◎ Can We Start Over ◎
The storm raging outside had no effect on the guests inside the show. They remained blissfully unaware of the chaos beyond the cameras.
Inside the shelter—
Yuan Lai’s cheeks burned red. She was still basking in the joy of Song Qingxu wiping her sweat. Her heart thudded violently in her chest, as if it might burst free at any moment. She dared not meet Song Qingxu’s eyes.
Song Qingxu, belatedly realizing that her earlier gesture might have made Yuan Lai uncomfortable, quickly put some distance between them.
Neither looked at the other—one pretending to focus on the door, the other bowing her head toward the mushrooms. Both carefully avoided crossing gazes.
Outside the screen, the malicious smear campaign continued. The livestream was flooded with venomous comments aimed at Song Qingxu.
Then the camera jolted. A crew member rushed in, leaned down to whisper something to Yuan Lai, then turned to the camera and made a “pause” gesture.
“Unexpected situation. Livestream will be suspended,” came the quick explanation.
The screen went black. The broadcast was forcibly shut down.
The hired trolls spamming the chat were caught off guard. Should they keep sending out smear posts? If they stopped, would the employer still pay the promised wage?
Viewers who had been watching were equally baffled.
【What’s going on?】
【Are they not filming anymore?】
【Does anyone know what happened?】
【Is it because Song Qingxu’s affair with her assistant got exposed?】
【Don’t make wild accusations without proof.】
【Maybe the producers are worried Song Qingxu’s scandal will blow back on the whole show.】
【Trusting my girl—waiting for her response.】
【I don’t believe Song Qingxu would ever cheat.】
【Her fans are still defending her, huh.】
…
After filming, Yuan Lai was informed by a staff member that her mother had called.
“Did she say what it was about?”
“No, but she asked you to return her call.”
Yuan Lai dialed Yuan Jingyun.
“Why are you hiding your marriage to Song Qingxu from everyone?”
The moment the line connected, that was the first sentence hurled at her. The brevity only made the suppressed fury beneath it more palpable.
Yuan Lai glanced toward Song Qingxu, who was also on the phone with someone. Her brows were knitted tight, her expression dark—clearly, it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.
On the other end, Yuan Jingyun’s temper snapped. She shot up from the sofa: “I’m asking you something! Why aren’t you answering?”
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hide it.” Yuan Lai sighed inwardly. If only she had transmigrated into this book a month earlier—then the entire world would already know she was married to Song Qingxu.
Instead, the original owner of this body had exploited Song Qingxu’s kindness, persuading her to agree to keeping the marriage a secret.
“It was a mutual decision,” Yuan Lai explained. “We both agreed not to go public.”
“Agreed? You’re sure it was mutual?” Yuan Jingyun knew her daughter too well. “Not you scheming behind the scenes and forcing her into it?”
Once again, Yuan Lai had to shoulder the blame for the original owner.
She admitted softly, “Mostly… it was my idea.”
Her straightforwardness took the wind out of Yuan Jingyun’s anger. Rather than pressing further, she moved on.
“After the wedding, I told you two to get the marriage certificate. Did you do it?”
Yuan Lai’s voice grew faint. “N-no… not yet.”
Of course the original owner hadn’t wanted it. She was desperate to be rid of Song Qingxu, eager to keep her freedom and continue her playgirl ways. Getting the certificate would only tie her down, so she had put off Yuan Jingyun’s reminders again and again.
“You kept brushing me off with excuses about Qingxu being too busy with work! A whole month since the wedding, and you still haven’t done it!” Yuan Jingyun’s anger surged.
“Have you even brought it up with Qingxu?”
Yuan Lai’s voice dropped to almost nothing. “…No.”
A sharp breath hissed through the receiver. “Just a wedding without the certificate? Who knows what Qingxu must be thinking. I was foolish not to realize sooner. You used her work as an excuse, and I actually believed you.”
Her tone softened into patient persuasion.
“You promised Qingxu’s mother you would marry her daughter. Then you need to give that girl security. Now that she’s part of our family, we must treat her as one of us.”
Yuan Lai answered firmly this time, “You’re right. This is my responsibility. I’ll treat her well.”
“No more delays—today.” Yuan Jingyun made up her mind to personally oversee it. “I’ll send a car to take you both to get the certificate.”
Marriage certificate… with Song Qingxu?
When a person is hit by overwhelming joy, words fail them. Yuan Lai felt as if she’d been struck dumb by a giant piece of candy, the sweetness flooding through every hair on her body.
Yuan Jingyun’s voice grew louder when she didn’t answer. “Did you hear me?”
Snapped out of her daze, Yuan Lai jolted. “Y-yes, I heard!”
“Good. Once the certificate is done, announce publicly that the two of you are married!”
“Yes!”
There was no bargaining, no hesitation, no perfunctory evasion—just a clean, decisive agreement. It caught Yuan Jingyun a little off guard.
