Domineering wife protection

The next few days were rough for Xu Fengluan. It was as if her energy had been drained that night, leaving her groggy and listless.

The doctor visited, assuring it was normal, prescribing sleep aids to help her rest more.

During this time, the Burning Meteor trio stopped by twice, saying something to her, but Xu Fengluan, barely coherent, nodded absently before drifting back to sleep.

They didn’t return after that, partly to avoid disturbing her, partly to dodge being photographed and sparking online rumors. They checked in with Liu Tingsong online instead.

Until today, when the final episode of *Return to the Band* was set to air, a small storm erupted online.

In an obscure corner of S City, an old residential building stood silently. Through rusty window bars, a phone on a worn wooden table rang. Before the second ring, a man with a cast on his left hand grabbed it and answered.

A sharp female voice crackled through the speaker.

“I did what you asked. When do I get the video?”

The man chuckled, “What’s the rush? Relax, once this is over, I’ll destroy the backups.”

“You’d better keep your word. No next time,” the woman threatened shrilly, hanging up.

He wasn’t fazed, smirking triumphantly.

If Xu Fengluan were there, she’d recognize him as the paparazzo from that night. On the couch behind him sat the driver, his expression equally grim.

He opened his phone, revealing a trending topic:

#BurningMeteorMVActressAccusesXuFengluan

In just ten minutes, it had rocketed up the hot search list.

The paparazzo sneered, “I don’t believe she’ll walk away unscathed this time.”

The driver slumped back, dark circles under his eyes, a jagged scar on his cheek.

After that night, their second-hand van was totaled—flipped and waterlogged. Both men were injured: the paparazzo’s arm fractured, the driver cut by shattered glass. With Xu Fengluan taking the camera, they’d have been left with nothing if not for the 150,000 yuan she had Kuang Ye transfer.

But that wasn’t enough. Sleepless, they obsessed over the fame and millions they’d lost.

If those photos had gone out, no one in the industry would dare look down on them. Plus, the millions…

Tossing in bed, the creaky frame fueled their anger.

With that money, would they still be sleeping on this junk?

Xu Fengluan had meddled, deleting not just her photos but Liu Tingsong’s too. What was she playing at, the saint?

It gained her nothing!

Fuming, unable to sleep, they scrolled their phones.

That night in the parking lot, many had seen Xu Fengluan chase the paparazzo, some filming and posting online.

While it didn’t cause her real trouble—some marketing accounts even praised her fiery spirit for standing up to paparazzi—a few haters seized the chance to slam her, calling her unstable and disruptive.

The two men liked every hate comment, seeking some comfort.

But at 1 a.m., those videos vanished.

Confused, they uploaded their saved copies, only for them to be removed within minutes for “violations,” their accounts banned for a month.

They clung to hope until the next day, when news hit: they’d been blacklisted by the entire entertainment industry.

Their worst fears materialized.
@Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

No company or studio would work with them. Peers, currying favor with the powerful, wouldn’t leak a whisper.

They were done in this circle.

Cold sweat soaked their clothes. Despite the summer heat, they felt plunged into an ice pit.

Without this gig, what could they do?

If they could work honest jobs, would they have become paparazzi?

Futureless, consumed by hatred, they returned to their rental and, after days of plotting, dug up an old video.

It featured an actress from a Burning Meteor MV that never released. For unknown reasons, both sides stayed silent, and the band never shot another MV.

A year ago, they’d caught this actress and the MV’s director entering and leaving a hotel together, acting intimate, like lovers.

Crucially, the director was famously devoted, with a family.

After the shoot, he’d paid to bury it.

But the paparazzi, proud of their first big score, kept a backup for “sentimental” reasons.

Now, with their careers ruined, they ignored industry rules, using the video to threaten the actress and director.

They demanded she accuse Xu Fengluan of being abusive on set, harassing her, even hinting at drug use to fuel old rumors.

Unsure how far they could push, they only knew they’d bite Xu Fengluan hard before leaving S City, dragging her down with them, if only to make her suffer.

The paparazzo sneered, turning to the driver. “Don’t worry, Xu Fengluan has no one behind her.”

