The male streamer’s expression shifted in a way anyone could read. His eyes flicked away from Wen Yin with a trace of avoidance, as if she’d just dropped a hint he couldn’t ignore.
The chat kept exploding.
[So Wen Yin’s basically admitting it—she’s the one who put Wen Zhi in prison?]
[I can’t believe Wen Yin would really do something like that!]
[Wait, wasn’t Wen Zhi’s sentence about something else?]
[Why is everyone dragging Wen Yin into this again?]
Wen Yin watched the flood of comments and couldn’t help the small, bitter amusement that rose in her chest. Her so-called “good sister” still knew how to play the lowest tricks. Did they really think she couldn’t tell the paid trolls from a mile off?
The streamer forced a dry little smile. “Well, if someone did something wrong, they should pay the price.”
Wen Yin didn’t answer outright. Instead she held his gaze a beat longer—slow, deliberate.
“By the way,” she said, as if she’d decided not to let the subject drop, “haven’t you heard the rumors about me?”
Beads of sweat had already appeared on his forehead. What on earth was this woman about? There were millions of eyes watching the stream—was she going to make him confess?
He stammered, “I… I don’t use the internet much. I haven’t seen those comments.”
Wen Yin’s smile stayed put. If she hadn’t done her homework, she might have believed this earnest, clumsy man. But she had. “Is that so? Then I’ll take your word for it.”
Her tone stretched the words out, but her eyes were ice. The streamer felt a cold prickle run through him. Rumors about Wen Yin were dangerous things—what if she decided to aim at him?
Wen Yin turned to the audience, addressing them as if making an announcement. “Sorry for distracting everyone these past few days. I’m here to set something straight. Everything those people are saying about me is false. I’ll look into it, and I’ll be delivering my lawyer’s letter to their homes on time.”
Her voice was quiet, but there was no doubt in it. She had made up her mind.
Only then did the chat start to shift, people realizing Wen Yin was the one being targeted.
[I told you Wen Yin wouldn’t do something like that!]
[What do they mean she’s got some mysterious backer? Come on.]
[She has a real boyfriend, okay? Where would she need a backer?]
[Spreading rumors costs nothing nowadays, huh?]
[I feel so bad for her—why are people ganging up on her like this?]
The streamer watched the tide of sympathy for Wen Yin roll in and broke into a showy, sympathetic spiel. “It’s not that big a deal. I’ve been on this platform a long time—this kind of thing happens. Just hang in there; better things will come.”
He forced a sigh. “Those who spread lies will get what’s coming to them.”
He didn’t know whether his little curse would do anything, but the words were out.
Wen Yin watched him go pale. “That’s kind of you to say. I’ll take your good wishes,” she replied. The meaning under her words sharpened. “I’ll wish them luck, too.”
Her last line hit the chat like a stone thrown into still water.
[Wait, what did she mean—wishing him luck?]
[What is happening with this story? I can’t keep up.]
[Someone please reveal the truth and clear Wen Yin’s name!]
[I want the liars thrown in prison!]
Off-screen, Wen Zhi heard that one word—prison—like a jolt. The word was both familiar and alien. She’d spent so long outside that the memory of what happened inside had started to fade; hearing it again gave her goosebumps.
No matter what, it was Qi Siran who’d pulled her out. This time she was going to hold onto him—hard.
The streamer’s sweat made the collar of his shirt damp. “W-what do you mean by that?” he managed, voice shaky.
Wen Yin’s smile never faltered. “I didn’t mean anything. Just a casual well-wish.” But her eyes cooled further. “You seem tense. Maybe you should end the stream early.”
With that little piece of benign advice, she closed the broadcast. The panic she left behind among those who had accused her was none of her concern.
She sorted through the files and messages on her desk. She’d already narrowed down the main accounts spreading the rumors—several high-profile bloggers. She was just about to start writing notes when her phone rang.
“Yin.”
Shao Yinan’s face filled the screen. He still wore his office clothes and the rimless glasses he seldom bothered to take off. There was a polished, dangerous restraint about him—an urbane, almost decadent control.
Wen Yin’s eyes lit up the moment she saw him. “What’s up?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. If she hadn’t been so composed earlier on the stream, he might have continued believing she was nothing but softly feminine and sweet. Seeing her just then—putting someone in their place—made that smile deepen. “Nothing much. I just wanted to see what you were up to.”
She smiled back, a trace of playfulness in her voice. “Me? I’m dealing with a bunch of scoundrels.”
A rare, petulant girlishness crept into her tone. It made Shao’s urge to pull her close spike. “So, Yin—what do you need me to do?”
Wen Yin paused a beat, reading the amusement in his eyes. He probably already knew most of the story. She felt a sudden flutter of embarrassment and waved it off.
“No need. I can handle this.”