Chapter Twenty-Nine: Awaiting the Right Moment

Wen Jingxing put away his phone and immediately went to find Song Waning. Some things, he felt, were better clarified.

Knock, knock, knock.

He reached out his long, slender fingers to rap on the door. Inside, hurried footsteps sounded almost at once.

Soon after, the door opened.

Song Waning was surprised that Wen Jingxing would come looking for her so late.

Wen Jingxing, for his part, was slightly astonished by her attire. Was this how Song Waning dressed in private?

She wore a red camisole dress, its hem barely covering the tops of her thighs.

Her skin was pale as jade, rendered even more enchanting against the deep crimson.

Noticing his gaze lingered, Song Waning suddenly realized and blushed at the tips of her ears. "I'll go change!"

Without waiting for his reply, she closed the door.

Song Waning herself wasn't keen on wearing that nightdress, but for some reason, the original owner had only brought that one. It was fine to wear in private, but how could she appear like that before others? She was a little embarrassed.

When she returned, she had donned a skirt that reached her knees.

The two sat on the small sofa in the sitting room.

The sofa wasn't very large, yet they managed to leave a space between them, enough for a third person.

Song Waning spoke first. "Did you need something from me?"

"Yes, I wanted to ask about what happened at the hot spring tonight," Wen Jingxing replied straightforwardly.

Song Waning muttered quietly, "Didn't you say you wouldn't ask if I didn't want to talk about it..."

Wen Jingxing smiled, finding her unexpectedly endearing.

"That phone isn’t yours, is it? And now that you have a phone, you must have seen the trending topics about you online."

"Yes, I've seen them," Song Waning replied calmly.

Wen Jingxing watched her expression closely.

Most people would be affected by online harassment—some severely, to the point their mental health or even safety was at risk.

But she appeared utterly unperturbed, as if none of it touched her.

"Doesn’t it bother you?" he asked.

"Not at all. It’s all lies—how could any of it become real?"

These verbal attacks were nothing. In her previous life, those old men at court not only made veiled threats but plotted in secret to kill her and overthrow the realm.

"Do you know who’s behind it?" he asked.

"I do," she replied.

Wen Jingxing was a bit surprised, but it also made perfect sense—otherwise, how could tonight’s events be explained?

"Have you thought about how to deal with it?"

"Hmm... I have. There are so many ways—like pretending to be friendly while secretly undermining her, or praising her so much she’s destroyed by her own reputation, or delivering a decisive blow..."

He watched the petite woman counting off schemes on her fingers, completely unconcerned with how others might judge her.

He actually found it quite amusing.

Perhaps she was too absorbed in her explanation, for Song Waning revealed a little about what had happened tonight—just enough for Wen Jingxing to catch on.

"You said you filmed Jian Anan at the hot spring because she was trying to film you?"

As he spoke, Wen Jingxing moved closer, taking hold of Song Waning’s wrist, as if she might escape.

In truth, Song Waning hadn’t intended to talk about it. First, she thought it was trivial; second, she wasn’t that familiar with Wen Jingxing—it felt a bit awkward.

But his grip was firm, making it impossible for her to pull away, though not painful.

After a moment’s hesitation, seeing no way to avoid it, she finally spoke. "Yes, Jian Anan called a paparazzo to secretly take photos of me at the hot spring. But before he could, I caught him, beat him up, and borrowed his phone."

She paused, her eyes still bright. "Then it came in handy—I filmed the entire process of Jian Anan trying to seduce you."

"She... tried to seduce me?" Wen Jingxing’s mouth twitched. So that’s what Jian Anan was scheming.

His expression darkened. "Give me the video. I’ll take care of the rest."

"No need; I want to handle it myself," Song Waning shook her head. Such a deep grudge—she wanted to settle it personally.

Wen Jingxing didn’t object. "Alright, but if you need help, come to me."

"We'll wait for the right moment—when Jian Anan makes a statement online, we'll release the video. It’ll be quite a spectacle."

When Song Waning filmed that video tonight, she’d felt a twinge of guilt. For any woman, being exposed to the entire internet would be unbearable.

But Jian Anan had repeatedly tried to frame her.

Song Waning was utterly fed up with her endless nonsense.

"Fine, I’ll help you when the time comes."

Song Waning looked up in confusion—how would he help her?

But she didn’t ask, instead saying, "I do have one thing I need your help with: finding a man with a mole on his ear."

Wen Jingxing nodded and pulled out his phone. "I’ve already found him."

Song Waning was taken aback—so fast? And he had a phone too?

Wen Jingxing explained, "I have a lot of work—can’t afford to be offline for a month. The director made an exception so I could bring work with me."

"Oh, I see."

Song Waning wondered privately why Wen Jingxing, so busy with work, would come on this show. Even if his grandfather forced him, he’d already compromised and agreed to the marriage alliance.

She took the phone from Wen Jingxing and looked at the photo. "It’s him!? I’ve seen him several times already."

He was the one who took her to dinner on the first day, and tonight, he’d brought her to the hot spring.

Wen Jingxing was puzzled. "You know him?"

"Not exactly—we’ve met a few times, know each other, but for some reason, we don’t get along."

She couldn’t explain it—there was just something about him that didn’t sit right.

At their first meeting, he’d commented that she and Wen Shao would break off their engagement—Song Waning hadn’t liked him since.

"What do you plan to do? Expose him or find a reason to dismiss him?" Wen Jingxing asked.

"Well..." Song Waning pondered. "What’s his main job?"

"He handles props."

"Then let’s first figure out how he gave the phone to Jian Anan. After that, find a reason to let him go—someone dishonest shouldn’t stay in the crew."

"Alright, I’ll tell the director."

Song Waning handed the phone back, feeling odd at how he kept referring to the director.

Was his relationship with his sister-in-law so strained?

It made sense to call her ‘director’ at work, but even in private? It felt too formal.

Though curious, she didn’t ask.

In that short span, Song Waning checked online—every negative trending topic about her had disappeared.

The tag #ClarifySongWaning# was back at the top.