opinion, Stella Thorne’s studio issued a third apology, this time addressed to all netizens, stating they shouldn’t have occupied public resources. As soon as this statement came out, netizens had new material. [Empty Apologies: refers to people questioning if Stella’s studio’s apology was sincere or just a load of hot air. ‘Stella’s Studio’ (Stella’s Stu) sounds like ‘Empty’ (Stu-pid), hence the pun.] I just relied on the witty netizens for entertainment during the holidays. Because this time, I hadn’t deactivated my Ins, so the insults in my DMs never stopped. But I had no intention of posting them again. Some counterattacks only work once; use them too often, and the onlookers lose interest. I was waiting for the next opportunity. Soon, even before the New Year holidays were over, a reality show sent me an invitation. In my previous life, I had rejected it without a second thought. This time, I agreed without hesitation. Because I knew Stella Thorne would be there too. This show was specifically designed to help Stella, which is why they invited me. In other words, I was a tool to be humiliated by Stella, to help her restore her reputation. Whatever she lost because of me, she intended to take back from me. Well, good. I was thinking the same thing. After the holidays, the reality show quickly began filming. No one sent a car to pick me up. By the time I huffed and puffed, dragging my suitcase to the destination, I was drenched in sweat. I was exhausted. When the villa’s iron gate wouldn’t open, no matter how hard I knocked, I just sat down on the ground to catch my breath. No sooner had I sat down than a gleaming black luxury SUV pulled up in front of me. The car door opened, sparkling stiletto heels touched the ground, and Stella Thorne glided down like an ethereal being. Only then did the iron gate hastily open, and staff rushed out to greet the top-tier celebrity. The live-streaming cameras turned to us. First, they filmed Stella Thorne from head to toe, then slowly panned down, including me, sitting on the ground, looking disheveled. [What a cruel contrast.] [Is that the mysterious passenger? I thought she got such a grand entrance because she was gorgeous, but that’s it?] [Although I’m here to laugh at Stella Thorne, her face really is flawless.] [Told you, with Stella, face is everything, she’ll always be a heartthrob!] 3. As the comments flew by, the director’s team finally “noticed” me: “Hey, why is our guest sitting on the ground? Someone help her up!” But before any staff could move, a pair of perfectly manicured hands helped me up. “Hi, I heard you’re the only lady among the passengers. Let’s get to know each other, shall we?” It was Stella Thorne. In my past life, I was cyberbullied to death because of her, yet I had never truly met her. It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried. In my most desperate moments, I sent her DMs, I sent DMs to her studio, I tried every possible way to find her company’s phone number, hoping to be connected, or at least to have my plea relayed. I just wanted her to say something, anything, to rein in her fans, even just a single sentence, to tell them to stop bothering my family. But there was never a response. All my pleas fell on deaf ears. My accounts and numbers were blocked. Finally, I even disguised myself and waited for her outside her company. The closest I ever got, I almost managed to grab her clothes, but her bodyguards were quick, harshly shoving me away. They thought I was a stalker. Even though I was screaming: “I’m the victim of your fans’ cyberbullying! Please help me! I can’t live like this anymore!” But all I got was a cold, disdainful glance back. I still remember that look. Her face was hidden by a mask, but her eyes were high and mighty, like someone standing on clouds, looking down at a pathetic insect struggling in the mud. Then she shook her head and walked away faster, quickly disappearing. Her assistant stayed behind, pointing at my nose, a look of contempt on his face: “Oh, who’s this? Isn’t this the airport megaphone lady who went viral overnight? Weren’t you screaming pretty loudly at the airport? Why aren’t you screaming now?” “Oh! You’re on the verge of dying, so you know how to beg for help now? If you ask me, ordinary people like you deserve a lesson. Otherwise, you’ll keep thinking you’re equal to a superstar, shouting whatever you want. You’ve really been given too much leeway!” His smile