You were supposed to have a fake marriage with the diva, so how did you become her father?

The internal turmoil in Japan snowballed, starting as a debate on gaming forums and later spreading to social media, news comment sections, and even everyday conversations on the streets.

The consumer market was the first to break down.

A purchasing manager at a large supermarket chain in Tokyo said in an interview that sales of Chinese-made products in their stores have more than doubled in the past two weeks, while the shelves for similar Japanese-made products have been almost untouched.

He gave a wry smile and said, "Even our own employees are buying Chinese goods. How can we do business like this?"

The electronics district in Akihabara is on the verge of collapse.

Nearly half of the once-thriving shops have closed down. The remaining shops have either plastered their doors with discount posters or changed their signs to sell domestically produced electronic products.

A shop owner who had been in the electronics business for twenty years stood smoking in front of his empty shop, with seven or eight cigarette butts lying at his feet.

He said to the interview camera, "I've sold Japanese goods my whole life. Now, if you ask me to switch to selling Chinese goods, I'd like to, but how easy is it to get a distributorship for Chinese products?"

What troubles the Japanese government even more is the loss of control over public opinion.

New discussion threads emerge daily on Japan's largest social media platforms.

Some people are compiling historical archives collected from overseas websites, some are translating publicly available war memorial materials from China into Japanese and posting them online, and some are directly posting news photos taken by foreign journalists back then, with only one line of text: "I just visited the places in these photos last week."

People started posting pictures of old items they'd found in their homes on social media—a rusted military water bottle, a yellowed soldier's notebook, a badge with an illegible design.

The poster said that he had never looked at these things carefully before, but now that he has taken them out to look at them, he feels a tightness in his chest.

Someone replied, "My grandma's family has something similar," and then someone else added, "My grandpa's diary contains some things that I still don't dare to finish reading."

The speed at which posts are deleted can no longer keep up with the speed at which posts are made.

The forum administrator was still working overtime late into the night, but for every new post deleted, two more would pop up. The administrator's account posted a status in the early morning, roughly saying, "I can't delete any more, you guys figure it out yourselves," and that status was deleted half an hour later.

What caught the Japanese government off guard was the resurgence of boycott sentiment.

It started when someone posted on social media, saying, "If the Chinese are boycotting us, shouldn't we reflect on why?"

This post was shared tens of thousands of times, and the comment section was in complete chaos.

As the argument progressed, the tide turned. Someone replied, "I support the original poster's statement. I will no longer buy products from companies that distort history." Then, someone actually started making a list, marking all the companies that had an ambiguous attitude on the issue of history textbooks, and calling on everyone to boycott their products.

At first, not many people paid attention to this call.

Two days later, someone posted a photo of a Japanese car brand's new car launch event. The photo showed only a few scattered reporters in the audience, and the scene looked more like a funeral than a new car launch.

After the photo went viral online, calls to boycott their own products suddenly increased several times over.

The stock market reacted with astonishing speed.

The TOPIX index fell for five consecutive days that week.

On the first day, when the price dropped by three points, some analysts came out and said that this was just a short-term emotional fluctuation.

The market dropped another two points the next day, and analysts changed their tune, saying the market was looking for a new equilibrium. The third day, it opened sharply lower, four points below the previous day's close. Retail investors who were still observing panicked instantly, and sell orders poured in like an avalanche.

By the fourth day, the green line on the exchange's screen had fallen below everyone's psychological threshold.

A crowd of retail investors gathered outside the securities company. Some shouted into the camera, "My retirement savings are all in there!" Others squatted on the steps, their voices trembling as they called their families to let them know. Still others stood silently at the back of the crowd, staring at the string of constantly changing green numbers on the screen.

As the market closed in the evening, a financial commentator on television said to the camera, "Today is a day to remember," and then remained silent for nearly ten seconds before continuing.

The Japanese Prime Minister's staff held an emergency meeting that evening.

The meeting lasted for more than four hours, from 8 p.m. until 1 a.m. According to later leaked information, four different response plans were laid out on the meeting table: the mildest one was to make a public speech to appease public opinion, while the most radical one was to use foreign exchange reserves to intervene in the market.

None of the final four proposals were approved.

The Prime Minister's instruction to all departments at 2 a.m. consisted of only one sentence: "Contact the U.S. for assistance as soon as possible."

In the following days, the diplomatic channels of Japan's Ministry of Foreign Affairs suddenly became unusually busy.

The Foreign Minister personally flew to Washington, carrying a thick folder filled with the latest data on the impact on the Japanese economy and urgent requests for help from various industries.

In his opening remarks at his meeting with the U.S. Secretary of State, he made a statement that was very characteristic of Japan: "We are facing unprecedented difficulties, and we hope that the U.S. side can understand our situation and provide the necessary support."

The translation is "Daddy, save me."

The US side initially adopted a very restrained attitude.

The Secretary of State stated in public that "the U.S.-Japan alliance is the cornerstone of peace and stability in the Asia-Pacific region. The U.S. is concerned about recent changes in the economic situation and supports the Japanese government in taking appropriate measures to stabilize the market."

