Chapter 9

Qi Yu had actually followed Shen Qingqing and the others the entire time.

After all, it was partly his fault that things had escalated to this point. He couldn’t just sit back and watch anymore.

Of course, there were less complicated ways to handle it. He could’ve simply followed Panda’s example and walked Zhong Yao home after school. Or he could’ve warned Shen Qingqing in advance not to cause trouble.

But in reality, Zhong Yao was still mad enough to shove him into a lake. He had no doubt that if he approached her after school, she might slap him in front of everyone. And Shen Qingqing was so fanatical that warning her could backfire entirely.

So after weighing his options, Qi Yu had no choice but to trail them from a distance, hoping to step in at the last second for a classic “hero saves the damsel” moment. Then the three of them could clear up their misunderstandings face-to-face.

But as usual, reality didn’t follow the script.

He never expected Zhong Yao—who looked like she might burst into tears at any moment—to turn things around and use him to beat Shen Qingqing at her own game.

Her calm, powerful threats had left Shen Qingqing utterly defeated. Qi Yu watched it all from the shadows, too stunned to move.

What the hell?
Did she take classes in psychological warfare?

Now that the peacock had fled and the swan clearly didn’t need saving, Qi Yu had no idea how to go about apologizing.

It no longer felt like a simple “I’m sorry” would cut it. The thought that Zhong Yao might walk out of the alley at any moment, leaving him standing there clueless, made him anxious and restless, like someone with actual anxiety.

He even started rehearsing what he’d say—and how she’d probably mock him in return.

But to his surprise, she didn’t come out.

Had she left through the other end?

He hesitated, then peeked into the alley.

There she was.

The girl was squatting in the shadows, hugging her knees. Her head hung low, her small body curled up into itself. Behind her, the dead-end alley seemed to swallow her whole, casting her in a bleak and lonely light.

Suddenly, Zhong Yao lifted her head slightly.

Qi Yu didn’t have time to dodge and felt his heart skip a beat—only to realize her eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at nothing.

He tried to hold himself back, but eventually, he couldn’t help walking over.

What he meant to say was “What are you doing squatting here?”—but what came out was:
“Squatting here—is that your plan to make me trend on the hot search?”

He was cursing himself inside when the girl looked up, and a single tear, catching the light, slipped down her cheek.

She was crying.

Qi Yu froze, his mind suddenly going blank.

He looked speechless.
“Didn’t you just win? Why are you crying now?”

Zhong Yao, seeing that it was Qi Yu, quickly wiped away her tears without offering any explanation.

She was already exhausted from dealing with Shen Qingqing and the others. She had no desire to get tangled up again with this silver-haired boy. She stood up and brushed past him, preparing to leave.

But she had squatted for too long and stood up too fast. After just a few steps, her vision went dark and she nearly stumbled.

Qi Yu reacted quickly and caught her in time.

“Seriously, what is with you,” he frowned. “How come your temper’s even worse than mine?”

His misunderstanding of Zhong Yao had been cleared up, so his tone now held an unexpected touch of familiarity.

But Zhong Yao only felt more disgusted with him.

She shook off his hand and steadied herself against the wall, her voice cold:
“Don’t touch me, big star. Or tomorrow it won’t be just three people waiting to block me after school.”

Qi Yu was momentarily at a loss for words.

After a long pause, he finally managed to squeeze out an apology:
“Sorry. I didn’t know you were a transfer student. As for what happened with Shen Qingqing just now…” he hesitated, “That was an accident.”

Zhong Yao didn’t leave, but she just stared at him in silence.

Those tear-stained eyes took all the fight out of Qi Yu.
“Fine. If Shen Qingqing came to block you, that’s on me too. Maybe a simple ‘sorry’ isn’t enough. How about this—you push me into the lake again? Or the river, I don’t mind.”

Zhong Yao suddenly gave a cold laugh.
“Qi Yu, what makes you think you’re worth it?”

Qi Yu: “?”

The words came out of nowhere, but her tone carried a deep scorn and contempt that instantly unsettled him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Qi Yu asked, barely keeping his temper in check.

“People like you—arrogant, self-centered, rude, always hurting others without care, never owning up to your mistakes—how are you even worthy of being liked by so many?”

Zhong Yao’s gaze swept over him, cold and indifferent, before she walked away with firm steps.

Qi Yu stood rooted in place like he’d been hit by a freezing spell, her scathing words ringing endlessly in his ears.

In his fourteen years of life, he’d been surrounded by admiration, always under the spotlight. No one had ever insulted him like this.

And the worst part? For the first time, he felt a strange kind of confusion. He actually started to reflect seriously on what Zhong Yao had said.

Qi Yu had a vague feeling… he might’ve just met his nemesis.

——

When Zhong Yao got home, she discovered that Jin Chuan still wasn’t back.

The dining table had three dishes and a soup laid out: roast duck, stir-fried shredded beef, sautéed cabbage, and tofu soup. Clearly prepared with her Jiangnan palate in mind—light and mild.

She reached out to touch the side of a bowl. It had gone completely cold.

Too much had happened that day. Sitting alone in the quiet house, Zhong Yao felt a kind of numb emptiness settle in her chest.

She couldn’t possibly finish three dishes and a soup, but she wasn’t sure if Jin Chuan would come back, so she didn’t touch the food right away. She sat there in the dining room and waited.

