Chapter 91 – After Secretly Marrying a Top Star, I Was Cheated On by Her (20)

It was one thing for Gu Qingzhi to know Yu Bing’s home address—but to actually know her house passcode clearly and accurately too? And judging by how deftly she unlocked the door, it clearly wasn’t her first time doing it. Yang Nianjiao and Yu Yu narrowed their eyes in unison, sharp gazes like a volley of icy pea shooters freezing Yu Liuxue into a block of ice on the spot.

Yu Liuxue: “…”

A moment later, she clapped her hands together in sudden realization, exclaiming in surprise, “Oh right! I actually know Jie’s passcode! That’s amazing!”

Yu Yu turned serious, eyeing her sister. “You told her?”

Yu Bing’s beautiful face remained calm. “No.”

Yu Liuxue: “…!” She stared at Yu Bing in disbelief, trembling slightly as she raised a finger—she hadn’t expected her to lie so smoothly, without the faintest blush of guilt!

She couldn’t defend herself at all. Yang Nianjiao and Yu Yu both knew Yu Bing wasn’t the type to lie, so there was only one logical conclusion—Gu Qingzhi had been so deranged that she’d stalked Yu Bing all the way home and secretly memorized her door passcode, all for the sake of launching a sudden ambush later!

Was Gu Qingzhi planning to force herself on her next?!

Just then, Yu Bing spoke again. “Last time she came to see me, I didn’t shield the keypad when entering the code. Maybe she remembered it then.”

Yu Liuxue instantly sighed in relief, throwing Yu Bing a grateful look. As expected, Yu Bing still loved her most. Yang Nianjiao and Yu Yu reluctantly accepted the explanation, but silently upgraded their guard level toward Yu Liuxue to SS-level. The way they looked at her was like she’d stolen someone’s man—no matter how they looked at her, she was an eyesore.

After painfully enduring the rest of the meal, Yu Liuxue fled under a flimsy excuse. But she didn’t go far—she just hid in the residential garden and played with her phone out of boredom. Two hours later, as dusk fell, Yu Bing finally came downstairs to get her. The moment she saw Yu Bing, Yu Liuxue limped dramatically toward her, looking pitiful. “Jie, you finally came.”

For some reason, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was sneaking around behind someone’s back—like a secret affair kept from their parents.

Yu Bing picked a dead leaf off her head, then crouched down and rubbed her leg. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, it’s just a little numb.” Yu Liuxue blinked and asked hopefully, “Did President Yang and Sister Yu leave?”

Yu Bing chuckled softly. “Just left.”

Her heart ached for Yu Liuxue’s leg, so she simply picked her up and carried her home. Once inside, her kiss fell swiftly, emotions dark in her eyes. “Go take a shower.”

“And don’t forget to wear your diary after.”

The mention of the “diary” made Yu Liuxue freeze slightly. Then she quickly grabbed Yu Bing’s clothes and ran into the bathroom. “Jie, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Yang Nianjiao had driven three blocks away before realizing she’d left her phone stuck between the couch cushions at Yu Bing’s place. So she turned around and came back. After re-entering the community, she put on her sunglasses, took the elevator to Yu Bing’s floor, and rang the doorbell twice politely. “Yu Bing, I left my phone here. I’m coming in, okay?”

Yu Bing, who was tidying the room, froze. “?”

Yang Nianjiao knew the door code, so after announcing herself, she punched it in and entered directly. The moment she stepped in and saw who was inside, she instinctively took two steps back. “?”

Yu Liuxue had just been about to call out and ask Yu Bing to bring her a new bottle of shower gel, but as soon as she opened her mouth, the system urgently warned her: “Host, shut up! President Yang is back!”

Yu Liuxue: “???”

Was she back to catch them in the act?! She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, not daring to make a sound.

Yu Bing, unfazed, handed her the phone she’d fished out from between the cushions. “Found it.”

