Chapter 2 – Maybe It Was a Setup
1235 Words
Mo Xiaoxi wasn’t known as Tianyu’s top investigative reporter for nothing. Even after what had just happened, she still managed to wake up before deadline—classic professional instincts kicking in.
The moment she lowered her gaze and saw a handsome but utterly exhausted face resting on her neck, her blood boiled.
Scumbag.
Her whole body ached as if torn apart. The dark bruises and shallow scratches covering her skin screamed the truth of what had happened last night. It wasn’t just a bad night—it was utter hell.
That man treated her like an enemy, as if hurting her would somehow solve his problems. No mercy. No restraint.
She rolled her eyes and glared at Ye Zhen. You think you can use me and walk away unscathed? Just wait and see how I ruin you.
She shoved him aside in disgust and got dressed—well, what was left of her clothes, torn to shreds. On the bright side, she could almost pass for a fashion-forward disaster—a "grunge-chic" look that might actually fly in her industry.
Grabbing her camera, she fired off a few shots of Ye Zhen’s sleeping form. Then, with a smug grin, she tossed a red banknote on the bedside table. “Model fee. No freebies.”
She left Huacheng in a hurry, avoiding Tianyu’s office entirely. If her boss, Lan Sijing, saw her in this state, he'd never let her hear the end of it.
Yeah, that bastard would definitely laugh at her.
Just thinking about it made her chest tighten with a bitter sting. Only now, after everything, could she finally admit the vulnerable little crush buried deep in her heart.
Stupid emotions.
She sighed and hailed a cab back to her tiny place at Qingmei Garden, hollowed out and exhausted.
When she pushed the door open, her housemate Jiujiu was curled up in a chair reading, head tilted lazily to one side. She glanced up and offered a faint smile. “Why so late?”
For the first time ever, Mo Xiaoxi found her strange, aloof roommate oddly comforting. Without thinking, she flung herself into Jiujiu’s arms and broke down crying.
“Jiujiu…” The words dissolved into sobs and unintelligible murmurs.
“Go take a shower,” Jiujiu replied flatly, like she was summarizing an article.
Cold. Ruthless. Heartless. That was Jiujiu for you—unmoved even by Mo Xiaoxi’s utter breakdown.
She felt a flash of irritation and almost kicked the girl across the room, but then remembered the time she saw Jiujiu drenched in blood and suddenly decided against it. Maybe Jiujiu was secretly a killer or something—and Mo Xiaoxi had no intention of dying young.
She spent a long time in the shower, trying to scrub off the humiliation and despair clinging to her like oil. The water ran cold, but her tears were hot. By the time she emerged, she was a wrung-out mess.
Jiujiu was in the kitchen mixing bottles of strange potions. When she spotted Mo Xiaoxi, she flashed that same calm smile.
“What are you doing?” Mo Xiaoxi asked warily. “Look, if this is poison or something, I didn’t do anything to you. Murder is still illegal, you know.”
“For bruises and muscle trauma,” Jiujiu replied simply, handing her a small bottle. “You’ll need it.”
Then she walked off like nothing had happened and started typing at her laptop.
Freak. Mo Xiaoxi pouted.
“You’ll need it”? What a curse! She might as well have said: “You'll keep getting beat up forever.”
Still, for all her toughness, Mo Xiaoxi had to admit she was a little scared of Jiujiu. So she shoved the bottle into her bag and bolted out the door.
The next day, the streets exploded.
Photos of Ye Zhen—once known as a refined, untouchable CEO—were plastered everywhere: magazines, tabloids, TV headlines. He had become the talk of the nation overnight.
Turns out, he was just another wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Some people were horrified. Others shrugged. “A rich guy with a few flings? That’s not even news,” they argued. “Besides, you can’t even see who the woman is. Could be fake.”
Back at Ye Zhen’s penthouse, he woke up completely unaware of the media storm. Reaching instinctively for the woman beside him, he found only an empty pillow.
Gone already. Fast runner.
Stretching lazily, he sat up—only to see the red mark she’d left behind. He scoffed. Mo Xiaoxi? That troublemaker still had her virginity, after hanging around that trash Lan Sijing for years? Unexpected.
Then his eyes landed on the table.
A bright pink bill—100 yuan.
“Model fee?”
His heart dropped.
Yep. Definitely a setup.
He called his assistant, confirmed the damage was real, then let out a dark, twisted laugh.
He called Tianyu.
The line connected to Lan Sijing.
“Lan Sijing!” Ye Zhen exploded. “You trying to start a war with me?!”
Lan lounged in the sun, casually crossing one leg over the other. He moved the phone away from his ear until the shouting stopped.
Then he yawned. “Ye Zhen, congratulations. You’re officially a household name.”
“I’ll have your office shut down by tomorrow!” Ye Zhen growled.
“Spooky,” Lan teased. “But if I recall, you haven’t paid us for all the publicity. Really, you should be burning incense and thanking us for our generosity.”
“Oh, so generous,” Ye Zhen hissed. “She stripped herself and offered herself up—free of charge.”
“…What did you say?” Lan’s voice dropped.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know who the girl in the photos was,” Ye Zhen said with a cruel grin. “Tasted pretty sweet. Still fresh, too…”
He didn’t get to finish.
Lan’s phone slammed onto the floor. He raked his hands through his hair, nearly yanking it out.
A few minutes later, he summoned Mo Xiaoxi.
She swaggered in with a crooked grin. “You called, boss?”
“Did that bastard Ye Zhen sleep with you?” Lan blurted, completely lacking subtlety.
Mo Xiaoxi flushed. “What? Dream on.”
He didn’t buy it. She waved her hands and said, “Come on, I’ve been a paparazzi for years. You think I’d mess up something that basic? He’s just biting back out of guilt. Hahaha…”
Lan sighed. “Your laugh is making me want to cry.”
“If you’re really feeling bad for me,” she said slyly, “maybe bump up my salary a little? I mean, what if Ye Zhen starts chasing me down for revenge? At least let me suffer in comfort.”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Lan snapped. “Mo Xiaoxi, what did I tell you? Stay away from that creep! Far away!”
“You’re the one who sent me after him!” she shot back, eyes red.
“I was being sarcastic! Ever heard of reverse psychology?”
Mo Xiaoxi blinked back tears. Then lifted her chin with stubborn pride.
“Well, even if it was a mistake, it’s my mistake. My personal life isn’t your business.”
And with that, she turned and walked away—tears falling silently behind her.
- Writer
