Chapter 26 – The Twenty-Sixth Day After Transmigrating: Tears During the Livestream… (1)

For many people, the most captivating thing is not someone’s usual traits, but rather the contrast hidden beneath them.

A person who has always been calm and indifferent toward the world, someone who holds no attachment—if one day, you suddenly see light in their eyes, see a glimpse of the future…

That kind of feeling can truly make your heart race.

“I… came to see Xiao Bai.” Su Muqing looked at the unfamiliar calmness in her eyes, utterly forgetting what he meant to say.

But in the next moment, he suddenly remembered why she was like this.

It was because of He Yan again.

In the past, he only wanted to hear her voice and envied He Yan, who received all her love.

But now, feeling the heartbeat that seemed to echo directly in his ears, he finally understood—what he wanted wasn’t just her voice.

He wanted all of her.

Hearing his words, Yun Shuning felt a sense of confirmation. The stray cat they rescued together did make a good excuse for them to meet.

She glanced at the man whose entire body screamed exhaustion and couldn’t quite understand—how was he still thinking about petting a cat when he was this tired?

“Mr. Su, wouldn’t you prefer to go back and get some rest first?”

Her voice still carried the same usual distance, but she was already trying to treat the world with a bit more kindness—no longer shutting it out as if it had nothing to do with her.

Hearing her question, Su Muqing felt all his exhaustion dissipate with her voice. The sleepless nights, the fatigue, the recent gloom—they all gradually quieted.

He gave a brighter, more genuine smile than ever before, his voice full of energy. “No need. Seeing Shushu brings me back to life at full HP.”

At that, he lowered his eyes with a pitiful expression, looking like a giant golden retriever needing comfort. “I don’t even know who’s always targeting me. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in days.”

Then he stepped forward two paces, pointed at his own eyes with his index finger, and said, “Look, my dark circles are practically the size of a panda’s.”

Su Muqing was someone who knew how to seize any opportunity. Even if he knew her question was just a polite inquiry toward a stranger, he still latched onto it, using his words to subtly jab at Yu Cheng, all while complaining about his own troubles.

Yun Shuning listened to his complaints with an expressionless face. Though the hollowness and loneliness in her had thinned, her facial expression barely changed.

Especially when facing someone she didn’t particularly like.

After listening to all of Su Muqing’s whining, she gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. “Since you’re this tired, Mr. Su, you should get some rest.”

“Actually, I’m not that tired.” Hearing her direct and unambiguous rejection, Su Muqing hurried to cover up. “I just want to take a quick look at Xiao Bai. I won’t bother you for long, Shushu.”

“Please wait a moment.” Yun Shuning spoke politely, then, without a hint of hesitation, closed the apartment door.

Su Muqing looked at the bright red door, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, showing no sign of frustration at being shut out.

Seems like what He Chen said yesterday really made a big impact on Yun Shuning.

Originally, he only came today to check on her and determine whether yesterday’s incident was due to her being drunk or something He Chen had said.

Now that he had the answer, he didn’t want to leave at all.

It wasn’t hard to guess what He Chen might’ve said to rekindle her hope for life.

He used to think He Chen’s actions were foolish. But now, he had to admit—there was something commendable in them.

The Yun Shuning who was now earnestly trying to live, learning to act like a normal person—she was truly moving.

But… this version of her, who was rediscovering the world—did she dislike him?

Looking at the door as it opened again, and the woman holding Xiao Bai in her arms, he pursed his lips and asked with a hint of grievance:

“Shushu, do you hate me that much?”

Yun Shuning looked at him, a trace of confusion in her eyes. “Why would Mr. Su ask that?”

Su Muqing looked at her seriously, making sure he didn’t see any signs of disgust or contempt in her eyes.

Suddenly, he felt a little defeated. He had assumed her distant attitude toward him meant she remembered him in some way—good or bad. Either way, it would mean he was different from everyone else in her heart.

But now he realized—she was still the same as before. She habitually kept her distance from everyone.

