Lin Yaoyue had dealt with a lot over the past few weeks;
Public attention, reporters, a contract that blurred into something more personal, and a man whose face could shut down a boardroom.
But nothing prepared her for seeing that photo again.
Not after all this time.
She stared at the article still glowing on Jiang Zeyan's phone, throat dry.
The hospital.
Her old jacket.
Her face pale from crying.
That picture was never meant to be public.
She remembered the moment it had been taken.
She had just come out of the ER, her hands still trembling from signing her mother's death paperwork. A journalist, chasing a political story about medical negligence, had been camped outside. She hadn't thought twice about it then. She didn't matter. She was nobody.
Now she wasn't.
---
"You don't have to read it," Zeyan said.
His voice was low, controlled. But there was something in it, like a thread pulled just a little too tight.
Yaoyue didn't move. "I need to know what they're saying."
He watched her for a moment before answering. "The article doesn't claim anything directly. But it's hinting."
"At what?"
"At a past you didn't disclose. A mother who died in a hospital known for malpractice. A possible lawsuit that was dropped. A connection to your father's sudden disappearance."
Yaoyue's jaw clenched. "There was no lawsuit. I couldn't afford it. And my father didn't disappear. He left."
"I know."
"But they're painting it like a scandal," she said quietly.
"Because people love stories that feel messy."
She turned to him. "Did Tang Min do this?"
"She didn't publish it. But someone fed the reporter. And she's the only one who would know to dig in that direction."
Yaoyue sank onto the couch.
Everything felt too loud. Her own pulse, the rush of shame, the fear she hadn't felt in years.
Zeyan stood still, his hands clenched behind his back. "I'll shut it down."
"How?"
"With lawyers. Money. Pressure."
Yaoyue shook her head. "If we make noise, it confirms everything. People will think we're hiding something."
"Then what do you want to do?"
She didn't answer right away.
Because for the first time in a long time, she didn't know.
---
The next morning, it was already on the news.
A talking head read headlines off a glowing screen while a studio audience murmured in mock sympathy.
"Jinlin CEO's Girlfriend Linked to Old Medical Scandal. Emotional Past or Red Flag?"
The screen split to show the grainy photo of her younger self, next to a current paparazzi shot of her stepping out of Zeyan's car.
Yaoyue turned it off and sat in silence.
Her phone buzzed again — messages from Su Cheng, a few from old classmates she hadn't heard from in years, and one from an unknown number that read:
"You should've stayed in the background."
She turned her phone face-down.
---
Later, in Zeyan's car, she sat stiffly beside him. They were on the way to another event, one she hadn't prepared for, mentally or otherwise.
"Maybe I shouldn't come with you," she said suddenly.
Zeyan didn't look at her. "You're already on the list."
"They'll stare. Ask questions."
"They were always going to."
She stayed quiet for a beat, then said, "If this gets worse…"
"It won't."
"You can't know that."
"I'll protect you."
She looked at him, really looked at him, the way he held his jaw tightly, the way his hands gripped the edge of the seat like he was fighting the urge to punch something.
"You shouldn't have to," she said. "This was supposed to be a deal. Easy. Clean."
He turned to her then, eyes unreadable.
"That was before I started caring."
Her breath caught.
But before she could respond, the car pulled to a stop.
The cameras were already waiting.
---
The gala that night was smaller than the last, but more intimate. Industry leaders, investors, journalists. Everyone dressed for power, everyone ready to whisper the moment backs were turned.
Yaoyue could feel the weight of every glance.
She smiled, she nodded, she played her part. But her skin prickled with anxiety. She didn't know who had read the article. Who believed it. Who thought she didn't belong.
Zeyan stayed close, more than usual.
He placed a steady hand at her lower back when someone stared too long. He answered questions before she had to. He leaned down once, pretending to adjust something near her ear, and said quietly, "If you feel overwhelmed, signal me."
But she didn't want to signal him.
She wanted to endure.
Because if she didn't prove she could survive this, it would always hang over her like a thread waiting to snap.
---
The evening passed without incident.
No outbursts, no direct confrontation.
By the time they returned home, Yaoyue even felt slightly victorious.
"We got through it," she said, kicking off her heels and collapsing onto the couch.
Zeyan poured them each a glass of wine.
"Maybe they'll move on to the next scandal," she added.
He handed her the glass. "You held your own."
She smiled… tired, but genuine.
Maybe the worst was over.
Maybe she had survived it.
Until the call came.
Zeyan answered, and his posture changed instantly.
"Yes?"
A pause.
Then, "I understand."
He hung up slowly and turned to her.
"What?"
"There's a new leak," he said.
Her stomach sank. "Another article?"
"No."
He handed her his phone.
It was a video.
Of her. From four years ago.
Standing in front of the same hospital.
Arguing. Crying.
Saying something that was never meant for the public.
And suddenly, it wasn't just her past under fire.
It was her character.
And her right to be at his side.