The Big Bad Wolf and the Little White Rabbit
The news of Shao Yinan and Wen Yin’s romance kept burning on the trending charts, the three characters of his name pulling in a steady stream of curious clicks.
“I can’t believe it. The entertainment world’s forever bachelor finally bloomed.”
“They’re so good-looking together!”
“Can you imagine how cute their kids would be?”
“Throw confetti!”
The livestream was a riot of excitement. Fans spammed the chat—many swooning over the Shao–Wen pairing, declaring them a perfect ship. Right below them in popularity were Li Xiangwei and Xiang Zhou; their supporters were practically ecstatic.
“Just watched two confessions back to back—why did that make me cry?”
“Who knew Xiang Zhou and Xiangwei would get their second chance?”
“This setup hits me right in the feels!”
“Tonight couldn’t be more perfect.”
“Isn’t it hilarious? Someone used to brag about being worshiped by three men, and now those three men confessed—to Wen Yin.”
“Doesn’t that just prove Wen Zhi got slapped in the face?”
“LOL are Wen Zhi’s fans feeling the burn?”
Wen Zhi’s fans tried to put on a brave front, but the tide of criticism grew. Since debut, Wen Yin and Wen Zhi had always been compared; Wen Yin seemed to outshine her at every turn. Wen Zhi’s supporters, used to lecturing from a high horse, had rarely lost an online skirmish—until this dating show. Now, with fresh rounds of hate and new voices joining in, the old confidence crumbled.
“Seriously, what kind of charm spell did Wen Yin cast to spin three men around?”
“If a man can be so easily stolen by Wen Yin, was he ever a good man to begin with?”
“I swear our ZhiZhi wouldn’t even care about any of this.”
“Feels like Wen Yin is deliberately trying to pick up those three.”
“Don’t worry ZhiZhi, there are plenty of fish in the sea.”
“Hold on—wasn’t that line originally from Wen Yin?”
The director watched the scrolling comments with satisfaction; the livestream’s numbers only rose. Fans flooded the broadcast after the Shao–Wen news broke, and by the time Heartbeat Lovers wrapped, it was peak buzz. The director announced the finale and shut down the stream.
Night had already fallen. The guests decided to sleep in the villa and go back in the morning. Though the livestream ended, the trending topics didn’t.
Wen Zhi watched Shao Yinan and Wen Yin—together, affectionate—and felt hot resentment flare up. Why did they get confessions while she sat alone in the villa? Why was Wen Yin suddenly the darling of three men?
Envy hardened into fury. She couldn’t help a sharp scoff. “Some people really do turn from common pheasant into phoenix overnight,” Wen Zhi said, tilting her head at Wen Yin. Her voice dripped with acidic jealousy. “But a pheasant will always be a pheasant no matter how high it perches… it’ll never be a phoenix.”
Li Xiangwei, impatient, shot a look at Wen Zhi. Without the cameras, Wen Zhi was surprisingly brazen—openly derisive. Didn’t she know how this must look? Wen Zhi had been the one to scheme first—so why was she playing the victim now? Whatever twisted logic she lived by, it was infuriating.
Wen Yin’s reply was quiet, but it landed like a cold blade. A frosty smile ghosted across her face. “I don’t think I want to be a phoenix. It’s those fake phoenixes—polished words and empty hearts—that are the dangerous ones.”
“I’ve never heard anyone compare themselves to a pheasant before,” Wen Yin murmured, the corner of her mouth tilting. Her eyes were cool as winter. “There’s a difference between a real phoenix and a pretend pheasant.” She emphasized “real” and “pretend,” then met Wen Zhi’s glare. “Don’t you agree, Wen Zhi?”
Wen Zhi’s foot stamped in anger. She darted a look at Xiao Mo and Jiang Shihuai, expecting defense. Yet neither of them moved to her side. Only Xiao Mo hesitated, lips thin with indecision, but said nothing. The sight left Wen Zhi stunned—months of arranged alliances, of automatic loyalty, crumbling into silence.
She could hardly breathe. In past conflicts, they had all stood behind her—but now the support she took for granted was gone. Panic rose under her skin; the chill that followed was suffocating. She turned and fled, embarrassed and furious. The living room fell into a brittle silence.
The mood was strained. Shao Yinan and Wen Yin didn’t linger. Wen Yin, arms wrapped around a huge bouquet of roses, slipped quietly down the hallway. The roses framed her face—small and delicate, like a picture—her usual frostiness softened into something warm and calm. A faint smile tugged at her lips. Perhaps she should be thanking Shao Yinan.
After a quick wash, a knock came at her door. Puzzled, Wen Yin opened it—and unexpectedly ran straight into a warm, steady embrace.
She’d bounded to the door and collided with the person outside. “In such a hurry?” Shao Yinan’s low voice teased, irrepressible amusement beneath the words.
He had his arms around her slim waist. When he laughed, she could feel the slight tremor in his chest. It was intoxicatingly close.
Heat rose to Wen Yin’s ears. This man—always composed, always cool—could be devastatingly flirtatious. “No,” she said, the joke forgotten, her face as red as a cooked shrimp. She wanted nothing more than to bury her head against his chest.
“Why’re you here?” She forced herself to remember the question between the flutter of her pulse.
Shao Yinan watched the rare, dazed expression on her face and laughed softly. “I came to say goodnight to my girlfriend in person.” He bent his head a fraction, their eyes locking.
“And while I’m at it—may I apply for permission to walk you home tomorrow morning?” He raised one eyebrow, suddenly as tentative as a child asking for candy.
Wen Yin’s mouth twitched. He looked harmless—an earnest child—but she knew better. He was no timid rabbit. He was the big gray wolf, all teeth concealed beneath charm.