Yang Li could not say a single word. She could only grip her hand tightly, murmuring over and over, “It will get better. It definitely will get better.”
But in her heart, she knew how pale and powerless those words were.
At the corner of the corridor, Qin Zhou stood quietly, a phone in his hand.
He had secretly recorded the conversation between Yang Li and Zhou Mumu just now. As Ji Huaizhou’s secretary, collecting all kinds of relevant information had long become second nature to him—and the amount of information contained in that exchange had far exceeded his expectations.
He walked to the emergency stairwell and dialed Ji Huaizhou’s number.
“Mr. Ji, I am at the hospital. The victim’s condition has been verified: multiple fractures, with the most serious injury in the left ankle requiring surgery. The recovery period will be at least four months,” Qin Zhou reported steadily. “Her manager, Yang Li, has arrived. She is very emotional, but it’s clear that she genuinely cares about the victim.”
On the other end of the line, Ji Huaizhou was in a car on his way to meet Director Chen. His gaze rested on the night scenery outside the window, his voice calm. “Anything else?”
“I overheard the conversation between the manager and the victim.” Qin Zhou paused. “The victim’s emotions completely collapsed. She repeatedly asked why everyone believed the negative rumors, and why the company had abandoned her. The manager revealed that all the rumors were fabricated. The company sacrificed her deliberately to protect another artist—likely Lin Weiwei, who has recently been rumored to have a powerful backer.”
Ji Huaizhou lightly tapped his fingers against his knee.
In the entertainment industry, sacrificing a pawn to protect the king was not uncommon—but cases carried out with such decisiveness and speed were rare. Xingyao Entertainment had been rising rapidly in recent years, yet its methods were this despicable.
“Additionally,” Qin Zhou lowered his voice, “there are only two contacts in the victim’s phone—her manager and her older sister. The manager hasn’t been able to reach the sister, and the victim keeps murmuring about her. I checked—her sister’s name is Zhou Chaochao, and her background is not ordinary.”
“How so?”
“She graduated from a military academy and is an active-duty soldier. Her specific unit cannot be traced; the confidentiality level should be quite high,” Qin Zhou said. “It’s normal that the manager can’t reach her. But in the victim’s current state, without family support, she likely won’t be able to hold on.”
Ji Huaizhou recalled the girl lying in the middle of the road, her face deathly pale. He remembered the screen of her phone filled with vicious comments, and the contact labeled “Sister” marked with a star.
“Follow through on all subsequent treatment. Cover all expenses. Use the best medical resources available,” Ji Huaizhou instructed. “Also investigate Xingyao Entertainment’s recent movements, especially everything related to Lin Weiwei and Zhou Mumu. I want every detail.”
Qin Zhou was slightly surprised. “Mr. Ji, are you planning to—”
“Qin Zhou,” Ji Huaizhou’s voice came through the line, calm yet carrying undeniable authority, “if those rumors are indeed fabricated, then what she is enduring now is not just physical pain.”
It was also the slow execution of public opinion, the betrayal of her company, and the loneliness of being abandoned by the world.
Those wounds were far harder to heal than broken bones.
After hanging up, Ji Huaizhou silently gazed at the neon lights flashing past outside the window.
The driver, Old Chen, glanced at him through the rearview mirror and carefully asked, “Mr. Ji, that young lady… are her injuries really that serious?”
“Yes,” Ji Huaizhou responded. After a long pause, he suddenly asked, “Old Chen, if someone in your family suffered a great injustice outside, was bullied at will, and you couldn’t reach them—what would you do?”
Old Chen was taken aback, then gave a bitter smile. “I’d go crazy with worry, of course. Last year, when my daughter was wronged at school, the moment my wife called me, I wished I could fly back immediately to protect her.”
Ji Huaizhou said nothing more.
He thought that if the sister named Zhou Chaochao knew that her younger sister was going through such a hell, she would probably be frantic with anxiety, desperate to rush to her side.
But where was she? Why was she completely unreachable?
And the girl lying in the hospital—covered in injuries, cursed by the entire internet—how much longer could she endure in this endless wait?
The car slowly came to a stop in front of a private restaurant. Director Chen’s assistant was already waiting at the entrance.
