Modern public figures dread nothing more than the four cardinal sins that tarnish reputations—infidelity, soliciting prostitutes, drug abuse, and plagiarism. Once stained, it's nearly impossible to escape the stigma.
Zhao Xiaorou had meticulously compiled sweet nothings from chat logs, shopping and spending records, along with evidence secretly filmed by her assistant, all laid out in a lengthy infographic. The Internet celebrity's selfies were still recognizable, striking at the very roots of Wang Guangming's legacy.
Zhao Xiaorou rented an apartment in Xiafei Court, nestled among Changshu Road, Huaihai Road, and the Shanghai Library. The French Concession exuded a romantic charm, perfect for street photography, and the high-rise building spared her the troubles of termites and poor soundproofing, making it far more practical than an old villa.
Each building in the complex had varying sunlight exposure. To save money, she rented a west-facing unit in Building A, where the living room was filled with numerous fill lights and carried a faint, damp odor from the clutter.
Zhao Xiaorou didn't mind any of this. She loved the area for its abundance of boutique stores and expats, allowing her to momentarily escape the monotony of daily life.
In her rare moments of leisure, she'd slip on a new pair of high heels and stroll to 624 Changle Road late at night, standing outside to sip a drink just to soak in the refined urban night breeze.
Her 150-square-meter apartment had three rooms, two of which served as storage. During peak seasons, gift boxes and courier bags piled up beside the sofa, leaving little room to move.
Zhao Xiaorou filmed unboxing videos weekly, giving gifts to her fans. Hu Xiu often came over to help pack parcels and, upon entering, would instinctively settle in front of the shipping labels, swiftly assembling cardboard boxes.
Zhao Xiaorou paced through the rooms calmly. "Wang Guangming hasn't come back to collect his things either. I'll see him in Beijing tomorrow."
"What if he refuses to divorce you?"
"I have a plan, but I couldn't discuss it in the car earlier. Wang Guangming has a peculiar habit—he loves recording videos and audio, storing them in hidden albums like a collector. So, I've backed up everything he didn't want others to know, and I even have evidence that could land him directly in jail. I won't reveal it unless absolutely necessary. But I can't let Li Ai know about such underhanded tactics. I don't want to—around him, I always want to be a good person."
Only then did Hu Xiu realize that in the rearview mirror, Li Ai could see Zhao Xiaorou crying. This woman had just played the pitiful victim in front of Li Ai, and her debut performance was a success.
Zhao Xiaorou handed her a can of cola. "Although I often craft personas, don't take Wang Guangming's words to heart. Between you and me, it's always been genuine."
"Of course..."
They opened their colas, and the only sound in the living room was the fizz of carbonation.
At 3 a.m., Zhao Xiaorou turned on her computer, the desktop cluttered with Excel and Word files. She had once mentioned that these were plans Wang Guangming had worked on through sleepless nights—complex blueprints they had painstakingly built together: strategies, topics, business deals, divisions of labor... Untangling their shared enterprise wouldn't be easy.
Hu Xiu didn't know what the future held for Zhao Xiaorou, but for now, she faced a potential career earthquake.
Zhao Xiaorou, however, showed little reaction, simply sitting on the carpet waiting for shipping labels to print. "The gifts for the fans are all carefully chosen by me. What do you think? The ones I gave Qin Xiaoyi were really nice too. It's a shame you didn't dare to give them, so they all ended up benefiting Wang Guangming's Internet celebrity harem. Did you have any interaction with Qin Xiaoyi today? I forgot to ask earlier."
"He told me he remembers me today."
Zhao Xiaorou didn't look at her. "I told you the light sign would work, didn't I?"The overflowing happiness seemed to dilute slightly as Hu Xiu simply changed the subject: "What did Wang Guangming say you wanted to tell me earlier?"
"He said Qian Jinxin added other women's WeChat behind your back—that Shanghainese woman from just now."
"It's not a big deal. Does he think I must be paired with such a man, or else it's a loss?"
As she said this, Hu Xiu found it somewhat amusing herself. She took out her phone and saw Qian Jinxin's message: "Miss Hu, I am extremely, extremely angry today. Brother Guangming's invitation was originally to make his wife happy. You and I were merely accompanying them, yet you caused such serious consequences.
Your ambiguous behavior with male actors during the play, which I witnessed several times, shows a complete lack of upbringing.