“If you’d been like this earlier, Qingxu wouldn’t have had to endure so much abuse.”
“What did you say?!” At the mention of Song Qingxu, Yuan Lai’s grip on her phone tightened, her knuckles turning white. “What abuse?”
Yuan Jingyun knew she had just finished livestreaming and hadn’t yet seen the comments online.
“People are saying that after marriage, Qingxu had an affair with you. In short, the words are ugly. Linda is already handling it. Ask her for the details.”
After hanging up, Yuan Lai didn’t call Linda. Instead, she hurried straight to Song Qingxu, wanting to stop her from going online—afraid she might see the comments that would wound her.
But she was a step too late.
When she arrived, Song Qingxu was already bent over, scrolling through those vile remarks.
Her whole body was silent, utterly still, her head hanging low. Her long hair, once tucked neatly behind her back, slipped forward under gravity’s pull, veiling her face completely.
Hidden in the shadows of her own hair, she seemed to have built herself a shelter, a fragile safehouse in the dark.
With no one to lean on, she could only draw strength from herself—curled up in the corner of the lounge, small and frail, like a mushroom battered by storm and rain.
Even the shadow by her feet seemed steeped in loneliness.
Yuan Lai gently took the phone from her hands. “There’s nothing worth looking at. Let’s not read any more.”
Song Qingxu sat motionless, neither speaking nor looking at her.
Yuan Lai stood in front of her, tilted her head slightly, and tried to catch the eyes hidden beneath that curtain of hair. Her voice was soft, cautious.
“Should we go public?”
For the first time, Song Qingxu lifted her gaze to her. Yuan Lai’s tone carried something pleading, almost tentative—so different from the cold, absolute command she had used a month ago.
That day was still vivid in Song Qingxu’s memory.
A month earlier, in a hotel lounge—
“I will never make our marriage public in the entertainment industry!” Yuan Lai’s original self had declared, resolute.
Only the two of them had been in the room. There was no need for pretenses. Dropping her mask, the original Yuan Lai lounged lazily in her wedding dress, slumped in the sofa as she typed replies to other “pretty girls” on her phone.
“Our marriage is nothing more than a transaction—you fulfill your mother’s last wish, and I please mine. Two birds with one stone.”
“This wedding was small, not many know about it.”
“When the time comes, we’ll divorce. You’ll walk your sunny road, and I’ll tread my narrow bridge. We’ll stay out of each other’s lives.”
“Don’t meddle in my private affairs, and I won’t interfere in yours.”
Song Qingxu hadn’t looked at her either, her face unreadable. She only said flatly: “That’s fine. I don’t see any reason to make it public either.”
“Even better.” At that point, Yuan Lai had finally looked up from her screen, her eyes falling on Song Qingxu.
“You’re not my type. I’ll never love you.”
That was when Song Qingxu regretted even giving her the courtesy of listening. Sharing a room with her was a waste of time. Without another word, she had walked away.
When her mother first mentioned the engagement, she had entertained a fleeting hope—that maybe her partner could pull her out of the mire.
But the moment she met Yuan Lai, that illusion shattered. She accepted the transactional marriage with a dead heart.
And so, she gave Yuan Lai nothing but indifference in return.
They lived under the same roof like strangers—ghosts passing each other. The original Yuan Lai was rarely at home, and Song Qingxu was always busy with work.
The newlywed house, after a month, was still as cold and lifeless as a showroom.
They had barely seen each other five times.
And now, that very same person—who had once been so cruel—was gazing at her with eyes nearly begging.
Song Qingxu faltered.
Was this truly the same woman from a month ago?
Go public?
Yes, it would silence the rumors. But ever since that night, Song Qingxu had resolved not to tie herself to Yuan Lai. Divorce was inevitable. Even if they announced their marriage now, the divorce would still come, and the trolls would feast on it just the same.
Besides, her company’s negligence had left her vulnerable to smear campaigns more than once. She had survived them before—she could endure another.
Yuan Lai, however, knew why she hesitated. She herself had raged in the comment section when she first read about the original Yuan Lai’s treatment of her.
She didn’t expect Song Qingxu to forgive her outright—only that she would at least consider her offer.
So she asked again, even softer this time:
“Let’s make it official. Shall we?”
Her voice was threaded with plea after plea, as if she would keep asking forever if denied.
“It’s okay if you don’t agree. I can wait. I’ll wait until the day you do.”
“I only hope you can forget who I was a month ago. What stands before you now is a new Yuan Lai.”
“Please… give me a chance to make amends.”
Looking into those lonely eyes, Yuan Lai asked word by word:
“Can we start over?”
Should she believe her? Song Qingxu hesitated. But in Yuan Lai’s gaze—so earnest, so fervent—something whispered to her: Maybe. Maybe she deserves one chance.