Yu Bing had always been a woman of few words. Yang Nianjiao didn’t think much of it. Shielding her eyes partially with one hand, she asked, “Why are you dressed like that?” Wait—was that water she heard?

“Just ran a hot bath. Was about to shower.” Yu Bing buttoned up her clothes calmly, her lips pursed, her expression serene.

Yang Nianjiao narrowed her eyes slightly. Then, abruptly, she smiled. “Well, take your time. I’ll get going.”

She acted like she hadn’t noticed anything, grabbed her phone, and left. After she shut the door, Yu Bing slowly straightened her wrinkled clothes. Yu Liuxue came out just then, but before she could even ask what had happened, Yu Bing gave her a stern scolding.

Yu Liuxue was deeply aggrieved. This wasn’t my fault! I’m innocent!

The next day at work, Yu Liuxue noticed something off in the way Yang Nianjiao looked at her—but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. Puzzled, she asked the system, “Do you think President Yang suspects I messed around with her bestie?”

The system thought for a bit. “Host, follow the strategy of Thirty-Six Stratagems—‘use stillness to control motion,’ and ‘respond to all changes with no change.’”

Yu Liuxue: “…?” Pretty sure that advice came from a fake self-help book.

She couldn’t read Yang Nianjiao at all. And Yang Nianjiao never confronted her either. The two of them were like sly foxes, circling each other warily. Things stayed that way until Yu Liuxue released her second album. Once she got busy, she didn’t have time to guess whether Yang Nianjiao knew the truth anymore. And Yang Nianjiao, meanwhile, was more interested in how much money Yu Liuxue could make her. So this cold war ended quietly and without fanfare.

Yu Liuxue’s second solo album once again outpaced countless singers and idol groups in sales. Her buyers included not just her fans, but also movie and TV fans who liked the shows where she had sung the theme songs or inserts, as well as collectors who simply thought the album cover looked good and wanted to keep a copy. Together, this large group pushed her album sales beyond her debut, breaking 500,000 units in just one week.

At the same time, Xiao Nian’s movie was released. In the days leading up to it, she had appeared on countless variety shows, tirelessly promoting the film in hopes of boosting opening-day box office numbers. On the day of the premiere, Xiao Nian didn’t take her eyes off her phone, refreshing the numbers every few minutes. Her heart was tight with nerves, just like the first time she acted in a TV drama—filled with anxious hope.

But back then, she had Yu Yu by her side. Now, she was alone, with not a single trustworthy person around her.

A bitter taste welled up in Xiao Nian’s heart. She stood high enough now—yet so what? There was no one to share her joy with, no one to shoulder her burdens. She felt like a lonely old widow, or a left-behind child. Utterly alone. Only she knew whether she was warm or cold.

She wished and hoped, but the box office didn’t break any records. In fact, the numbers were just average—not a flop, but nowhere near a hit. She tried to comfort herself: maybe she just needed a few more days. Once word-of-mouth spread and people started talking, the crowds would come.

She couldn’t help but open the comments section and scroll through audience reactions.

> “Is it just me, or has Xiao Nian lost that spark in her acting lately?”
That one line made her heart jolt. Her mind went blank. Was my acting really worse than before? But I’ve worked so hard…

> “Overall, worth the ticket price. I didn’t want to come and boost a cheater’s box office, but my male idol was the lead, so I had to. If only they’d cast someone else for the female lead… I’m sick of seeing that two-timing top star.”
> “The film itself is quite good. Personally, I think if it weren’t for a certain someone, the box office would be a lot higher…”
Each one of these critical comments was like a sharp knife stabbing deeply into Xiao Nian’s heart. She began to feel lost. If the film’s poor box office performance was due to her personal issues, she could accept that. But if it was because her acting had declined… that was something she couldn’t accept.

