Shí Xìng casually flipped through the documents below. She froze for a moment, the mystery in her heart growing deeper and deeper.

At that point, Ji Mu spoke leisurely from the side.
“During the period when Ji Yu’s personal popularity reached its peak, it just happened to coincide with Huo Sikǎi’s scandal. He won the World Championship and made his relationship with you public at the same time. On one side, there was the image of a world champion doting on his girlfriend; on the other, a man exposed for secretly photographing his ex-girlfriend’s private photos. If you were a brand, under such overwhelming public opinion, who would you choose?”

“As for your reinstatement, it was merely an identity that made things more convenient for his team’s marketing.” Ji Mu glanced at her lightly and spoke without mercy.

Shí Xìng’s lips slowly turned pale, her breathing growing heavier as scenes from the past replayed endlessly in her mind.

In the end, she didn’t even know how she walked out of the café. Outside, a light rain had begun to fall, shrouding the entire city in a cool, misty drizzle.

Pedestrians hurried along the streets to avoid the rain. The chilly raindrops hit Shí Xìng’s face, leaving her momentarily dazed.

By the time she arrived at Ji Yu’s home, she was inevitably soaked.

Ji Yu had just returned from training. When he saw her like this, he frowned slightly, hurried over, and helped wipe the rainwater from her clothes.
“Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?” he asked.

When Shí Xìng didn’t respond, he turned to face her—and instantly froze.

“Why were all our photos from Norway taken by someone?” Shí Xìng asked, holding up her phone with the trending topic on the screen, hoping he would tell her the truth himself.

Ji Yu paused, then deliberately changed the subject.
“Probably passersby ran into us. If you don’t like it, I’ll have someone take them down.”

Shí Xìng looked up at him, a complicated mix of emotions flashing in her eyes.

Her emotions finally spiraled out of control. She shouted,
“Even now, you still won’t tell me the truth?”

Looking at his face, her eyes gradually reddened. She turned her head away awkwardly and said in a low voice,
“Our relationship trending online—your team arranged that, didn’t they? The moment something happened to Huo Sikǎi, you took over his endorsement. So in your eyes, was our reconciliation nothing more than a marketing tool from beginning to end?”

After her barrage of questions, Ji Yu’s gaze darkened. His brows knitted tightly as he asked hoarsely,
“Who told you all this?”

“Your mother,” Shí Xìng replied directly, meeting his gaze head-on.

Ji Yu slowly came to his senses and explained everything step by step.
“Our relationship trending online was indeed pushed by my team.”

The moment she heard his admission, Shí Xìng’s breathing stalled. She let out a bitter laugh. All the kindness he had shown her during this time replayed vividly in her mind—only for her to realize it had all been planned from the start.

Seeing her expression, Ji Yu paused, then continued,
“It’s true that I asked Coach Su to help with your reinstatement. But I never treated our reconciliation as a publicity stunt, and I never once thought about using you to build an image for myself.”

He lowered his gaze to her, the intensity in his eyes nearly spilling over.
“I like you, Shí Xìng. I really like you.”

That was why he had knelt without hesitation when she was kidnapped.
Why he had silently followed her life for years after their breakup.
Why he had deliberately created another chance for them to meet again.

Shí Xìng’s eyelashes trembled. Her mind went blank, and she didn’t know how to react.

Outside, the rain grew heavier. Cold air seeped through the gaps of the half-closed window.

After a long while, she finally spoke softly,
“Give me some time to think.”

The emotional impact was simply too great, leaving her at a loss.

Ji Yu watched her leave, wanting to call out and stop her, but in the end, he said nothing.

He knew her too well—saying more now would only push her farther away.

The next day at work, Shí Xìng was still in a daze until Yu Jing called out to her.

“Shí Xìng, what’s wrong with you?”

She shook her head. Seeing her expression, Yu Jing hesitated, then asked,
“Did you and Ji Yu have a fight?”

Shí Xìng froze, surprised that she had seen through it so quickly.

Yu Jing more or less understood the situation and gently said,
“If you don’t mind, you can talk to me about it.”

Shí Xìng lowered her eyes and slowly explained everything.

Yu Jing listened thoughtfully, then asked,
“So what do you think? Do you believe him?”

Shí Xìng nodded, then hesitated and shook her head.
“I don’t know.”

Her heart was already a tangled mess.

