Whispers spread like a slow-burning fire.
“I heard Hailan Group has been poaching the Fu family’s resources since the beginning. Who would’ve thought they’d be so chummy with the Fu widow?” one person murmured.
“Honestly, the Fu family never took that Third Madam seriously. She only just married in and her husband died—who’d bother?” another scoffed.
“But this is interesting now. The richest man in North City even showed up in person and publicly backed the Third Madam. I wonder how the Fu family’s going to handle that.”
The gossip sent a ripple through the social circles that night. The same socialites who had been laughing with Hu Yanyan and Feng Yayin a moment ago now felt their faces burn with shame. They had just mocked Feng Yu as unworthy of entering the event—then discovered she was a guest of the Fu family’s enemy.
The reversal hit them like a slap.
“Anyone who can talk business with Mr. Qiu must not be ordinary,” a middle-aged man told his daughter, low and deliberate. “Remember this. If possible, make friends with her.”
One of the girls who had earlier taunted Feng Yu brightened at the suggestion, eager to change her tune. “Got it, Daddy. Little Yu is my idol. She’s beautiful and capable—how could I not learn from her?”
She clung to her father’s arm and raised her voice on purpose, “Daddy, teach me more, okay? I don’t want to be like those actresses who only have a pretty face and climb by riding men.”
The comment was meant to wound Feng Yayin, not Feng Yu—she shot Feng Yayin a smug look. Feng Yayin’s fingers curled into a fist so tight her knuckles paled; her public persona vanished. She stormed forward and shouted, “You have a mouth, don’t you? Say that again!”
“Let her get mad then!” the girl taunted, making a face and slipping behind her father.
A father would never let such an insult stand against his precious daughter. He stepped between them, cold as winter. “Miss Feng, your endorsement contract with Mutian Group is terminated. Additionally, the scandal you caused has harmed our company’s reputation. We will be suing for damages.”
He left without another word, his daughter in tow. Feng Yayin’s face went green with fury; she felt as if she could not breathe. Her eyes followed Feng Yu’s retreating back with a hatred that promised she wouldn’t let Feng Yu live in peace if she couldn’t have a good life herself.
Feng Yu, however, did not chase petty vindications. She followed Fu Qianchen into a private room. Only when they were sure they were alone did she let out a breath.
“You didn’t have to do that for me,” she said, offering a wry smile. “Even if they try to pick on me, none of them really have the power to do it.”
“I know.” Fu Qianchen pinned her against the wall and spoke in her ear, his voice low. “My Mrs. Fu has always been formidable. Those small-time bullies aren’t even her match.”
“Then why?” Her lashes fluttered. The eyes that looked up at him were small and puzzled, but full of earnestness.
“To be your support,” he said simply.
Then, without giving her a second to breathe, he crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was possessive, blocking air and thought alike. Feng Yu felt the world narrow to the press of him—warm, uncompromising—and her head swam. His words echoed through that brief, fierce contact: to be her backing. To stand for her in a world that would otherwise trample her.
When he finally released her, reluctant, she found tears leaking down her cheeks.
“You exposed yourself—that mysterious tycoon, Qiu Fu—that was you, wasn’t it?” she asked, voice trembling. “You... you let everyone know you valued me, that you treated me as a partner and a friend—to make the Fu matriarch take me seriously? To keep her from coming after me?”
Fu Qianchen had expected she would figure things out. He hadn’t expected her to cry. His hands—always steady, always in control—fumbled, then wiped her face clumsily. “If you don’t like it, I’ll change it,” he blurted, then realized how absurd that sounded. He hated seeing her cry. He hated the thought of causing her pain.
“Is it worth it?” she asked, looking down, fighting to steady her voice. She knew his thinking, his plans, his sacrifices. He’d laid everything bare for her.
He pinched under her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile that was soft and iron-strong at once. “Worth it.”
“Mr. Fu—” The title stumbled out of her as though it were both shock and comfort.
“I told you not to let yourself be humiliated,” he said. “I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while you were bullied.”
Feng Yu nodded. “I’ll try harder. I’ll get stronger. I won’t make you worry.”
He stroked her hair and murmured, the word a gentle rebuke and a private endearment, “Silly girl.”
The evening had achieved its purpose.
In a matter of days the news had exploded across the internet. Fu Qianchen had been careful at first; he had locked down information so no one could capture him. But this time he had wanted the world to know. Rumors and leaks multiplied. Gossip sites, radio hosts, and entertainment tabloids all fought to get the first scoop. Someone—no one could say who—posted a video of the banquet online. The clip went viral, and every major trend list that night was about the event.
#Hailan’sPoorBoyTurnsOutToBeNorthCity’sRichest
#TheMysteriousTycoonIsRidiculouslyHandsome
#TheTrendingQueenIsActuallyTheTycoon’sSpokesperson
#TycoonPubliclyEndorsesTrendingQueen
A photo circulated: Qiu Fu holding a silver mask, an impossibly handsome man in a tailored suit, and Feng Yu in an elegant evening gown at his side. The look in his eyes—admiration, something warmer—sent the internet into a frenzy. Fans began shipping them instantly, inventing a thousand nicknames and memes.
“Shut up about him being handsome—this face would conquer show business!” some gushed.
“Ship them! Even if they’re just friends, the chemistry is unreal,” others chimed in.
“Don’t forget the haters: those who said Feng Yu only had a pretty face—look now,” came replies that were vicious and gleeful at once.
Feng Yu’s follower count skyrocketed, overtaking Feng Yayin’s in a single night. Entire forums bloomed with threads dedicated to the new ship; fans were publicly showering them with imagined romance and support. Where there was admiration for Feng Yu, there was also vindication—those who’d mocked her were now on the defensive.
In a corner of the room, forgotten and furious, Feng Yayin stared at her screen. The list of topics about Feng Yu crawled across the page like a mockery. Her face twisted with rage as the world moved on without her.