The poor puppy holding on

### Chapter 23

The elbow of an adult man came crashing toward her.

Xu Fengluan saw it coming but didn’t dodge. Instead, she seized the moment he exerted force, yanking back hard.

The elbow struck her head. Though the helmet absorbed some impact, the blow still jarred it askew.

But the DSLR was finally in her hands.

A muffled grunt escaped her. Her mind blanked momentarily, the lingering discomfort from her earlier sprint intensifying. Blood seemed to surge up her throat, the sweet taste from before gone, replaced by a nauseating metallic tang.

No time to recover—the paparazzo lunged, desperate to reclaim the camera.

The van’s driver, catching the scene in the mirror, cursed, “You useless idiot!”

His shout snapped Xu Fengluan awake. She kicked the paparazzo, sending him crashing into the window.

But this reckless move put her in grave danger. Positioned by the open door in a speeding vehicle, fierce winds roared in. One misstep, and she’d be swept out.

Her left hand gripped the driver’s seat, her right clutched the camera, and her foot pinned the paparazzo, blocking his advance. Multitasking, she was stretched to her limit.

Seeing this, the driver panicked. One hand on the wheel, the other reached back for her.

Xu Fengluan dodged, but he leaned further, causing the wheel to swerve. The van shook, veering off the smooth asphalt onto a bumpy gravel road, worsening the situation.

Even Chu Cheng, trailing behind, didn’t dare ride too fast, barely keeping up, her expression grim.

Inside, the three struggled. Each time Xu Fengluan pushed the driver’s hand away, the paparazzo tried to lunge. She kicked him back, pinning his shoulder. Before she could react, the driver reached again.

Thankfully, the area was remote, with few cars, or the consequences could’ve been catastrophic.

“I’ll delete it! I’ll delete it, okay?!” the paparazzo, taking another kick to the face, lost his temper and roared.

The driver shouted, “Give us the camera, and I swear we’ll delete your photos clean!”

Xu Fengluan kicked again, her voice muffled through the helmet, “Stop the van first.”

“Give me the camera!” the paparazzo grimaced in pain.

“Stop the van!”

“Give it back!”

“Stop!”

Xu Fengluan couldn’t trust them. Liu Tingsong had just returned to the country, appearing only at a gala and one livestream. Fans, restless with anticipation, had pushed her two Weibo posts to trending, while Zhang’s and the show’s accounts were flooded with complaints and demands for updates.

In such a frenzy, what paparazzo wouldn’t chase a scoop?

Delete it so easily? No way.

The struggle continued. Xu Fengluan kicked and shoved, her strength waning, breathing heavy and rapid, fogging her helmet’s visor.

Chu Cheng, behind, watched in horror. The silver van swerved left, then right, rattling incessantly, sounding like it might fall apart.

“Give it back!” a shout erupted from the van.

“Stop the van!” Xu Fengluan’s voice followed.

Before Chu Cheng could react, a sharp turn appeared ahead. Her heart nearly stopped as she screamed, “Turn right!”

“Turn! Now!”

Her voice broke with panic, but it was too late. The driver yanked the wheel, but the van skidded, careening into a field.

*Bang!*

The van crashed down, splashing mud. Unextinguished headlights lit up flying insects. Distant barking echoed relentlessly.

“A-Feng!” Chu Cheng shouted, ignoring the danger. She braked hard, not even stabilizing the bike before leaping off. It crashed to the ground with a *thud*.

She didn’t look back, jumping into the field, racing toward the van.

“A-Feng!” Her voice trembled with fear, repeating, “Xu Fengluan!”

Her long legs slogged through mud, pushing forward.

In the dim light, Chu Cheng’s face was ashen, her usual carefree demeanor gone.

No response came from the van. Her heart sank, sweat chilling in the wind.

“Xu Fengluan!”

“Answer me!”

The muddy field grew harder to navigate, her clothes and face splattered.

“Xu Fengluan!” Panic overwhelmed her, her legs nearly giving out.

Then, coughing broke the silence. She couldn’t tell who, but they were alive—better than she’d feared.

Relief surged. She leapt forward, her strides outpacing others.

Reaching the van, she saw the door had torn off, the left side flipped up, letting her peer inside.

In the faint light, she spotted a white helmet, then Xu Fengluan.

Her voice cracked with tears.

Xu Fengluan reacted slowly, pausing before waving a hand, signaling she was okay.

More coughing—now clearly the driver’s.

“Can you move? Should I pull you out?” Chu Cheng, though frantic, feared worsening any injuries, hesitant to tug.

Xu Fengluan finally spoke, “Pull me out.”

Her muffled voice showed no other issues. Chu Cheng, always brash, assumed she was fine, exhaling, “You scared the hell out of me.”

Xu Fengluan didn’t reply, unsure why.

Chu Cheng didn’t dwell, grabbing her arm. Xu Fengluan gripped her wrist, and together they hauled her out.

Once out, Xu Fengluan collapsed onto the van, still clutching the camera. Chu Cheng, exasperated yet amused, stood panting, hands on hips.