They’d feared she had powerful backing, given how fast the videos vanished.

“Brother Zhang said she not only has no support, but some big shot doesn’t like her…” The paparazzo lowered his voice, feigning mystery.

Brother Zhang, a veteran paparazzo who owed them a favor, nearly refused their call, thinking they wanted protection. But when they asked about this, he spilled everything gleefully.

“Word is, it’s that Xu woman.”

“Her?” The driver frowned. “Didn’t she switch careers years ago? Why’s she still meddling in entertainment? And we never heard a thing.”

The paparazzo explained, “Zhang said it was years back, before we got in the game.”

“Besides, she didn’t say it outright. At some company event, her staff mentioned Burning Meteor, and she shot it down, circling Xu Fengluan’s name repeatedly. When the boss acts like that, the underlings get it.”

“From that day, her company never worked with Burning Meteor. Some artists, to curry favor, even provoked Xu Fengluan, and she didn’t stop them—tacit approval.”

The driver relaxed, grinning. “I always wondered why, with Xu Fengluan’s fame, so many dared mess with her.”

“Like that guy who posted her hospital video. I thought he was smart, but he fumbled there.”

The paparazzo laughed. “She can only bully small fries like us. The big dogs don’t give her a second thought—shoot and post whatever.”

“Knowing this, we should’ve…” The driver trailed off.

The paparazzo nodded, regret and hate in his eyes.

—

In an office somewhere.

An employee glanced at her computer, saw the boss leave with her bag, and immediately pulled out her phone to slack off. A woman’s sobbing voice blared from the speaker, filling the room.

A colleague turned, eager to gossip. “You’re only seeing this now? That tea’s been brewing for half an hour!”

“The boss was hovering. You two ran to the bathroom, but I couldn’t budge,” the employee griped, then asked, “What’s the tea? What’s up with that band’s lead?”

The woman on-screen cried, her practiced acting in full force, a pitiful victim. “This left me traumatized for months, nightmares every night, sleeping just hours…”

“Who’s she? Sounds awful,” the employee said, shocked.

Her colleague explained, “She’s that actress from Burning Meteor’s MV. Now she’s saying the band bullied her!”

“What?” The employee’s eyes widened.

The woman on-screen, in agony, continued, “From day one, they hated me, picking on me, making me soak in a pool for six hours in freezing weather. When I tried to climb out, Xu Fengluan kicked me back in…”

The employee tsked, “The entertainment world’s brutal.”

Her colleague added, “She’s also implying Xu Fengluan’s on drugs.”

“What?! She dares touch that stuff? Is it true? Can she still perform?” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

“Don’t doubt it. Those rumors have been around, just no hard proof. But look at her—tall, barely ninety pounds, that skinny…” The colleague gave a knowing look.

The employee nodded. “I always said band folks are wild. My niece argued Burning Meteor’s different. Different how? That drummer’s tattooed arms scream trouble!”

“Exactly. Kids these days are too naive, easily fooled,” the colleague agreed.

The screen continued, “Director Wang couldn’t stand it, spoke up for me, and Xu Fengluan smashed his camera.”

The employee chimed in, “That was leaked before, right?”

“Yeah, we talked about it!”

They chatted on, then noticed the video had gone dark.

“Where’s the video?”

“Deleted? What’s going on?”

Puzzled, they refreshed, only to see the actress had deleted it. Two new topics shot up:

#BurningMeteorOfficialPostsLegalNotice

#WangHeCheatsWithQinYuze

Qin Yuze was the actress accusing Burning Meteor, and Wang He the director who “defended” her.

The employee and colleague were stunned. “She’s accusing others of bullying when she was hooking up with the director during the MV shoot?”

“Fastest plot twist I’ve seen,” the employee blinked.

Unnoticed, their boss had returned, silently watching from behind.

Their experience mirrored scenes unfolding elsewhere.

In the hospital corridor, Liu Tingsong leaned against the windowsill, her posture lax, far from the softness she showed Xu Fengluan. Her cool, distant demeanor pushed people away, but the scar on her lip and unhidden bite marks and hickeys on her neck cracked that icy facade, adding a sultry edge.

