Back at Yellow Garden, the world seemed paused.

Hua Jing lay peacefully on the bed—her breathing gentle, hands resting across pale sheets. She looked fragile yet ethereal, as though born from moonlight. The furious storm outside could not reach this quiet sanctuary.

Fu Jing Rong sat upon a simple cot by her side. No plush blankets, no luxury—just enough comfort to rest his head close to hers. He stared, utterly still, as though even blinking might shatter the fragile peace.

This place had been transformed for her, every corner filled with love.

The chaos outside—fans, reporters, lawsuits—had no reach here. Only soft hum of the air conditioning, the faint clink of medical devices, and Hua Jing’s steady inhale exhale.

He found himself drifting backwards—memories flooding his mind. To that first time he truly saw her.

Back then, the world had been simpler.

He was already a superstar, a golden figure on every magazine. Cameras flashed wherever he walked. Everyone—every single person in his orbit—played a role. Polite bow, practiced smile. Praise in public, whispers behind closed doors.

Except her.

He’d been hitting career-high ratings, media acclaim, gaudy awards—none of it felt real.

Then came the scandal: a wave of malicious rumors, bots and trolls flooding his social media. Some water army was hired to smear him, painting him a fraud, a jerk, someone toxic.

The scandal was going to be handled later but the backlash had been quite great already.

Many people had already been waiting for this, waiting for his downfall.

Most of them spoke evilly behind his back and painted him as this monster that he was not.

He already had a plan of dealing with the people who spread the malicious rumors and after that scandal no one dared to mess with him again.

But...

The word vomit spilt across message boards and forums sickened him. With each new post, he felt more... hollow.

Then, one afternoon, he saw her.

She was at a movie set—a supporting actress slightly new, tucked into a corner.

The two of them were under the same management but they never saw each other because of their different statuses.

The camerasaving rumble started, and the trolls struck. He was angry, weary, so tired of the lies.

He was already quite exhausted and was contemplating leaving the entertainment industry and go back to being the stoic head of Fu corporation.

Hua Jing was in the midst of some extras and a few cast members as they were speaking softly.

One of them said, "I cannot believe that the top actor Fu Jing Rong has been caught in this type of scandal anyways it does not concern me but all I can say is I am quite happy that he is involved in this!"

Another one quickly chimed in, "I am quite thrilled as well and I truly believe that he did all those things that he is being accused of!"

She then turned to Hua Jing, "What about you? What do you think?"

Hua Jing turned. She had been preoccupied with securing the prop but she still understood what they were talking about.

She stood tall—shoulders squared, voice calm but firm. "That’s not him," she said. And to the studio staff: "We all know who he truly is."

It shocked him. Because nobody did that. Feigned loyalty, sure. But real conviction?

He’d looked into her eyes that day and seen honesty.

In that flash of time, the way her gaze didn’t flicker—didn’t waver—something inside him shifted. He realized, with a jagged shiver: this wasn’t admiration. He felt something deeper.

This was not the first time they were meeting but this changed a lot of things for them.

After this, they became friends and he realized the more he got to know her, the deeper he was getting into this hole he never knew he would rise out of.

This brought them here...

He remembered that trembling moment, blood pumping like crazy. It came with sharp clarity, as if he’d just awoken from sleep. The thought ignited something fierce: he was in love.

He should’ve been disgusted—discounted her reputation. She was just a rookie. He was a titan. But instead... he was acutely aware of the loneliness of fame, the emptiness of staged applause.

She had breached the wall. She had seen him—not the image. Him.

He had never felt something like this before. All that surrounded him, whether back home or at work was fake admiration that came from people who did not care slightly about him.

They only wanted a piece of what he could offer.

Only she...

Only she was the one who could fight for him that way.

Only she would save him from bandits nn that other world. Only she would stand in front of the sword for him.

She was also the only person she wanted in this wide world.

No one else...

Never anyone else...

And now, here he was. His heart pounding for her again. Something more powerful than scandal, more transformative than any comeback. This was love that knocked him off balance.

He swallowed hard. It was frightening... sacred.

Gently, he reached their hands. Cold to the touch, her skin still looking like fragile porcelain. His chest tightened.

She was getting paler and paler and he felt the fear creeping so deep that one day she might just turn so light and disappear.

He would not know what he would do then!

Everything he’d ever been, everything he’d built, had led to this moment.

He hated that years of fame, schemes, betrayals, and plot twists—had circled back to this simple core: her.

The memory faded as night deepened. But that first spark—still lit inside him, bright and urgent.

He exhaled softly and leaned his head closer.

He was here—for her. Forever.

His hands lightly held hers as if he was afraid he was going to hurt her.

Suddenly, he felt delirious and the only name he could utter was hers.

"Hua Jing..."

He started softly. The sound and name were both sweet.

He quickly became addicted, calling out a few more times.

"Hua Jing..."