After a moment, Xu Fengluan removed her dented helmet, revealing a pale face.

She glanced at it, grateful it had spared her worse injury.

Still, she was in rough shape—face deathly white, tee torn, legs and arms scraped, though the darkness hid the extent.

“Save them first,” Xu Fengluan gasped, squeezing out her last strength.

Chu Cheng, seeing her relatively okay, relaxed halfway. She reached into the van, less gently with the paparazzo, yanking his head out. Confirming he could move, she opened the driver’s door.

It wasn’t as bad as it looked.

The driver, distracted by the struggle, had slowed the van. The gravel road and soft field cushioned the crash, preventing a rollover. All three were relatively unharmed.

The driver, on the left and belted, had only glass cuts, nothing serious. After Chu Cheng opened his door, he climbed out, helping his partner.

“I’m going up,” Chu Cheng said to Xu Fengluan.

“Can you walk, or should I carry you?” Still worried, she didn’t fully trust Xu Fengluan’s state.

“I’m fine,” Xu Fengluan muttered, standing and taking two steps to reassure her.

Chu Cheng grinned, “Let me help you. This field’s a mess.”

She supported Xu Fengluan, who didn’t resist. They trudged through, splashing mud, ruining crops.

The driver, sitting against the van, looked dizzy, head lowered.

The paparazzo, more injured, was soaked in mud, gasping heavily.

In the pitch-black night, faint starlight and dim headlights barely lit the way.

Chu Cheng, earlier driven by worry, now struggled, helping Xu Fengluan through the mud.

On solid ground, their legs were caked in mud, heavy as lead.

Xu Fengluan couldn’t climb the ridge, slumping down, finally opening the camera.

Chu Cheng leaned in, baffled by her desperation. Even the paparazzi were frantic. Normally, if escape failed, they’d negotiate, deleting photos for a small sum. But this chase went to the suburbs.

The screen lit up with thumbnails. Xu Fengluan scrolled quickly, passing her and Chu Cheng’s photos, until a familiar face appeared.

It was Liu Tingsong.

Her expression darkened, lips a tight line.

Chu Cheng saw Liu Tingsong’s face, leaning closer, muttering, “When did she show up? No wonder you’re so…”

Her words faltered, stammering, “This… this is?”

The screen showed the blonde actress playing the noble’s mistress, one arm around roses, the other around Liu Tingsong. Liu didn’t reciprocate but didn’t resist either. The paparazzo’s angle was cunning, making it look like a kiss.

This was the scene Xu Fengluan had misunderstood—and the paparazzo had captured it too.

She scrolled further, from later to earlier moments:

– Liu Tingsong and Camille, holding flowers, walking side by side in a lit hallway.
– At the theater entrance, Camille, delighted, sniffing the bouquet.
– Liu Tingsong watching Camille receive flowers from a delivery guy.
– Camille clinging to Liu Tingsong’s shoulder, exiting backstage.
– Liu Tingsong leaving alone for backstage.
– Liu Tingsong in the audience, eyes fixed on Camille onstage.

Each photo was more suggestive than the last, like a couple’s montage. If these leaked, tomorrow’s headlines would explode.

Xu Fengluan could imagine the Weibo tags:

#MusicLegendLiuTingsongLikesWomen
#LiuTingsong’sSecretGirlfriend
#LiuTingsongDressedUpForGirlfriend’sShow,ConfessesWithFlowers
#LiuTingsong’sMysteriousYearsAbroadRevealed

Society’s growing acceptance of same-s*x relationships fueled such speculation. Innocent interactions were now misread—an embrace or glance spun into romance. Even clarifying they were friends, few would believe it, assuming a cover-up.

Xu Fengluan stared at the images.

Liu Tingsong’s abrupt retirement years ago remained unexplained. Her return sparked curiosity about her time abroad. These photos would lead people to assume she’d left to chase a lover.

Even if her studio denied it, public perception would stick—people believed what they saw.

Even Chu Cheng misunderstood, her mouth opening and closing, unsure what to say, thinking Liu Tingsong was two-timing, keeping Xu Fengluan while having a new girlfriend.

Her gaze on Xu Fengluan was complex—pity, exasperation, and frustration.

Who said Xu Fengluan was heartless?

Liu Tingsong was playing both sides, yet Xu Fengluan risked her life to protect her ex’s reputation.

Chu Cheng tsked, nearly calling her a fool but holding back, not wanting to rub salt in the wound.

Xu Fengluan ignored her, relieved no photos showed her with Liu Tingsong.

She guessed the paparazzo, somehow aware of Liu Tingsong and Camille’s connection, had staked out the show, trailing them.

Her entanglement with Liu Tingsong likely went unnoticed—he’d waited outside the restroom, left when Liu didn’t emerge, assuming he had enough material.

The shots of her and Chu Cheng were likely taken en route to his accomplice, spotting them and snapping more for CP fans’ money.

