In response to Lin Zijin’s invitation, Yun Ni considered many things, especially given the premise the other woman had established by claiming, “You are not Yun Ni.”
“President Lin,” Yun Ni said, looking up at her. “Do you realize that acting like this makes it very easy for someone to get the wrong idea?”
Lin Zijin caught the sarcasm in her voice—a direct jab at her previous remarks, including today’s, where she had repeatedly told Yun Ni not to “get the wrong idea.”
Currently, Lin Zijin felt that this Yun Ni was not the original Yun Ni, but whether she was the specific Yun Ni she cared about remained an unknown. If she wasn’t, Lin Zijin had no intention of becoming emotionally involved. She shook her head. “I simply want to have a meal with you to return the favor for the one you treated me to before.”
Yun Ni arched an eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, President Lin, you were the one who paid the bill and said it was your treat. How did it become my treat?”
Yun Ni wasn’t a petty person, but since her transmigration, she had been looked down upon by Lin Zijin so many times that, while she didn’t explode, a grudge had formed. Seeing Lin Zijin rendered speechless by her words, the irritation in her heart dissipated.
Seeing her expression soften, Lin Zijin spoke again: “Can we go to dinner now?”
Yun Ni met her gaze. “What I want most right now is to go back to the hotel and sleep.”
Lin Zijin wasn’t discouraged. “I’ll drive you back.”
“No need. I’m prone to getting the wrong idea.” Yun Ni watched Lin Zijin’s frustrated expression with a sense of satisfaction as she walked past her and left.
Lin Zijin watched her go, feeling a sense of defeat for the first time. No, she wasn’t the first person to make her feel this way. Recalling someone from her past who had resisted her every approach, Lin Zijin’s expression turned melancholic.
She must truly be cursed when it comes to the name “Yun Ni.”
On the other side, Yun Ni didn’t leave immediately. She spoke with Director Zhou for a few minutes. Seeing Lin Zijin emerge, she ended the conversation and headed straight back to the hotel. After ordering takeout, she went to wash up.
She pulled out her phone to check Weibo; Dreaming Back to the Grand Autumn was consistently trending. After some thought, she understood how the hot searches worked and called Tao Ningchu.
She owed Tao Ningchu several favors and wasn’t about to let the matter rest just because Dong Menglian had taken a dozen slaps. She had taken several photos and even used the excuse of leaving to record several videos of the incident.
She had a plan. Originally, she meant to tell Sister Jin, but Lin Zijin’s persistence had left her no time or space to speak. She could only call now.
Sister Jin soon took over the call. After hearing Yun Ni’s suggestion, she hesitated briefly before agreeing.
With permission granted, Yun Ni registered a burner account, followed only Dong Menglian, and found popular gossip accounts to leak selected photos and video clips of Tao Ningchu hitting Dong Menglian.
As for why she didn’t leak the video of Dong Menglian hitting Tao Ningchu first, but rather the later footage of Tao hitting Dong under Lin Zijin’s orders? This involved a curious bit of psychology.
When the public sees Tao Ningchu hitting Dong Menglian, they initially attack Tao Ningchu based on a “spectator” mentality, even attacking the actress herself. But if a reversal happens later—revealing that the cause was Dong Menglian using filming to vent a personal grudge because Tao refused a late-night snack or out of professional jealousy—people feel played.
The more they supported and pitied Dong Menglian initially, the more they would double their hatred toward her once the truth came out. As for Tao Ningchu, she would have to endure a few hours of misunderstanding, but since she was currently filming, it wouldn’t affect her much, and she would eventually gain a more loyal fanbase.
Sure enough, within half an hour, content about Tao Ningchu hitting Dong Menglian hit the hot searches. By late afternoon, it reached number one. While a few fans tried to defend Tao Ningchu, the majority of netizens were attacking her.
“You can hit while filming, but her veins were popping out. That’s not acting, that’s a grudge! Smirk.jpg“Dong looks dazed. Look at her eyes—how many times was she hit? This is a sin!”You know a person’s face but not their heart). She looks like a sweet girl, but she strikes without hesitation. Don’t be fooled by that face!”
