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Though it hadn’t yet hit the trending topics, the Weibo post was quickly picked up by marketing accounts within minutes of being posted. As retweets piled up, it entered the view of most netizens.
The two were so close in the photo—what did it mean?
Shouldn’t they know to avoid suspicion?
Moreover, He Xingwang and Chi Suisui had previously trended together before their public engagement, which could be somewhat excused at the time.
But this was after announcing plans to marry.
Strictly speaking, the distance between them in the photo wasn’t too close, but compared to a normal distance, it did seem a bit intimate.
[??? Did my ship just sink?]
[This must be a character collapse. My god, does his fiancée know about this?]
[@ChiSuisui @ChiSuisui How dare you not avoid suspicion?!]
[It takes two to tango. Why are you only blaming one person?]
[Why rush to criticize? Do you really believe paparazzi photos?]
[Chi Suisui must’ve thrown herself at him—didn’t she even go watch the match?]
[I think you all have dark minds. Can’t two people just be friends having dinner? This angle clearly looks staged.]
[Do you really need to sit this close while eating?]
The online debate raged on.
As a public figure, every move He Xingwang made was exposed to scrutiny, naturally inviting discussion.
Chi Suisui’s Weibo hadn’t been updated for quite some time.
When Lemon Tea saw the news online, she didn’t believe it at all because Reporter Chi and Lord He hadn’t interacted during the competition.
If they were truly together, why would Lord He even bother with an engagement?
Besides, this place looked noisy, and leaning closer to talk was perfectly normal. Though she personally didn’t like sitting next to someone, her first impression of Chi Suisui was positive, so she defended her on Weibo—
Ironically, she was promptly “expelled” from the fanbase and labeled as a Chi Suisui stan.
Poor Lemon Tea.
When Chi Suisui left the director’s office, many colleagues in the workspace glanced over, their eyes filled with curiosity.
She keenly sensed something was amiss.
“Director Chi,” Su Mian whispered as soon as she returned to her seat. “How did you end up trending with Lord He again today?”
She sent a link to Chi Suisui.
Upon opening it, Chi Suisui saw the photo. The comments below already numbered over 5,000 and were rapidly increasing.
Their side remained quiet, but her colleagues were buzzing with excitement.
[Do you think Chi Suisui will admit to something today?]
[I think it’s possible. With all this going on, what’s the point of denying it?]
[I doubt it. I think Director Chi has her own considerations—maybe there’s a reason she can’t disclose publicly.]
[True. If she could, she’d have done so by now… What do you think this reason is?]
[Family background?]
Lord He’s family was well-known to everyone.
Upright lineage, prestigious family, excellent reputation, countless charitable deeds—the epitome of high society.
On the other hand, though colleagues felt Chi Suisui wasn’t as poor as outsiders claimed, she still seemed like just another typical wealthy girl.
Viewed this way, marrying into such a family would indeed be difficult.
Furthermore, Chi Suisui was a journalist, not a female celebrity. Even celebrities might struggle to marry into such a family—how much more a relatively unknown journalist?
“The photographer’s technique is quite clever.”
Chi Suisui set her phone down, her tone amused.
Out of an entire table of people, only the two of them were captured—and deliberately from such an angle. Could a zero-follower account really get reposted by marketing accounts within minutes?
Even ghosts wouldn’t believe how fast that happened.
“Do you think it was one of the restaurant staff?” Su Mian guessed.
“No.” Chi Suisui shook her head.
“So what now?” Su Mian wasn’t worried since Director Chi was the fiancée herself. “The internet’s already in chaos.”
Chi Suisui didn’t reply but chuckled instead.
Did they really think she went there just to eat? She had nothing in her hands, and a single photo was supposed to nail her to the shame pole?
Maybe if the target were someone else.
It was 10 a.m., the peak of activity.
Netizens who followed the incident were still passionately debating, storming Chi Suisui’s Weibo to demand answers.
Then they noticed she had posted a new tweet.
[Chi Suisui: Are other excellent athletes not worthy of appearing in the news?]
Two images accompanied the post.
One showed the entire table of people, the restaurant bustling with guests. Chi Suisui and He Xingwang were merely two among many.