Without hesitation, Xu Fengluan deleted the photos, removed the memory card, and snapped it, destroying everything.

The approaching paparazzo’s eyes flashed with resentment but didn’t dare act, intimidated by Xu Fengluan’s earlier ferocity. Both were injured, while Chu Cheng, a towering 1.8 meters, stood unscathed, and Xu Fengluan seemed fine.

He glared, seething but helpless.

As Xu Fengluan suspected, he’d known about Liu Tingsong and Camille, failing to get shots last time but securing today’s ticket. Thinking he’d hit the jackpot—maybe even extorting the studio—he hadn’t counted on Xu Fengluan.

“Ten thousand,” Xu Fengluan said, voice low.

Both men stared.

She shook the camera, adding, “Ten thousand, and it’s mine.”

Her offer had two purposes: peace of mind—despite destroying the photos and card, she wanted the camera too—and compensation. The paparazzi, after days of effort, got nothing, wrecked their van, and were injured. Resentful, they might retaliate. Ten thousand covered repairs and medical costs, settling the matter.

The paparazzo brightened, then looked reluctant.

They couldn’t call the cops—paparazzi work was shady. Even if they pinned reckless driving on Xu Fengluan, her and Liu Tingsong’s studios could crush them in court, not to mention fan backlash.

What would fans do knowing Xu Fengluan was hurt?

And their circle, while many disliked Xu Fengluan, would side with her here. If paparazzi could chase stars like this, who’d be safe?

Stars and paparazzi had a symbiotic relationship. Studios often leaked schedules for exposure, especially for lesser-known celebrities. Paparazzi earned from this. If ostracized, they’d lose that income.

Still, they felt cheated. Those photos could’ve fetched millions from Liu Tingsong’s studio, not a mere ten thousand.

The paparazzo stepped forward, “Twenty thousand, and we forget everything.”

Silence fell, broken by distant barking and approaching footsteps, likely locals checking the crash.

Chu Cheng, still reeling, stood dazed.

Xu Fengluan didn’t answer, toying with the camera, flipping its cover, twisting the lens, like it was a toy.

The men watched, fists clenched, tense.

After a few minutes, she drawled, “Fifteen thousand.”

Ignoring their response, she punched Chu Cheng’s arm, snapping her out of it, shouting, “Stop zoning out! Call someone!”

The bike was wrecked—possibly unrideable. Expensive and delicate, it’d need major repairs. Xu Fengluan loved that bike but couldn’t face checking it.

Money wasn’t the issue; losing the bike hurt. She couldn’t blame Chu Cheng—she’d handed her the keys, chosen to chase. Chu Cheng was just worried. Xu Fengluan owed her thanks.

So, she blamed Liu Tingsong.

If she’d had boundaries, a simple theater visit wouldn’t have sparked this mess.

Sending red roses.

Hugging in public.

Letting someone call her “darling.”

Xu Fengluan’s eyes darkened, forgetting she’d thought the flowers suited Camille, or how she’d pinned Liu Tingsong at the sink, kissing her.

The more she thought, the angrier she got. Those photos deserved deletion. She should’ve extorted Liu Tingsong tenfold to vent.

Chu Cheng, recovered, stepped aside to call for help.

The paparazzi, after a hushed discussion, agreed.

Xu Fengluan glanced up, unsurprised.

She didn’t care about the five thousand but knew if she gave in too easily, they’d regret not asking for more, potentially acting out later.

Maybe she was cynical, but paparazzi who stalked homes, exposed privacy, and chased riches weren’t exactly pure-hearted.

She stayed wary.

Half an hour after Chu Cheng’s call, Kuang Ye arrived with help.

Besides being Burning Meteor’s drummer, Kuang Ye owned a repair shop. Before the band’s success, she funded drum lessons with repair earnings; after, she opened the shop, earning her the nickname “best mechanic-drummer.”

Xu Fengluan and Chu Cheng got into motorcycles through Kuang Ye, who handled their maintenance and mods.

“You okay?” Kuang Ye, always terse, headed straight for Xu Fengluan.

Relieved, Xu Fengluan shook her head, saying little, only, “Get someone to tow their van.”

“Got it,” Kuang Ye nodded. After Chu Cheng’s call, she’d brought trusted crew from the shop.

More hassle followed. The field’s owner arrived. Kuang Ye negotiated, paying a few thousand, then had them bring water to rinse Xu Fengluan and Chu Cheng’s muddy legs before driving them to the hospital.

Xu Fengluan endured silently, showing no weakness from the field to the car. Only inside did she slump, admitting dizziness and leg pain.

She’d hidden her condition in the remote area, with only her and Chu Cheng against two men. Showing weakness might’ve tempted them to try something, and Chu Cheng couldn’t handle both. If they got desperate, who knew what they’d do?

So, she’d sat on the ridge, acting tough until Kuang Ye arrived.

At the hospital, late at night, after frantic tests, Xu Fengluan was admitted to a private room.

Diagnosis: mild concussion and a cracked right leg.