What people used to praise most about her was her acting. Even if her performance during filming had been affected by Gu Qingzhi, and as a result lost some of its spark, it shouldn’t have deteriorated to the point of being unwatchable. Xiao Nian gripped her phone, torn by doubt, and a sudden thought occurred to her—

Could it be the work of Gu Qingzhi, Yang Nianjiao, or Yu Yu? Had they hired internet trolls to slander her? Were they trying to drag her down from her current position?

The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed. A surge of indignation rose in her chest. Such petty tricks weren’t enough to defeat her. She wouldn’t give them the chance. The public had discerning eyes. Her acting skills—people knew full well how good she was. No handful of fake comments from paid trolls could brand her as a washed-up has-been.

Gritting her teeth, Xiao Nian immediately began preparing for her next film. She pulled out her script. She would prove to them—prove that she was invincible.

Online, the reviews for the film were mixed. Some felt Xiao Nian had broken new ground, and that her acting had become more natural and lifelike. Others had such high expectations of her that they were deeply disappointed when her performance didn’t meet those hopes, feeling a stark gap between anticipation and reality.

Still others had lost all goodwill toward her due to the drama between her, Gu Qingzhi, and Zhou Zhou. Their fondness had dropped to zero—perhaps even into the negatives—so they didn’t even bother buying tickets, refusing to contribute a single cent to the box office.

Two months later, when the film ended its run, its box office performance was mediocre.

There were voices declaring “Xiao Nian is done,” claiming her career was starting its decline. But most didn’t agree. While Xiao Nian’s character might be questionable, at least her acting was still solid. She couldn’t have possibly gone from brilliant to terrible overnight.

Compared to Xiao Nian, Yu Liuxue’s solo career was going much more smoothly. With Yang Nianjiao backing her, Yu Yu and Yu Bing supporting her on both sides, and Zhou Zhou and Mercury Girls protecting her from behind, she was like a fish in water, a tiger with wings. During this round of promotions, she earned Yang Nianjiao a sizable profit. As a result, Yang Nianjiao’s attitude softened and she finally stopped being so hard on her.

“The next album’s theme is ‘Sweet Love,’” Yang Nianjiao said, tossing her a project proposal. “Go home and get into the right headspace.”

Holding the proposal in hand, Yu Liuxue felt a bold suspicion rise in her heart: Yang Nianjiao definitely knew something.

While preparing for her third album, she also had to get ready for Mercury Girls’ third comeback. Given that her popularity had far outstripped the other members, she was often jokingly called “Gu Qingzhi and her backup dancers” or “DiYu Entertainment’s beloved daughter.”

Though said in jest, there was truth in the jokes.

Zhou Zhou was secretly resentful. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her breakout moment—couldn’t rise to stand alongside Gu Qingzhi. Especially now that Gu Qingzhi had transitioned from girl group idol to solo singer, while she remained a mere “female idol.” The gap between those two titles was not small.

If Zhou Zhou felt this bad, the other three members surely harbored their own envy and imbalance. They watched coldly as their fans attacked Gu Qingzhi, never once stepping up to defend their teammate. That silence only fueled the aggression of their fanbases.

During this period, Yu Liuxue also gained a lot of haters. Anyone familiar with the fandom scene had probably seen fans of the other three unite to slander and curse Gu Qingzhi—dragging in her parents while they were at it.

Yu Yu, holding several contracts, entered the president’s office and said calmly, “Their contracts are about to expire. Let’s just disband the group next year.”

Yang Nianjiao raised an eyebrow slightly. “You sure?”

Yu Yu nodded without hesitation. “If we don’t, the current fandom culture will seriously hinder Gu Qingzhi’s development. Didn’t you want to turn her into a true singer? A singer only needs strength, not fan service.”

Yang Nianjiao set down her pen. “Let me think it over.”

Yu Yu nodded and was about to leave when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then frowned. Yang Nianjiao asked with concern, “What is it?”

“It’s Xiao Nian,” Yu Yu replied, switching off her phone without responding. Yang Nianjiao raised a brow in surprise. “She finally regrets it?”

She gave a soft chuckle. “Too late.”

