Chapter 11

Return to Me in Joy (11)

Chapter Eleven

Mu He washed her face again in the bathroom, yet could not stop the warmth from spreading across her cheeks. She walked around the room and stepped onto the sun-drenched open balcony. The sky was an immaculate blue, like a vast, unbroken canvas of pure color.

In the distance, mountains layered with golden light and verdant green, while nearby, the water shimmered in rolling green waves.

A gentle breeze brushed her face, lifting the stray strands of hair. Mu He closed her eyes and stretched lazily, feeling content.

The sunlight here was so good; it would be a pity not to use it to grow flowers and plants.

The heat gradually subsided, but her cheeks remained tinged with a faint pink, delicate and radiant without her realizing it.

After spending ten minutes on the balcony to calm her mind, Mu He went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Opening the fridge, she saw the fruits, vegetables, and milk inside and remembered that Xi Heng had helped bring them back. Instantly, two words popped into her mind—

Bra.

That long-suppressed sense of embarrassment surged back.

Mu He sighed in frustration. At home, she never wore underwear to sleep. As she breathed, two red blossoms, pressed against her soft pajamas, gradually came into view, and the two words began looping endlessly in her thoughts…

She could not stop imagining how Xi Heng would react when he saw them, what expression he would make when replying “No”?

The more she thought about it, the more she wished she could just dig a hole and bury herself.

Meanwhile, in the virtual world of the internet, after seeing Zhao Yike attend the audition for Xianxia Romance, Coco’s fans were even more enraged. So the goddess’s role really had been stolen!

The Coco fans united, furiously typing insults and personal attacks against Mu He, their reasoning boiled down to: With Coco’s acting skills, taking such a small role would be a piece of cake.

That shameless woman must have snatched the role through dirty, underhanded means! Wuwu, poor Coco, not only lost the role but was also dragged into publicity by a scheming woman.

If Mu He had been in front of them, they might have devoured her alive.

Regardless of the fans’ chaos, Xingyu Media, as the agency for both actresses, could only maintain silence toward the storm while trying to suppress the heat behind the scenes.

Director Xie, however, could not tolerate this kind of “more fans equals more justice” stench. He posted on his personal Weibo to defend Mu He: “I chose the actor for Xi Yin. If you’re upset, vent at me.”

Xie Qinghua was known in the industry for being straightforward and honest. Everyone knew his back door was sealed tight—no one could ever slip through. One actor who had once tried to cheat ended up pinned at the top of Weibo by him.

The rumors that Mu He had obtained the role through improper means naturally collapsed.

The post was concise yet powerful: clarifying Mu He’s innocence and supporting her, while subtly warning Zhao Yike—the message was, “Even when attacking a dog, consider the owner,” leaving her some dignity.

Everyone in the circle understood: there was no need to make things ugly, a hint was enough.

But the Coco fans didn’t get it. Although some of the major fans realized the situation was getting messy and lost their footing, extreme fans kept obsessing. Look, that old pervert must have been bewitched to the point of losing his mind, running out to get scolded!

Heh, enjoy it!

The Coco fans focused their fire, bombarding Director Xie’s Weibo.

Unexpectedly, as they raged, notifications came from major fans telling them to ceasefire and delete comments. Everyone was stunned—what? Stop now when they were on a roll?

“Don’t be afraid, just do it!”

The reply came: Director Xie holds a commanding position in the industry. Going too far would make things difficult for Coco.

Under the major fans’ guidance, the Coco fans finally relented, deleting one toxic comment after another. In the end, only a few young, clueless fans remained, calling for everyone to boycott Xianxia Romance to tank its ratings.

Even as they shouted themselves hoarse, it barely made a ripple. The comment “Looking forward to Xianxia Romance, looking forward to Mu He’s Xi Yin” surged to the top, garnering over a hundred thousand likes.

Soon after, Qian Zhihe, bruised from attacks by arrogant Coco fans, regained her energy and engaged in a grand, joyful online gathering with Director Xie’s fans and drama fans.

A few lingering Coco fans tried to keep shouting negativity but saw that the majority had retreated, making themselves look foolish, and slunk away.

Mu He then posted a Weibo thanking Director Xie and promising to devote herself to playing Xi Yin’s role, hoping not to disappoint everyone.

Compared to Zhao Yike, who always played dead in crises, letting her fans stir trouble and only writing emotional mini-essays afterward, Mu He’s open, composed, and straightforward attitude greatly boosted her public favorability, with her followers visibly increasing by three million.

Thus, the storm finally subsided.

Unexpectedly, in the evening, a marketing Weibo account with over five million followers posted a long piece titled “Counting Mu He’s Ten Crimes”, sparking another uproar.