If she had changed, then the only change was that her despair and emptiness had lightened, and she was beginning to try accepting the world. But the rest—disliking closeness, avoiding interaction—was still the same.

And that made him feel even more helpless. Even though she had changed, it seemed like nothing had changed at all.

She was still the Yun Shuning who only loved He Yan, who couldn’t accept anyone else.

“Meow~”

Xiao Bai, held at the doorway, suddenly let out a piercing cry.

That sound instantly reminded Su Muqing of the fear that song from yesterday had instilled in him.

“Su Muqing.” A voice, low and elegant but full of undisguised malice, rang out from behind him. “Is your company’s business that idle, that you have time to knock on someone’s door early in the morning?”

From the corner, a man in a dark red coat approached step by step.

Sensing the strange atmosphere, Xiao Bai wriggled out of Yun Shuning’s arms and darted back into the apartment.

Yun Shuning concealed her surprise, glanced at the two men calmly, and softly said, “You two go ahead and chat. I won’t intrude.”

She nodded politely and was about to shut the door.

“Yun Shuning.” Yu Cheng called her name abruptly.

Just those three words seemed to carry a flood of emotions—so complex they were hard to decipher.

Yun Shuning had long since learned how to ignore the strange thoughts of the equally strange male supporting characters. She looked up naturally, her face calm and without confusion, and asked, “President Yu, is there something else?”

Yu Cheng had seen her many times, but it was the first time he had heard her speak so calmly. The numbness that used to linger in her voice had subtly turned into a trace of hope for the future.

Right now, she was like a dying tree finally touched by the rain.

On the surface, she was still the same as before—expressionless, indifferent to him, keeping everyone at a distance.

But in her eyes, there was suddenly a light.

He had once wondered if she might one day decide to end her life on a whim.

But seeing her now, he knew the answer.

She was waiting for a miracle that would never come. But it was precisely this purposeful waiting that gave her the will to live well.

At that moment, he gave up on everything he had planned to say when he came here. He gave up on telling her how slim the chances of He Yan’s survival were.

He raised an eyebrow, pointed at her hair, and casually smiled. “Your hair’s messy.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Yun Shuning replied, but her hands remained still, showing no intention of fixing it.

She glanced lightly at the two men in the corridor and blinked. “I have things to do, so I’ll leave you two to it.”

Without waiting for a response, she shut the door.

“President Yu, I didn’t expect you to have this much free time. This place isn’t exactly close to your villa, is it?” As the sound of the closing door echoed, Su Muqing’s demeanor turned sharp.

“It’s not close,” Yu Cheng replied, hearing the mockery but unfazed. “But not as bad as you. Not being able to go home must feel pretty awful.”

“This place seems a bit too small for the Su family’s future heir, doesn’t it?” He strolled up to Su Muqing. He was always good at stabbing people where it hurt.

“No choice,” Su Muqing replied with a bright smile. “As long as I get to live near the person I like, I’d even stay in a smaller place.”

He didn’t bother hiding his feelings for Yun Shuning at all.

His bluntness caught Yu Cheng off guard. For a moment, he couldn’t tell what he was feeling.

Love… huh?

“But you probably already know what He Chen said to Shushu yesterday, right?” Su Muqing retracted his smile, his tone more serious. “What do you think could make He Chen delay inheriting the He Corporation just to maintain this lie?”

“Does He Chen really only see Shushu as a respected elder?”

After throwing out that question, he didn’t bother hiding the schadenfreude in his voice. “It’s just a pity about Wanwan—she’s probably still in the dark about everything.”

At the mention of Lin Wan, Yu Cheng’s eyes darkened. It had been a long time since he thought about her—his savior from childhood.

“President Yu, I’m going back to rest.” Su Muqing leaned against the wall, catching the emotions in Yu Cheng’s eyes, and smiled playfully. “You should know—I really need the rest.”

“Sell me this apartment.” Yu Cheng looked at his back and said bluntly, “In exchange, I’ll stop targeting Qingyuan.”

