Chapter 3: Unworthy

[Linlin’s Little Girlfriend: ?]

What the hell was that? How many drinks did she have before posting that nonsense?

Imitating the tone Duan Lin used with her earlier in the hospital, Ruan Yu fired off the message. It felt cathartic. She exited Weibo and opened WeChat.

After familiarizing herself with everything, Ruan Yu finally pieced things together.

She—Ruan Yu—was born with a silver spoon, a pampered heiress of a wealthy family. Her mother had passed away from sudden heart failure when she was young. Her father, Ruan Zhengping, CEO of Shangying Media, had always spoiled her relentlessly, regularly wiring huge sums into her account.

But it seemed this socialite wasn’t well liked.

Ruan Yu scrolled through her WeChat moments and photo album and noticed there were few group photos. Her contacts mostly included personal nutritionists, fitness coaches, luxury resellers—hardly any close friends. Even her flashy WeChat posts received very few likes.

Her photo album was filled with pictures of Duan Lin at events. His chat was pinned to the top of her messages, but the conversation was mostly one-sided—her initiating every time, and him responding with brief replies, or sometimes not at all.

She really did like Duan Lin.

—

Shao Li dropped Ruan Yu off at the Workers’ Stadium, then handed the concert ticket to her via his assistant. Before leaving, he remembered her heart condition and gave her a few parting reminders, finally feeling at ease.

It wasn’t ticket-checking time yet. The entrance buzzed with people, fan support displays in full swing. As Ruan Yu got in line, a girl beside her called out.

“Hey girl, do you want a banner? I picked up an extra one earlier.”

“Thanks.” Ruan Yu looked at the familiar face of her idol on the banner, her eyes lighting up. “This image—it’s from Haohao’s Vogue July cover, isn’t it?”

The girl got even more excited. “Yeah! That cover was fire! Hey, are you from Beijing too? Let’s follow each other on Weibo! We can invite you to future offline meetups with our Siji family.”

Ruan Yu quickly declined. “…No thanks, I don’t really use Weibo.”

She was terrified that if anyone here found out her Weibo handle, the thousands of Siji on-site would trample her into dust.

The girl pouted. “Well then, let’s at least add each other on WeChat!”

Surrounded by laughter and chatter, Ruan Yu looked around at all the bright, cheerful faces. Just a few hours ago, she too had been one of them—nervously clutching a ticket, looking forward to seeing her idol up close for the first time.

But everything had changed.

Forty minutes before the concert began, ticket scanning opened. Ruan Yu followed the crowd inside and found her seat.

When the lights dimmed and the spotlight hit the stage, the person she had loved for four years stood there, bathed in starlight.

On the big screen, Ji Linhao’s face appeared—his slightly upturned eyes smiling, playful and gentle.

“Good evening, little Siji,” he greeted.

Screams exploded around her, and at last Ruan Yu felt something real.

One song followed another—soft ballads, passionate anthems, ethereal melodies. Ruan Yu gave herself completely to the dreamlike performance. At one point, Ji Linhao finished a song and winked at the audience during the outro.

“Who taught him to wink?! I’m dying—AAAH!”

“Ahhh baby’s turning naughty, Mommy says nooo!!!”

“Fuck this—he flirts but doesn’t marry?! I CAN’T DO THIS!”

Breathing slightly uneven, Ji Linhao smiled and said, “This next song is a new one I wrote.”

“It’s called Stargazing. Tonight’s stars look just like your eyes. Thank you for all the light you’ve ever given me.”

Ruan Yu was already in tears, her makeup a complete mess. As the familiar melody played, she dialed every number from her memories again and again. Every single one came back: number disconnected.

As the song ended and the crowd roared for an encore, Ruan Yu wept openly. Rubbing at her eyes, she looked through her tears at the figure on the distant stage.

She didn’t know why—her parents, her friends, everyone she once held close had all vanished. But he was still here.