Ji Huaizhou composed himself, put on his gold-rimmed glasses, and the moment he pushed open the car door, he became once again the calm, self-possessed, flawless Film Emperor Ji Huaizhou.
Only he knew that somewhere deep in his heart, because of tonight’s unexpected accident, because of that girl he had never met yet who was covered in wounds, a faint ripple had stirred.
Back at the hospital, Zhou Mumu’s casts had already been set.
Thick white plaster wrapped around her left leg and left arm, making her already petite figure appear even more fragile. A nurse pushed her toward the ward, while Yang Li followed closely, clutching her phone tightly, dialing that familiar number every few minutes.
It was still the same message: the phone was turned off.
“Mumu, get some rest first,” Yang Li said, tucking in the blanket around her. “I’ll go buy you some porridge. You haven’t eaten or drunk anything since noon—you won’t be able to hold on like this.”
Zhou Mumu did not respond. She simply turned her head to the side, staring at the pitch-black night sky outside the window, her eyes hollow.
Yang Li sighed, picked up her bag, and walked out of the ward. In the corridor, Qin Zhou was still waiting.
“Ms. Yang, shall we discuss the details of the accident compensation?” Qin Zhou spoke in a businesslike tone.
Yang Li looked at the well-dressed, composed man in front of her and felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her entire body.
“As for the money, let’s wait until Mumu’s condition stabilizes,” she said hoarsely. “Right now, I just hope she can recover… and that we can reach her sister soon.”
“Her sister… is an active-duty soldier?” Qin Zhou asked cautiously.
Yang Li suddenly looked up, her eyes full of shock. “How do you know?”
“I conducted some basic verification,” Qin Zhou replied frankly. “As the responsible party, we need to understand the victim’s basic situation. Don’t worry, I only checked identity information and did not probe into her specific unit.”
Yang Li stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, “You… are you people from Mr. Ji Huaizhou’s side?”
Qin Zhou did not deny it.
Yang Li took a deep breath, as if clutching at her last lifeline. “Mr. Qin, please tell Mr. Ji that Zhou Mumu is a good child. Not a single one of those rumors is true! Her father was a martyr—her upbringing would never allow her to do such disgraceful things! She’s just been unlucky and unwilling to bow or compromise, which is why she’s been schemed against so viciously.”
Qin Zhou listened quietly without interrupting.
“I know Mr. Ji’s status in the industry. If he’s willing… even if it’s just to say one fair sentence…” Yang Li’s voice choked. She knew how absurd this request was. Ji Huaizhou stood at the very top of the entertainment industry—why would he stand up for an unknown minor artist?
But she still held onto a sliver of hope.
“Ms. Yang,” Qin Zhou finally said, “Mr. Ji asked me to tell you that he will investigate the entire matter thoroughly. As for anything else, I cannot make any promises.”
Yang Li’s eyes lit up for a moment, then quickly dimmed again.
What would it change even if the truth was uncovered? Public opinion had already taken shape, and Zhou Mumu’s reputation was already ruined. Even if the truth came out, would those who had cursed her apologize? Could the lost opportunities ever return?
Still, she said softly, “Thank you.”
Qin Zhou watched her weary figure disappear into the elevator, then took out his phone and sent Ji Huaizhou a message: “Have communicated with the manager. Confirmed that the rumors are fabricated. The victim is the orphan of a martyr and depends on her sister for support. Her sister, Zhou Chaochao, is an active-duty soldier and currently unreachable. The manager has requested help. I responded as instructed.”
Moments later, Ji Huaizhou replied: “At nine tomorrow morning, I want a complete report on Xingyao Entertainment and Lin Weiwei’s public relations operations over the past three months.”
Qin Zhou stared at the message, a slight tremor stirring in his heart.
Was Mr. Ji… really going to intervene in this matter?
He put away his phone and looked through the glass window of the ward. Zhou Mumu was still lying there, her head turned toward the window, unmoving—like a porcelain doll that had lost its life.
The night deepened, and the city’s neon lights continued to flicker endlessly.
Within this glamorous entertainment world, a silent storm might have only just begun.
At the center of the storm was a girl wrapped in plaster, abandoned by the world—and a sister far away in a military camp, nowhere to be reached.
Neither of them had realized that the gears of fate had already begun to turn, quietly, in a moment unknown to all.