Su Muqing furrowed his brow thoughtfully. So, in Yu Cheng’s heart, Yun Shuning meant more to him than Lin Wan?

“I’m sorry, but I’m quite comfortable here. Not planning to move.” He didn’t even look back.

Qingyuan was important to him, but it would never be a weakness others could use to threaten him.

“Even if you don’t have time to come here?” Yu Cheng sneered. “Not getting a good night’s sleep for so long must be tough.”

“I think it’s fine.” Su Muqing shrugged, looking totally relaxed. “That’s the perk of being young.”

The two didn’t even exchange glances, but the tension between them was palpable. Though their postures seemed casual, if you looked closely, their bodies were slightly taut.

“If you’re this free, President Yu, why not take a walk? I won’t be joining you.” Su Muqing yawned lazily, not wanting to continue the meaningless conversation, and turned back into the apartment.

In the hallway, only Yu Cheng remained. He stared deeply at Yun Shuning’s door for a moment before stepping back and walking away expressionlessly.

It was the first time he had ever softened toward someone.

And strangely enough, he didn’t mind it at all.

…

---

“Wanwan, you’ve been so busy lately! How long has it been since we hung out together?” As soon as Qiao Anyi saw Lin Wan, she hugged her affectionately. “Shopping alone just isn’t any fun.”

“Anyi.” Lin Wan smiled, her eyes curving gently. “I’ve missed you too. I’ve just been insanely busy lately.”

She hugged her back and gently comforted her, “That’s why, as soon as I had time, I asked you out, didn’t I?”

The two of them went to their favorite drink shop. After chatting about various things for a while, Lin Wan casually asked, “Do you know what Su Muqing’s been up to lately?”

“I feel like I haven’t heard any news about him in ages.”

Qiao Anyi was known for being well-informed. Whenever there was something she wanted to know, Lin Wan always thought of her first.

“Su Muqing?” Qiao Anyi picked up her coffee and took a small sip. “I heard he’s busy chasing a livestreamer. Apparently, the livestreamer has a really nice voice. The whole thing has caused quite a stir.”

At this point, she excitedly set down her cup, face full of gossip, “I even heard that Su Muqing bought out Koi Live just for this livestreamer—it supposedly cost a fortune.”

“The Su family…” Qiao Anyi gave a thumbs down, indicating disapproval. “They seem even more dissatisfied with him now.”

“I never expected Muqing to have this side to him,” Lin Wan’s lashes fluttered slightly, as if she didn’t care about the matter at all. “But the internet is full of all sorts of people. I just hope he doesn’t get scammed.”

“Actually, you should know this streamer too.” Qiao Anyi had no intention of hiding anything and spoke lightly, “It’s Yun Shuning. She goes by Shuyan online now.”

She noticed Lin Wan’s hand freeze midair, the corners of her eyes curling with a knowing smile.

Her mission today was to let Lin Wan know about Yun Shuning. No need to say much—just a seed was enough.

The rest, Lin Wan would investigate on her own.

And with enough money, digging up information on someone is rarely a problem.

---

The next morning, Lin Wan received a file on Yun Shuning.

The first item on it made her eyes fill with disbelief and doubt.

Yun Shuning and He Yan? How was that possible?

She was very familiar with the name He Yan. He was once the head of the He family but had gone missing in an accident. There was barely any information about him—photos were nearly nonexistent.

The only reason she knew about He Yan at all was because of He Chen.

Yun Shuning and He Yan were two completely unrelated people.

Besides, she was certain Yun Shuning held hostility toward her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have destroyed the gown Lin Wan designed.

She stared at the beginning of the report, completely confused.

At the same time, she understood why He Chen had told her to let go of the gown incident—if Yun Shuning really was He Yan’s girlfriend, she would basically be a respected elder figure to them.

After sorting out the relationships between these people, Lin Wan’s expression darkened a few shades.

She composed herself and kept reading.

