Chapter 33

Le Yiqiu had spent a month living by the seaside, and at last, her script had taken shape. She named it When Flowers Fall.

It told the story of their love, blooming in full splendor only to be crushed by human nature and the cruel hand of the era.

Completing a script in just one month was lightning-fast, but in truth, she had only finished a rough draft.

The finer details would require countless revisions, as would the logic and character personalities, each needing meticulous polishing, over and over.

It would be more accurate to call it an embryo than a finished script.

The final product might end up similar to this draft—or it might bear no resemblance at all.

At this stage, she could no longer simply sit and write. She needed to study relevant knowledge, immerse herself in life experiences, scour research materials, flesh out the characters, and refine the plot logic.

None of that could be done on Jade Terrace. She had to return to Jianglin City.

The protagonist was an actress, so she needed professional expertise, details on the events of that era, its stylistic hallmarks, and the folk customs of the time.

Only after mastering those could the script truly become a complete work.

What she had written so far focused solely on the romance between the two female leads. To make it richer, she needed to weave in the surrounding plot.

And throughout that month, Le Yiqiu had video-called Lin Xianing every day.

As soon as Lin Xianing got off work, they would connect. Lin Xianing would go about her own tasks while Le Yiqiu sat by the window, gazing at the sea view as she worked on the script.

On days when Lin Xianing wasn’t busy during the daytime, Le Yiqiu would take her phone, turn on the video, and they would stroll along the beach together, sharing their insights.

Having acted in so many roles, Lin Xianing had her own unique perspectives on scripts.

Le Yiqiu always came away with valuable suggestions, which she then incorporated into revisions.

Though the physical distance between them was vast, their hearts had grown even closer.

On the day she left, Le Yiqiu sent Lin Xianing a message saying she had boarded the plane. She received no reply even before takeoff.

A few days earlier, she had already told Lin Xianing about her return. Lin Xianing usually only went silent during shoots.

The crew had relocated again, still in the outskirts of Jianglin City, a two- or three-hour drive from Lin Xianing’s home.

The distance was too great, so Lin Xianing had opted to stay at the crew’s hotel.

Filming a movie required dozens of locations, large and small. This one was relatively convenient, looping around the Jianglin area.

Some films dragged crews across the country or even overseas, which was far more grueling.

The domestic flight from Jade Terrace to Jianglin City wasn’t too long—just two hours.

When Le Yiqiu landed, she still hadn’t heard back from Lin Xianing. She sent another message: Landed in Jianglin City.

She hailed a taxi, planning to head straight home.

She had assumed that after a month, the paparazzi staking out the neighborhood entrance would have given up.

But the moment she stepped out of the taxi and took a few paces, she spotted someone snapping photos of her.

Le Yiqiu tugged her hat lower. Her warmest clothes from Jade Terrace were just a knitted sweater, and Jianglin City’s weather hovered around ten degrees Celsius—chilly indeed.

She quickened her pace toward home, but someone refused to let her. A man rushed up and splashed a bottle of water right at her. Cameras clicked furiously nearby, and phones were already raised to record. They had clearly planned this.

Being doused with water out of nowhere on a dreary, rainy day, with the wind howling cold—it ignited a blaze of fury in Le Yiqiu’s chest.

She overheard them muttering, “Waited a whole month for her to finally show.”

“Look at herself. Better hurry up and divorce Xiaxia.”

“If she doesn’t, next time it won’t be just mineral water.”

Le Yiqiu could no longer contain her rage. She lunged forward and kicked the man who had splashed her, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The others panicked at her retaliation.

But Le Yiqiu had no intention of letting them off. She pulled out her phone and dialed the police. “Hello, I’ve been splashed with an unknown liquid at the entrance to Jiangnan Neighborhood.”

“No adverse reactions so far, but I’m calling an ambulance for a checkup right away.”

The moment they heard her reporting them, the group tried to flee, but property management staff rushed out and pinned them down.