Her phone, pressed to her ear, carried Du Yurong’s voice.

“Done. Videos about your precious one are off all platforms. You’re so impatient, calling three times in half an hour,” Du Yurong teased, grumbling, “Why aren’t you this urgent about your own stuff?”
@Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Liu Tingsong ignored the jab, correcting, “Forty-three minutes.”

Du Yurong paused, then laughed, realizing Liu Tingsong was calling them slow. “Give us some time! Weibo isn’t my backyard to clear with a wave.”

She shifted, “But we’ve improved, right? Faster than a few days ago.”

“And we traced the instigators—those two blacklisted paparazzi. I’ve sent people to warn them. If they try again, we’ll see them in court.”

“Also, Xu Fengluan’s company is so lax. Such a big deal, and they’re not rushing? We had to push them. Even the other day, we were up half the night handling it.”

Her words dripped with a plea for credit.

Liu Tingsong, reasonable, softened. “Thanks for the hard work. Tell finance to add a month’s bonus for everyone.”

Du Yurong beamed—nobody disliked money, especially with her hefty salary.

“Then I’ll thank you for them, boss. How’s our VIP doing? Better? Can I visit in a few days?”

A bonus turned Xu Fengluan into “our VIP.”

Liu Tingsong smiled. “She’s better but still dizzy. No need to visit—she’d have to muster energy to be polite.”

“Got it,” Du Yurong said, her offer mostly courtesy. “*Return to the Band* reached out, asking us to retweet their post.”

Usually leaving such matters to her team, Liu Tingsong paused, then said, “I’ll retweet it myself later.”

Du Yurong smirked, unsurprised, agreeing instantly. “Need us to manage comments?”

With a bonus secured, she was eager.

Liu Tingsong agreed without hesitation. They discussed work briefly before hanging up.

Minutes later, Liu Tingsong’s long-waiting fans saw her online. Before they could express their longing, she retweeted a Weibo post with a comment:
*Had a great time working with Burning Meteor. A-Feng was a bit shy at first, not talking much [crying-laughing.jpg], but she’s truly a polite and talented lead singer and bassist.*

Moments earlier, people were slamming Xu Fengluan’s character. Now, Liu Tingsong praised her politeness, her defense blatant.

Fans were floored. The stiff, old-school sentence—54 words plus an emoji—mentioned Burning Meteor once but focused on Xu Fengluan.

*Sister, four sentences, and you barely mention the band? What about your fans?!*

*“Very polite”? Polite’s enough, but “very”? Making sure we know how polite she is?*

*Others call her arrogant, reckless, terrible! She gave you attitude on that livestream! Our eyes aren’t blind!*

Regardless of their thoughts, Liu Tingsong logged off right after, hurrying back.

She’d left to “cut fruit,” but her absence was long enough to juice it.

Her team saw the post. They looked to Du Yurong, asking how to handle it.

She grinned at her phone, waving them off. “The boss is busy protecting her wife. Let her be.”

“Also, she just approved an extra month’s bonus!”

The earlier drama forgotten, cheers erupted. Someone shouted, “Long live the boss!” and others echoed.

Liu Tingsong, unaware, would’ve laughed and maybe docked Du Yurong’s bonus if she knew.

Now, she carried a fruit plate back to the ward.

Xu Fengluan had just set her phone down, muttering, “Orange says they’re visiting tomorrow.”

Unaware of the online storm, her head spun whenever she looked at her phone, so she’d ignored it.

Liu Tingsong nodded, sitting beside her, spearing a watermelon piece with a toothpick and feeding it to Xu Fengluan’s lips.

Xu Fengluan bit down, instinctively leaning into Liu Tingsong’s arms. A propped pillow couldn’t compare to her comfort.

Still dizzy, she couldn’t stand the pillow’s stiffness, only Liu Tingsong’s embrace.

Liu Tingsong indulged her silently, coaxing, “This watermelon’s sweet. Have a couple more.”

Xu Fengluan mumbled agreement, another piece already at her lips, no effort required, her care meticulous.