Chapter Thirty: Anxious Heart

At that moment, Song Waning’s phone rang again. She glanced at it—it was Jian An’an.

Jian An’an: [Hurry up and reply! Did you get the photos or not? If you’re so incompetent, why did you take my fifty thousand in the first place!?]

Song Waning raised an eyebrow. From the way Jian An’an spoke earlier, she’d assumed the sum was much higher. So it was just fifty thousand? While the Song family couldn't compare to some of the other contestants’ backgrounds, they were more than a match for someone like Jian An’an.

It puzzled her—how did Jian An’an even get into this dating show for the wealthy? There was no mention in the book of her pulling strings behind the scenes.

Wen Jingxing, noticing her staring at her phone, leaned in to take a look. "How are you going to respond?"

Prompted by his question, Song Waning suddenly had an idea. Her eyes narrowed mischievously, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Let’s have a little fun first—see if I can swindle her out of more money.”

She slowly tapped out a few words on the keyboard, still a bit unfamiliar with typing on this device. Wen Jingxing watched her curiously—just earlier, she’d been typing quickly; now, she was going so slow?

Most Dedicated Reporter: [I got the photos.]

This was Fang Cheng’s WeChat name, and his profile picture was a street photo of a woman in a red dress. No matter how you looked at it, the account owner seemed to have an air of flamboyance about them.

Jian An’an: [Why are you just replying now? If you’ve got the photos, send them over!]

Most Dedicated Reporter: [Is that how you ask for a favor?]

Song Waning also noticed that Jian An’an had become increasingly impatient and agitated. The more desperate Jian An’an got, the slower she responded—deliberately keeping her hanging.

Jian An’an, for her part, was starting to suspect that this paparazzo was simply trying to extort her for more money. She was annoyed; if only she hadn’t paid upfront! Now the demands just kept growing. Feeding a stray dog, she thought bitterly.

Cursing inwardly, she nevertheless softened her tone on WeChat.

Jian An’an: [Sorry, I admit I’m anxious. I’m pressed for time, so I just want to get the photos quickly. Thank you for your trouble.]

Jian An’an: [Send me the photos first, and I’ll transfer the remaining fifty thousand to you.]

Most Dedicated Reporter: [Only fifty thousand? That’s way too little! Do you know how dangerous it was for me? I was almost discovered—ended up tumbling down the mountain in my panic.]

Jian An’an: [That’s too much! Are you hurt?]

Most Dedicated Reporter: [No big deal, just a broken leg. Maybe you could help out with some medical expenses—seventy thousand would do.]

Jian An’an glared at her phone. “Seventy thousand? Why not just rob me outright!?”

But it was already past ten o’clock. According to the insider tip she’d received, the “Let’s Fall in Love” official Weibo would post a statement at midnight clarifying whether she’d actually injured her leg and addressing the false accusations against Song Waning.

Time was running out. She had to dig up more dirt on Song Waning before then. The trending topic she’d paid so much for was already wiped clean—no trace left. Jian An’an was beside herself. Who was helping Song Waning from behind the scenes?

No one in the Wen family liked Song Waning except the old man. The Song family didn’t like her either. And since the show contestants were cut off from their phones, there was no way Song Waning was getting updates. The trending topics should have been hers to manipulate, so why was every one she posted being deleted immediately?

All the money she’d spent boosting topics was going down the drain. Watching her funds flow away so quickly made her heart bleed. She knew the paparazzo was blackmailing her, but she was powerless to stop it.

She checked her bank balance—only one hundred and fifty thousand left. Gritting her teeth, she transferred one hundred and twenty thousand.

Jian An’an: [There, you’ve got your money. Now send me the photos.]

Song Waning saw how long it took for the money to arrive and guessed Jian An’an had transferred it only as a last resort. She knew that while Jian An’an’s family couldn't match the Songs, Jian An’an herself was a popular singer and hardly short on cash.

Unfortunately, all her hard work was eaten up by her many sisters, who relied on her to support them. Jian An’an could never save much. Especially recently, with trouble brewing in the Jian family, Jian An’an’s finances were even tighter.

Song Waning didn’t have access to Fang Cheng’s bank account, so she couldn’t actually receive the money. Still, she decided to find a photo for Jian An’an.

She was about to open the video when she remembered Wen Jingxing was watching. She turned to tell him to give her some privacy—only to realize how close they were, their faces nearly touching, her nose almost brushing his.

That hazy, warm sensation was hard to identify. She pretended not to notice and said, “Wait a moment, I’ll find a photo for her.” At the same time, she subtly moved a little farther away from Wen Jingxing.

He noticed her wary little move, frowned slightly, but said nothing—just replied coolly, “Alright.”

Song Waning hesitated with her hand on the video, glancing at Wen Jingxing. Was he upset? But his eyes remained dark and inscrutable, his expression unreadable.

She turned back to her phone, searching the video for the segment where, after undressing, Jian An’an heard her movements and turned toward the camera—capturing a still of that moment. Then, she opened her editing app, blurred the image further, especially Jian An’an’s face, and sent the picture over.

Jian An’an’s eyes widened at the photo. Who would have thought Song Waning, who always seemed so proper, had such a stunning figure beneath it all? She remembered seeing Song Waning pick out two outfits in the changing room, but apparently, she’d ended up wearing nothing at all.

She sneered inwardly—what a pretender, this Song Waning. Still, she sent a message.

Jian An’an: [Why is the photo so blurry?]

That was the one flaw—it hardly seemed worth the hundred and twenty thousand she’d just paid.

Most Dedicated Reporter: [Didn’t you see her turn around? And with all the steam at the hot springs, plus me tumbling down the mountain, I barely escaped with a broken leg! What more do you want!?]

Song Waning, having read Fang Cheng’s previous chats with Jian An’an, imitated his tone perfectly.

There was no reply for a while. Song Waning thought Jian An’an had finally quieted down.

But then the big V discussion group pinged.

Song Waning opened it—Jian An’an was in there, posting.

Jian An’an: [Fresh, hot gossip—anyone interested?]