A Sweet Soft Alpha and a Psycho-Beauty Go Viral Online - Chapter 32

Qiao Sanghe’s eyes were red as she repeatedly checked over Yu Wanyin’s body, trying to make sure she wasn’t hurt. When they fell just now, Yu Wanyin had shielded her and taken the brunt of the impact. This was just a variety show—there was no reason to get hurt like this. She’d rather quit the show altogether than let anything happen to Yu Wanyin.

“Let me see—did you get hurt?” Qiao Sanghe asked, eyes full of concern.

Yu Wanyin gently reassured her, “I’m really fine. But we need to hurry, or we’ll run out of time.”

She moved her body a little to prove she was okay, choosing to ignore the sharp, burning pain radiating from her calf. It was probably just a surface scrape, hidden beneath her clothes where no one could see. If such a minor accident caused them to lose their shot at completing the mission, that would be the real pity. She didn’t want to let Qiao Sanghe down.

Qiao Sanghe took a moment to calm herself, though she was clearly upset. “I don’t want to keep filming. I’m going to call a private doctor to check you over.”

The production team panicked and quickly sent staff to intervene and speak with both Yu Wanyin and Qiao Sanghe.

Viewers in the livestream chat were panicking too—though they were more worried about Yu Wanyin’s condition. In cases like this, the program team would be held responsible for any safety hazards that led to a guest getting hurt. It was a serious liability.

Yu Wanyin did her best to convince Qiao Sanghe she was really okay. It would be such a shame to stop now. After all the effort they’d put into solving the puzzles, quitting midway would render it all meaningless.

Now that she was in the public eye, she couldn’t be treated as an inexperienced nobody anymore. Dropping out now could hurt Qiao Sanghe’s image too—and she wouldn’t allow that.

She cupped Qiao Sanghe’s cheek, her voice soft and gentle. “I promise I’m fine. Let’s keep going. This won’t affect anything.”

Qiao Sanghe still worried, but in the face of Yu Wanyin’s soothing voice and determined eyes, she eventually agreed to continue filming. However, she made it clear that once filming ended, the showrunners would have to answer for what happened.

Fortunately, most of the puzzle rooms had already been unlocked—only the basement rooms remained. It didn’t take much longer. Two hours later, they cleared the final stage.

After solving the last basement room, both Yu Wanyin and Qiao Sanghe finally relaxed. The recording had been mentally and physically exhausting—more than ten hours of non-stop problem-solving had left their nerves stretched thin. Now that it was over, exhaustion hit them all at once.

That evening, Qiao Sanghe arranged for a private doctor to examine Yu Wanyin. As suspected, there were some scrapes on her calf, but nothing serious. Compared to the injuries she’d endured in the past, this was nothing.

Qiao Sanghe’s heart ached. “And you still say you’re fine? You got hurt and didn’t even tell me.”

Yu Wanyin sighed and explained, “It really wasn’t serious. I just thought it would’ve been a shame to stop filming over something like this.”

Qiao Sanghe took the ointment from the doctor and gently applied it for her. Though her tone was softer, there was still frustration underneath. “From now on, don’t hide anything from me—no more brushing things off and saying ‘I’m fine.’ Don’t my feelings matter at all?”

Yu Wanyin blinked, momentarily stunned. “I’m sorry.”

She hadn’t expected Qiao Sanghe to care about her this much. She hadn’t realized she meant this much to her.

After the doctor left, only the two of them remained in the bedroom. Both were worn out after the day’s ordeal, and a heavy silence settled over the room.

It was Yu Wanyin who finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with fatigue but filled with sincerity.

“Thank you. Thank you for caring about me this much. What happened today really touched me. It’s the first time I’ve felt this kind of concern from someone who isn’t family. I never imagined something like this.”

Qiao Sanghe, also drained, replied in a lazy tone.

“Of course I care. First, because you’re someone important to me. And second… because you made me feel like I matter to you, too. Since you care about me, I care even more about you.”

Yu Wanyin couldn’t help but smile, her expression tender.

“I’ll return that care with even more sincerity. I know how much thought you put into everything. But… sincerity isn’t the only thing that matters. You remember why we joined this show in the first place, right? I don’t want all our hard work to be meaningless. If we gave up the moment something went wrong, we would be left with regret. Luckily, our score wasn’t affected by what happened. We still have the highest points.

That’s the best outcome.”

Qiao Sanghe had always gone with the flow. She didn’t care about “intentions” or “goals”—she just did what felt right. First, she followed her own feelings. Later, she started caring about Yu Wanyin’s. That’s why she reacted so strongly this time.

“No matter what happens, what matters most is how we feel. Other things might be important, but not more than that. This incident wasn’t your fault. It was the production team’s. I’m having my people send them a legal notice. They need to be held accountable.”

Yu Wanyin could see she was truly angry. Talking more about it would do no good now. All she could do was try to comfort her. But in her heart, she was moved. This proved just how much Qiao Sanghe cared.

Their relationship had long since evolved beyond a contractual partnership—what they shared now was something deeper and more genuine.

So this was what it meant to put their feelings first. She’d been thinking about it all wrong. Some things were important—but if people didn’t matter anymore, then nothing else would, either.

Qiao Sanghe saw things more clearly than she did.

She was the one who prioritized how they felt above everything else.

“Alright, don’t be mad anymore,” Yu Wanyin coaxed gently. “We can talk about it again later. We’ve been filming all day, and you must be exhausted. Let me give you a massage to help you relax.”

Qiao Sanghe was tempted. She blinked her pretty, languid eyes—she knew exactly how good Yu Wanyin’s massages were. But Yu Wanyin was also tired, and she was injured.

She weakly pushed at Yu Wanyin with her soft fingers, but had no strength left to resist. Her pouty lips parted in exhaustion as she murmured:
“No need.”

Yu Wanyin, eyes already half-lidded from drowsiness, still insisted, “I’m really not that tired. Let me do it.”

And with that, she began massaging her.

Qiao Sanghe had just opened her mouth to say something—but the massage was so comfortable that fatigue crashed over her before she could get a word out. Her eyes slowly closed as she drifted off, right in Yu Wanyin’s arms.

Yu Wanyin managed to hold on a little longer. But eventually, she too couldn’t fight the exhaustion any longer. Her last memory before falling asleep was adjusting Qiao Sanghe into a more comfortable position in her embrace, gently kissing her soft cheek and those lush, pink lips—finally allowing herself to relax completely and sink into sleep.