This photo was taken after the dinner gathering, requested from the restaurant owner.
Chi Suisui also cropped half of it.
She paired people at the table two by two, arranging them into a collage for the second image. From afar, it appeared as if everyone was sitting close.
Netizens: ?
Is this even a thing? Is this sarcasm?
The original exposé juxtaposed with this new post felt utterly absurd. Netizens couldn’t stop laughing and flooded the comments with amusement.
[Chi Suisui remains as bold as ever, hahahaha!]
[This is too damn funny, hahaha! This post is today’s source of joy!]
[Other people: Did we not pay for our appearance fee?]
[Chi Suisui: Little one, do you think you can outwit me? Behold my picture attack.]
[No nesting dolls, no nesting dolls, no nesting dolls.]
Of course, even with this, differing opinions persisted.
[But even if everyone was present, did you run out of seats? Why sit next to Lord He?]
[Such cunning…]
[Do the others know you dragged them out to clear your name?]
[After seeing these photos, I’m wondering… Has the Shooting Sports Center tacitly acknowledged your relationship?]
[Have you noticed the handsome young man next to Chi Suisui?]
Trolls always found reasons to argue.
And in any situation, they could find a point to nitpick.
Like this time—Chi Suisui had Qi Churui beside her, yet everyone ignored him. A few thought he was a newcomer from the Shooting Sports Center.
Chi Suisui replied to one comment: [So I’m “two-timing,” huh? //StillWaitingForSnow: So what are you trying to say with this picture?]
With this subtle jab, netizens revisited the photo.
Previously fixated on He Xingwang and Chi Suisui, they now noticed clearly—
Chi Suisui had peeled a shrimp and popped it into the mouth of the young man next to her while talking to He Xingwang.
In a literal sense, this was indeed “two-timing.”
Netizens fell silent.
Had Chi Suisui gone to study advanced sarcasm?
Su Mian scrolled through her phone, marveling: “Even though I know Director Chi’s relationship with Lord He, that photo looks completely normal.”
Even if she didn’t know, she’d only scream.
Before, when Chi Suisui interviewed He Xingwang, if they were close, sitting together wouldn’t be strange, especially with so many others around.
“The internet is just like that,” Chi Suisui calmly responded.
Male and female celebrities sitting close together sparked rumors.
In truth, she did have a relationship with He Xingwang—but not the one they assumed. And in the controversial photo, they truly weren’t doing anything intimate.
They were simply talking.
Without context, everyone relied on their own assumptions, adding malicious interpretations. Today, it happened to be her, and she could handle it.
But what if it weren’t her?
Could the other person fight back, or would they be cyberbullied?
The longer Chi Suisui worked as a journalist and the more she encountered, the heavier she felt the toxicity of online culture had become. People always sought to create opposition over every issue.
Yet, in reality, many things couldn’t be reduced to simple dichotomies—like morality and law, debated for centuries without resolution.
It was all because online comments carried no personal consequences.
Chi Suisui’s reasons for not going public extended beyond the companies’ considerations. Another major factor was excessive exposure.
He Xingwang’s popularity was immense. If she publicly linked herself to him, every move she made would inevitably be broadcast online.
With the title “Lord He’s fiancée” attached—
If Chi Suisui’s news remained consistently positive, it might be fine. But if controversies arose, headlines like “Lord He’s fiancée will do anything for a story” or “Lord He’s fiancée exposes xx for fame” would surely follow.
Similar to how married celebrity couples often trend over trivial matters—not always bought trends but also fueled by marketing accounts—it was a tried-and-true formula.
Though the topic did briefly trend, it was quickly removed.
The Shooting Sports Center issued an explanation, but their Weibo account rarely garnered attention, so their post received fewer comments than Chi Suisui’s.
He Xingwang didn’t post on Weibo but liked the Shooting Sports Center’s clarification.
This could be seen as an official denial.
By the next evening, Nancheng TV’s news segment aired a half-hour feature on the interviews.
The official blog also released the full video.
The interview began with scenes from the dinner gathering. Midway through, Chi Suisui even swapped seats with Qi Churui to give young fans a chance to approach their idol.
