Xie He noticed her concern and gently patted her shoulder, reassuring her patiently.
“It’s fine. Those people are probably still angry right now. Give it a few days, and it’ll blow over.”

Shí Xìng nodded, staring thoughtfully ahead. Then she looked up at him with curiosity.
“Why are you here?”

Xie He curved his lips into a smile and replied casually,
“Your husband asked me to come check on you. He was worried something might happen to you.”

She froze for a moment, not expecting Ji Yu to have thought of even this.

Just then, Xie He suddenly turned back, lightly shaking the keyring in his hand. With his teeth pressing against his tongue, he chuckled.
“So—are you coming or not?”

Shí Xìng hurried after him. The moment the door opened, Xǐ Yù rushed over excitedly, circling around them nonstop. It looked like the dog had been cooped up at home for too long.

Xie He gently rubbed its head and turned to ask her,
“You taking it back with you?”

Shí Xìng nodded and helped leash it up.

Xie He’s dark eyes deepened slightly. After a brief pause, he spoke solemnly,
“Spend more time with him these next few days.”

Though he didn’t finish his sentence, Shí Xìng understood perfectly. She answered firmly,
“I will.”

By the time she got home, it was already past midnight. After settling Xǐ Yù to sleep, she sat on the bed and looked out the window.

The night sky was heavy and dark, the moon hanging high above. Thick clouds obscured the stars, pressing down on everything as if making it hard to breathe.

She deliberately avoided checking trending topics on social media. Lying in bed, she gradually drifted into sleep.

But public opinion didn’t quiet down with the night. A storm was silently brewing.

When Shí Xìng opened her eyes and checked her phone, the first thing she saw was a post from an anonymous account—a video of Ji Yu kneeling before Shí Lěi.

Without question, the explosive news shot straight to the top of the trending list.

Her mind went blank instantly, her breathing quickening. Trembling, she tapped on the video. Onscreen, the laughter of Shí Lěi and Dīng Jùnfēng sounded especially harsh. Ji Yu was the only one left in frame, his head lowered, his expression unreadable.

Biting her lip, she shut off her phone. She didn’t need to look to know that Weibo was already in chaos.

At that moment, Wèi Shūfēn called again.

“Shí Xìng, what’s going on with that trending topic?”

Not knowing where to begin, she answered vaguely,
“It’s nothing…”

Before she could finish, she heard Wèi Shūfēn sigh and ask cautiously,
“Why don’t you two break up? These past few days, neighbors have been pointing fingers at us nonstop. It’s been hard on us too.”

Shí Xìng froze for a long moment, never expecting her mother to say such words. Her voice turned hoarse as she shouted,
“Mom! That video is from when he was threatened into kneeling just to save me! I’m not breaking up with him. No matter what happens, I want to face it together with him!”

Her voice broke as she spoke. Tears streamed down her face. Sensing her distress, Xǐ Yù nudged her cheek gently with its nose in comfort.

He had done all of that for her—yet now it had become a weapon to attack him.

Hearing her cry, Wèi Shūfēn’s heart clenched. She hurriedly said,
“Alright, alright, don’t break up then. Worst case, we get talked about a little. Just keep a close eye on Ji Yu—don’t let him do anything foolish.”

That single sentence jolted Shí Xìng awake.

When she rushed to the hospital, she discovered that Ji Yu had already disappeared—no one knew when he had left.

Panic surged through her. She called him again and again, but every call failed to connect. Just as she stood there at a loss, a place suddenly flashed through her mind. She immediately ran out.

When she arrived at the stadium, she saw the familiar figure.

Ji Yu stood alone at the center of the court. His face was unnaturally pale, his frame noticeably thinner. Sunlight slanted down onto him, stretching his shadow long across the floor.

She called softly,
“Ji Yu.”

He turned, their eyes meeting. In that instant, the emotions buried deep within both of them were unmistakable.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

Ji Yu lowered his gaze. His expression shifted briefly before returning to normal. He smiled faintly.
“Just came to take a look.”

She hurried to his side, worry evident on her face, hesitating to speak.

As if sensing her concern, he spoke first.
“I’m fine. Worst case, I just won’t play anymore.”

Despite his words, she caught the loneliness in his eyes. Falling from the peak to the bottom overnight—anyone would struggle.

Afraid he’d overthink things, she quickly reassured him.
“The doctor only said you’re not fit to play right now. You can recover slowly in the future—”

As she spoke, Ji Yu looked at her, then lowered his gaze again. He let out a quiet laugh, clearly unconvinced.

