Can't Hide My Love for You - Chapter 63

After having a long cry, Cheng Yixin sat in a daze for the entire afternoon. The curtains in the room were still drawn tight, blocking out any light; she had no concept of how much time had passed.

Opening her phone, she saw countless unread messages on WeChat. Friends from the industry who had seen the trending topics were sending their condolences. Usually, Yixin could find Chi Yi’s chat at the very top of her recents, but this time she had to scroll down several pages to find her avatar. Feeling a surge of anxiety, she pinned Chi Yi’s chat to the top so she could find her instantly in the future.

Chi Yi had sent several messages since leaving that morning, but Yixin hadn’t seen or replied to them. The latest unread message asked if she wanted some cookies—her favorite matcha flavor. Her lips twitched slightly.

[Cheng Yixin]: I don’t even like cookies that much.

The moment the message sent, Chi Yi’s avatar popped up with a voice call request. In the silent room, the sudden ringing—a sound she was normally used to—made Yixin flinch like a startled bird. That familiar feeling that had haunted her since the morning returned: the noise, the sharp, piercing words. Her hand shook, and the phone tumbled onto the sofa. For the first time, she felt a genuine terror of answering a call—specifically, a fear of any information coming from the outside world.

It wasn’t because of who was calling; it was an indiscriminate panic. As the ringing persisted, Yixin curled into a ball on the sofa, hugging her knees and pressing her hands over her ears. Finally, just before it cut off, she answered.

“Chi Yi…” Her throat was dry, her voice raspy. Fearing Chi Yi would worry about the delay, she instinctively lied: “I was sleeping just now…”

She realized a second later that they had just been texting a minute ago. It was a clumsy excuse.

“Then do you want to eat something now that you’re awake? How about hot pot?”

“No,” Yixin said. “I don’t want to eat.”

“Then…” While Chi Yi was speaking, a loud, piercing car horn blared on her end, so loud that Yixin reflexively moved the phone away.

The horn had sounded from outside, but it was also crystal clear through the phone. The short, sharp blasts ended quickly. Yixin froze. “Are you… at the door?”

“Can I come in?” Chi Yi asked tentatively.

The door had been deadbolted since the morning. Yixin looked toward the entrance. It must be dark outside now; the house was pitch black, with only the faint silhouettes of furniture visible. Having stayed in the same position for too long, her legs felt weak as she stood up. She used the sofa for support, feeling a familiar numbness creep up from her feet.

Chi Yi heard the slow, heavy footsteps from the other side. She stood at the door and took a small step back, the box of cookies in her hand having long since gone cold.

Click.

The lock turned from the inside. The handle moved down slowly, and the door opened a crack, revealing the darkness within.

“I’m coming in,” Chi Yi said before pushing the door. She entered slowly. The air conditioning wasn’t on, and the temperature inside wasn’t much higher than it was outdoors. By the faint light from the hallway, she found Yixin’s silhouette leaning against the shoe cabinet, arms crossed over her chest in a defensive posture.

Chi Yi’s heart wrenched. Ignoring the cold air clinging to her clothes, she pulled Yixin into a tight embrace. The person in her arms was stiff at first, but after a long while, her guard dropped and she hugged Chi Yi back.

“Yixin…” Chi Yi started to speak, but Yixin buried her face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t talk yet. Just let me hold you.”

Yixin gripped her tightly, as if being closer to Chi Yi would finally quiet the storm. They stood in the entryway, embracing in silence.

Once her emotions stabilized, Yixin kept her head down and whispered, “Aren’t you going to turn on the light?”

“Do you want them on?”

Yixin shook her head.

“Then we won’t,” Chi Yi replied.

Ultimately, Yixin did turn on the main light in the living room, but she kept it on a dim, warm setting that bathed the room in amber. They sat on the sofa together. Chi Yi cupped Yixin’s face, examining her carefully. Her eyes weren’t as swollen as expected, but she looked exhausted, and the usual spark in her eyes had dimmed.

“Can you talk to me?” Chi Yi asked. “About anything. Whatever you want to say.”

“Earlier today, I saw a DM from my fan club admin.” Yixin sniffled. Thinking of the encouragement, her nose began to sting again. She forced it down. “They said they believe me and will wait for me to come back.”

“Mhm. Silence is the majority,” Chi Yi said, wiping the corner of Yixin’s eye. “They are rational. Standing up to argue with trolls right now would only escalate the conflict. Once the police investigation results are out, the truth will speak for itself.”

“But…” Yixin gritted her teeth, her hands curling into fists. “I just thought he was pathetic and wanted to help him. Why did he have to hurt me like this?”

“The scammers and the ones driving the online narrative aren’t the same group,” Chi Yi explained. “The police have preliminarily determined the scammers are a professional team. They cast a wide net with their DMs using a specific script. They play the victim to gain trust. So, having a kind heart isn’t your fault—the fault lies with the scammers who exploit that kindness for illegal gain.”

