At three in the morning, Lin Wanwan stared out the window, vaguely making out a figure standing in the yard.
The person wore a gray jacket and a full-face helmet, with their right hand hanging at their side, gripping a knife.
It wasn’t a folding fruit knife but a proper hunting knife, its blade over twenty centimeters long, gleaming coldly under the moonlight.
At that moment, they stood motionless, like a statue.
The back of Lin Wanwan’s neck throbbed with intense pain—her Danger Sense was screaming a warning, more fiercely than ever before.
She didn’t dare move or call out to Xu Jia.
Because the person was only a dozen meters from the window. If Lin Wanwan made a sound, they would charge over. At that distance, it would take just two or three seconds.
Slowly, she reached out, feeling for the anti-assault alarm under her pillow, then picked up her phone with her other hand. With the screen facing down, she dialed the emergency number by touch, just pressing the last digit.
Suddenly, a blinding white light flashed outside the window, aimed directly at the figure.
The person froze for a moment, instinctively raising a hand to shield their eyes.
Immediately after, a voice boomed from outside the yard, full of authority, like a command: “What are you doing?!”
The figure turned and fled, the white light chasing them for a few moments before disappearing behind the wall.
Lin Wanwan rushed to the window and looked outside.
On the small path outside the yard, a silver-gray minivan was parked, its roof still bearing a taxi light, though the engine was off.
The headlights were on, set to high beam, illuminating the yard brightly.
The van’s door was open, and several people stood beside it. They weren’t police officers but ordinary folks—men and women, old and young. At the front stood a middle-aged man wearing a taxi driver’s uniform, holding a rechargeable flashlight.
He shouted toward the yard: “Lin Wanwan! Don’t be afraid! We’re here!”
Lin Wanwan was stunned for three seconds, then she pushed open the door and stepped into the yard.
The early spring night wind was cold, seeping into the collar of her pajamas. She shivered but paid it no mind.
Seeing her come out, the group surged forward.
The middle-aged man leading them ran ahead, stopping in front of her and panting as he said, “Are you okay? That person ran off. We couldn’t catch them, but we got a photo!”
Lin Wanwan looked at him and asked, “You are…”
The man scratched his head and smiled warmly.
“We’re your fans.”
“Yesterday, when we saw you received the bullet casing, we decided to come and keep watch today.”
He pointed to the minivan behind him: “There are eight of us, taking shifts.”
“One group during the day, another at night.”
“Don’t worry, as long as we’re here, no one can touch you.”
Lin Wanwan looked at them.
Among them were a middle-aged man in work clothes, a college student with a backpack, an elderly man with graying hair, and two young girls whose faces were flushed red from the cold but whose eyes shone brightly.
They stood in the biting wind at three in the morning. Some wore thin jackets, while others had plastic shoe covers on their feet, likely from walking through dew-covered grass on their way here.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but her throat felt choked up.
Just then, Xu Jia also came out. She invited them inside for water, but they refused.
“No need, no need. We’ll stay outside and keep watch. Call us if anything happens.”
The middle-aged man leading them was called Old Zhou, a taxi driver and a retired soldier.
He pulled Lin Wanwan aside and lowered his voice: “Young lady, I served in the military. I can tell that the person earlier wasn’t just some ordinary thug.”
“He was standing exactly in the blind spot of your window’s line of sight, making it hard to see clearly from inside.”
“His stance—feet shoulder-width apart, weight centered, ready to move at any moment.”
“The way he held that knife wasn’t a forward grip; it was a reverse grip, blade pointing downward. Only someone with combat training would hold it like that.”
He paused, looking at her. “The people you’ve offended are not simple.”
Lin Wanwan said nothing.
Old Zhou glanced back at the van and smiled. “But we’re not simple either.”
“Out of the eight of us, three served in the military, two worked as security guards, and one is a martial arts instructor who runs a dojo.”
“Don’t worry. If they want to get to you, they’ll have to go through us first.”
Old Zhou divided the group into two shifts.
One shift rested in the van, while the other patrolled outside.
Patrols were conducted in pairs, equipped with flashlights and walkie-talkies, circling the house.
Lin Wanwan stood at the doorway watching for a while before Xu Jia pulled her back inside.
“You need to sleep,” Xu Jia said. “Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”
Lin Wanwan lay back in bed but couldn’t fall asleep.
Occasionally, flashlight beams flickered outside the window, and footsteps crunched softly on the gravel.
Staring at the ceiling, she suddenly asked:
“Jiajie.”
“Hmm?”
“During the ten years you waited, did you ever have this many people helping you?”
Xu Jia fell silent for a few seconds.
“No,” she said. “Back then, I was alone.”
Lin Wanwan turned on her side to look at her.