Entertainment Gossip V: @Mu He, come out and take a beating.

The blogger dredged up all of Mu He’s past negative news—abusing stray cats, mistreating assistants, being kept, being diva-like—summarized as ten crimes, each detailed meticulously. The last nine were speculative or sensational, but the abuse of stray cats was undeniable.

The blogger separately posted: “Mu He cruelly abused stray cats!”

A few seconds of video showed a dim scene: Mu He standing by a trash bin near her residence, holding a bleeding, dying white kitten, looking flustered and helpless.

Actually, the GIF had existed before and was considered the most damning of Mu He’s rumored misdeeds. Once exposed, it not only drew countless curses but also caused her career to plummet.

Although the blogger wasn’t present, he still dramatized the event as a witness: “Frustrated by her work, Mu He cruelly abused stray cats!”

“After inhumane treatment, to cover her tracks, she waited until dark to throw the cat’s body in the trash, intending to destroy evidence!”

“…Caught in the act, she panicked and fled hastily.”

Being kept or diva-like could be viewed with detached curiosity, but abusing stray cats, trampling their lives, crossed an absolute line.

This post immediately provoked strong condemnation and protest from animal rights activists and countless pet owners. Coco fans rushed in, excited, drums beating, and even casual followers of Mu He unfollowed in protest.

Qian Zhihe was cornered, huddled in fear. Some began to question Mu He’s character.

Soon, hashtags #MuHeAbusesStrayCats and #MuHeTenCrimes trended, flooding her Weibo with unprecedented negative comments, nearly paralyzing her comment section.

Mu He received calls from Ye Xi and Tan Mian, learning that her so-called dark history had resurfaced and trended. She wasn’t surprised and had anticipated it.

The person behind the exposure had nearly ruined her before; seeing her rebound, he couldn’t sit idly by.

Ye Xi, overwhelmed by this sudden wave, repeatedly instructed her not to respond and left everything to the company’s PR team.

Tan Mian comforted her warmly, sniffing, saying, “Teacher Mu, I believe in you. You are definitely not the person they say you are…”

Mu He felt warmth swell in her heart: “Thank you, Mianmian.”

Tan Mian was the first, in such circumstances, to choose to believe in her.

After hanging up, Mu He logged onto Weibo. Despite being mentally prepared, she was still shocked. Her latest post had over 500,000 comments, 99.99% of which were insults.

“Cnm, how can a scum like you still have the face to live?”

“Nmsl, hope disease defeats you soon!”

“Typing in anger, shaking hands, are you even human? Cats are so cute, how can you harm them…”

“Seeing everyone curse you, I feel relieved!”

Cat lovers: “I have two cats at home, I feel like my heart is breaking!”

“You don’t deserve to be human! Your humanity was destroyed in your mother’s womb!”

“Your mother hung herself in the southeast, even in death will be violated.”

“Funeral home called asking how well done your mother should be.”

The comments were filled with obscene sexual content.

Abandoned by her mother from birth, she had little emotional attachment. Unless it involved her uncle who raised her, these vile comments were not as personally attacking as the commenters imagined.

What surprised her was that phrases like “f*** your mother” no longer satisfied the enraged commenters. They even dragged her unknown biological father into the fray, repeatedly insulting him.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Southern City’s richest man, Ding Wu, sneezed repeatedly. Beside him, Ding Yimo asked concernedly, “Second Uncle, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, probably caught a slight chill.”

Ding Wu looked at his poised niece and felt a flash

Saying this, he turned his head again and sneezed in a long series.

Strange, what on earth was going on?

Online, negative comments flew everywhere. It was impossible for Mu He not to be affected at all. She spent half an hour exercising at the gym, then took a bath to refresh herself, doing her best to block out external opinions and fully immerse herself in the script.

Wanwan obediently snuggled at her side, lazily letting out a yawn.

Twilight deepened, and only a strip of golden-orange light remained on the horizon.

Recently, Huo Siwen, who had gone abroad for a business trip, heard immediately upon landing that Mu He had been blackened across the internet. Without wasting a moment, he went straight to the private mountain villa in the suburbs.

When Fourth Uncle had entrusted Mu He to him back then, he gave only one instruction: as long as she had fun.

Judging by the current situation, she was probably crying her eyes out by now.

When he arrived at the private room and saw Huo Shiheng’s calm expression with a cup of fragrant tea in front of him, Huo Siwen had a bad premonition and forced himself to ask, “Fourth Uncle, Miss Mu… is she alright now?”

Huo Shiheng squinted slightly: “What’s wrong with her?”