Seeing her hesitation, Yu Jing gently advised,
“Sometimes, if you step outside your fixed way of thinking, you might discover a whole new perspective. I was stubborn about many things when I was younger too, but eventually I learned to let go.”

“After all,” she chuckled softly, as if recalling something,
“isn’t life just about chasing a few moments of happiness?”

Shí Xìng was deeply moved by her words. She nodded and said quietly,
“I understand, Sister Jing. I’ll think it through carefully.”

Yu Jing watched her walk away, her thoughts swirling.

As soon as Shí Xìng returned to her workstation, she heard team doctors talking next door.

“Did Ji Yu get injured during training just now?”
“How do you know?”
“The ambulance showed up—what do you think?”

Shí Xìng’s heart clenched instantly. Her fingers unconsciously tightened.

Seeing her reaction, the others whispered,
“Aren’t those two together? Why does Shí Xìng look so indifferent?”
“Did they break up?”
“I told you—dating an athlete never ends well. They’re rich and famous, they can afford to date casually for years. How could an ordinary person keep up?”

…

It wasn’t until she got home that she noticed a message from Ji Yu.

[I’m leaving for a competition the day after tomorrow. Let’s talk properly once it’s over.]

Shí Xìng pressed her lips together. She wanted to ask about his injury, but after hesitating for a long time, she never sent the message. She turned off her phone instead, refusing to think about what came next.

On the day of Ji Yu’s competition, he was backstage, constantly refreshing his phone. Coach Su walked over and patted him on the shoulder.

“The injury you got last time—are you okay?”
Before Ji Yu could answer, he continued,
“A lot of media will be here for this match. Perform well.”

Ji Yu nodded, rubbing his waist, staring ahead in thought.

During the interview, a reporter asked,
“Ji Yu, there are reports that you were injured during training and sent to the hospital. How is your recovery? Are you confident about winning today?”

He glanced toward Coach Su, nodded, and replied formally,
“It’s nothing serious. As for the outcome, we’ll see in the match.”

After speaking, he stared darkly into the camera, lost in thought.

When he stepped onto the court, the cheers rang out around him. Suddenly, he felt dazed. The familiar stabbing pain in his waist surged again.

His opponent stood across from him—his longtime rival. Their careers had overlapped almost perfectly, trading wins and losses over the years. The media had long hyped them as the “Twin Stars of Badminton.”

Meeting in the preliminary round meant one of them would be eliminated immediately. The media sensed a trending topic and crowded the sidelines with cameras. No matter who won, anticipation was sky-high.

At the start, Ji Yu uncharacteristically lost the first point. The atmosphere instantly turned tense. He fought back to tie the score at 3–3.

But his stamina visibly declined. His mistakes increased, and his opponent took the first game 21–12.

His form remained sluggish in the second game. He was crushed 10–1 early on. Though he later tried to catch up, the gap was too large, and he lost again.

The arena’s mood sank visibly. Coach Su watched from the sidelines, his expression darkening as he frowned, though he restrained himself in front of the crowd.

If Ji Yu were to suffer a shocking early exit on home ground, the public narrative they had carefully built would collapse.

He quickly called a timeout, not noticing Ji Yu’s condition, and pulled him aside.
“What are you doing? Wake up! The whole country is watching you! If you’re eliminated in the preliminaries, you’ll be criticized for the rest of your life!”

Ji Yu pressed his lips together, his face pale. He stared ahead meaningfully and nodded heavily.
“I understand.”

Whether Coach Su’s words worked or not, Ji Yu managed to force the match into a decisive game. Only he knew how painful those games were—his worsening back pain severely limited his performance.

In the crucial final game, the arena fell quiet as everyone focused on the match.

Ji Yu served first. They traded shots back and forth. But midway through, he suddenly couldn’t hold on anymore. He collapsed in pain and raised his hand to signal a stoppage.

The match was immediately halted.

The stands erupted in chaos, filled with boos.

The competition was held domestically, and Ji Yu had just achieved a career Grand Slam. To withdraw in the preliminary round caused widespread outrage.

“Refund! Refund!” people shouted.

Staff struggled to maintain order, but the noise was overwhelming.

Shí Xìng had just gotten off work when she accidentally glanced at the large screen broadcasting the match. The moment she saw Ji Yu collapse, her mind went completely blank.

The surrounding noise crashed into her ears like heavy lead, leaving her frozen in place.

Online discussions exploded instantly, flooding the trending topics. Soon, a wave of harsh criticism followed like a rising tide.

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