As the public outrage peaked toward evening, Yun Ni released the initial video. She hadn’t captured the very first slap, but the crew’s cameras had. She had gone to Director Zhou specifically to get that footage.
Once her video was out and Sister Jin’s team began operating in the shadows, the tide began to turn. Some were still skeptical until Lin Zijin herself shared the post of Tao hitting Dong with the caption: “I authorized this.”
Although Lin Zijin’s Weibo account was new, it was verified, and countless A-list actors and actresses under her company immediately followed her. Within half an hour, she had over five million followers. The topic #LinZijinJoinsWeibo# hit number one, pushing the scandal to number two.
Netizens, shocked and curious, began to direct their fury at Dong Menglian just as Yun Ni had intended.
Yun Ni felt quite satisfied. She screenshotted some of the best comments and sent them to Tao Ningchu. Tao, who was likely on break, replied quickly with a “Thank you.”
After finishing with Dong Menglian, Yun Ni began to contemplate Lin Zijin’s question from the morning.
She didn’t understand how the other woman had noticed. She wasn’t close to the original owner; even Zhang Lingyu hadn’t noticed. How did President Lin know?
Lin Zijin was a quintessential businesswoman. She wouldn’t do anything without a benefit. Such a person shouldn’t care even if she suspected a “body swap,” yet Lin Zijin was very fixated on it.
People are usually sensitive to things they have experienced themselves.
Yun Ni was certain Lin Zijin didn’t care about the original owner. If she cared so much about whether this Yun Ni was real—and made a “pseudo-scientific” guess about it without much shock—then…
Had something similar happened to the President herself?
Yun Ni gained a second life; it wasn’t impossible for someone else to have done the same.
As she was lost in thought, her phone vibrated. It was a call from the number Tao Ningchu had saved as “Lin Zijin”—the one the woman herself had denied owning.
Yun Ni answered. If she wanted to know if the woman was like her, she just had to test her. Was she from another world, too?
A cool voice came through the line.
“It’s Lin Zijin.”
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashed through Yun Ni’s mind. That voice… it matched a voice from the deepest part of her memories.
Yun Ni remembered another “Lin Zijin.”
That person had been her General, her Empress-to-be whom she hadn’t had the chance to crown, who had died on the battlefield before her.
When she first arrived in this world, she wondered if that person had come too, but she never met anyone with the same face. But what if they had come back in a different body?
She thought of her boss. Different face, same name, same arrogant and slightly narcissistic streak—though this Lin Zijin was more restrained. If she had been here for years, it was natural for her personality to have matured.
She thought of how Lin Zijin had inexplicably given her a lead role. It was a test. Lin Zijin didn’t care if she was the “original” Yun Ni; she cared if she was the Yun Ni from that other world.
When Yun Ni didn’t answer for a long time, the voice on the other end spoke: “I testified for you. Shouldn’t you at least treat me to dinner?”
Lin Zijin was prepared to keep “fighting” for a late-night snack if Yun Ni refused, but to her surprise, a soft “Okay” came through.
“6:30 tonight. The private kitchen to the right of my hotel,” Yun Ni said. It was only 5:00; she needed time to think.
The ease of the agreement gave Lin Zijin an ominous feeling, but it was the opportunity she wanted, so she agreed.
Yun Ni hung up and looked at the name “President Lin” on her screen.
If Lin Zijin wasn’t that Lin Zijin, it was fine. But if she was… what would she do?
Based on the timeline of the President’s help, she had been here at least three years, maybe ten or twenty. Yun Ni didn’t know how much the woman had changed. The only thing she could sense was that the woman’s feelings hadn’t faded; they might even be deeper. Why else would she risk asking such a question?
In her past life, Yun Ni had been willing to give the General a chance, but it wasn’t out of “love to the bone”—it was a moment of soft-heartedness. She had felt guilty for years because that soft-heartedness had led to the General’s death.
Now, they weren’t Emperor and General; they were Boss and Employee. If her General discovered her identity and confessed again, how should she respond?
Yun Ni found this problem far more difficult than any imperial decree she had ever written.