Ronan and Deng Chun's conversation was agonizing to listen to without the necessary background knowledge.
Even Zhao Xi at the scene felt that way, let alone the vast number of netizens.
They should have thanked Long Qi. He had even moved farther away—the deliberately widened distance, the obstructed visuals, and the muffled, distorted audio spared them a great deal of unnecessary trouble.
It was a seasoned approach. After all, it involved the Secret Cult. Avoiding the most sensitive matters could prevent possible trouble and disputes later on.
More importantly, it kept certain people from diving headfirst into it out of curiosity.
But the netizens did not care about any of that. All they saw was that you bastard had started a livestream, profited off their traffic, and then shut their mouths. Now even This Old Man's eyes and ears had to suffer along with it!
This was too much!
Everyone had already been in a foul mood. After being gagged by the live stream room, huge numbers of netizens with a strong urge to vent went to complain on ZM's main platform, as well as other social media platforms and forums. Naturally, some also filed reports.
Those reports sank like stones into the sea, utterly meaningless.
As for the condemnatory comments outside the live stream room, Long Qi was thick-skinned enough to pretend he never saw them. Everyone was like people wildly punching a sandbag—apart from hurting their own hands and sending their blood pressure through the roof, they gained nothing.
Then again, some things—especially the intangible emotions carried in public discourse—were easy enough to ignore. But once they reached a certain scale, they would naturally transform into something else and make themselves seen in another way.
Even if that way was more violent, more extreme, and more troublesome.
While