The moment Xiao Nian allowed her new company and fans to attack Yu Yu, their relationship was completely severed. Both Yang Nianjiao and Yu Yu had thought someone as prideful as Xiao Nian would never bow her head—not even at the end. But now, clearly, fame and fortune meant more to her.

What was pride compared to that?

Xiao Nian hadn’t guessed wrong—her performance was indeed being compared to Gu Qingzhi’s, and not by just one person. She had traffic, she had buzz, so the marketing accounts swarmed like locusts, eager to tear her to shreds.

She let out a cold laugh and threw herself harder into memorizing her lines. She firmly believed that one day she would rise again to the peak. And to do that, she needed Yu Yu. So she gathered her courage and sent Yu Yu several heartfelt messages, hoping she would come back to her side.

But now, thirty minutes had passed, and there was still no reply. She didn’t know if Yu Yu was busy and had missed her messages, so she sent a few more. Just then, Yu Yu’s status changed to “typing.” Soon, a reply arrived:

“Sorry.”

“I’m very happy with my work now.”

Yu Yu’s rejection was clear and direct. In that instant, Xiao Nian felt a wave of despair, but she still couldn’t give up. She asked stubbornly:
“Sister Yu, be honest with me. You and Gu Qingzhi—”

“Is there really nothing going on between you two?”

Yu Yu looked down at her phone and gave a quiet chuckle after reading those two lines. Then she replied lightly:

“We’re now just manager and artist.”

She had no idea how Xiao Nian would react to that, but she added:

“If there’s no future collaboration involving Gu Qingzhi, then please don’t contact me again.”

Xiao Nian stared blankly at the screen. How had things come to this? Even Sister Yu didn’t want her anymore. Who could she still trust? Her heart felt like it had fallen into an ice pit, like she was adrift on a raft in the middle of the sea. Left with no choice, she tried to put away her pride and patch things up with her current manager.

When her manager received her message, she let out a cold laugh and immediately called her.

“Xiao Nian, after filming this movie, you’ll have half a month off. Try to squeeze in some time for commercials and magazine shoots. You can’t just bury your head in acting—your popularity will drop. You need to keep up exposure in other areas too. Otherwise, while waiting for the movie to release, you’ll have no presence at all.”

Xiao Nian thought about it and realized her manager made sense. More importantly, she wanted to mend their relationship, so she agreed.

The manager curved her lips in a smirk. There was no artist she couldn’t tame. No matter how disobedient, once they were under her hand, they had to put away their arrogance and follow orders.

After agreeing, Xiao Nian threw herself into acting wholeheartedly, determined to make a comeback and soar again.

Yu Liuxue, too, was working on adjusting her mindset and preparing for her next album. After a while, she realized something that pained her deeply—Yang Nianjiao only saw her as a workhorse. This realization broke her. She threw herself into Yu Bing’s arms, sobbing bitterly:
“Sis… President Yang is awful…”

Yu Bing’s eyelashes fluttered down in unison. She looked at Yu Liuxue for a moment, then tightly embraced her. Yu Liuxue waited for a while, finally hearing the words she had most longed for: “I’ll come pick you up tonight.”

What would happen next went without saying. Yu Liuxue’s eyes were full of anticipation. “I knew it—Sister, you’re the best. You care about me the most.”

Mercury Girls soon returned to the scene again. Though the quality of their music was solid and each album sold better than the last, Yu Liuxue’s popularity consistently outstripped the others by a wide margin, drawing countless controversies and smears. This year, the fan wars grew especially fierce, alienating a good number of bystanders. Just mentioning “Mercury Girls” was enough to make passersby avoid the topic like the plague, shaking their heads with no interest in learning more.

Yet when it came to “Gu Qingzhi,” most people thought of a girl who made a comeback, who had real ability, who was hardworking and diligent—yet was pitifully cheated on. That impression stirred an unconscious sympathy in many hearts.