What was going on? Fourth Uncle didn’t even know?

Huo Siwen was momentarily stunned, then recounted everything he knew without hiding a thing. There was no need for justification; Fourth Uncle would make his own judgment.

Huo Shiheng said nothing. His fair, long fingers casually traced the rim of the teacup, picking up a faint tea fragrance. Huo Siwen was used to reading his expressions and gestures, yet could not grasp what he was thinking at this moment.

Seconds ticked by quietly.

Only when Huo Shiheng tapped the cup with a crisp “ding” did Huo Siwen snap back to attention, bracing himself for the result. Unexpectedly, Fourth Uncle merely waved his hand, signaling him to leave.

After exiting, Huo Siwen felt like he was walking through a foggy forest. The orange light cascading from above cast his shadow on the carpet. He took a few steps, suddenly recalling the news he had heard at a previous party about Dongxing Enterprises going bankrupt. If memory served, the Mr. Zheng from Dongxing was the one who had tried to manipulate Mu He and, enraged at being rejected, suppressed her…

This familiar style of action was clearly… Fourth Uncle’s doing.

Could it be that this time, he intended to act personally as well?

Huo Siwen felt he needed to reassess the importance of Miss Mu in Fourth Uncle’s mind.

Inside the private room, Huo Shiheng’s long legs were crossed and resting on the tea table. He was looking down at his phone. The living room at the Golden Moon Bay residence had hidden surveillance, which automatically displayed video of anyone approaching. Soon, a slender figure appeared on the screen.

Her long black hair cascaded down her back, her shoulders trembling slightly. She seemed… to be crying.

He felt a sudden tightness in his chest, his brows furrowed, eyes dark and unclear.

After a moment, Huo Shiheng exited the video and dialed her phone directly.

When it rang, Mu He was still lost in Xi Yin’s sorrowful emotions, unable to pull herself away. She reached for the phone, and in her blurred vision, saw the name “Xi Heng” flashing. Startled, she quickly wiped away her lingering tears and nervously glanced at her chest.

After steadying herself mentally, she answered, her voice trembling despite her efforts: “Xi Heng.”

“Ah, dinner together?”

Mu He tilted her head toward the window. She had been so absorbed earlier that it was already dark outside. Her shadow reflected on the glass, solitary, yet her face still bore a gentle smile, while her hand quietly gripped the phone: “Mm, I’ll wait for you.”

They went to a private restaurant near Golden Moon Bay. Quiet and discreet, Mu He only removed her hat and mask after entering the private room, letting out a soft breath.

The online attackers were mostly young people. In the real world, the fire hadn’t spread yet. The middle-aged woman attending to them showed no unusual reaction even seeing her full face.

Huo Shiheng’s gaze quietly fixed on the girl opposite him. She tilted her head slightly, her clear black eyes curved in a subtle smile, appearing cheerful, yet the unavoidable redness in the corners of her eyes betrayed that she had been crying.

His expression remained calm, yet veins subtly surfaced on the back of his hand under the table.

Seeing the man staring at her, Mu He hesitated whether to explain the “bra” mishap or her tear-stained eyes. Comparing the two, she chose the latter as less awkward: “I used to fear crying scenes the most because I could never get into character, relying on eye drops to fake it.”

Later, she learned to fully merge with her character, sharing its joys and sorrows.

Seeing his brows drawn slightly, his expression doubtful, she asked: “Do you believe I can instantly get into a crying scene now?”

Since it was just the two of them, she performed an impromptu scene on the spot. Her clear eyes glimmered with unshed tears, the redness at the corners gradually spreading. She looked delicate and pitiful, her crying voice and soft tones perfectly measured.

“Qing Li, I hate you. I wish I had never met you.”

Outside the beaded curtain, the tea-serving aunt stopped in her tracks, straining her ears. Inside, the woman cried with restrained grief, fragmented words drifting out: “Confined against my will, cut off from the world…”

“Please, let me go, okay…”

The aunt hurriedly left and returned two minutes later, lifting the beaded curtain to enter.

Mu He had just finished her impromptu performance. Seeing the server bring tea, she quickly took two tissues to wipe her eyes, smiling awkwardly so she wouldn’t be misunderstood.

The aunt’s expression grew even graver. Her eyes swept over the man—he looked proper and decent, unexpected…

She placed the tea down and, turning sideways, pretended to accidentally knock a tissue to the floor. Apologizing, she bent to pick it up.

At that moment, Mu He noticed a small note placed in her hand. Confused, she opened it—

“Miss, if you need help calling the police, just blink three times.”

Mu He: “?”