The more she read, the darker her expression became: Yu Cheng, Su Muqing, and even He Chen all seemed to look at Yun Shuning in a different light.

They were all supposed to be hers.

Though the report contained only a few brief lines, she could clearly sense that their feelings for Yun Shuning weren’t nearly as simple as the words suggested.

Yu Cheng hadn’t contacted her proactively in a long time. Su Muqing, too—before, they’d at least touch base once a week.

She was supposed to be the one in control of these relationships.

Even more frustrating was He Chen’s recent attitude—something just felt off.

He was still gentle and considerate, but her sixth sense told her he was brushing her off more often now.

“Deep, devoted love,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes to hide the gloom within.

She liked to think she understood the three men well. The kind of unwavering love Yun Shuning seemed to show—it really moved people. It was enviable.

Once a man starts wanting to understand a woman… well, the rest is predictable.

Lin Wan’s grip on the file tightened. She couldn’t allow this to happen.

She didn’t believe in that kind of love. And even if it did exist, how long could it last?

Besides—was it even real?

Thinking that, Lin Wan opened her eyes, her gaze filled with a faint smile. Maybe she was overthinking it.

Real or fake, if Yun Shuning fell in love with someone else, she’d lose whatever “special” status she had.

Her eyes slid past the names He Chen and Su Muqing on the document and finally stopped at Yu Cheng.

Didn’t he like Yun Shuning? Then Lin Wan would help him out.

---

The day before, Yun Shuning had spent the whole day watching videos of herself singing. Whenever she felt overwhelmed with embarrassment, she’d calm herself by practicing calligraphy at her desk.

She couldn’t remember which philosopher said it, but sometimes the most unforgettable thing isn’t sorrow or joy—it’s bone-deep embarrassment.

Some embarrassments are so intense, just remembering them makes you want to claw open a portal to a parallel universe with your toes.

What made it worse for her was how her embarrassing moment had gone viral—videos of her “heroic performance” were trending on major websites.

It was truly unbearable—but unavoidable.

Her phone played yet another reaction video of someone watching her singing clip.

“Why is everyone tagging me to do a reaction to this? There are so many of you, I’m genuinely scared!” the uploader began.

“Oh my god, this girl’s voice is amazing! Is she an angel? She must be an angel!” That was the reaction when she first spoke.

“I mean, I’m guessing this is one of those opposites-attract situations. Maybe her singing isn’t great? But trust me, with my experience in voice appreciation, even if she sings off-key, it won’t be that bad,” the confident YouTuber predicted.

Just as the words left her mouth, the singing began.

“Actually, I think it’s… not too bad… maybe,” the person in the video tried to stay optimistic, though her face had already gone pale. Then, a sudden hoarse cat screech interrupted the audio, and she slammed the pause button.

“Let me recover first, please!” That was how the video ended.

The comment section was full of “HAHAHAHAHA” and the reaction video itself had hit trending status on Bilibili. There were tons more like it.

Yun Shuning: “……”

“Xiaobai, looks like you’re just as famous as me now.” She looked over at the cat lying on the bed, seeking some emotional solidarity.

But Xiaobai didn’t seem to understand. It stretched lazily, shook its head dramatically, and leaped off the bed, waddling off toward its food dish.

Watching her cat act like a little emperor, Yun Shuning quietly followed to pour food for it.

Lately, she’d realized that as long as Xiaobai slept beside her, it wouldn’t disturb her at night at all. She now understood that its usual midnight chaos might have just been a way of getting her attention.

Maybe… it had just been lonely.

After the woman and cat finished breakfast, it was time for Yun Shuning to face the inevitable.

She had already taken a full day off yesterday. She couldn’t skip another stream today.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over to her streaming setup with the resolve of someone walking to their doom—and started the livestream.

Because she had spent so long practicing calligraphy the day before, her wrist was sore, so today she planned to stream something different.

As soon as she went live, the screen was instantly flooded with a barrage of comments:

“Is this the chaotic singing streamer? Followed, followed!”

