That night, the hashtag #HeYanTheStingyOne shot straight to the top of the trending list.
Past clips of celebrities either subtly or overtly complaining about him were edited together into a compilation and circulated wildly, drawing waves of ridicule.
【Is this the first time a celebrity has trended just for being stingy?】
【Legendary, my guy!】
Public opinion came crashing down like a tidal wave—and the worst part was, there was no way to clarify or refute it.
This wasn’t a scandal. It wasn’t slander. There was video evidence. And yes, He Yan was stingy.
How was he supposed to explain that?
Say he wasn’t stingy?
People would just accuse him of being defensive, call him guilty-looking, or mock him with lines like “The thief doth protest too much.”
Better to just play deaf and wait it out.
He Yan understood this was the best course of action—but that didn’t stop him from being furious, practically turning into a puffed-up frog from rage.
Especially when he used a burner account to check his own comment section, only to be bombarded with waves of unrelenting “hahahahahahaha”s. He wanted nothing more than to drag those laughing behind their usernames out and give them a good beating.
And then there was the real culprit—Han Heng!
Han Heng: “?? What does this have to do with me? I was upstairs the whole time!”
At some point, netizens even upgraded his nickname from “Watered-Down Movie King” to “Stingy Movie King,” always accompanied by mocking laughter.
On variety shows, he’d be deliberately asked about things like “being stingy” or “being broke.”
Cue another explosion of laughter.
Some reporters, hungry for clicks, even asked him directly in interviews, “Everyone says you’re stingy. What do you think, Brother Yan?”
He immediately darkened and stormed off—only to be mocked online again for his reaction.
But none of that was the worst part.
What truly drove him over the edge was this: his management team actually wanted to spin this into a “stingy persona” for marketing purposes?!
Manager: “With this level of buzz, we don’t even have to invest much. Just post a self-deprecating status, lean into the image, and I’ll talk to a few variety show directors so they can cue the topic during recording. This is a surefire way to lock in the persona!”
It was basically a guaranteed win.
But He Yan rejected it fiercely: “I’m an actor—not a clown here to amuse the masses! Get that straight!”
Once that persona stuck, his acting career would forever be tied to that one word: stingy.
For someone as sensitive as He Yan, that was absolutely unacceptable.
Some people are rich, so you call them stingy and they just laugh it off.
But if someone’s actually poor, and you publicly label them as stingy—or worse, force them to admit it themselves—that’s just cruel.
He Yan: “Don’t bother trying to convince me. I won’t agree.”
Manager: “It’s marketing! Marketing! Don’t take it literally!”
He Yan got up and left without even saying goodbye.
His posture screamed pride.
The manager was left fuming.
In the adjacent room, separated by just a wall, a few staff members were whispering—
“They really had a fight, huh?”
“Brother Yan stormed out, and Coco’s smashing stuff inside—how obvious can it get?”
“They’re not really going through with that stingy persona thing, right? Doesn’t seem like something Brother Yan would accept.”
“Tsk. The more someone cares about something, the less they want it mentioned.”
“…Actually, Brother Yan can be a bit… you know. I didn’t say that! Don’t quote me!”
That one comment opened Pandora’s box. The others couldn’t hold back any longer—
“‘A bit’? Try a lot! Remember last year’s New Year’s red envelopes? He gave out 88.8 yuan. I was stunned when I opened it. Then I saw a screenshot from Du Chengjiang’s assistant—Du directly transferred 88,888 yuan. That’s literally a thousand times more than ours! When they asked how much I got, I didn’t even dare answer. I was so bitter.”
“Little Hua, you got 88.8 yuan?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you guys?”
“I only got 66.6…”
“…I got 52.”
“F***!”
“That’s insane.”
…
The production team had paid for the grand piano, and once filming ended, they had it moved to an auction house.
After all, it cost over 10 million—gotta recoup something or the show can’t go on!
But then the appraiser informed them that the keys had visible damage, and the value had dropped by half.
The director was bleeding internally.
He had already gone to bed, but the more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He sat up and called the assistant director.
The assistant director was asleep and cursed softly when the phone rang, but still picked up groggily—
“Hello?” he mumbled.
“He Yan’s off the next episode. Tell him to GET LOST—”
The assistant director sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake.
“W-what?! You’re replacing He Yan?”
“Not replacing. Removing. And from now on, he’s blacklisted from all my projects!”