She waited until the moon was high in the sky. When it became clear Jin Chuan wouldn’t be returning, she quietly took out her phone and searched up how to use the microwave.

That night, even after midnight, Jin Chuan still didn’t come home.

Zhong Yao sat at the bay window and, for the first time, typed his name into a search engine.

The first thing she saw was a photo of a refined man in gold-rimmed glasses. When she clicked into the profile, it was filled with an impressive résumé: debuted at 19 playing a heroic martyr, shot to fame at 20 with a supporting role in a Republican-era drama, began playing lead roles at 21, and at 22 starred in a hit wuxia drama—one she’d even stayed up late watching herself.

His rise had been smooth, his future dazzling.

Zhong Yao scrolled through entries about his friends, colleagues, rumored girlfriends… and then she saw thousands of fan comments, overflowing with admiration and affection.

And suddenly, she felt like she was a blemish on the perfect image of his life.

Flipping through photo after photo of this charming man, her so-called heartless father, Zhong Yao couldn’t help herself—she opened Weibo and searched his name in real-time.

Then she saw countless strangers’ videos of him.

“Gege, our whole family already bought tickets for ‘The Mountain’—can you stop being so damn charming?”

“My darling, my mountain [heart][heart]”

“My dad looked too handsome tonight. Everyone, check out Cannes Best Actor from ‘The Mountain’!”

“Aww, Jin Shao with the kid is too adorable! Let’s get them on a parenting variety show—I’d be obsessed!”

Turns out, tonight he had attended a press event for his movie “The Mountain”, accompanied by the little boy who starred in it.

Through the eyes of strangers’ videos, Zhong Yao watched him smiling and joking with the boy—a picture-perfect image of fatherly warmth.

So he could be talkative and kind—with other children.

These videos struck her even harder than the rumors about his girlfriends.

She didn’t watch any more. She pulled the blanket over her head and messaged Sun Shiwu again.

She poured out her loneliness, her longing—but like before, there was no reply from Shiwu.

—

At the same time, Jin Chuan had finally slipped away from the dinner following the press conference.

It was his first international Best Actor award. Naturally, there had been a few extra toasts, and now he was tipsy. Even the night wind couldn’t sober him up.

“Hold on, Jin,” a voice called behind him. It was She Rui catching up. “You’re going home this early?”

Jin Chuan lifted his wrist to show her the time.
“It’s almost two. Early? If I don’t head back now, that little radish will be rolling her eyes and sulking again, you believe me or not?”

She Rui chuckled and shook her head, then got straight to the point:
“I just came to talk to you about Zhong Yao.”

Jin Chuan’s brow furrowed slightly.
“What now?”

She Rui handed him her phone.

It was a trending topic: #QiYuBeingBulliedAtSchool.

At first glance, it sounded serious. The infamous troublemaker from the Qi family—bullied? Whoever pulled that off must be something else. But once he clicked in, Jin Chuan realized it was about Qi Yu somehow provoking a girl at school, who then got so angry she pushed him into a lake.

Jin Chuan chuckled,
“Girls really are less of a headache. But Ah She, why are you showing me this?”

She Rui pointed to the corner of one of the photos:
“Take a good look at the girl pushing the little tyrant. Doesn’t she look familiar?”

…

Jin Chuan looked more closely—and sure enough, wasn’t that back view of his little radish?

“Pfft,” he laughed again.
“She even dared to push the Qi family’s young master. Not bad at all.”

She Rui rolled her eyes.
“Is that really the point? Go home and ask her what happened. If she ends up on the hot search a couple more times, forget about your own reputation—she’s going to get dragged through the mud way worse!”

“Got it. Go finish your drink. I know what I’m doing.” Jin Chuan lazily waved her off and ducked into his car.

She Rui watched the car disappear into the night, shaking her head.

She had originally kept Zhong Yao and her son apart on purpose—afraid that if the kids got too close, someone would pick up on the clues.

But this girl really had a way of stirring things up. Only two days into school, and she was already trending alongside the son of a megastar. She figured maybe it was time to have dinner with Qi Cheng and let the kids meet properly in private—at least that way, Qi Yu and the others could help keep an eye on her in the future.

The next morning.

Zhong Yao thought Jin Chuan hadn’t come home the whole night. She was already planning to buy breakfast from the elderly lady at the pancake stall near school, just to help support her business.

But as soon as she reached the stairwell with her school bag, she saw the man sitting in the dining room, one leg crossed over the other, flipping through a magazine.

Zhong Yao froze. At that moment, Jin Chuan looked up and spotted her.

Pushing his gold-rimmed glasses casually, he said:
“Awake? Come have breakfast.”

Zhong Yao, still recalling the images of him and that little boy from last night, wasn’t in the best mood.

She walked downstairs sullenly, not intending to sit.
“No thanks. I already made plans to eat with a classmate.”

“Hm?”

Hearing the word classmate, Jin Chuan took the opportunity to get straight to the point:
“Making friends already? Funny, I heard you’ve been getting into fights with male classmates. For such a tiny radish, you’ve got a pretty big temper, huh?”

---

Author’s Note:

Qi Yu: I regret everything. So much regret.jpg
Zhong Yao: sigh of relief Might even laugh a little 🙂