The steady little beeps from the other room made Lu Ziqiu's face go ashen. He had the sudden, ridiculous urge to storm upstairs and pry open Wen Yin's skull just to see what had been put there.
A few days ago her smile had been so dazzling—how could he have let himself be so thoroughly unmoored by it? Zhizhi had warned him about what kind of person Wen Yin was, yet the moment Wen Yin smiled, all his cautions dissolved like mist.
He was standing there, replaying that bright smile in his head, when a movement on the balcony caught his eye. Wen Yin was leaning against the railing, both hands draped over it, the light behind her making her a soft silhouette. She looked relaxed — languid, almost — and for a moment he couldn't make out her expression. Then their eyes met.
She froze for a heartbeat, as if startled, and then pulled back into the room. She shut the balcony door with deliberate care, and the whole exchange was over in under thirty seconds.
Her disdain must have been obvious; Lu Ziqiu felt suddenly ashamed of himself, a sick, guilty color sweeping over his face. He retreated to the green room without another word.
Wen Yin didn't even need to click into the notification to know what had happened. One push alert was all it took for the whole thing to line up in her mind: the late gifts, the insinuations, Wenzhi's meddling. Her eyes darkened. She had underestimated her sister—who would have thought Wenzhi would resurrect old stories and spin them into fresh scandal?
If Wenzhi had no bottom line, Wen Yin wouldn't be the one to hold back.
Within an hour the rumor mill had done its work. Wen Yin’s Weibo comments were flooded; Wenzhi’s followers swarmed in like fish in troubled water, baiting bystanders into piling on. Voices rose from every angle, calling Wen Yin names, dredging up more accusations, making sure the stain would stick. In less than an afternoon, thanks to relentless nudging and the eagerness of the keyboard crowd, Wen Yin was on the verge of being blacklisted across the net.
Wenzhi watched all of it with long fingers scrolling the screen, satisfied as a player admiring a carefully arranged gambit. Wen Yin had dodged a couple of stains in the past; Wenzhi had a few more pieces in reserve. Maybe she had moved too soon, she thought, but if the outcome was what she wanted, it didn't matter.
She leaned in, refreshed the comment feed, and that was when she saw it: Wen Yin had posted.
At first Wenzhi sneered. "Still too soft on her," she murmured. But then the image loaded and she recoiled, almost dropping her phone. When she finally brought the device back up, her fingers trembled.
[ @WenYin: (image) ]
The photograph showed an array of objects — some of them bearing the soft patina of age. The picture said nothing in words, but its message was unmistakable: Wen Yin claimed the scandal's subject. Those old gifts—the ones Wenzhi had tried to weaponize—were all there, each item carefully preserved and laid out in neat rows. A luxury bag sat next to a small, musty love letter, everything in its place, everything intact.
Wenzhi knew those items well. Years ago, Wen Yin had sent her a photo every time she received a present. Wenzhi had kept them all, but she shouldn't have. This image cut a different way.
Comments exploded.
"What is this supposed to mean? Is she proving her innocence to the haters?"
"Oh my God, I knew Yin wouldn't be like that."
"The haters need to look at this. The innocent shouldn't have to explain themselves, but she did."
"Who fabricated this rumor? Where are the sources?"
"She's popular right now; someone must be jealous. People love to tear down anyone who gets in their way."
"Burn the person who started this—Wen Yin's already suffered enough."
At the same moment, Lu Ziqiu, idly scrolling, felt the thread of the feed tighten. Wen Yin's name had shot back onto the trending list.
#WenYinClarifies#
His thumb hovered over the post. The image—those familiar gifts—hit him like a physical thing. His breath snagged.
Before he could study the photo any more, someone knocked at his door.
"Mr. Lu, the director wants the guests downstairs for the next segment," a production assistant said quietly.
He checked his reflection, smoothed his expression, and went down.
When he entered the main salon his gaze fell, almost involuntarily, on Wen Yin. She was sitting on the sofa below — there she was, unchanged, the same profile he'd watched from the balcony. A strange, small surge of relief warmed him: she hadn't sold them. He couldn't explain why that thought made him smile.
Shao Yinan lounged beside her, a casual arm's length between them. He sensed the heat in Lu Ziqiu's stare and turned his dark eyes up toward the balcony where Lu stood. As fellow men they both recognized the complicated look flickering across Lu's face; it was not easy to read or to dismiss.
"The evening will have a little surprise for everyone," the director announced, beaming. "Lo City is an ancient, cultural town. Tonight we'll visit the traditional lantern festival. You can all go see the lantern displays."
The cast's afternoon costumes—ancient-style robes—stuck to the night's theme. It looked like the program planned to ride the historical aesthetic through the day.
Wenzhi sat on the sofa, pale and unnerved. When she saw Lu Ziqiu she prayed inwardly that he hadn't seen Wen Yin's post.
Seeing him, though, her heart sank a fraction. He had settled himself down on the couch beside Wen Yin and didn't take his eyes off her.
"Alright, everyone, let's head out!" the director called, and the guests rose in little groups.
Jiang Shihuai noticed Wenzhi's color and, with a voice as soft as warm tea, asked, "Wenzhi, are you alright? You look unwell."
She forced a smile and shook her head.
Li Xiangwei walked over to Wen Yin and asked gently, "Teacher Wen, would you like to go with me?"
Shao Yinan was about to speak when another voice cut across the room, unexpected and steady. Lu Ziqiu's eyes were fixed on Wen Yin; there was no attempt at concealment. "Wen," he said, voice low, "would you come with me?"
The words were simple, but the moment they left his mouth his heart felt like it might climb into his throat. Seeing the gifts lined up in that post had stirred something in him—an understanding that was as new as it was undeniable.
Perhaps, he realized with a jolt, his feelings for Wen Yin were not ordinary at all.