Cen Yue's words did have some suggestive effect. Zhao Xiyin would occasionally browse that Weibo post. The so-called anonymous submission, objectively speaking, was indeed accurate in some parts. Later, Zhao Xiyin searched for keywords and found that similar revelations were being secretly spread on several marketing accounts, all using tags related to "Nine Thoughts," and generating considerable traffic.
Zhao Xiyin was getting annoyed and frustrated, so late at night, she decided to report them one by one.
The next day, during normal training, halfway through, the teacher came in through the back door and called Zhao Xiyin away.
Inside the office, with the door closed, the weather changed this morning; an autumn rain brought a chill. Looking out the glass window, all I could see in Beijing was a hazy gray smog.
The teacher asked Zhao Xiyin to sit down and, without beating around the bush, went straight to the point, "Xiao Zhao, there have been many rumors circulating online recently. I wonder if you've heard about them? I'm very direct, so I hope you don't mind."
Zhao Xiyin nodded. "No. But those are all false rumors and don't reflect my actual situation."
The teacher's smile was very standard, perhaps because she had seen and dealt with too many girls like this, so her words and actions were inevitably rigid and cold. "Of course I want to believe you, but we are all part of the production team. We're all on edge, and if some hype gets too high, the whole project will be negatively affected. Of course, you don't need to worry. I've always admired you, and I know you're Teacher Dai's preferred candidate. It's best for us to be cautious. We'll do our best to avoid what we can and handle what we can ourselves, okay?"
The conversation lasted five or six minutes, and the teacher's attitude was relatively gentle, always with a smile on her face.
But Zhao Xiyin heard and saw it all clearly. The teacher's attitude was diluted; if she moved up the ranks, even more people would be dissatisfied. She wasn't yet at a position where everyone's fate was intertwined; if something really happened, the phrase "sacrifice the pawn to save the king" would be bestowed upon her.
This scene felt all too familiar to Zhao Xiyin; it mirrored the attitude of the organizers and recommenders after her stage accident in France six years ago. A certain fragment of her past was like a withered tree in a barren garden, where a few scattered sparks ignited an unstoppable fire.
Stepping out of the office, Zhao Xiyin was clearly out of sorts. She had been distracted throughout the day's rehearsals; her usual vibrant energy during dance had turned dull and lifeless. During her final spin, she lost her balance upon landing, her knee slamming against the wooden floor with a loud thud, the sound alone sounding like it was about to shatter.
Everyone was startled and crowded around. The pain was brief; Zhao Xiyin gritted her teeth, and once it subsided, she knew she was alright. She went to the infirmary for some ointment; redness and swelling were inevitable. Someone had reported this to Dai Yunxin, who was attending a meeting in the west and hadn't had time for the past two days. Dai Yunxin gave Zhao Xiyin a good scolding on the phone, blaming her for not taking better care of herself and for being distracted.
She went home early in the afternoon, and Zhao Wenchun gave her a good scolding, really bad.
Zhao Xiyin's voice was hoarse. "How did you know?"
"It's none of your business," Zhao Wenchun said sternly, taking two piping hot eggs from the pot. "Rub them yourself!"
After he finished speaking, his phone rang. Zhao Wenchun glanced at it, and since he was currently troubled, his tone was extremely unfriendly. "She's back. She's limping, um. Medicine? I'm not taking it. I'm old. I'm not going to be a deliveryman anymore. If you want to care about her, talk to her yourself. I can't interfere with your young people's affairs. I'm really old. No, don't call me Dad, call me Uncle Zhao."
This was quite an eye-opener; the usually gentle and kind Teacher Zhao had rarely lost her temper like this. Zhao Xiyin also realized that Zhao Wenchun must have been told about her fall by Zhou Qishen.
Over the years, Teacher Zhao has been entrusted with far too many requests.
If, before this moment, the troubles caused by these messy rumors were limited to herself, then at this moment, seeing her father's stubborn yet soft-hearted worry and insincere concern, Zhao Xiyin felt a little scared.
Teacher Zhao, being so kind, must be very sad.
——
The next morning, Ding Yahe was in the kitchen instructing the nanny on how to prepare breakfast, including exquisite tableware, scientific nutritional ratios, and even the precise gram measurements of each ingredient.