Xu Jia leaned against the headboard, her expression unclear in the unlit room.
“So you have to live well,” she said. “For their sake.”
By daybreak, a video had surged to the top of the trending list.
The video, filmed in the early hours of the morning, was slightly shaky but clear enough: a gray figure stood outside the window, holding a knife. Then a flash of white light appeared, and the figure turned and fled.
The caption read: “At 3 a.m., a suspicious person with a knife appeared outside Lin Wanwan’s residence. Fans on-site stood guard and scared them off.”
The comments section exploded:
“Holy shit!! Someone actually went there!”
“Fans keeping watch overnight?! What kind of legendary fans are these!”
“She’s not fighting alone!”
“‘We may lie low, but our sister must stand tall.’ That slogan is real!”
The hashtag #WeProtectLinWanwan shot to number one on the trending list.
After the topic went viral, responses began pouring in from all over Jiangcheng.
East Jiangcheng: Dozens of fans held signs outside the old site of Xingyao Media. Someone unfurled a banner that read, “Protecting Lin Wanwan means protecting ourselves.”
South Jiangcheng: Fans gathered downstairs at Xingyao Media, forming a circle of dozens, waving their phone flashlights toward the sky.
West Jiangcheng: Hundreds spontaneously gathered outside the Jiangcheng Sports Center. Some brought tents, others brought water and food, saying they were ready to head out and offer support at any moment.
North Jiangcheng: By Unity Lake, someone used a drone to lift a banner that read: “Lin Wanwan, you are not alone.”
The topic’s view count surpassed eight billion in half a day.
Comments flooded in: “This isn’t idol worship; this is pursuing justice.”
“She speaks for us; we stand guard for her.”
“They want to silence her, but we’ll make sure she hears: you are not alone.”
“We’re all protecting her.”
As the news spread, more and more people gathered outside the old house.
Some were locals, others came from out of town—by train or driving overnight. Some even brought tents, sleeping bags, and self-heating meals, clearly prepared for a long haul.
They spontaneously divided into several groups:
One group was responsible for perimeter security, keeping an eye on all suspicious individuals. Each person was given a whistle to blow if they noticed anything unusual.
Another group handled logistics, buying water and meals, and taking turns on duty. A middle-aged woman pushed a tricycle over, loaded with hot water and large buckets of instant noodles.
A third group was in charge of communication, maintaining constant contact with the police. A young man with a laptop updated the situation online in real time.
And there was another group specifically tasked with keeping Lin Wanwan company, worried she might feel scared alone. Several aunties sat by the door picking vegetables, chatting as they worked, as if they were in their own homes.
Old Zhou became the commander-in-chief, holding a walkie-talkie and directing everyone like they were in a battle:
“Group One, there’s movement to the east, go check it out.”
“Group Two, we’re running low on water, go to the supermarket and bring back two boxes.”
“Group Three, those young people aren’t dressed warmly enough, let them get in the car to warm up.”
Lin Wanwan stood at the door, watching these people.
Some wore suits, some wore work uniforms, and others were in casual clothes.
Among them were young people, middle-aged folks, and the elderly.
They didn’t know each other, but since yesterday, they had become comrades.
Lin Wanwan started a live stream.
This time, she didn’t sit inside the house but stood at the door.
The camera focused on the fans outside.
The live stream instantly attracted twenty million viewers.
Comments flooded the screen:
“Are those fans?!”
“So many people!”
“They’re standing guard there?”
“I want to go too!”
Lin Wanwan spoke into the camera:
“Do you see them?”
“I don’t know any of these people.”
“They came from all over Jiangcheng just to stand guard at my door.”
She paused, her eyes slightly reddening: “They said they may have given up on themselves, but they must make sure I stand tall.”
“But I want to say…”
She looked into the camera, enunciating each word clearly:
“I stand tall so that all of you can rest easy.”
The comments exploded instantly:
“I’m crying!”
“That line is amazing!”
“She’s standing tall for us!”
“It’s a mutual effort!”
“This is what an idol should be!”
As soon as the live stream ended, Old Zhou walked over.
He was followed by someone.
The man was in his forties, with a crew cut, standing ramrod straight, wearing an old military uniform.
The uniform had no insignia, but it was clean and neatly pressed. The collar buttons were fastened perfectly, and the trouser creases were sharp as knives.
Old Zhou said, “This is Brother Li, also a retired soldier. He heard about your situation and drove here from out of town.”
Brother Li walked up to Lin Wanwan, stood at attention, and saluted crisply—a move that clearly showed his military background. Then he said, “Ms. Lin, I served in the military for sixteen years as a scout and won a combat competition. After retiring, I worked as a security guard, and now I run a small shop.”
