The moment the video was released, the narrative flipped entirely.
No one expected that Dong Menglian, despite being the most severely injured, was actually the culprit behind the horse-falling incident. Conversely, Yun Ni, who had sustained the lightest injuries, was the true victim.
No matter how skeptical some were, the video clearly captured the incident from a side angle. Coupled with a legal letter of intent and a formal clarification from the police department shared by the crew, the public had no choice but to believe the truth.
Following this, a slew of negative news about Dong Menglian began to leak out, ranging from “diva” behavior on set to the most serious offense: tax evasion and fraud.
As the saying goes, “when a wall starts to lean, everyone gives it a push.” Previously, when Yun Ni was at a disadvantage, netizens condemned her from a position of perceived moral superiority. Now that the truth was out, that same “moral high ground” became the very tool used to lash out at Dong Menglian. Most people online are loath to admit their own mistakes and prefer to shift blame; consequently, the vitriol previously aimed at Yun Ni was redirected tenfold toward Dong Menglian’s Weibo.
Of course, Dong Menglian was oblivious to the digital storm. At the same time the production crew released their statement, she was met by investigating officers at the hospital and was soon taken away—hospital bed and all.
While her manager quickly arranged for a lawyer, the evidence was ironclad. Behind the scenes, Lin Zijin had exerted pressure through her connections, and within two days, the verdict was finalized.
Dong Menglian was found guilty of intentional harm for purposefully leading her horse to intercept Yun Ni, causing a fall and a concussion. Her post-incident behavior, including deceptive public statements that caused further mental distress to the victim, added to her culpability. Furthermore, as a public figure, she had evaded nearly 2 million yuan in taxes. With these combined offenses, Dong Menglian was sentenced to five years in prison, along with mandates to pay Yun Ni for mental anguish and settle heavy tax penalties.
The severity of the sentence caused another stir. Some fans argued it was too harsh since Yun Ni “only” had a minor concussion. However, the majority supported the ruling, noting that if Yun Ni hadn’t reacted so quickly or if there had been rocks on the ground, she could have been paralyzed or killed.
When she finally appeared before the media one last time before entering prison, Dong Menglian was confined to a wheelchair, her neck and leg still immobilized. Haggard and pale, she apologized for the tax evasion and expressed remorse. However, the public wasn’t buying it. Some protestors even threw objects at her, leaving the final image of her career one of fear and confusion.
Ding-ling—
Yun Ni, who was watching the news clips, clicked on a notification. It was a bank transfer. She counted the zeros—100,000 yuan.
Director Zhou walked over at that moment. “Did you receive the money from Dong Menglian’s account?”
Yun Ni nodded.
“Since it’s for mental damages, keep it,” Zhou Sheng said, patting her shoulder. “This matter is over. Focus on filming now.” He didn’t even want to utter Dong Menglian’s name anymore; from the initial prayer ceremony, she had been a headache. He was more than happy to see her replaced.
“By the way,” Zhou Sheng stopped and turned back. “You should really thank President Lin. She put in a lot of effort—finding the evidence for you, digging up the tax evasion records… you should treat her to a meal. Even the quick decision to replace the lead was because she contacted the other investors and personally agreed to bear the losses of recasting.”
Yun Ni was stunned. She hadn’t realized Lin Zijin had played such a pivotal role in every aspect of this resolution.
The Lin Residence
Lin Zijin had just finished a thank-you call to a friend when she saw a message from Yun Ni. The corners of her mouth curled up.
Her mother, who was sitting in the living room, caught the expression and nudged her husband. “Oh my, look! Zijin is smiling at her phone!”
Father Lin looked over just as the smile began to fade. “What’s made you so happy?”
Lin Zijin sat on the sofa. “Just resolved a few annoying problems.”
Neither parent believed her. Mother Lin connected the dots to the recent news. “Is it about that artist of yours and the tax evasion?”
Lin Zijin paused. “You know about that?”
“It’s all over the TV,” Mother Lin sighed. “It’s lucky that… what was her name? Honey, what was the girl’s name?”
