A tiny, pretty reef fish darted past. Wen Yin spun to reach for it, but someone else slipped into her path without warning.
Chestnut hair floated around the intruder, carrying that faintly cloying scent Wen Yin knew all too well. Recognition hit her in an instant—she tried to dodge, but Wen Zhi barreled into her.
Pain flared across Wen Yin’s chest. She instinctively drew a breath, only to feel a sharp elbow “accidentally” knock her diving regulator loose.
Seawater flooded Wen Yin’s mouth—cold, briny, enough to make her lungs seize and her chest heave. She choked and coughed as the betrayal registered. Through the mask her eyes darkened like a storm front.
So Wen Zhi’s methods hadn’t changed. Dirty and deliberate.
Wen Zhi watched with smug satisfaction as Wen Yin flailed, convinced she’d finally vented something that had been gnawing at her. This would make Lu Ziqiu look at her—of course it would.
But the hands Wen Yin was flailing suddenly redirected, aiming straight for Wen Zhi.
Wen Zhi couldn’t see the expression behind the mask; all she noticed was Wen Yin’s desperate, helpless movements. For a second her head blanked. Then water filled her mouth and lungs in a cold, terrifying wash.
“Zi… Zi Qiu! Sen—senior…” she cried out, losing focus, and saw Lu Ziqiu powering toward them.
Wen Yin watched as Wen Zhi’s eyes fluttered; it was almost obscene how fragile and shameless the girl looked. Did that little black-lotus have only one brain cell? So unconscious and clueless.
Lu and the others were almost on them. Wen Yin didn’t want to witness another scene with Jiang Shihuai’s ugly face or the three of them acting all warm and chummy—she forced herself to turn away.
Her wrist was seized. A hand went around her waist and gripped tight. Wen Yin’s eyes widened; she fought, but Lu’s strength was surprising.
With her regulator ruined, Wen Yin held her breath and let out two muffled, annoyed noises. Lu thought they were cries of fear and pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her and hauling them both toward shore with broad, efficient strokes.
Wen Yin stared in disbelief. Why was he carrying her instead of saving Wen Zhi? She had hands, feet—perfectly capable of swimming on her own!
They reached the shore with effort. Jiang Shihuai came up with a semi-conscious Wen Zhi in his arms. Their sudden arrival shattered the quiet fishing scene Xiao Mo had been cultivating.
Xiao Mo, who’d been idly fishing, immediately scooped Wen Zhi into his arms as if she were the most fragile thing in the world, his face aflame with concern. “Zhi Zhi, what happened?”
Wen Zhi’s pitiful, teary look sent Xiao Mo’s temper flaring even higher—he interpreted it as proof she’d been harmed. “Speak!”
The three of them fell silent. The cameras on the shore caught every movement; Xiao Mo’s worried expression was pushed straight into the livestream.
[He’s so worried about Zhi Zhi—he must like her!]
[Forbidden-love CEO and small sun actress—this is diabetic-level sweet!]
[Xiao Mo is literally a guardian angel. SHIP THEM!]
[Fans, please. Didn’t you see what he did earlier?]
Jiang Shihuai brushed off the hysteria coolly. “I didn’t see much,” he said, then spread a towel and set Wen Zhi down gently. He seemed uncomfortable with the intimacy between Wen Zhi and Xiao Mo and instinctively put a slight distance between them.
“I found her like this,” Wen Yin said weakly, removing her mask and putting some space between herself and Lu. She cleared her throat twice. A towel was tossed over her head, and Lu’s haughty voice boomed above her. “Don’t catch a cold. Don’t pass it to me.”
Wen Yin ripped the towel away and wrapped her own over her shoulders. Her lips were pale from the seawater; strands of seaweed-dark hair clung damply to her face, making her look soft and oddly fragile. The small cough had left her eyes wet; there was something broken about her gaze that made her appear painfully pitiable.
The chat exploded.
[She’s so beautiful I can’t even!]
[WIFE KISS!!! *SCREECHES*]
[OMG MY WIFE—]
[Stop spamming, you’re ruining my married life with my husband!]
[Wen Yin always had the looks; she just needed the right makeup—now she’s stunning!]
[Upper-class gal, lower-class me—perfect match!]
Lu Ziqiu’s retort died on his tongue. He’d saved her because her cooking was irresistible and he felt obliged after that meal—nothing more.
Xiao Mo opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment Wen Zhi stirred and slowly woke up. The three men immediately leaned in.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Wen Yin tossed Lu’s towel aside and pulled her own cloak tighter around herself.
“Xiao Mo—” Wen Zhi’s voice trembled but clear.
True to form, Wen Zhi blinked up at Xiao Mo and filled her gaze with trembling, wet vulnerability—an injured rabbit. “I’m here,” Xiao Mo said, and both he and Jiang Shihuai helped her up. Their low, steady voices were a blanket of safety.
Jiang frowned—uncharacteristically worried. “What happened?” Everything had happened too fast. Wen Zhi flicked a glance at Wen Yin; the look was small but not missed by Xiao Mo. His expression went razor-sharp and his gaze sliced straight to Wen Yin.
Wen Zhi shook her head and bit her lip, hesitating, then tugged at Xiao Mo’s sleeve. Her voice dropped to a whisper, but every guest’s microphone picked it up and the livestream heard the whole thing.
“It’s okay. Wen Yin didn’t do it on purpose.”
That single, quiet sentence landed like a kernel of water on hot oil. The chat ignited.
[Unbelievable. Wen Yin never has a moment’s peace, does she?]
[I can’t even—]
[Anyone here with law knowledge? How long can this get her sentenced for?]
[Wen Yin, you’re such a drama queen—this life is really getting you plenty of karma!]
The viewers flooded the feed with outrage, speculation, and unhinged fandom. On the shore, under the watchful lenses and a thousand live comments, the fragile tableau held—Wen Zhi in Xiao Mo’s arms, Wen Yin wrapped in damp cloth, and Lu Ziqiu’s anger simmering quietly like a blade waiting to be drawn.