Lu Lincheng’s eyes were cold as his fingertip slid across his phone screen, scrolling through photo after photo of Liang Yan with Yan Zhun and Xu Jiafan.
These pictures were all carefully screenshotted by fans from the show, polished with filters, the standard fare of CP-shipping fan content.
One had to admit, Liang Yan had that rare quality—no matter who she was paired with, the CP chemistry was off the charts. Glamorous actresses often came across as too overpowering, making their male co-stars look weak. Sweet, innocent types could only be matched with idol boys of the same vibe; put them with someone too different, and the mismatch was glaring. But Liang Yan managed to balance both extremes. Her aura wasn’t overwhelming, but it was never weak either. She was endlessly adaptable, able to stand next to anyone while keeping her own charm yet still blending with their energy.
That’s why CP chemistry was such a strange, almost magical thing. Some stars spent all their time deliberately marketing lovey-dovey interactions, but the audience just wouldn’t buy it. And some, like Liang Yan, only had to stand next to someone, exchange a casual glance, and fans could spin a thousand storylines out of it.
Lu Lincheng’s face darkened as he glanced at the lively comment section, full of accounts clearly run by his own fans—profile pictures were all of him—yet here they were, fawning over Liang Yan with other men.
Meanwhile, his assistant, following the principle of “always keep track of the boss’s artist,” was sneakily watching CP fan edits of Liang Yan and Yan Zhun/Xu Jiafan. At first it was just idle curiosity. But the more she watched, the deeper she fell, until she was grinning like a giddy auntie.
This “brick-hauling girl × domineering CEO” dynamic was just too addictive!
And those sugary scenes in the school drama—were they really just acting?
Lu Lincheng suddenly gave a sharp, heavy snort.
Startled, the assistant quickly wiped the silly grin off her face, though her eyes still darted toward the screen, catching glimpses of Liang Yan’s “brick girl” look and “soft scholar” vibe. The only thought left in her head was:
No wonder netizens keep cursing Liang Yan while still shipping her with everyone under the sun. This woman—no matter who she’s with—they damn well look perfect together!
She really was the legendary “CP magnet” everyone talked about in the industry.
The assistant’s gaze at Lu Lincheng grew oddly reverent.
What kind of surreal experience must it be, as a man placed on a pedestal, to watch your not-so-loving wife get shipped with other men by your own fans?
She could almost see it—on top of Lu Lincheng’s clearly irritated head, a faint green glow flickering.
The next morning, Liang Yan looked at the hot search still blazing at the very top: “Liang Yan Unfollows Lu Lincheng.”
Meanwhile, the “Heartfelt Collision” shippers and the “Liang × Xu Jiafan” faction were tearing each other apart in the comments section. She never imagined that a simple unfollow could trigger such chaos, like a giant butterfly effect.
Liang Yan hadn’t expected things to blow up this much. Uneasy, she fidgeted in her seat.
Jiang Mu, watching her restlessness, couldn’t help suggesting: “Why don’t you just post on Weibo and say you clicked unfollow by accident? That you never meant to unfollow Lu Lincheng?”
“No way.” Liang Yan rejected it flatly. Ever since she unfollowed Lu Lincheng, netizens—especially his fans—had been celebrating wildly. They thought the divorce they’d been waiting on for over two years was finally within reach. If she suddenly claimed it was just a slip of the finger, wouldn’t that be the same as telling everyone, oops, my bad, you were celebrating for nothing?
The fallout from that…
Liang Yan pictured it for a moment, and shivered.
Besides, she wrinkled her nose in defiance. It wasn’t a mistake at all. She unfollowed him on purpose.
After all, they were already married—so why was it that on a public platform, visible to everyone, her relationship with Lu Lincheng was still one-sided?
**