The neighborhood wasn’t ultra-luxury, but its management company had a stellar reputation. Le Yiqiu was a familiar face, owning multiple units and always generous with tips—one of their priority residents.

The gate security had spotted her sharp-eyed and prepared to greet her, only to witness the splash. They radioed for backup, who arrived just in time.

Le Yiqiu thanked them profusely, then turned to the attackers. “There are cameras everywhere. You won’t get away.”

Her second call was for an ambulance; the third went to Zhao Yu, briefing her on the incident and asking her to line up a top lawyer.

The flurry of decisive actions left the group terrified.

Some people never considered consequences, especially since many celebrities let slide rumors and harassment to protect their image, emboldening the worst offenders.

Radical anti-fans, driven by impulse, might do anything—and that was why so many entertainers splurged on secure housing, buying or renting only the best.

Le Yiqiu was livid. She had just returned to Jianglin City, only to be assaulted right at her own doorstep.

Fortunately, the local police station was nearby, and officers arrived swiftly to haul the group away.

She was taken to the hospital for checks, including tests on the splashed liquid. The results confirmed it was just mineral water.

After a shower back home, Le Yiqiu headed to the station to give her statement. The rest was in the lawyers’ hands.

She demanded the maximum penalties possible.

She wasn’t one to repay evil with kindness; she settled scores. These people had already disrupted her life, and now they had escalated to physical assault. Mineral water this time—what next? They needed a harsh lesson.

It also served as a warning to anyone still watching her: she wasn’t an entertainer who would forgive threats for the sake of reputation.

With lawyers handling the aftermath, Le Yiqiu stepped back.

The incident had soured her plans to rest at home, so the very next day, she called a moving company.

With her address exposed, who knew what deranged anti-fans might attempt next.

Fortunately, Langua Neighborhood was fully renovated and ready; she only had miscellaneous items to transport.

Packing the abundance of household goods took her two full days before the movers arrived.

Le Yiqiu loaded valuables into her own car; the rest went with the professionals.

After two days of frenzy, the splashers’ fates were decided: ten days’ detention for the main culprit, three for the conspirators. It felt too lenient.

After all, it was only mineral water, not poison. Without a lawyer, it might have ended in a mere warning.

Still, for those involved, it would be unforgettable.

Four perpetrators, three students. She had their schools and workplaces notified of the full story and detentions. Disciplinary actions were inevitable. If you dared the act, you faced the consequences.

No normal person skips school or work to lurk at a stranger’s home, splashing and threatening.

Her own move was done anyway, so she tuned out their drama.

She wanted no part of it, but others were eager to blow it up.

The police report had barely dropped when shadowy forces began steering public opinion.

RichAndPowerfulRunWild#

LinXianingPartnerAbusesPrivilege#

—Even after years out of the spotlight, Le Yiqiu was still a semi-public figure, partner to Film Queen Lin Xianing, who wielded massive influence. Shouldn’t a public figure setting a bad example—bullying students into detention—face condemnation?

Countless marketing accounts pumped out vague, insinuating posts to stoke malicious speculation.

The hashtags climbed the trending charts, Lin Xianing’s name boosting clicks by hundreds of thousands per second.

Comments were split down the middle for Le Yiqiu.

[What happened? I don’t get it. Someone explain the tea.]

[Didn’t the post say? Le Yiqiu pulled strings to get students detained.]

[Are you kidding? What pull does Le Yiqiu even have?]

[Naive. The students’ families spoke out—Le Yiqiu’s the reason they’re locked up.]

[Detention needs cause, right? No details from the OP, and you all jump on Le Yiqiu? Believing rumors over facts?]

[But what could students do to her? She quit the crew and scripting gig—total NEET. Anything’s possible.]

[Modern netizens are a riot. Works? Backdoor privilege. Quits? Lazy bum. Y’all clueless about Le Yiqiu’s resume.]

[Resume? Without Lin Xianing, who’d know Le Yiqiu?]

[Director major here: Her two grad films are legendary. Teacher used Solitary City as a case study. The ‘waste’ you trash is our unreachable god.]