In truth, the time she spent sitting next to He Xingwang was minimal.
Chi Suisui’s dinner with them truly involved no intimacy with He Xingwang, given the crowded venue.
Moreover, her younger brother was present.
Viewers who watched the news felt their faces swell with embarrassment—the interview was clearly prearranged.
If they were interviewing, of course, they’d eat together.
[Maybe there really were no other seats.]
[You ignored Lord He’s teammates’ clarifications… They offered their seats to Chi Suisui.]
[Actually, if there were real issues, they’d likely avoid it altogether.]
[Shooting Sports Center: What kind of people do you think we are?]
The online storm gradually subsided.
Chi Suisui directly had her family investigate who took the photo and how it spread so quickly—it was clearly not something an ordinary person could achieve.
Results came back swiftly—it turned out someone had hired internet trolls.
Chi Suisui was too lazy to argue further and sent a lawyer’s letter and court summons straightaway, effectively “debuting” the perpetrator.
The competition had ended several days ago, and as November approached its end, the weather in Nancheng grew colder. By early December, the Shooting Sports Center prepared to head to Guangzhou for training camp—a longstanding tradition.
The training schedule had already been posted on their official website.
Chi Suisui should’ve known this timeline today, but something blocked her, and she was still fuming.
Someone accused He Xingwang of using performance-enhancing drugs.
Song Miaoli sent a screenshot—it was blurry, but the gist was clear: questioning the legitimacy of He Xingwang’s achievements.
Song Miaoli: [I heard this from the nurses gossiping. They sent it over.]
Song Miaoli: [Who has the audacity to spread such rumors?]
Chi Suisui had just returned to Bai’an Mansion and immediately called her: “It’s probably because he just won the gold medal, and his results are too eye-catching.”
“Lord He has it rough—he gets slandered for being exceptional and criticized for underperforming. It’s too much.” Song Miaoli found it outrageous.
“I’ll look into this. The image has been shared countless times—many people must’ve seen it.” Chi Suisui narrowed her eyes slightly.
She opened her door.
For athletes, using performance-enhancing drugs was an absolute taboo, capable of destroying careers. Spreading such rumors was particularly malicious.
Questioning was one thing, but spreading baseless accusations was another.
Even if it weren’t He Xingwang but another athlete, Chi Suisui would still find it unacceptable. Since it involved He Xingwang, she was determined to investigate thoroughly.
“I’ve already seen it—it’s definitely spread.” Song Miaoli expressed disbelief: “What kind of mindset leads someone to spread such rumors?”
Isn’t winning a gold medal good? Isn’t bringing glory to the nation admirable?
As soon as she finished speaking, a knock sounded at her office door. Through the glass, she could see Gu Nan Yan’s clothes.
Why was Xiao Gu here now?
Song Miaoli hurriedly stashed the items Song Chengrui had just delivered into the cabinet, making quite a racket.
“What are you doing?” Chi Suisui asked.
“Song Chengrui brought me something today, and Xiao Gu arrived just now.” Song Miaoli tidied up, then raised her voice: “Come in.”
“Are you tired of your romance yet?”
Chi Suisui teased. She had thought Song Miaoli’s fling would end quickly, but it seemed she was genuinely invested.
Gu Nan Yan was impressively patient.
“As long as his face doesn’t get ruined, I can keep loving him for a while.” Song Miaoli spoke confidently: “Are you tired of yours?”
“I’m not interested in Xiao Gu’s face.”
“…That’s not what I meant.”
Chi Suisui slipped off her high heels at the entrance, teasing: “If you’re talking about He Xingwang’s face, maybe after seeing it enough, I might really feel—”
Unfiltered in front of her best friend.
She walked straight to the dining room and saw He Xingwang standing in the kitchen, likely just returned, emanating autumn’s chill.
“Feel uninterested?” Song Miaoli pressed.
The man’s gaze met hers—like an ancient well, deep, unfathomable, and eerily calm, locking onto her from afar.
How could she answer that?
Chi Suisui silently swallowed the words “lost novelty” and smiled brightly: “I think I could keep looking at it for hundreds of years.”
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