The wording is very standard.

But private communication is a completely different matter.

The Foreign Minister provided more details during the closed-door meeting.

He mentioned that the sales of Japanese cars in the Chinese market have been halved, and export orders for electronic products have decreased by nearly half. If this trend continues, the entire Japanese manufacturing industry will face the problem of overcapacity, and many factories will have to shut down.

He emphasized the word "work stoppage" with obvious emphasis, as if reminding the US that the chain reaction of soaring unemployment would not be confined to Japan.

The US attitude has begun to soften.

According to those who participated in the meeting, after hearing that statement, the Secretary of State remained silent for a moment, then asked a question: "Are you sure all of this is because of a game?"

The Foreign Minister's answer was also honest: "Not entirely. But the game was the trigger; it ignited existing sentiments in China and also caused some people in Japan to begin questioning their own history education system."

The U.S. State Department issued a brief statement that afternoon, with slightly stronger wording than its previous statements.

The statement mentioned that "the U.S. is concerned about the recent boycott of Japanese products," and added that "international trade should follow the principles of fairness and justice and should not be affected by non-economic factors."

Although the Dragon Kingdom wasn't named, everyone knew who these words were meant for.

After the statement was released, the Japanese stock market rebounded slightly at the opening of trading the next day, but it only lasted for half a day before falling back down.

The market clearly doesn't believe that a single statement can solve the problem.

The capital market is always more honest than politicians—it only looks at actual actions, not verbal statements.

Before returning to Tokyo, the Japanese Foreign Minister had one last conversation with the US side.

This time he brought with him a letter personally signed by the Prime Minister, the wording of which was more urgent than any previous official document.

A passage from the letter was circulated among the entourage: "As the United States' most important ally in Asia, Japan bears a significant responsibility for maintaining regional stability. If Japan's economy continues to deteriorate, this stability will face a serious threat."

The translation is "If you don't take care of me, I'll just give up."

The US has finally relented.

After all, Japan is very important to the United States in East Asia.

A high-level representative said in a closed-door meeting that "the United States will take appropriate measures to support Japan in overcoming its current difficulties," without specifying what those measures would be.

However, on his return flight, the Foreign Minister sent a encrypted telegram to Tokyo overnight, containing only two lines: "The US has committed to intervention. The direction has been decided. The specific method is pending confirmation."

After the telegram was sent, the Foreign Minister slept for three hours in his cabin seat, the longest he had slept in the past week.

Washington acted faster than Japan had anticipated.

Two days later, the Office of the United States Trade Representative issued a stronger statement, specifically criticizing "certain countries for using non-market means to disrupt normal trade order."

On the same day, the U.S. Department of Commerce announced a new round of tariffs on Chinese goods imported into the U.S., covering categories such as gaming equipment, electronic products, and some manufacturing components.

The news reached China late at night, but the financial markets reacted immediately the next morning.

The Shanghai Composite Index opened slightly lower, while Hong Kong-listed technology stocks experienced significant selling pressure.

Executives of several export-oriented companies received calls from investors before the market opened, asking about the specific impact of this round of tariff increases on their performance.

The phone kept ringing, and the office phone rang almost non-stop.

However, market sentiment in China remained more stable than expected.

After midday, the Shanghai Composite Index began to slowly recover its losses, and by the close, it had basically returned to around the flat line.

A short comment posted on social media was shared many times: "The fact that the US stood up for Japan shows that we made the right decision. They only intervened when they were desperate."

Lu Ran saw the full text of the US statement the next morning.

He sat in his office and read the statement from beginning to end. When he got to the part about "non-market means," he put down his phone and chuckled.

He thought for a moment and sent Zhou Mingzhe a message: "The US has entered the fray. As expected. They'll likely pull out more tricks, so prepare a defensive plan in advance."

Zhou Mingzhe replied, "How far do you think they'll go?" Lu Ran replied, "They'll do everything they can. But they won't ruin their own economy for Japan. No matter how much Japan shouts, it's just a pawn. A pawn's priority is always lower than the player."

That afternoon, when the Japanese Prime Minister was asked for his opinion on the US statement at a press conference, he stood behind the microphone and bowed slightly, saying, "Thank you for the US's understanding and support for Japan." The curve of his lips was something he probably didn't even notice—it was the first time in days that he had shown such a relaxed expression.

But this relaxation didn't last long.

A reporter immediately stood up and asked a question that silenced the entire audience: "Mr. Prime Minister, do you think the tariffs imposed by the US will resolve the doubts Japanese people have about history textbooks?"

The Prime Minister's fingers tightened around the microphone, his lips moved slightly, but he ultimately did not answer the question.

His spokesperson quickly stepped forward and said, "Today's press conference is now over," before helping the Prime Minister out through a side door.

The Japanese prime minister was actually not confident, and didn't even know whether he would win or lose.

All he could hope for was that his "father" would be more supportive.

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