Chapter 33 Chapter Thirty-Three I’ve got something I need to consult about

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Nan Xiao stared at her, stunned.

She hadn’t wanted to rewrite the script for Xu Ruoxin. She hadn’t used a stand-in. All of this—her refusal, her defiance—wasn’t about protecting her own role… it was meant to humiliate Xu Ruoxin?

How could Xu Ruoxin possibly think that? Was she an idiot?

No. She wasn’t.

Xu Ruoxin was sharp. Too sharp.

If she said that, it wasn’t because she truly believed it—it was either rage speaking, or a deliberate jab meant to wound Nan Xiao.

And it worked.

Nan Xiao closed her eyes. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, but instead of exploding in anger, she suddenly went still. She knew yelling would do nothing. It was pointless.

She turned and walked out of the dressing room without another word.

Xu Ruoxin didn’t call her back. But as the red mark from the slap still burned on her cheek, she quickly snapped a photo—perfect angle, soft lighting, just enough shadow to highlight the bruise. Then she sent it to Xie Chengyu.

The image was masterful: beautiful, yet heartbreakingly wounded. The kind of photo that made people gasp and reach for their phones to send sympathy.

Her phone buzzed almost instantly. The screen lit up with “Chengyu.”

A slow smile curled across Xu Ruoxin’s lips.

Back in the dressing room, Nan Xiao tried not to cry. But the weight of it all—the injustice, the cruelty—crushed her. She couldn’t hold it in.

She’d been mocked before. Ridiculed since childhood. But those people had at least kept some shred of decency. They didn’t hurl the worst slurs, the cruelest words.

But these past two days… online, she’d been flooded with thousands of vicious messages. Some so obscene, so degrading—calling her a slut, a whore, a liar—she felt like she’d been gutted.

“Knock knock knock!”

The door burst open.

Xie Chengyu stormed in, dark and furious, his presence like a storm rolling through the room. He marched straight toward her.

Nan Xiao had just wiped her tears when she saw him—his face carved from stone, shadows pooling around his eyes, every inch of him radiating cold fury. She froze.

“You hit Ruoxin?”

He didn’t ask. He demanded.

Nan Xiao nodded. “Yes. I did.”

She’d known why he was there the moment she’d heard his footsteps. But hearing his voice—icy, cutting—still made her chest tighten.

“How dare you?”

Each word fell like a blade. His gaze was venomous, his aura thick with menace.

“Don’t you remember? She’s pregnant.”

“…”

Right. Xu Ruoxin was pregnant. Carrying Xie Chengyu’s child.

But so was she.

She’d endured the same storm of online hate. Why hadn’t anyone cared?

Silence stretched between them.

Then Xie Chengyu’s voice dropped lower, colder. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I have nothing to say.”

Her face was pale. Her voice flat, drained.

“Xu Ruoxin had someone post a fake article online. That’s why I was attacked. That’s why I hit her.”

“Of course, I can’t prove it was her. If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do.”

She stared at the floor. She didn’t know what he’d say. All she wanted was for him to leave.

“The article—I’ll handle it,” he said after a few seconds, voice low and dangerous.

Then came the order: “Go apologize to Ruoxin.”

“What?”

Nan Xiao shot up, eyes wide. Apologize?

The door opened again.

Xu Ruoxin stepped in, delicate and fragile, tugging gently at Xie Chengyu’s sleeve.

“No need,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Nan Miss has suffered such terrible insults. Of course she’s angry. And even if I didn’t write that article… well, my face is healing now. No need for apologies.”

Nan Xiao locked eyes with her—burning, seething. Hatred poured from her pupils like molten iron.

But Xie Chengyu couldn’t see her expression. He only saw Xu Ruoxin’s softness, her pain.

She gave Nan Xiao a tiny, triumphant smirk.

Xie Chengyu glanced at Xu Ruoxin. The red mark on her cheek had faded, but it was still there—like a warning.

Then he turned to Nan Xiao, voice icy. “You hit someone. You owe an apology.”

His tone was colder than ice water. Nan Xiao shivered, clutching her shoulders as if trying to keep herself together.

She didn’t want to apologize. She’d been wronged. She’d been pushed too far. Why should *she* be the one to say sorry?

But power doesn’t care about justice.

Xie Chengyu wouldn’t budge.

So she lowered her lashes, her breath shaky.

And then, barely audible, the words slipped out:
“Miss Xu… I’m sorry.”

He gave her a single, dismissive glance. Then he left, hand resting lightly on Xu Ruoxin’s back.

It was 11 a.m. Outside, the crew was filming a crucial scene. Nan Xiao should’ve been there—watching, learning.

But she had no strength left.

She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling like a corpse, motionless, hollow.

Tears streamed down her face—unstoppable, relentless. Like beads broken from a string. Soon, the pillowcase was soaked.

After a long time, she sat up.

She checked her phone.

Miraculously, the article was gone. The hashtags vanished. The hateful comments—all erased.

As if it had never happened.

Clean. Perfect. As though the entire nightmare had never existed.

Nan Xiao sat there, staring at the white wall, blank.

She remembered calling someone to help control the narrative. That person had told her: “It costs a fortune. Without massive investment, you can’t clean this up.”

But now, it was gone.

Someone had done it.

And she knew who.

Xie Chengyu.

But he hadn’t done it for her.

He did it for the family name.

The article never mentioned the Xie family directly—but what if someone dug deeper? What if it blew up later?

Better to erase it now.

Now everything was quiet. Smooth. Fixed.

Seemingly over.

But what about her?

What about the pain? The humiliation? Who would make it right?

No one.

And Xu Ruoxin—she’d started this whole mess. Maybe she thought Nan Xiao was stealing Xie Chengyu. Maybe she just hated her on principle.

But regardless—this was *not* her fault.

Yet the consequences? Xu Ruoxin walked away untouched. She got hundreds of messages of support, comfort, pity.

While Nan Xiao—*the victim*—was dragged through the mud.

Nan Xiao stared at the wall, asking herself:

*Why?*

She had no answer.

She sat there for hours, lost in thought.

Would Xu Ruoxin do it again tomorrow? Come back, start another fight, smear her reputation, and walk away unscathed?

She didn’t doubt it.

This couldn’t go on.

She picked up her phone and dialed Lin Yan.

“Hey, Yanyan,” she said, voice quiet. “I remember you know a really good lawyer. Can you connect me? I need to talk.”