“Shushu, you’re finally back! We fans have received professional training—normally we don’t laugh… unless we can’t help it, HAHAHAHA”

“A streamer who can’t sing isn’t a real voice actress~~”

“Why can’t I send my gift? Is the platform bugged?”

Comments ranged from teasing to genuine concern, with new viewers asking about the stream’s format and rules.

At this point, her viewership numbers had even outpaced Koi Live’s top streamers. Nobody knew when it started, but all other streamers had begun avoiding her time slot.

Seeing the mocking comments, Yun Shuning took a deep breath and kept telling herself: This has nothing to do with me, this has nothing to do with me…

“Since I practiced calligraphy for too long yesterday, I won’t be doing that today,” she said gently.

Instantly, the chat went silent.

New viewers suddenly understood why this simple calligraphy streamer always drew such a large crowd.

Because she was worth it. Her voice was worth it.

“How about we watch something together instead?” Yun Shuning shared her pre-planned idea, then softly asked, “Any recommendations for good TV shows?”

She had spent yesterday watching reaction videos of her singing and thought this could be a fun, low-effort stream idea. If she found a good show, she could watch it with her audience, chiming in now and then.

She wasn’t really in the mood to talk today anyway.

After she spoke, her longtime fans noticed something was different. They couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was…

But it suddenly felt like there was a thick veil between her and them—like they could no longer see who Shuyan really was.

Since the day she got drunk, they realized the elegant, distant Shuyan was just a normal person too—she made mistakes, sang off-key, stumbled around like everyone else.

That relatability made them want to joke with her.

“Shushu, trust me, there’s a must-watch show called Contending for Power and Love. It’s amazing.”

Others jumped on the bandwagon:

“Yes, yes! It’s the best drama I’ve seen recently—an absolute classic.”

“You guys… fine. Honestly, I feel the same way.”

“Contending for Power and Love?” Yun Shuning’s voice was calm, even with a hint of admiration. “The name does sound pretty good.”

She searched the show on her tablet and, intrigued, hit play. On her stream, one side of the screen showed the drama, while the other showed her hands—like always.

She folded her hands on the desk like she was ready to concentrate on the story. Her fans suddenly felt a pang of guilt.

The show was a recent costume romance series by Tencent. Though it claimed to be about power struggles, it was really just a love story.

No one would complain about eye candy—but in this case, the leads were… interesting.

The female lead was pretty—until she moved her face. Then all her features flew in different directions. The male lead was even worse: expressionless yet still grotesque. He had no awareness of how unflattering cameras could be, with a bulging belly and forward-leaning neck that were hard to look at.

So the show became a go-to target for streamers to roast.

People liked to mock it—but few could actually stomach watching it.

“Shushu, maybe let’s not… There are other good shows out there.”

“Shushu, we were wrong. Let’s watch something else. I don’t think I can survive this.”

“I can’t decide what’s worse—hearing Shushu sing or watching this show with her.”

---

Despite the regrets in chat, Yun Shuning stayed focused once she made up her mind. She didn’t let comments distract her.

Watching the gaudy opening sequence, she frowned slightly: Is this really what people consider beautiful now?

Soon, Episode 1 began.

It showed the childhood meeting of the main leads.

The male lead, born into nobility, was abducted due to royal infighting. After escaping, he met the female lead—also just a child.

Yun Shuning, wanting to forget her own embarrassing moment, immersed herself in the show. She imagined herself as the character, feeling and experiencing everything.

Having grown up in an orphanage, she knew firsthand how hard life was for children without parents. Seeing the boy get bullied made her eyes redden.

She had lived it—so the emotions hit harder.

The young female lead had also been trafficked. Watching them get abused and chased away by street vendors, she couldn’t stop remembering how, as a kid, she was excluded by classmates, too poor to afford snacks, sniffing around food stalls until she was shooed away with scorn.

She thought she’d forgotten those memories—but the actors on screen brought them all back. All those moments she didn’t even dare remember.

