At Lianhai, Muyao booked a private room at one of the town's most well-known restaurants. Even though she was dining alone, it was a habit she had grown up with—whenever the Lin family ate out, they always chose private rooms for privacy and quiet.
This room was VIP, soundproof, and luxurious. No voices from the dining hall could seep in, and no wandering eyes could see her. No one here knew she was from the Lin family, but the space still gave her a sense of protection—a bubble where she could exist without scrutiny.
After placing her order, Muyao finally reached into her purse and took out her phone.
The screen lit up—and she froze.
Missed calls flooded her display. Her parents. Her relatives. One after another. Li Zhenwei's name appeared repeatedly among them, along with a long line of unread messages.
Her heart skipped.
Only then did she remember.
That morning, after seeing her own name on Weibo's hot search, she had quietly turned off her notifications. She had told herself she needed peace. Just one day without noise.
She hadn't expected the world to move so fast without her
Muyao's fingers moved almost instinctively, scrolling through Weibo. The flood of notifications, reposts, and comments painted a story she hadn't expected. Praise for her audition. Reposts from Xie Jingchi. Analysts and bloggers are breaking down her performance. Slowly, she began to see the shift—the tide of public opinion turning in her favor.
Then she noticed something darker in the past posts, buried among the chatter: hints and accusations that had been quietly circulated before—rumors about her, planted stories, and the faint traces of Cao Yirou's attempts to frame her. The threads linked together seamlessly, revealing the organized effort to smear her.
Before she could even process it all, another call appeared on her phone.
"Dad," the screen read.
Her heart skipped again, this time from a mix of relief and urgency. She pressed the green button.
"Muyao! Are you alright? I just… I needed to hear your voice," her father's deep voice came through, edged with worry and restrained frustration.
"I… I'm fine, Dad," Muyao said softly, trying to steady her voice. "I just… I needed a little quiet today."
Her father's sigh was heavy, carrying both relief and lingering frustration. "We should have never let you step into the entertainment world… but seeing all of this… seeing how people are supporting you now… I just needed to hear that you're okay."
"I am," she said, clutching the phone a little tighter. "I've been seeing everything—the messages, the posts, all of it. I… I think I understand now."
There was a long pause on the line. Then Lin Anguo's voice softened. "Muyao, whatever happens, remember you're not alone. We're here. Your family… we'll always protect you. Even if the world decides to fight you."
Before Muyao could respond, the phone shifted in her hands. "Hello, Muyao," came her mother Xia Xuexing's gentle voice. "It's me."
"Mom!" Muyao said, relief flooding her. "I didn't expect—"
"Shh," her mother interrupted softly. "Let's not waste time with words right now. I just needed to hear your voice. I've been worried sick. You're safe, right?"
"I am, Mom," Muyao reassured her, a small smile forming. "I… I think I finally understand everything that's happening."
"Good," her mother said. "We've all been following what's going on online. We know how strong you are, Muyao… but we also want you to know you don't have to face this alone."
Then another voice joined in, cheerful but filled with concern—her cousin Lin Muchuan had taken the phone. "Hey, Muyao! Don't hang up yet. I've been refreshing Weibo for hours just to see you okay. The tide's turning, and you—you're the reason for it."
"Muchuan…" she breathed, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the sunlight outside.
One by one, other family members took turns speaking, each brief conversation layering reassurance, pride, and love over her nerves. The private, soundproof room wrapped around her like a protective bubble, giving her the space to absorb it all without distraction.
By the time the last call ended, Muyao sat back, phone in hand, a mixture of calm and clarity settling over her. The world outside was loud and fast-moving, but inside this quiet space, she finally felt ready to face it.
After the last family call ended, Muyao opened Li Zhenwei's messages.
"Ignore what's happening on Weibo. Don't read the comments. Don't let it touch you. I'll handle everything. You just focus on yourself and your vacation."
"The support is growing. Don't worry. Everything is under control."
Muyao exhaled slowly, feeling the weight on her shoulders lighten. He had been coordinating behind the scenes, shielding her from the worst of the storm. For the first time, she could let herself breathe.
Curious, she opened Weibo. The flood of notifications was overwhelming at first—likes, reposts, comments—but none of the negativity she had feared dominated the feed. Instead, the tide had turned. Her audition clip was being praised over and over and reposted by professionals, fans, and influencers. Xie Jingchi's repost calling her a rising star had spread widely, and many people were now following her, admiring her talent and poise.
A quiet smile formed on her face. The world hadn't waited for her—but it had noticed her.
With a gentle tap, she created her first post in days:
"Thank you to the cast of Star My Destination, Xie Jingchi, and everyone who has supported me. Your faith and encouragement mean the world to me. I will keep working hard and giving my best❤️."
She paused, then added another post, wanting to share a piece of her world. The photos weren't taken on her phone—they were captured on her camera, carefully framed and stored on her photo drive, now synced to her phone. Each image carried the warmth and detail she had experienced throughout the day: the golden beaches glowing under the sun, the turquoise ocean stretching endlessly to the horizon, palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze, bustling local markets filled with color and life, steaming bowls of fresh seafood, and the fiery sunset sinking into the sea.
A small camera icon appeared on the post, letting her followers know these weren't casual snapshots—they were real, captured moments from her vacation.
"Lianhai has been amazing. Warm sun, calm sea, delicious food, and so many little moments to treasure. Sharing a piece of this with you all🌊☀️🍤 #LianhaiVibes #SunsetMoments #GratefulHeart"
Almost immediately, notifications started to trickle in. Hearts, comments, reposts—slowly at first, then building momentum.
Followers noticed the small camera icon and commented on the quality.
"These aren't phone photos… Muyao, did you take these with a DSLR? The colors are incredible."
"The detail is amazing! You really captured Lianhai's light and warmth."
"I can feel the breeze through the pictures. Beautiful!"
Some recognized her eye for composition, noting that she clearly knew how to frame a scene, balance light, and capture emotion—skills they had glimpsed in her vlogs before she entered the entertainment industry. Others simply commented on the locations, curious about the beaches, local markets, and food she had photographed.
Muyao scrolled through, her lips tugging into a shy smile. For the first time in days, she replied to a few comments—not trying to start a conversation, just acknowledging people's kindness:
"Thank you! These were taken during my walk along the beach this morning. 🌊"
"I love the markets too! Fresh seafood is amazing here🍤"
"Glad you can feel the sunset too—it was magical❤️."
Every response felt natural, small, but meaningful. She didn't feel the pressure to perform. She wasn't reacting to trolls or rumors—she was simply sharing a moment, connecting with people who appreciated her perspective.
Her phone buzzed again—Li Zhenwei had sent a message:
"I see you're back online. Remember, focus on what you enjoy. Let the rest come to you. Everything's under control."
Muyao stared at the screen for a moment, letting the words settle. He had been carrying the weight of the storm, shielding her from the worst of it, while still giving her the freedom to live her life.
Slowly, she set her phone down for a moment and looked out through the window at Lianhai's horizon. The sea shimmered under the late afternoon sun, the warm breeze carrying the scent of salt and tropical blooms.
It was quiet, yet vibrant. Calm, yet alive.
And just like that, Muyao realized—she could step back into the world at her own pace, sharing her story, her talent, and her moments… while still holding onto this quiet strength she had found in Lianhai.