They were worlds apart now, but there was too much of her in him, in her memories of him.

Thank you… for showing me all your light.

Overcome by grief, Ruan Yu wiped her tears and cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. Taking a deep breath—

With the crowd of Siji cheering around her, a sudden shout burst from the stands:

“Wuwuwu Ji—Linh—hao—!”

Ruan Yu:
“Ba—by—mar—ry—me—!”

The girl beside Ruan Yu was startled by her sudden outburst, but quickly shouted back, refusing to be outdone:

“Ji Linhao—don’t listen to her—marry—me—instead!!”

Of course, Ji Linhao, who was standing far off on the rising stage, couldn’t hear a thing—but the surrounding fans had already started recording videos.

As the concert ended, Ruan Yu reluctantly followed the crowd out of the venue. While checking her phone, she received a call.

The caller ID read: “An-jie.”

“Xiaoyu, are you free to come by Shangying tomorrow?” An Zhuoqian took a sip of coffee on the other end of the line, her voice gentle. “Your father’s finally agreed to let you sign with the agency. Let’s set a time to go over the contract. Of course, you’ll be signing an A-level contract, and I’ll be your manager going forward.”

Ruan Yu only half-understood, so she followed up with a question: “An A-level contract?”

“Mhm, it’s the best contract we offer. Since you’ve decided to enter the industry, you’ll still need to go through the official process. How about this—you come by tomorrow and take a look. If there’s anything you’re not happy with, we can discuss adjustments then.”

After a brief pause, An Zhuoqian added, “But Xiaoyu, let me remind you—just because you’ll be in the same industry as Duan Lin from now on doesn’t mean you’ll be seeing him often. You know how it is—he’s built his own network and has access to resources that even Shangying can’t secure…”

After hanging up, Ruan Yu pretty much figured things out.

So, the original Miss Ruan actually tried to use her father’s connections to get into showbiz… just to get a little closer to Duan Lin.

Duan Lin?

Ruan Yu looked absolutely done with that name, mentally drawing a thick red X through it.

She didn’t exactly hate Duan Lin personally, but after years of fighting tooth and nail against his fanbase—Linjiao—she had amassed a mountain of dirt on him. Whether that dirt was true or not didn’t matter much; the second a fan war broke out, both sides would fling all the scandal they could get their hands on.

You drag my idol, I tear into yours.

Everyone’s got some dirt, real or fake.

Over time, Ruan Yu had long since projected her resentment onto the man himself and had permanently blacklisted Duan Lin in her heart.

She had no idea why the original Ruan Yu had fallen so hard for someone like him, but clearly, this pampered heiress had awful taste.

“I’m doing great—you’re not worthy. Let’s get divorced and move on.”

That—was Ruan Yu’s honest-to-God current stance on Duan Lin.

Outside the venue, the crowd was packed tight. The Sijis (Ji Linhao’s fans) were holding up glowing signs, chatting excitedly, craning their necks to catch even a glimpse of their idol’s car—just seeing the exhaust fumes would make them happy.

Shao Liren didn’t show up himself, but considerately arranged for a driver to pick Ruan Yu up and take her home.

Sitting in the car, Ruan Yu looked out the window at the hopeful faces of the fans, and suddenly had a wildly rebellious thought:

If I become an artist… won’t that bring me closer to my idol?

She thought quietly.

A moth is drawn to flame. A lonely traveler looks up at the stars.

And she… wanted to be just a little closer to this star too.

Not with any impure motives. Even if it was just to see him from up close.

…

The driver dropped her off at a high-rise apartment—the nearest residence under her name. The spacious penthouse was cold and empty. The moment she opened the door, something brushed past her leg, making her yelp in fright.

What the hell?!

“Meow~”

She turned on the light. A snow-white cat was happily circling her ankles. When it saw her shocked expression, it flicked its tail with an air of royalty and sauntered off into the living room.

Realizing it was just a cat, Ruan Yu finally relaxed.