“I don’t have many skills, just some basic self-defense.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll be your bodyguard for this period.”
“No payment needed, just a meal will do.”
Lin Wanwan stared at him, stunned.
Old Zhou added from the side, “Brother Li drove here, an eight-hour journey through the night. When his wife was packing his luggage, he said, ‘Don’t bother with useless stuff, just pack me two pairs of shoes, durable ones.'”
Lin Wanwan fell silent for a few seconds, then bowed deeply. “Brother Li, thank you.”
Brother Li quickly helped her up, flustered. “No, no, don’t be so polite. You’re making me embarrassed.”
He scratched his head and smiled, suddenly transforming from a stern scout into a kind-hearted middle-aged man. “Actually, my daughter is also your fan.”
“She said, ‘Dad, go protect her, and I’ll do my homework properly from now on.'”
“This kind of equal exchange is quite a good deal.”
Everyone around laughed upon hearing this.
Meanwhile, the other fans weren’t idle either.
Some set up tents at the entrance: several of them, lined up in a row like a small campsite.
Some brought generators: rumbling loudly but providing electricity and even charging phones.
Some set up portable toilets: rented specifically for the occasion, clean and hygienic.
There were also a few aunties who pushed carts over and started making dumplings on the spot. Leek and egg filling, pork and scallion filling—wrapped and boiled right there, then served to those on duty.
Lin Wanwan watched this scene, feeling as if she wasn’t under threat but rather celebrating the New Year.
She took out her phone, snapped a photo, and posted it on Weibo with just four words: “Thank you all.”
Comments instantly surged past a million: “We should be thanking you!”
“You deserve it!”
“Take good care of yourself!”
“We’re always here!”
That evening, trending topics exploded again:
#Lin Wanwan Fans Make Dumplings!# (Hot)
#Jiangcheng Protect Wanwan Team Assembles!# (Explosive)
Under the topics, everyone was moved: “Her fans are making dumplings for her?! What a magical scene!”
“She’s really not fighting alone!”
“I’m crying, I’m really crying.”
At the same time, an anonymous post appeared on a forum: “Lin Wanwan’s side is now guarded like an iron fortress. There’s no way to get in.”
Below it, there was only one reply:
“Then we’ll change our approach.”
The sky had completely darkened.
Lights lit up at the entrance: camping lanterns, flashlights brought by fans, and a few high-powered searchlights. These lights illuminated the entrance brightly, making even the wilderness dozens of meters away visible.
Old Zhou was arranging the night shift when he suddenly heard a commotion outside the crowd.
He squeezed through to take a look and froze.
The crowd automatically parted to make way as a man emerged from the darkness.
He was in his fifties, with a crew cut, standing tall and straight, wearing a green military uniform. His rank insignia and arm patches were neatly arranged, ironed to sharp perfection, with two bars and three stars on his shoulders.
He walked over step by step, his pace steady, his gaze sharp. Wherever he passed, the crowd automatically made way on both sides.
No one spoke. Everyone stared at him.
He walked to the entrance, stopped, and looked at Lin Wanwan.
Lin Wanwan looked back at him.
Their eyes met.
After three seconds of silence, the man suddenly spoke.
His voice was somewhat hoarse, as if he had been holding back for a long time: “Lin Wanwan, Dad is here to see you.”
Lin Wanwan froze.
She stared at the man before her, her mind blank.
The original host’s father?
The man who had never appeared since she crossed over?
The man who was said to have “opposed his daughter entering the entertainment industry and cut ties with her for three years”?
Why was he here? And in military uniform?
Old Zhou was the first to react. He snapped to attention and gave a crisp military salute: “Hello, Commander Lin!”
The man returned the salute with a sharp, precise motion, then continued looking at Lin Wanwan.
His eyes were slightly red, but he held back.
He said, “I was in the unit and couldn’t get out.”
“I just took leave today.”
“I took a six-hour train ride.”
He paused, his voice growing even hoarser, as if something were stuck in his throat: “I came to see who dares to lay a hand on my daughter.”
Lin Wanwan stood in place, motionless.
She looked at this man, at his military uniform, at the look in his eyes, at the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that could not be hidden.
Suddenly, she remembered something: during the three years the original owner was blacklisted, she had never mentioned her father.
But deep in the original owner’s memory, there was a scene: when she was little, someone carried her on his shoulders and ran across a playground. That person wore a military uniform and ran very fast. She lay on top of his head, giggling.
The weather was clear that day. That person turned to look at her and said, “Don’t be afraid, Wanwan. Dad is here.”
Now, Lin Wanwan stood there, touched by the original owner’s memories, recalling those little moments. Her eyes suddenly reddened.