was arrogant and condescending, perfectly mirroring Stella Thorne’s head shake. “Don’t act so impulsively in the future. Stella is very busy right now. Maybe she’ll post something on her Ins to help you when she has time.” Then he left. But I never saw Stella Thorne post anything on Ins, not until the day I died. How busy was Miss Thorne? In my previous life, I really wanted to know. But in this life, I wanted to know more: why exactly were ordinary people like us considered inferior? Stella Thorne’s familiar assistant stood behind her. I glanced at his fake smile, then, smiling myself, gripped Stella Thorne’s hand with my dusty one. Watching her face instantly stiffen, and the undisguised revulsion in her eyes, I said: “Then I look forward to working with you, Miss Thorne.” “My name is Jocelyn Melody, and I’m an elementary school music teacher.” Stella Thorne deliberately froze. I saw her yank her hand away as if startled, her face turning pale. But then, in the next moment, she forced out a somewhat weak, timid smile. “Jo-Jocelyn Melody, I didn’t expect the show to invite you.” She bit her lip, her eyes already glistening with tears. “Perfect! I want to apologize to you in person while we have this chance. I hope you can forgive me.” Five or six cameras were aimed directly at us. I remained silent for a long moment. Only when Stella Thorne’s forced smile was about to crack did I offer a small smile, tilting my head. “Don’t you usually bow when you apologize? And you haven’t even said ‘I’m sorry’ yet.” This time, Stella Thorne truly froze, her weak expression almost shattering. 4. I laughed, clapped my hands, and picked up my suitcase. “Just kidding! You’ve apologized three times already, that’s more than enough~” [What?! Is that the airport megaphone lady? This show is going to be explosive!] [Ugh, doesn’t anyone think this passenger is super rude? Stella apologized, and she’s still so harsh, a bit malicious.] [My impression is changing, suddenly I feel bad for Stella. I guess I’m a total lookist!] [This elementary school teacher doesn’t actually think she’s a huge celebrity now, does she?] As the comments flew past, I walked into the villa. Before I could even see anyone clearly, my suitcase was taken from my hand. “I’ll carry it for you.” Her voice was a little low, but very pleasant. I looked up and saw a short-haired woman with overly sharp features. She looked barely twenty but had a very composed demeanor. I quickly followed her. Before I’d walked two steps, Stella Thorne’s loud voice rang out behind me: “Alexia Vance! You’re here too! Quick, help me with my suitcase too! It’s so heavy!” Alexia Vance. I remembered now. She was an actress, and a future Oscar winner. Before I died in my previous life, she had just won her first Oscar for playing a boxer. I had a very deep impression of her acceptance speech. “I won this award mostly because of passion and dedication, and partly because I wanted to show everyone that I am an independent person. Even without the ‘daughter of a superstar’ title, I can still shine brightly in my chosen field. So, this award goes to everyone who has a sense of self, a dream, and who relentlessly pursues and loves what they do.” When I heard that speech, I was in the second stage of my treatment. Honestly, I didn’t care about my face being ruined by acid; I just wanted to heal my throat. I wanted to sing again. More than anything. But the doctors’ results were always sighs and headshakes. I had just come out of the hospital, standing on a busy street. Looking at Alexia Vance on the department store screen, delivering that speech, I suddenly covered my face and sobbed uncontrollably, bending over, kneeling on the ground, until my hoarse throat bled, and I still couldn’t stop. A kind passerby came up and asked if I was an Alexia Vance fan. But I didn’t know how to use my ruined voice to tell them. No, I wasn’t a fan. I didn’t even know this person, but we should have been fellow travelers, strangers on the same path. Yet now, the torch I used to light my dreams had been extinguished. She, however, would continue to stride forward. I wasn’t jealous; I was just in deep pain. When I snapped back to reality, Alexia Vance had already taken Stella Thorne’s suitcase. She seemed to be a woman of few words, but Stella Thorne was chattering non-stop. “Oh my god, Alexia Vance, you haven’t seen you in a while, and you’ve become even less concerned with your appearance? You look like a guy!” She said, linking her arm through Alexia Vance’s, and then exclaimed again: “Why do you feel like you’ve been working out so much? It’s terrifying, will you even be able to wear dresses anymore?!” Just then, a cameraman carrying the live stream monitor walked past me. I glanced at the screen, which was flooded with comments like: “So sweet! It makes me so happy!” Me: ? Sweet where? What’s sweet? This much sweetness is going to give me diabetes! 