She took a deep breath, trying hard not to cry.

But tears don’t listen to logic.

The leads were about to be separated.

“I will find you. I’ll protect you in the future.”

“You have to come find me.”

A few quick scenes showed their childhood farewell, and the camera jumped to their reunion as adults.

A now rotund and weathered male lead met the female lead—whose eyeballs were practically popping out in shock.

“Help! My eyes!!!”

“Shushu, please shut it off, the child can’t take this!”

---

Then, those who were watching her hands on screen suddenly noticed a drop of water fall onto her skin.

Then a second, and a third.

More and more viewers began to realize:

“Wait… is Shushu crying?”

“No way—I thought ‘so ugly it makes you cry’ was just a joke… Was it literal?!”

“I think Shushu’s crying because she actually—”

Watching her livestream were Su Muqing, Yu Cheng, and He Chen.

As they followed the plot, seeing the separation and reunion of the male and female leads, they suddenly understood why she cried.

Because she, too, was waiting for such a moment—a moment to reunite with someone she loved.

Perhaps she wasn’t sure if she would ever get to experience it, which is why that scene touched her so deeply.

Yu Cheng looked at the teardrops on her hand and suddenly felt a burning sensation in his heart. Who wouldn’t want a love like that? Who could possibly refuse it?

At that moment, he suddenly felt that even if he couldn’t have Yun Shuning’s love, it didn’t matter. Just being able to have someone like her, capable of such deep emotion, was already heart-stirring enough.

Yun Shuning had no idea the male supporting characters had already gone so far in their thoughts. Her tears were constantly gathering in her eyes, blurring her vision so much that she couldn’t even see the faces of the male and female leads—only hearing the voices of the dubbing actors.

Sometimes, people need an outlet for release. Yun Shuning was like that right now.

She thought of many things—the more she thought, the more she wanted to cry; the more she thought, the more wronged she felt.

To stop herself from crying out loud, she withdrew her hand from the camera and bit her index finger, trying not to cry too messily.

The livestream room was frighteningly quiet. Only Shuyan’s trembling breaths could be heard.

After a while, Yun Shuning composed herself and tried to speak calmly:

“Thank you all for the recommendation. I really liked it.” She placed her injured hand outside of the camera’s view, unwilling to let others notice. “That’s it for today’s livestream. I hope everyone has a pleasant day.”

No matter how much she held it back, her voice still carried a slight tremble. When she ended the stream, her hand with the bite marks briefly swept past the camera. Some sharp-eyed fans quickly hit the screenshot button.

Looking closely, they suddenly discovered that the bite marks on her hand were so deep they had drawn blood.

After ending the livestream, Yun Shuning looked down at Xiao Bai, who was pacing around her anxiously out of worry, and softly said, “I’m fine. It’s all over now.”

She rarely remembered her childhood anymore.

In fact, the orphanage director had already tried to treat every child as fairly as possible. But with so many children, it was inevitable that those who didn’t talk much or didn’t fight for attention would be unintentionally ignored.

What she felt most deeply about living in the orphanage was how terrifying poverty truly was. Even though there were people who donated and the government provided subsidies, there were so many orphanages and so many children that the amount left for each person was barely anything.

Patched-up clothes, worn-out shoes, hair ties with no elasticity, and the habit of writing very small so as not to waste paper or ink.

For as long as she could remember, she had never worn new clothes. Occasionally there were clothing and book donations, but they never made it to her.

She didn’t dare show her face. Life in the orphanage had taught her many things. She didn’t dare let herself be adopted easily.

What pained her most was that the orphanage’s funds were limited, so they could only support the best-performing students to attend high school and college.

Her grades were excellent at the time, but during the high school entrance exam, she had a high fever. Even though she pushed through, she scored terribly, and so like the other children, she entered society early.

Gradually, Yun Shuning calmed down. That time in her life hadn’t only brought her pain—it had also given her happiness.