Her voice grew softer. Before she could finish, he interrupted her, smiling self-mockingly.
“Tell me the truth. I can take it.”

No one understood his condition better than he did. Everyone was comforting him, but he knew all too well that his current physical state left little room for hope.

Shí Xìng looked at him, unable to bear it. She lowered her head, not knowing what to say.

Ji Yu slowly stepped forward, picked up the racket on the ground, stared at it for a moment, then flung it away hard.
“Fine. Then I won’t play. Retiring early isn’t so bad.”

She knew how much pain he was in. Stepping forward, she gently held his hand and said softly,
“Believe me. I’ll recover with you. We can do this.”

He turned to look at her. She repeated firmly,
“Together.”

Ji Yu’s gaze softened. After a long moment, he nodded slowly.
“Okay.”

At least for now, the worst outcome was simply starting over.

After sending Ji Yu back to the hospital, Shí Xìng finally received a message from Qiáo Yǔshān.

[Are you two… okay?]

The typing indicator lingered for a long time before the second message arrived.

[If you need it, I can help clarify things.]

Shí Xìng was about to reply that it wasn’t necessary, but a third message followed immediately.

[Consider it repayment for when you accompanied me to file the police report.]

Not long after, Qiáo Yǔshān posted a statement on Weibo. She clearly explained that Shí Xìng had not used connections or backdoors, and directly exposed the real reason Huo Sīkǎi had been expelled—not some fabricated conspiracy, but because he had secretly taken intimate photos of her.

The comment section soon began to shift, though doubts still remained.

“There were rumors before that he caused trouble—so it was true!”
“Could this be fake? Let’s wait and see.”
“Why would she make this up? What does she gain?”
“The sports world has been exploding with scandals lately—more dramatic than entertainment news.”

Reading the post, Shí Xìng felt deeply moved. She hadn’t expected Qiáo Yǔshān to reopen her own old wounds just to help her.

She quickly typed a message of thanks. Qiáo Yǔshān replied soon after:

[You don’t need to thank me. I only told the truth. As for that incident—it’s long past for me. It doesn’t hurt me anymore.]

In just a few months, Qiáo Yǔshān seemed like a completely different person. Shí Xìng felt relieved—at least she was no longer trapped in the shadows.

Not long after Qiáo Yǔshān’s statement, Xie He also posted on Weibo, clarifying that there was no truth to claims that all resources were being tilted toward Ji Yu, and emphasizing that his relationship with Ji Yu was far better than outsiders imagined.

Soon, former teammates and colleagues stepped forward to speak up as well. Public opinion finally began to reverse.

After a long, exhausting day, Shí Xìng shut off her phone.

Lying in bed, replaying everything in her mind, she began to sense something off.

Ji Yu’s accident had barely happened before a series of rumors erupted—anonymous accounts, leaked interactions between her alt account and his burner, daily paparazzi shots, and even the kneeling video recorded by Shí Lěi. Everything seemed meticulously prepared, all aimed directly at Ji Yu.

There might be truths she still didn’t know.

The next day at the hospital, the first thing she did was bring it up with Ji Yu.

After listening, he lowered his gaze and said thoughtfully,
“I noticed it too. I already had someone look into it.”

“Who?” she asked curiously.

Before he could answer, Xie He’s voice floated over.
“Obviously, me.”

She rubbed her forehead, suddenly feeling that he was wildly unreliable.

Noticing her expression, Xie He tapped her head irritably.
“What’s that look supposed to mean?”

Ignoring him, Shí Xìng asked directly,
“Did you find anything?”

Xie He exchanged a brief glance with Ji Yu, then quickly looked away. His face twitched awkwardly.
“Not yet.”

As the two bantered, Ji Yu lowered his eyes and spoke quietly after a long pause.
“Don’t you need to get to work?”

Shí Xìng glanced at the clock on the wall. She’d nearly forgotten the time. After quickly saying goodbye, she rushed out.

Xie He snorted teasingly.
“Why not let her hear it? Aren’t you afraid she’ll make a fuss once she finds out?”

“No need. I don’t want to drag her into this,” Ji Yu replied coldly, his gaze darkening.

After everything that had happened, he truly didn’t want to pull Shí Xìng back into the mess. Whatever consequences came, he’d bear them himself.

Xie He nodded, then joked lightly,
“Lost one match and you’re like a completely different person.”

Ji Yu shook his head indifferently.
“Try getting tens of thousands of hate messages every day.”

Xie He laughed and waved his hand, and the two finally got down to business.

“You were right. The people behind this trending topic—it really was them.”

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