5. By evening, all the guests finally gathered. After a seemingly joyful dinner, we moved into the casual chat segment. This type of live reality show, featuring celebrities interacting with ordinary people, thrives on the collision of two different lives… or even two different social classes. Several ordinary guests began talking about their lives. Like working until midnight for only two hundred bucks in overtime pay, or not daring to order takeout over twenty dollars. And the celebrities kept showing expressions of shock or empathy. “I totally get it! You’re so tired you could fall asleep standing up, but the director yells ‘action,’ and you have to instantly get into character. You literally feel like you’re floating!” “One time I was on wires all day, and when I came down, I felt like my back was broken. I kept thinking I was going to die young.” After this outpouring of stories, Stella Thorne sighed and summed it up. “Ugh, sometimes I really feel like celebrities and actors aren’t that special. It’s even a really dangerous profession.” Listening to Stella Thorne’s lament, I almost laughed out loud. But then, the topic quickly shifted to me. “Speaking of which, there’s a question I’ve really wanted to ask Jocelyn Melody.” Brandon Clark, one of the ordinary guests, suddenly looked at me. He was a hardcore fan of Stella Thorne. Apparently a lawyer, he’d only come on the show for Stella Thorne. When he first saw Stella Thorne that afternoon, he almost teared up. You’d think he was a ten-year veteran fan. But Stella Thorne had only been famous for three years. He asked me: “Are you really not a fan of Stella?” “Of course not.” “If not, why were you in the fan zone? It’s quite strange. The airport is so big, there are other passages. And since Stella’s fans were so numerous, you could definitely see them. If you were rushing to board, why didn’t you avoid them and take another route?” What an abrupt attack. A moment of silence, and the atmosphere grew awkward. Stella Thorne forced a smile. “Why are we talking about this? Ultimately, it was all my fault…” “No, I’m just analyzing the issue from an objective standpoint, no other meaning.” Despite his words, his gaze at me was clearly aggressive. “Can you answer me, Miss Melody? Logically, celebrity send-offs aren’t new. So why haven’t we seen a passenger go viral overnight like you before? Is it because other passengers weren’t as brave? Or did other passengers know to avoid the fans, instead of actively mingling with them and then complaining about being obstructed?” [He has a point, now that you mention it?] [I’m gonna cry! Thorne fan defending his idol against a malicious woman! What kind of idol drama is this?!] [All the grievances Stella suffered, her fans are getting back for her!] Several cameras were pushing close to my face. I guess the director’s team really wanted to capture my flustered or stiff expression. But I just felt awkward. “Uh, I don’t really want to keep discussing this topic…” “Just curious, you know?” Brandon Clark smiled, and several other male guests chimed in, egging him on. “Come on, tell us, we’re curious too.” “Did your impression of Stella change when you actually met her?” “I heard Stella apologized to your face? Did you forgive her?” The comments immediately went wild again. [Seriously?! Everyone’s a Thorne fan here, huh?!] [Finally caught them! This show is basically a Stella Thorne fan meet, isn’t it?] [Hahaha, so satisfying! This passenger dares to step on our beloved Stella to get famous? Doesn’t she know Stella is a heartthrob who charms everyone she meets?] 