[For real? Sounds exaggerated.]

[Exaggerated? Teacher said if she hadn’t gone quiet these years, she’d outshine even Lou Hansong. Directors normally drop one film every five or ten years—maybe she’s just waiting for the right script.]

[Excuses. Lou Hansong pumps out a flick a year. Le Yiqiu can’t compare—lmao.]

Online takes on Le Yiqiu ran the gamut, mostly from haters.

She was wealthy, married to goddess Lin Xianing—prime envy material.

If she’d stayed a prodigy director, the vitriol might have been less. But years of silence, no hits? They pounced.

In truth, that director student was spot-on: most directors took years per project. Hardly “spent talent.”

Le Yiqiu learned of the online storm from Lin Xianing.

Monitors spotted the trends and reported up instantly.

The pushers timed it for dead-of-night virality. By briefing time, topics hit top three.

Summer Entertainment investigated post-trend, quickly unearthing the facts.

Lin Xianing called Le Yiqiu the moment she heard.

“Are you okay? Sure it was just water?”

Her worried voice crackled through the phone. Le Yiqiu blinked, then realized.

“I’m fine. Checked out—mineral water.”

Sensing Lin Xianing’s anxiety, Le Yiqiu soothed her gently. “Don’t worry. I’ve moved. Won’t happen again.”

After days of chaos, the new place was settled, though she still fumbled for items amid the unfamiliarity. But the environment was worlds better—no disturbances.

“Moved?” Lin Xianing’s tone dipped, tinged with displeasure. “Didn’t you say no?”

She had asked twice if Le Yiqiu planned to move—firm no both times.

Yet after a month on Jade Terrace, Le Yiqiu had up and relocated.

Le Yiqiu hurried to clarify, lest misunderstanding bloom. “That house isn’t the home I grew up in anymore—just a renovated shell.”

“Address leaked, paparazzi dodging security to my building. They know the floor now. Safety risk for me and neighbors.”

“Mm…” She drew out the sound playfully. “I only cohabit with my girlfriend, you know.”

She mimicked a coy TV drama lilt, feigning bashfulness.

Simple as that: her reasons for moving—and not living with Lin Xianing.

Cohabitation? Sure. Girlfriend first.

Lin Xianing caught the subtext, cheeks flushing as her irritation melted.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat. “The company will handle the online mess. Don’t stress.”

“Okay.”

Silence fell, broken only by each other’s steady breaths over the line—an inexplicable comfort.

Before hanging up, Lin Xianing asked suddenly, “Where’s the new place?”

“Langua Neighborhood, Building Six, 2201.”

The neighborhoods bordered each other—how could she not know?

Le Yiqiu added slyly, “You’re welcome anytime.”

Lin Xianing’s lips curved into a smile. She was clearly very pleased with her words.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t caught a glimpse of it. If she had, she definitely would have teased Lin Xianing mercilessly.

They hadn’t been on the call for long when Lin Xianing mentioned her night shoots and had to rush off to the set. The two hung up.

Le Yiqiu had just told Lin Xianing she was planning to visit the set. Now she was mulling over what she should bring.

After dealing with the Lin family’s love for surprise visits, her heart really couldn’t take it anymore.

Sudden drop-ins could be fun surprises, but they were far more likely to be pure scares.

Plus, considering all the online gossip swirling about her and Lin Xianing, it was smarter to give a heads-up before showing up.

She wanted to keep the visit low-key, but Lin Xianing had urged her to arrive in grand style—to help squash those rumors once and for all.

Rumors never truly vanished, but fewer was always better.

With that thought, Le Yiqiu lifted her phone, flipping to the front camera. She held it high to capture as much of the living room as possible, then fired off the photo to Lin Xianing.

—My place. Looks nice, right?

—Wanna come over and hang out?

—The kind where you don’t head home at night.

Lin Xianing: Get lost.

The image of Lin Xianing’s classic tsundere pout instantly popped into Le Yiqiu’s mind, and she burst out laughing.