“As for the large-scale smear campaign, someone is definitely guiding it. It could be a rival or anti-fans, but it certainly isn’t your fans. These people twist facts with half-truths to incite anger and make others feel ‘personally’ wronged. In today’s digital age, many people don’t look for the truth; they just want to be ‘justice warriors.'”

“Neither of these extreme groups is worth your time,” Chi Yi said, looking into her eyes. “You understand this, logically. But understanding it is one thing—no one is happy about being cursed at for no reason.”

“Legal teams are already following up, and screenshots are being preserved. Once the police catch the scammers, we’ll settle the score with every single one of them.” As Chi Yi said this, a flash of coldness appeared in her eyes, though she kept her voice calm.

“I used to think that as long as my conscience was clear, gossip couldn’t hurt me. But this time…” Yixin closed her eyes, her face pained. “The sheer volume of it feels like it’s drowning me. Those mocking voices… it’s like they won’t stop until I’m mentally broken and begging for mercy.”

“They disgust me. I want to kill them just to make them shut up. But another part of me says it’s not worth wasting my energy on them—that I should focus on the fans who support me. My emotions are swinging between clarity and rage. It’s contradictory, isn’t it?”

Chi Yi shook her head, but Yixin placed a finger against her lips.

“I know the right path to take, and I’ll walk out of this slowly. I just need a few days.” She forced a light smile. “Acting was always just a job to me. I’ve made enough money. Worst case, I quit. I’ll pull the internet plug and let the drama go to hell.”

“Then what can I do for you?” Chi Yi asked.

Talking to Chi Yi had made her feel significantly lighter. “I want a cookie.”

Chi Yi remembered the matcha cookies in the entryway and quickly retrieved them.

“People say eating sweets makes you feel better.” Yixin took a bite, then stared at Chi Yi. “It really does, but not because of the sugar.”

“Then what?” Chi Yi asked, confused.

“Because seeing you makes me feel better.” Yixin leaned in to hug her again, resting her chin on Chi Yi’s shoulder. Even with her heart in pieces, she was willing to give every fragment of love to Chi Yi. “What would I do if you weren’t here right now? I don’t think I could make it.”

“I will always be by your side. Don’t think about impossible ‘what-ifs’,” Chi Yi said.

“A few days ago…” Yixin started to mention her visit to the psychologist, but a phone rang suddenly.

It was Chi Yi’s. Looking at the screen, Yixin recognized the name—a core member of the foundation.

“You should answer it,” Yixin said.

Chi Yi looked at the name and hesitated. “I’ll take this outside.” This was one of the few times Chi Yi had felt the need to step away for a call. She pulled back a corner of the curtain and stepped into the yard.

In the quiet living room, even the rustle of the wind was audible, let alone Chi Yi’s conversation.

“I’m not going this time. I’ve already had Si Wen arrange everything.” “It is an important matter.” “I’ll visit them next time.” “The wish list they left last year… everything is ready. Double-check for anything missing before you depart.”

Inside, Yixin listened to the gist of it. She vaguely recalled Chi Yi mentioning the trip to the mountains; it was supposed to be in the next few days. When Chi Yi returned, Yixin asked, “What did they want?”

“Nothing,” Chi Yi said, slipping the phone back into her pocket. “The team is leaving for the mountains soon. I was just giving them some instructions.”

“Aren’t you going?” Yixin said. “You’re supposed to leave in the next few days.”

“Tomorrow,” Chi Yi corrected. “But… things are busy at the company, so I’m staying.”

“Go.”

Yixin knew it wasn’t about the company; Chi Yi just wanted to stay with her. “Those children have been waiting a year. They’ll be so disappointed if they don’t see you.”

“But… no, I’m staying.”

“We have plenty of time, but you don’t get many chances to go to the mountains,” Yixin said seriously. “Go. I truly want you to. I’ll take care of myself. When you get back, we’ll go on a real date.”

The mountain school project had been in the works for months. Chi Yi couldn’t abandon it now because of Yixin’s situation.

“If I go, I’ll be there for over a week. The signal is terrible; I might not be able to reach you sometimes.” Chi Yi shook her head. “I’m staying.”

“Chi Yi…” Yixin said helplessly. “You have to go. This time, I’ll be the one waiting for you to come back.”

Chi Yi hesitated for a long time before saying, “I can go, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“What?”

Chi Yi took Yixin’s phone and, right in front of her, uninstalled the Weibo app before handing it back. “While I’m away, don’t look at Weibo. Focus on your own life.”

“…” Yixin murmured, “I don’t even remember my account password…”

I won’t become the first actress in history to stop using Weibo just because she forgot her password, right?