Yes—he was banned.
After all, how else could the director justify losing five million?
He Yan soon received the termination notice—and was completely stunned.
The official reason: due to reputational damage, the artist was no longer suitable to appear on the show.
In other words, they pinned the blame on him, and now they could cancel his contract without paying a penalty.
All attempts at negotiation failed. He Yan had no choice but to withdraw.
At the same time, his two most prominent luxury endorsements and three Tier-1 brand ambassador roles were all revoked.
The reason?
“The artist’s image no longer aligns with brand culture.”
To put it bluntly—what’s a stingy guy doing repping luxury goods? Is this a joke?
He Yan’s career was in free fall.
Ultimately, he’d gotten too used to being the aloof, cold film emperor. When he suddenly came off as cheap—er, “financially cautious”—the contrast was too jarring, completely collapsing his image.
Plus, he had publicly defended He Xiaoke without knowing the full story, even trying to pin the blame for the piano incident on Jiang Fuyue. His inability to distinguish right from wrong, and his lack of accountability, branded him a “clown in power.”
Fans were deeply disappointed. Many even left the fandom and started bashing him.
Meanwhile, Han Heng’s agent was practically grinning from ear to ear: “He Yan did this to himself. I heard that old witch Coco is already scouting new talent—looks like she’s ditching him.”
Han Heng: “That’s a bit much. Sure, his popularity tanked, but he’s still talented. At worst, they’ll just reallocate his resources or use him to prop up a newcomer. Either way, he’s still part of Coco’s camp.”
Agent, smiling: “From top card to pawn—how poetic. Either way, he’s no competition for us anymore.”
Han Heng adjusted the apron around his waist in front of the mirror.
Yes, an actual apron. The kind kitchen ladies wear.
“What’s this new look? Kinda weird…”
“Oh, I’m cooking today. Teaching netizens how to make a meal.”
“WHAT?! You’re cooking?”
“What?” Han Heng gave him a cold stare. “You got a problem with that?”
“N-no…” The agent swallowed. “Brother Heng, listen to me, we cannot break character! You can’t do this!”
Han Heng scratched his nose: “Being bad at cooking doesn’t count as breaking character, right?”
The agent twitched violently.
Was it really just about being bad at cooking? He’d literally almost blown up a kitchen before!
With heartfelt sincerity, the agent pleaded: “I really don’t want to see you go from Grand Slam Movie King to kitchen arsonist.”
Han Heng: “…Get out.”
Living room.
All the cameras were set. A clapperboard snapped.
“Episode 4 of Old Boys at Home, rolling—Action!”
Han Heng smiled at the camera: “Today I’ll teach everyone how to make an abalone rice bowl… for just one yuan.”
In the livestream chat:
【One yuan? Are you pretending to be poor?】
【Bro, are you lowkey shading someone? I have no proof, but I feel it.】
【So “abalone” = mushrooms, and “rice” = leftovers from yesterday?】
Han Heng:
“Remember—soy sauce is key. Add three drops. That’s the soul of the dish.”
【HAHAHA, it really only cost one yuan!】
【Trying this immediately!】
【Suddenly it feels like bro is panhandling… should I throw him a coin?】
【Hey coin-thrower, that mindset is wrong. But uh… can I join?】
【Me too!】
【+ID number】
…
Since He Yan had dropped out, the show was down a guest. The director, lacking funds, didn’t bring in a replacement.
To keep things lively and prevent viewer drop-off, they added new segments—like live interaction.
Han Heng: “So, that’s how you make an abalone rice bowl. Now, let’s chat a bit. Little Zhang, move the tripod—I want to see what people are saying.”
The comments exploded—
【Bro! Look at me!】
【Heng-heng! Mommy’s here—】
【Sassy Heng, fly free! The sun will always follow you!】
Han Heng cleared his throat: “Ahem. Since everyone’s so enthusiastic, I’ll randomly answer three questions.”
First one: Do you have a girlfriend?
Han Heng: “Absolutely not.”
Second: What’s your take on stinginess?
Han Heng: “Frugality is a traditional virtue of the Chinese people.”
Third: Where’s our Goddess Yue? We want Jiang Fuyue!
Once that question appeared, the screen flooded with her name.
Han Heng: “She’s not home. National team training camp started three days ago.”
Yes—the national team training had officially begun…