After her divorce, Ding Yahe completely escaped her ordinary social class and married her current husband, Ni Xingzhuo. She now lives a life of luxury and has undergone a complete transformation. She is no longer the woman who used to argue fiercely over a penny or two at the market. For the past twenty years, she has been happy being a housewife and is very adept at taking care of her husband and daughter.
"You're feeling better now, so have some white fungus and red date porridge to replenish your energy and blood. Stop nagging and finish it all," Ding Yahe ordered.
Ni Rui ignored him and focused on looking at the new products on Taobao.
Ding Yahe used her usual threatening tone: "If you don't behave, you can forget about your allowance this month."
Ni Rui's eyes never left the screen as she lazily said, "Give it or don't, it's up to you."
Ding Yahe's eyes darted around, and she suddenly realized, "When did you buy that new bag in your closet?"
Ni Rui subconsciously sat up straighter. "Can't I buy it myself?"
"You? You can save money? That's outrageous." Ding Yahe was a million times incredulous. "Don't think I don't know, your dad pays off your credit card every month without telling me."
Ni Rui didn't say anything, picked up her bowl and spoon and obediently drank her porridge.
Ding Yahe was pleased with this reaction; she hated people who talked back to her.
After taking a few sips, Ni Rui suddenly said, "Mom, I have something to tell you."
"You want more money?"
"Can you please stop thinking so badly of me!" Ni Rui suddenly got angry, slamming her bowl and spoon on the table with a thud, splashing a few drops onto the ground, which, like a chain reaction, also ignited Ding Yahe's anger.
"Can't you eat in a proper meal?!"
Unlike before, Ni Rui didn't take advantage of people's kindness and act arrogantly. Instead, she suppressed her arrogance and smiled mysteriously, "You should really keep an eye on your outstanding daughter."
"Xiao west? What does she have to do with this? I'm warning you, stop talking badly about your sister. Think about it yourself, she's not bad to you. You're so ignorant and prejudiced." Ding Yahe spoke like a torrent of beans, and once she started, she couldn't stop.
Ni Rui handed over her phone at the right moment, looking generous and kind. "I didn't want to show it to you, but as you said, she's my sister and she's never been bad to me, so I can't watch her go astray."
Ding Yahe couldn't see it clearly at first; it was densely packed with pictures and text. "What is this?"
Ni Rui adjusted the font size to a larger mode and read out the keywords one by one: "The dancers of the 'Nine Thoughts' troupe had dinner with a famous producer and director. The producer has a wife. And this woman surnamed Zhao is arrogant and domineering, bullying others and acting like a tyrant in the troupe."
Ding Yahe's face darkened as she took the phone and silently looked at it.
"Hey, you don't know, but I'm in the troupe training all day, and I hear a lot of people complaining that my sister is really good at playing tricks, saying one thing to people's faces and another behind their backs. Actually, I've felt it too. Last time, I didn't know how to do a move and wanted her to teach me, but what she taught me was all wrong, and I got criticized by the teacher."
Ni Rui's eyes drooped, and her tone was aggrieved, as if she had suffered a great injustice. "These news are spreading like wildfire online now, and everyone in the group knows about it. Yesterday morning, the teacher even called her in for a talk. I didn't want to believe it before, but the teacher intervened. Sigh."
Ding Yahe remained silent, feeling her vision blur after reading the "summary" reports. Ni Rui's constant chatter beside her was like adding fuel to the fire, making her temples burn and her anger swell.
"Tell me, how could my sister, who is so beautiful, become a mistress?"
Ni Rui's use of the word "mistress" was like a stab to the heart, completely igniting Ding Yahe's temper. She grabbed an expensive, exquisite plate from the table and smashed it to the ground in a fit of rage. The ear-piercing shattering sound, like a ghost's howl, tore apart the peace of the day.
Ding Yahe supported her forehead with both hands, recalling that day when Zhao Xiyin had challenged her so arrogantly and without any regard for her age, saying something like, "Don't interfere in my business! Instead of worrying about your precious little daughter, make sure she's not deceived by a man with just a few LV bags."
Ding Yahe's eyes were red with anger, and her wrinkles seemed to deepen. She was burning with rage, believed it to be true, and blamed all of Zhao Xiyin's current mistakes on Zhao Wenchun's poor parenting.
She picked up her phone and made a call in a menacing manner.