None of the active group members knew that Yang Nianjiao had already decided to disband Mercury Girls. One member even ran to the fan group chat to complain: “I’ve just been staying at home lately, barely any activities. It’s the company’s decision—nothing I can do about it.”

That small complaint instantly ignited intense backlash among fans. They stormed Diyu Entertainment’s official social media accounts and Yang Nianjiao’s Weibo, demanding that Gu Qingzhi be kicked out of Mercury Girls, saying she should go be pretty on her own, and that their beloved idols weren’t worthy of being grouped with her.

These discussions raged on for nearly three months. After Yu Liuxue gradually wrapped up her solo activities, Yang Nianjiao bluntly announced that Mercury Girls would disband at the start of next year. Their year-end comeback would be their final one. Until then, the company would continue supporting their activities to ensure nothing was left unfinished.

Fans of the other four members were overjoyed—it was almost like celebrating the New Year. Their girls would no longer have to live in Gu Qingzhi’s shadow!

Yu Liuxue’s fans, however, expressed sorrow: “Huh? They’re disbanding? No way! Qingzhi loves her group so much. No matter how busy she is, she always joins the others in their activities. She’s never missed a single one. If the group disbands, how heartbroken will she be?”

A smaller portion of fans commented, “Maybe it’s for the best. At least our Qingzhi won’t wear herself out. She always cherished the group above all, no matter where she went—she introduced herself as Gu Qingzhi from Mercury Girls. Yet some people still didn’t appreciate that, saying she was stealing their spotlight…”

Yu Liuxue herself was quite surprised, but it was Yang Nianjiao’s decision. She certainly wasn’t foolish enough to go pleading with her.

The final comeback schedule for Mercury Girls was packed, and at the same time, Xiao Nian’s second film was about to premiere—inevitably, they’d cross paths. On this day, Mercury Girls were booked for a commercial performance in a shopping mall, coincidentally the same mall where Xiao Nian was promoting her film in the theater.

The place was swarming with people. Everyone was racking their brains for ways to get closer to the celebrities, craning their necks to see better. From far off, Xiao Nian could already hear the host on the first floor introducing Mercury Girls. She glanced down coolly and saw the radiant Yu Liuxue. It had only been a short time since they last met, but her presence had grown even more dazzling.

They say fame makes a person glow—nothing could be truer for Gu Qingzhi now. She no longer resembled the timid girl from memory. She was confident, radiant. Even from afar, the starlight in her eyes was impossible to miss.

For a fleeting moment, Xiao Nian thought: if only they’d never divorced.

Ever since she and Gu Qingzhi split, her fortunes had taken a nosedive. If they had stayed married, maybe Yu Yu wouldn’t have left, and she wouldn’t have fallen so low.

Suddenly, Yu Bing seemed to sense something and looked up toward Xiao Nian. Their eyes met across the distance, then both looked away without a word.

Yu Liuxue genuinely enjoyed being a pop idol. Compared to being constantly wrung dry by Yang Nianjiao, these kinds of events were pure joy—like a child looking forward to the New Year. She wholeheartedly delighted in the atmosphere, moving with grace and ease. Even when she stood in the corner, people couldn’t help but keep their eyes on her, following her every move.

The performance wasn’t even over yet, but fan-shot videos had already gone viral.

“This woman is absolutely deadly! How is she so beautiful?! How does she sing so well?! Why can’t I look away from her?!”

Even after an hour of nonstop singing and dancing, Yu Liuxue wasn’t even out of breath. Zhou Zhou curled her lips, thinking to herself: she must’ve been trained up at night by that bodyguard.

After the event, under Yu Bing’s protection, the group headed toward the parking lot. Once Yu Liuxue got into the car, the window of the car behind Yu Bing silently rolled down. Yu Bing turned her head—her cold eyes met Xiao Nian’s. Then, turning toward her, she leaned in slightly and deliberately lowered her voice.

In a tone only the two of them could hear, she said slowly, “Sorry, she’s my woman now.”