She knew that without the orphanage and the director, she might have already died in some unknown place, without even a lonely grave to mark her passing.

That was why, once she could earn money, she donated most of her acting income to the orphanage.

Sometimes she wondered—maybe it was precisely because of all those good deeds that she was given this second chance at life.

Thinking of that, she took a deep breath and reopened her tablet to continue watching the drama she had been following.

She needed to find a reason for her crying. Otherwise, how could she explain bursting into tears after watching less than ten minutes of a video?

But just hearing the drama’s title already made it sound heartbreaking. When the time came, she would just say she remembered the later parts of the plot, which made her cry.

She dragged the progress bar back and rewatched the scene where the male and female leads were separated as children. When she heard the line they said at that time, she suddenly felt that those words had overlapped with the Yun Shuning in her fabricated story.

Waiting and searching.

It looked like she had found her excuse.

Then the scene changed, and the grown-up male and female leads met again for the first time. Yun Shuning looked at the two on screen and felt like she’d been emotionally sucker-punched.

Did actors in this world have no awareness of managing their figures and facial expressions?

Looking at their expressions, the sadness in her heart completely vanished.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

She sighed and walked to the entryway to open it. “Mr. Su.”

“I know Shushu might want to be alone right now,” Su Muqing’s gaze swept over her right hand. When he saw the bite marks, his expression darkened briefly before he seriously said to her, “But I thought you might need this.”

He handed her the ointment he had prepared. “As long as you take this, I’ll leave.”

Yun Shuning looked at him and let out a faint sigh. “Thank you, Mr. Su.”

After seeing her accept the ointment, he finally smiled in satisfaction. “I’ll go now. Shushu, remember to apply it on time.”

After closing the door, Yun Shuning immediately picked up her phone and transferred the money for the ointment to Su Muqing. She really didn’t want to be too entangled with him.

But Su Muqing and Yu Cheng—both of them seemed off.

She had to keep her distance from them.

On the other side, when Su Muqing saw the money transfer, his face was full of helplessness. She and he… had drawn their boundaries far too clearly.

On the forum, because of Yun Shuning’s livestream, another high-rise discussion thread quickly formed.

Original poster: Did you all watch Shuyan’s livestream today? Something felt really off.

1st reply: Watched from beginning to end. Definitely felt off.

2nd reply: If I didn’t know what kind of person Shushu is, I’d suspect the production team of Struggle for Power hired her to whitewash the leads.

3rd reply: Why did Shushu cry like that? Did something sad happen?

4th reply: And it was while watching such a funny plot, with such bizarre leads. For her to cry during that—how heartbroken must she be?

5th reply: I saw the bite wound on her hand. It looked really serious. She didn’t hold back at all.

6th reply: The way Shushu held back her sobs was truly heartbreaking.

Original poster again: I compiled the timestamps of when Shushu was crying along with the corresponding drama scenes. (Attached pictures)

7th reply: OP, just use your words—no need for picture.

8th reply: It seems like it was during the separation and reunion scenes of the male and female leads when they were young. Could it be that Shushu also has a childhood sweetheart she hasn’t seen in a long time?

9th reply: If we connect this with what Shushu said during her livestream—do you all remember what she said when she was drunk? She said she was very happy that day. So here’s the question: why was she happy?

10th reply: Could it be that she met someone she wanted to see, like a childhood sweetheart?

11th reply: Do you all remember when someone jokingly confessed to Shushu and what she said in response? She said she already had someone she really liked. Looking at it this way…

…

70th reply: I finished reading through the whole thread and summed it up—Shushu probably had a close childhood sweetheart. The two of them got separated due to some accident as they grew up. After finally meeting again, that person ended up hurting Shushu deeply. So what exactly did he do to make her this heartbroken?

71st reply: Played with her feelings? Bullied Shushu? Maybe he said he’d marry her when they grew up, but now there’s a different bride by his side?

72nd reply: Maybe he did something even worse.

73rd reply: All in all, it seems like Shushu ran into a total jerk.