A woman with no manners, at your age still without any sense of family values, casually fooling around—a girl like you is a disgrace to prestigious universities.
You and your friend are nothing but shameless ruffians who have no idea how to respect men or care for male dignity.
I will report everything to your father. As for you, you are not my desired marriage partner."
Brother Guangming, huh. Hu Xiu handed the phone to Zhao Xiaorou, who glanced at it, snatched the phone, and started yelling into the voice message: "If you want a girlfriend, go pick one from a women's virtue class! And you're pulling moral coercion? Even Yang Yongxin would find you too much trouble to take in.
Hu Xiu is just too normal and too easygoing. No need to tell her dad—let me tell you, a man like you should stay single for a few more years. Cultivate that rigid patriarchal mindset until it reaches its peak, and then the Confucius Temple won't need to worship anyone else but you. Got it?"
She released the send button, but a red exclamation mark appeared next to the message. Hu Xiu stared at the screen for a long time: "Damn, he actually blocked me?"
"He got that Shanghainese woman's WeChat, of course he doesn't need you anymore. What he needs is to buy an apartment in downtown Shanghai to become a glorious Shanghai citizen. Hu Xiu, you don't qualify as a stepping stone."
"Fuck me—" Hu Xiu stood up: "What a relief!"
"Just like that? If it were me, I'd definitely add him back and keep cursing him out. Only girls with too much upbringing who don't dare breathe loudly would marry someone like him. Do you know why Shenyang's domestic violence center only accepts men?
Because Northeastern women have unwavering integrity—when they encounter men like this, they make sure he doesn't see the next day's sun.
The world is tough enough—if even strangers can step on you, what does that mean? For men like this, you need to reverse-PUA them: forever young, forever speaking harshly."
Zhao Xiaorou's mother was a genuine Northeastern woman who married into the Northwest thirty years ago and trained her husband into complete submission.
It's said that during their first meal together, she flipped the Northwest in-laws' dining table, smashed thermos after thermos during arguments, and even went so far as to shove the glass liner into her father-in-law's mouth.
Hu Xiu watched as Zhao Xiaorou showed no signs of fatigue and yawned: "Why aren't you like this with Wang Guangming? Are you two still planning to play the loving couple tomorrow?"
"For someone who loves to perform like him, the best revenge is to remain unmoved and shine on your own.
I'm still pretty, I'm still young, but today, I plan to play the haggard, resentful wife."At 5 a.m., Zhao Xiaorou gazed at her dark circles in the mirror under the dim dawn light. "Arguing with him outright ruins my sweet feminine image. I refuse to leave unflattering photos as material for meme channels. I need to outsmart him."
Hu Xiu, who hadn't slept all night, went straight to the hospital. After working eight hours with heavy-lidded eyes, she saw the gossip on Weibo:
Photos from a pop-up store of a certain cosmetics brand were gradually surfacing. In the pictures Zhao Xiaorou posted herself, she looked haggard, while candid shots showed her walking around in a daze.
She hadn't filmed a vlog for this event (Zhao Xiaorou always believed vlogs were key to growing an audience). Compared to other radiant bloggers whose knees were even airbrushed, Zhao Xiaorou appeared like an amateur dragged onto a grand stage—flustered and fumbling.
Wang Guangming kept his arm around Zhao Xiaorou's waist throughout. In the photos he posted on his Weibo, though she avoided the camera, her face showed no flaws; tear troughs and dark circles were meticulously edited away.
Yet she neither retouched her own photos nor spoke much. Her official Weibo posts felt soulless, leaving comments and reposts buzzing with confusion.
Remembering Zhao Xiaorou's mention of "outsmarting," Hu Xiu found herself unable to focus on the translation documents in front of her, eagerly awaiting Zhao Xiaorou's ultimate move.
She booked a midnight screening of Snowpiercer. Before that, she'd wait in the office for Zhao Xiaorou's message. Once she entered Snowpiercer, she could finally relax for the day.
The academic conference materials contained twenty pages of technical terms. Memorizing them wouldn't be easy—she needed to calm her mind early to get into the groove.
How she hoped everything would go smoothly for Zhao Xiaorou today, that Qin Xiaoyi was unharmed, and that they could interact pleasantly.
Before long, Zhao Xiaorou sent a message in the group chat: "Posted on Weibo. I probably won't accept promotions for the next month. Wang Guangming and I are getting divorced. If he disagrees, I'll keep releasing evidence."
