At midnight, a Weibo post that lasted barely 15 minutes sent shockwaves through the entertainment world. Actress Xu Lisha tagged multiple major fandom groups—“Tan Army, Mi Army, Tan Songyun Army, Lin Army, Huang Army 2, Li Army”—and wrote bluntly: “Kaikai has talked about your idols behind their backs! The next half-month is up to you!” As netizens decoded the hints, names like Tan Jianci, Yang Mi, Tan Songyun, Lin Gengxin, Huang Jingyu, and Li Xian emerged, turning the post into a bombshell across the industry.
This wasn’t just a casual rumor but more like a call to battle. Xu Lisha hinted she would release a “recording proof” on September 7, suggesting she holds evidence of Xu Kai criticizing fellow stars in private. Yet she quickly deleted the post, fueling speculation even further. Her offhand reply—“Of course I support this, he badmouthed your idol”—added gasoline to the fire and solidified the “verbal war” narrative.
The conflict had been brewing. Just days earlier, Xu Lisha updated her Weibo bio to “Yu Zheng dependency syndrome,” mocking accusations of being his “sasaeng fan.” Many netizens applauded her for “fighting magic with magic.” But her true target extended beyond Yu Zheng, as her arrows now pointed at Xu Kai’s network of collaborators.
Yang Mi was immediately pulled into the fray, with her infamous “wipe-mouth-after-kiss-scene” clip from She and Her Perfect Husband resurfacing. Tan Songyun’s fans recalled Xu Kai’s comment during You Are Beautiful When You Smile promotions, where he joked about having “physical reactions” during kiss scenes, calling it disrespectful. Tan Jianci, despite barely interacting with Xu Kai in Court Lady, suddenly found himself implicated, leaving netizens stunned. Even stars like Lin Yi and Justin Huang Minghao—who only appeared with Xu Kai on variety shows—were dragged into the bizarrely wide net.
Fan communities quickly split into camps. Tan Jianci’s fans initially demanded proof but later deleted their posts; Yang Mi’s fans flooded timelines with “reject female competition, respect women”; while Tan Songyun’s fan groups organized a “wait for the truth” campaign. Neutral observers remarked, “Male celebrities gossiping about colleagues isn’t rare, but Xu Kai being exposed by an ex—this is a first.” Some even dug up cases of other male actors weathering scandals unscathed, sarcastically noting, “The male-idol immunity spell lives on.”
Xu Kai’s silence only intensified the uproar. His upcoming S+ drama Moonlit Reunion (子夜归) saw its comment sections flooded with messages like “Did he badmouth Yang Mi?” and “Refunds on September 7.” The production team hurriedly pulled joint promotional materials. But Xu Lisha’s high-risk strategy could easily backfire—if she fails to deliver evidence, she may face collective defamation lawsuits; if the recordings are real, Xu Kai’s career could collapse entirely.
Now, all eyes are on September 7. Either a recording detonates the industry, or the saga ends in a courtroom. But the cruel reality remains: when private morals become bargaining chips, and revenge morphs into PR warfare, there can be no real winners. What’s certain is that the entertainment industry’s thin veil of secrecy has already been torn apart.