6. Only Alexia Vance slightly frowned, muttering: “If she doesn’t want to talk about it, then she doesn’t have to.” “I’m just curious.” Brandon Clark repeated, but then magnanimously added: “But it’s fine, you don’t have to satisfy my curiosity. I believe everyone has their own answer in their hearts.” Why did that sound so weird? I believed I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Because Alexia Vance looked at Brandon Clark and said coolly: “I think fans disrupting airport order for a send-off is inherently wrong – that’s the answer everyone has in their hearts. Do you have a different answer?” Brandon Clark’s face stiffened. He quickly glanced at Stella Thorne. Stella Thorne, who had been quietly fiddling with her fingers, finally looked up as if snapping out of it, glancing at everyone. “Why are we talking about this? Aren’t we discussing everyone’s professions? Whose turn is it now?” She looked like she was trying to defuse the situation for me, winking at me. “Jocelyn Melody, aren’t you an elementary school music teacher? How about you sing us a song?” “With Julian Hayes, the King of Pop, here, I’m not going to make a fool of myself.” I looked at Julian Hayes. He was the other heavyweight guest on the show, currently the most brilliant singer in the music industry. He debuted at eighteen through a music talent show. He’d only released five albums to date but had already won four Grammy Awards. As for other popularity and sales awards, they were countless. Most importantly, his singing was incredibly beautiful. It was the perfect blend of tone, technique, and emotion. Many said that Julian Hayes’s voice was a gift from heaven to the public, and I deeply agreed. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given him my precious compositions to sing. “How can that be the same? Julian is a pop king, and you’re an elementary school music teacher. Your fields are completely different; it’s not like you’re making a fool of yourself.” “Besides, you could sing a children’s song! I can even accompany you~” Stella Thorne propped her chin on her hand, looking at me with an innocently expectant face. Everyone else immediately started egging me on. “Come on, sing one! Just a children’s song.” “It’s been ages since I heard a children’s song. Let’s find our lost innocence through this.” “Miss Melody, don’t be shy, show us your stuff! I mean, I haven’t seen a living elementary school music teacher since I graduated elementary school. Is your job super easy and fun? Can you show us how you usually kids?” That last line was from Brandon Clark. I glanced at him. His innocent demeanor was exactly like his idol’s. I couldn’t help but say: “If you want me to you, it’s not impossible. Call me ‘Mom’ first.” Brandon Clark’s smile froze, and he let out an awkward laugh. “Miss Melody sure knows how to joke.” Again, only Alexia Vance spoke up for me: “If she doesn’t want to sing, then she doesn’t have to. She’s an elementary school teacher, not an elementary school student, and you’re not her parents. You’re acting like adults at a dinner table making a kid perform. It’s pretty off-putting.” “Oh my gosh, Alexia! You’re so unromantic! Your EQ test results must be super, super low!” Stella Thorne laughed, linking her arm through Alexia Vance’s, and even winked at her. “From the way you are and your speaking style, people would believe you’re a straight guy. Girls should be softer, you know? How about we share a bed tonight, and I’ll give you some tips?” [I’m shipping them so hard, Stella, the ultimate heartbreaker, is charming another badass woman!] [Give up, Stella, Alexia Vance is beyond saving. To be your husband, she’s decided to go all the way down the ‘masculine’ path!] [This passenger has such an attitude! Stella is trying to help her out, and she’s being difficult. Who does she think she is?] [Seems like only Alexia Vance at the scene hasn’t seen through Miss Popular’s true colors.] [Ugh, Alexia, that dumbass! She’ll regret it when her ‘wife’ gets hurt again because of this passenger!] Reading the comments, I: “…” I almost threw up, but then I suddenly received off-screen instructions from the director’s team. A large “SING” was written on a whiteboard. They wanted me to sing? Then another board was shown, with “CHILDREN’S SONG” written on it. Finally, they held up a third board, with “CONTRACT” written on it. …They were warning me that we had a contract, and if I didn’t cooperate as agreed, I’d have to pay a penalty. Everyone saw this. But Stella Thorne was humming a song to the side, and Brandon Clark and another male passenger exchanged meaningful smiles, looking at me like I was an ant. Only Julian Hayes frowned, and Alexia Vance pursed her lips, about to speak. But I reached out and stopped her.
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