By the time Hu Xiu clicked in, reposts had already surpassed a thousand and were rapidly spreading.
"Evidence" referred to the heavyweight proof netizens loved in gossip scandals. Zhao Xiaorou's post featured an emotionally charged essay detailing Wang Guangming's affair timeline during their marriage.
The screenshots were clear: Wang Guangming complained behind her back that 27-year-old Zhao Xiaorou was "an old woman," that sharing a bed was unbearable, that he wished traffic jams would prevent him from returning home, and that he had to "act" every time—but staying married meant more money.
As for Zhao Xiaorou's divorce statement, it was a masterpiece of PR writing—flawlessly typed, maintaining the narrative of a "blissful wife deceived" from start to finish. Its strategic retreat masked a calculated advance, leaving readers unnerved upon reflection.
"Wang Guangming and I will soon begin divorce proceedings. From age 25 until now, I genuinely believed he was the one who'd make me happy for life.
Now that he's cheated, as someone who believes in love and responsibility, I cannot let this hollow marriage tarnish my devotion to love.
My followers know Wang Guangming and I had a whirlwind marriage right after my first job.
During our brief four-month courtship, he was clever and cheerful, mentoring juniors and sharing all his experience.
I admired his talent and even proposed marriage first. When I knelt on the Bund with a diamond ring, he immediately knelt too, saying, 'This shouldn't be done by a woman.'
After marriage, I became a fashion and relationship blogger. My success today is inseparable from him."In the first year of marriage, I discovered Wang Guangming loved resting in his car. At first, I thought it was a man's need for personal space—marriage requires freedom—so I didn't interfere. I even posted on Weibo that I chose a Mercedes because we had collaborated before, praising its spacious and practical interior.
Later, he often didn't come home. As if possessed, I opened his phone for the first and last time.
It turned out his WeChat hid more girls than business clients. PR gifts that mysteriously vanished were actually given to younger women.
He enjoyed storing secret recordings in a hidden album. That day, trembling, I opened it—hotel receipts, movie tickets, trips to the Sanya duty-free shop... all expenses were even billed to the company...
There used to be a strange smell in my car. He told me it was perfume—Etat Libre d'Orange's Secretions Magnifiques. Those who know the scent would understand, and I actually believed him.
I've compiled the detailed chat logs and timeline in a long image; I also have audio and video files to release as appropriate.
More terrifying than loss is the anticipation of it. Digesting betrayal and accepting that he no longer loves you is a slow torture measured in seconds.
I cried so many nights. You swore you never fell for anyone else, yet my tears only annoyed you.
How could you claim to love me in front of the camera, then vanish the moment it turned off, lying that you were just working?
Did those girls enjoy being mistresses, or were they simply unaware?
I've already endured the most painful phase alone. Now, please wish me a smooth divorce.
Hu Xiu found no flaws in this PR statement. Contemporary public figures most fear the four cardinal sins that tarnish character—infidelity, soliciting prostitutes, drug use, and plagiarism—once stained, it's hard to escape stigma.
Zhao Xiaorou had meticulously organized everything: sweet nothings from chat logs, shopping and expense records, along with evidence secretly filmed by an assistant, all in that long image. The Internet celebrities' selfies were still recognizable—it was like digging up Wang Guangming's ancestral grave.
Sitting in the Snowpiercer lounge, she pondered seriously: Were Zhao Xiaorou's three years of disciplined married life for career focus or just an act? There were truly no signs of infidelity—perfectly appropriate both publicly and privately, leaving Wang Guangming no room for rebuttal.
If it was an act, Zhao Xiaorou could directly replace Sun Honglei in Latent Love 2.
What followed wouldn't be easy for her either. The latest feedback in the group showed both phones exploding with messages, and her parents had called.
In their three-person group chat, Li Ai remained silent, but Hu Xiu could almost feel his rage through the screen—
He never imagined that Zhao Xiaorou, who laughed carefreely at REGARD, had endured so much suffering in private.
"We're about to begin. The train will soon arrive at Rong City. Please wait orderly on the platform."
The iron door creaked open. Approaching from afar was Qin Xiaoyi. The sound of his leather shoes echoed in Hu Xiu's heart. For some reason, she faintly sensed that today's Qin Xiaoyi was different from usual—more than just the scars on his face.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Qin Xiaoyi, Finance Minister of Rong City. This way, please."
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