The apartment was huge—four bedrooms, two living rooms—luxuriously furnished with a sense of refined comfort. Clearly, the owner knew how to live well.

Ruan Yu found some cat food and snacks to feed it. Then she wandered around, taking a look at her surroundings. In both the bedroom and study, she found walls completely plastered with posters of Duan Lin. Shelves were packed with his magazines and DVDs.

Ruan Yu was speechless. “This is… way too much. So I was a hardcore Duan Lin fangirl?!”

At this moment, standing in front of a life-sized, frosted-glass poster, clutching the conscience that had bashed Duan Lin online for years, Ruan Yu felt like she couldn’t breathe.

What’s it like to sleep under the poster of your sworn rival?

Every time she looked at it, she felt like she was cheating on her own idol.

But she had to admit—Duan Lin was objectively good-looking. No wonder Linjiao always bragged about their guy being “flawless among mortals, with a perfect face.”

Staring at the poster for a moment too long, Ruan Yu suddenly snapped out of it.

Ugh—perfect face, my ass. It’s all plastic!

She still had photos of Duan Lin’s alleged cosmetic surgeries saved in her old phone. And that was only one of the hundreds of pieces of dirt she had on him. If she really started listing everything, it would take days.

She spent ten minutes taking down all the posters from the bedroom wall. Just as she was about to find a poster tube to store them, she opened a drawer and found a notebook.

The first few pages had been torn out, and only two or three pages remained. The handwriting was frantic—practically illegible scribbles, like someone had poured out raw emotion onto the paper.

Murmuring an apology, Ruan Yu squinted and tried to read the contents:

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“I really am the most despicable, shameless, selfish person alive.”

“Just let me be selfish this one last time.”

…

Unsurprisingly, Ji Linhao’s concert shot straight to the top of the trending topics.

At the same time, in the backstage dressing room of a magazine photoshoot—

Duan Lin’s manager, Guo Bin, casually glanced at his tablet and asked, “Ji Linhao’s concert went really well, huh? Do you know which team handled the lighting and stage design?”

“I think it was the same crew that did Duan-ge’s Tokyo show last time,” answered Xiao Qun, the hairstylist. Then he turned to ask Shao Li, “By the way, I heard you were scrambling for tickets to Ji Linhao’s concert this afternoon. Why didn’t you go in the end?”

Shao Li replied, “I asked for the tickets on behalf of Miss Ruan. She wanted to go.”

At the mention of Ruan Yu’s name, the room fell into silence. No one continued the conversation—just hearing her name was enough to give them a headache.

Guo Bin tapped on a trending video. From the concert footage, a wave of deafening cheers erupted—followed by an unexpectedly jarring shout:

“You—marry—me—now—!”

Shao Li looked up, startled. “That voice…”

Why did it sound exactly like Ruan Yu?

Next to him, Duan Lin, who had been silent the whole time, opened his eyes and pressed his fingers to his brow.

“Did we wake you?” Guo Bin quickly stopped the video and apologized. “Go ahead and rest a little longer. They’re still setting up the next scene in the studio. It’ll be at least another fifteen minutes before we shoot again.”

Duan Lin shook his head. His voice was still husky and low from a nap—deep and magnetic. “I’m already awake. What were you guys watching?”

Guo Bin handed him the tablet.

The video panned across a packed audience, lights flashing and glow sticks waving. Amid the chaos, a girl’s half-lit profile was captured—fuzzy but unmistakable.

Duan Lin paused.

His wife—his legally wedded wife, whom he had just registered a marriage with that very afternoon, her face alight with love and joy—

Was now at someone else’s concert, her eyes sparkling with starlight, crying tears of emotion.

Her delicate profile glowed with a rosy softness, lashes long and curled, as she shouted at the man center stage:

“Ba—by—ma—rry—me—!”

“Baaaaby!!”

---

Author’s Note:
Xiao—Yu—bigamy—is—illegal—okay—