Before Father Lin could answer, Lin Zijin supplied: “Yun Ni.”
“Right, Yun Ni! Look at my memory,” Mother Lin looked at her daughter. “I saw the video. If that Yun Ni girl had been a second slower, she’d be lucky to only be paralyzed. Such a pretty girl with such a sweet smile… how could that other woman be so cruel?”
Lin Zijin nodded in agreement.
Father Lin added, “Make sure this is handled well so it doesn’t tarnish the company’s reputation.”
“It’s already taken care of.”
“And make sure that injured girl is properly comforted,” Mother Lin mused. “But what was the motive? A romantic rivalry? Personal grudge?”
“Neither,” Lin Zijin explained. “Just jealousy.” She detailed the friction on set—how Yun Ni’s superior acting and the Director’s favoritism had fueled Dong Menglian’s resentment.
Father Lin, a veteran of the business world, shook his head. “Jealousy is the root of many sins. When ambition outweighs ability and someone else outshines you, that envy grows like a weed.”
Mother Lin, however, noticed something else. She looked at her daughter suspiciously. “Zijin, you aren’t usually this interested in gossip.”
Lin Zijin raised an eyebrow. “Mom?”
“Even if it’s your company, you wouldn’t normally get this involved, let alone ask your father’s friends in the police force for help,” Mother Lin narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, what’s really going on?”
“Mom, you’re too smart for your own good.”
“Don’t flatter me. Out with it.” Mother Lin sat up straight and placed a decorative pillow on Lin Zijin’s lap. “If you don’t talk, I’ll have your father ‘interrogate’ you.”
Lin Zijin moved the pillow aside. “I’ve just picked out a daughter-in-law for you.”
Lin Zijin had come out in middle school. Her parents were open-minded; though surprised, they accepted that she was only interested in women.
Mother Lin froze, her mind racing back to the incident. “Is it… that Yun girl?” In her shock, she forgot the name again.
“Yun Ni,” Lin Zijin corrected. “If you have no objections, I’ll bring her to meet you once she’s finished filming.”
“Meet her? Isn’t that too fast?” Mother Lin was suddenly nervous and excited. “When? Should I go get a spa treatment? Change my hair?”
Lin Zijin laughed. “She’s still on set. It’ll be a while before she’s back in G City.” Besides, Yun Ni was still carefully hiding her identity; it wasn’t time to corner her just yet.
“So I have to wait,” Mother Lin said, disappointed. “She’s an actress, right? What has she been in? Tell me, I’ll go watch her work to get to know her.”
Lin Zijin thought of Yun Ni’s previous acting—which was notoriously bad. “Her earlier work… the acting wasn’t great. I suggest you don’t watch it. I think she’d prefer it that way, too.”
“As her girlfriend, how can you say her acting is bad?” Mother Lin scolded. “Even if it’s terrible, you have to praise it to the heavens!”
Lin Zijin frowned. “But it’s a fact that her acting was poor.”
“You still can’t say it!” Mother Lin, fearing her daughter would ruin the relationship with her bluntness, began a crash course on “Harmony with your Girlfriend.”
“Rule one: Your girlfriend is always right. Even if she’s wrong, don’t argue.”
Lin Zijin arched an eyebrow. “I can’t tell her if she’s made a mistake?”
“Don’t try to reason with a woman, especially an angry one,” Mother Lin warned. “Rule two: Never say a bad word about her. If her acting is bad, tell her her character is ‘cute’! Why hurt her feelings?”
Lin Zijin looked thoughtful. “And if she asks me directly about her acting?”
“You say, ‘In my heart, you are the best actress.’ Then you kiss her. I guarantee she won’t ask again.”
Lin Zijin touched her lips, looking enlightened and perhaps a little expectant. Then she remembered something. “Mom, what if I told her before that I didn’t like her? What do I do then?”
Mother Lin stared at her daughter for a long time before sighing. “How did a smart woman like me raise such a silly child?”
Lin Zijin: