Chapter 31: Signs

“Sweet.” It really was sweet. Ding Sishu hadn’t grabbed just any piece, either—she’d taken her time picking one out in her spare moments. While she was picking, Zhao Mingxu, as carefree as ever, had scooped up a handful and stuffed it into Ding Sishu’s pocket, teasing her at the same time. “Kids love this stuff.”

She really had been hit with a wave of sweetness. If not for the candy tucked in her mouth, those little white teeth would have been showing again. Nian Qiao curved her lips, seemingly “sweetened” by Ding Sishu’s expression too.

Nian Qiao hadn’t planned on eating one, but seeing the kid enjoy it so much, she peeled one open as well.

“Sweet or not?” Ding Sishu asked Nian Qiao.

Nian Qiao pinched Ding Sishu’s cheek. “Sweet.”

Just then, some excited voices rose from nearby. They weren’t loud at first, but after Nian Qiao fed her the candy, the sound immediately bubbled over. That suppressed excitement felt a little familiar to Ding Sishu. She turned her head and saw a few fans trailing them. Ding Sishu said something to Nian Qiao, then got out of the nanny van. She walked straight up to the fans and, just as the Captain had instructed, reminded them to stop following. Nian Qiao wasn’t heading to an event this time—she was going home. Nian Qiao was fairly popular, so on many occasions, going home meant taking a roundabout route several blocks long. But this time, something felt off. The fans weren’t looking at Nian Qiao at all. When they saw her coming over, they started eyeing her excitedly instead. They were even nudging each other, unusually thrilled.

“Shushu, you’ve worked hard!” Before Ding Sishu could even open her mouth, the fans acted like old friends. The group had both men and women, mostly women, and they were holding bottles of carbonated drinks, which they shoved straight into Ding Sishu’s hands. Nian Qiao didn’t drink carbonated drinks—they were Ding Sishu’s favorite. There had been similar situations before, back when fans visited the set and bought bottled water for the bodyguards. But a special delivery of carbonated drinks was a first. Ding Sishu immediately “understood.” “No way. It’s not Miss Nian’s working hours right now. You can’t go up.”

Ding Sishu figured these fans were probably trying to bribe her, to get her to let them through so they could ask Nian Qiao for an autograph.

But the moment she spoke, the fans got even more excited. They whispered among themselves, and a few even pulled out their phones to snap pictures of her. Completely baffled, Ding Sishu raised a hand to block the camera lens.

“Shushu, could you say that again?”

These fans were quite resourceful. Not only had they figured out Nian Qiao thoroughly, they’d also sized up the bodyguards. Fans had called Ding Sishu by her nickname before, so she wasn’t too surprised.

“What?”

The fans looked at her with great anticipation. “The part where you said Niannian’s working hours.”

It felt like a trap. Were these fans trying to stir up trouble? There had been that incident before—a bodyguard was swapped out at the last minute, giving a sasaeng fan an opening to tail a male artist for a stretch. The male artist’s company security department immediately got bombarded by fans. Under public pressure, the person in charge resigned. Staff and artists weren’t simply coworkers; every move staff made was watched by legions of fans. Ding Sishu became more cautious and didn’t repeat what she’d said. “Protecting Miss Nian is my job. I hope everyone can understand.”

“You just said it’s not Niannian’s working hours right now.”

“It’s my working hours.”

“When Niannian is at work, you protect her. When she’s off work, do you still protect her?”

“Yes.”

“Never leaving her side?”

That sounded familiar. “…Yes.”

The fans’ cheeks flushed red, and after hearing Ding Sishu’s answers, the whole group collectively lost their minds.

“Shushu, don’t worry about us. Go protect Niannian. We’re leaving now.” The fans laughed for a good while, waved contentedly, and left.

It didn’t take long for Ding Sishu to find out what the fans were so excited about. The moment she went online, she got a message from the fan she usually chatted with. “Ahhh I’m gonna explode! The internet is doing random femslash crack shipping again!”

“Eye-bleeding! I’m about to unfollow some people! Do they even look at looks when they ship?” Under Ding Sishu’s complete confusion, the fan sent a few pictures. Ding Sishu looked at them—they seemed a bit familiar… wait, wasn’t that her? The fan clearly had opinions about her, having screenshotted several distorted photos. “So ugly [vomit].”

“…It’s okay, actually.”

“Pitch black,” the fan said.

…Enough.

As a wife fan of Nian Qiao, the fan gave Ding Sishu a point-by-point assessment. In one sentence: with that kind of looks, she wasn’t fit to share a frame with Nian Qiao.

…Actually, Ding Sishu thought she wasn’t bad-looking herself. Maybe a bit worse than Nian Qiao, but that wasn’t a fair comparison—she and Nian Qiao had different jobs. Nian Qiao was an idol star; Ding Sishu was just a bodyguard. And among burly, rough-and-tumble bodyguards, her appearance was already pretty decent.

Ding Sishu looked through a few more pictures. Damn, why was she so dark? Was that really her? That definitely wasn’t her. Ding Sishu frantically did some mental conditioning. Her cousin had said she was dark before, but Ding Sishu hadn’t registered it. She’d gone through every summer like this without a problem. That time coming down from the recording, her cousin had looked at her, “hesitating.” “You should know our country doesn’t accept ‘refugees,’ right?”

Her cousin said she’d tanned into an “African refugee.”

So that was why those excited fans she’d seen during the day felt so familiar. Wasn’t this exactly her own state when it came to Zhao Mingxu and Wu Yun? “The CP I ship is the best match in the universe”?

Those who fantasize shall be fantasized about? That phrasing felt a bit off, but the meaning was about right. Ding Sishu never thought the day would come when she’d get femslash crack-shipped by celebrity fans. These shippers weren’t many in number, but they were in a stage of rapid growth. Opening Weibo, she and Nian Qiao had even made it onto the hot search. It sat at the very bottom of the list—you wouldn’t know what it was unless you specifically clicked it. The hot search title was “Inseparable,” referring to the recent behind-the-scenes footage released by Bayonet Squad. Bayonet Squad was being recorded and aired simultaneously; the first episode wasn’t even out yet, so they were just building hype. Any variety show with a bit of popularity knew how to catch trends in the data. The moment she and Nian Qiao’s numbers started moving, Bayonet Squad released their photo together right on its heels.

“Qiaoqiao is so gorgeous [licking screen] Stay tuned #Nian Qiao October Beacon Fire# #Nian Qiao Bayonet Squad#”

“Who’s that next to Nian Qiao? Looks so dashing. Link please.”

“Do you people not read the Weibo post?! It’s Nian Qiao’s friend!”

“Not exactly a friend—it’s her bodyguard [attached image].” The attached image was a photo from a web portal’s press release, with Ding Sishu standing beside Nian Qiao.

Reading the Weibo comments, Ding Sishu breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, her Weibo had nothing on it and she followed no one. It looked like a simple alternate account. And her Weibo hadn’t been exposed yet. There wasn’t even a need to expose it, right? There was nothing on her Weibo.

She hadn’t even gotten famous yet, and people were already critiquing her looks. If she actually became famous, that would be a disaster. Ding Sishu felt a pang of sympathy for Nian Qiao. If she were like Nian Qiao—famous at a young age, scandals and anti-fans flying side by side—she wouldn’t enjoy the internet either.

A little while later, the production team contacted Ding Sishu to fill her in on the online situation. Her cousin had also said before that this sort of thing was common in the entertainment industry. Usually they’d give a heads-up first—if an accident blossomed into something good, someone would come by to inform you. After all, it was mutually beneficial, and most people didn’t reject it.

“Has Miss Nian agreed?” Ding Sishu asked.

“We spoke with her manager, and the manager said it’s fine,” the production team replied.

That probably meant Nian Qiao didn’t know—such a small matter. “If the manager has no problem, then I don’t either.”

“Thanks.” Since they were hyping a topic, they still had to inform the people involved. The production team also sent Ding Sishu a red envelope. 666.

Unexpected windfall. “Thank you, Boss!”

“[sticking out tongue] You’re the boss! When the topic heats up, don’t forget about us.” The production team also attached a screenshot—the hot search Ding Sishu had just seen. “Inseparable.”

Even though it was at the bottom of the hot search list, ordinary people rarely got the chance to trend at all. Ding Sishu tasted the thrill of latching onto a big shot’s coattails for the first time.

After a busy day, Ding Sishu called Wu Yun. As soon as her three-day leave was up, Ding Sishu went back to the company. She’d originally wanted to ask for another day, but Wu Yun told her to come back first, saying she’d handle everything. Ding Sishu thought, right, exactly—with Sister Yun around, what was there to fear? Ding Sishu slipped back quietly, feeling a bit like she was giving the two of them some alone time.

“We’re at the gynecology hospital,” Wu Yun answered.

“Damn, that fast?” Ding Sishu let out an exclamation of admiration. She’d only been gone for how long, and Sister Yun had already… this quickly…

“Not me. It’s Zhao Mingxu.”

“That impressive?”

“…What are you thinking? I made Zhao Mingxu come get a checkup,” Wu Yun said. “Wang Jian was messing around out there so much, I was afraid Zhao Mingxu might have caught a venereal disease. She refused to come to the hospital, so I shoved her in here.”

“It’s embarrassing, after all.”

“Is face more important, or your life? Besides, the one who embarrassed himself is Wang Jian.”

Zhao Mingxu was feeling a bit low right now. Before, Wu Yun had been busy with the wedding; now, she was busy with the broken engagement. It was a bit like “doing things properly from start to finish.” The parents’ stance was a bit conservative—the older generation always advised reconciling rather than separating. Especially the Wang family; they were still trying to stall, saying the house was bought, the renovation was done. And it wasn’t that big a deal. In their eyes, this wasn’t a big deal. Even if a “human life” had been conceived, they’d happily become grandparents. The day before the wedding, Ding Sishu had also met the Wang family. The Wang family had indeed treated Zhao Mingxu well, seemingly taking her as a real “daughter.” But this “daughter” wasn’t a real son. Now that a problem had arisen, their words still sided with their real son. They claimed not to treat her as an outsider, but when real trouble hit, Zhao Mingxu was the biggest outsider of all.

Wu Yun had predicted this. When Wu Yun had the female guests crouch beside Wang Jian to record videos, Ding Sishu had been quite puzzled. When Wu Yun sent the lawyer’s documents, Ding Sishu understood. Wu Yun was fighting for Zhao Mingxu’s property. The videos were public opinion—the more public opinion, the more favorable things were for Zhao Mingxu.