The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 57

Almost the moment Jiang Zhinan finished reading that Weibo post, Su Jin’s call came through.

“Are you okay?” was the very first thing Su Jin said the moment Jiang Zhinan picked up.

It sounded noisy on Su Jin’s end. Jiang Zhinan could even make out someone mentioning removing the trending topic—clearly, Su Jin’s company was holding an emergency meeting.

“I’m fine.” Jiang Zhinan shook her head, her tone light, not wanting Su Jin to worry.

She didn’t follow entertainment industry affairs much. She wasn’t sure whether being exposed for dating counted as a scandal and whether it would hurt Su Jin’s popularity or career.

But with the amount of hate pouring in, if they let things keep escalating, it would only grow worse for Su Jin.

“As long as you’re okay.” Su Jin’s voice came through, calm and gentle despite the urgency of the situation. “Don’t worry. We’re already handling it. It’ll be resolved soon.”

“Don’t overthink it, just focus on work,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I’ll make something good for you tonight, okay?”

It was such a reassuring thing to hear.

Jiang Zhinan paused, then nodded softly. “Okay.”

“Mm.” Su Jin responded, impossibly tender and earnest. “I love you.”

Then she hung up.

Jiang Zhinan lowered the phone from her ear, holding it blankly in her hand.

Su Jin’s Weibo post had been unmistakably clear—she had never intended to hide their relationship.

No matter the price, no matter the consequences, she had chosen to acknowledge it openly.

It was obvious now—Jiang Zhinan was truly the most important thing in her heart.

“Boss?” Chen Bin called from the side. “Should we do something on our end?”

“No need.” Jiang Zhinan looked over and shook her head. “I trust her. Su Jin said she can handle it.”

“As for us.” She looked around at everyone in the room. “Didn’t we still have an urgent matter from yesterday? Let’s work hard and finish it today.”

“Got it.” Seeing their boss pull herself together again, the staff didn’t dwell on the gossip and returned to their tasks.

Jiang Zhinan closed her eyes briefly, forced herself to focus, and walked back into the office. She had just lowered her head to look at the documents on her desk when her assistant suddenly knocked and stepped in.

“What is it?” Jiang Zhinan asked. “Did you need something?”

“President Zhou and Su Jin are really dating,” the assistant murmured, then stopped in front of her desk, eyes reddening.

Seeing her expression, Jiang Zhinan suddenly remembered—this girl had liked Su Jin for quite a while. She had even once said she hoped Su Jin’s girlfriend would be an amazing person.

Now that she found out that “amazing person” was actually her boss, she was probably heartbroken. And disappointed.

Jiang Zhinan sighed. This was going to be difficult. She didn’t even know how to comfort her.

But before she could speak, the assistant continued.

“President Zhou.” She opened her palm, revealing a USB drive. Her voice was soft and a little nasal. “Inside are records of the good things you’ve done over the years—donation logs, financial reports, and some photos that were taken during various charity events.”

“I kept them because they felt meaningful.” The assistant said. “But it looks like they might help you this time.”

“Send them to Su Jin. Tell her company to contact a few reputable influencers and post them. Let those people see you’re nothing like what they’re calling you.”

“You’re great—and you’re getting better and better.” With that said, she turned to leave, cheeks flushed. “I support you and Su Jin.”

The warmth of it was almost overwhelming.

Jiang Zhinan felt her nose sting, nearly tearing up.

But now was not the time to cry. She took a deep breath, quickly sent all the files to Su Jin, and explained the situation to her.

In less than five minutes, a clarification post containing all that information appeared in the public timeline.

Jiang Zhinan watched the comments and reposts increase rapidly.

“What do I do?” she asked the system silently. “I, I’m scared to look.”

“Just look,” the system said, steady and reliable as always. “If you see a comment that pisses you off, just tell me. I’ll personally tear them to shreds.”

That actually made Jiang Zhinan laugh.

“Thank you.” She whispered in her mind, then braced herself and tapped open the comments.

To her surprise, no one was cursing her. Instead, several people involved in the past incidents had stepped out to speak for her, saying President Zhou truly was a good person.

As she scrolled down, she noticed that many of the people defending her were Su Jin’s fans.

Mom-fans, girlfriend-fans, little-sister-fans—even some casual fans—came out to speak for her.

Soon after, someone even dug up her old burner accounts, proving that Jiang Zhinan had liked Su Jin—and supported her—from a very early time.

—The world isn’t deserving, but Su Jin is.

—Su Jin is amazing. She really is. She’s wonderful.

Line after line, all of them full of her affection for Su Jin.

It didn’t take long before the entire tide of public opinion shifted—completely reversing the situation.

Su Jin’s company worked with impressive efficiency. They pulled the trending searches that needed pulling, handled all the necessary PR, and even issued warnings to quite a few people over the next few days—anyone who kept slandering would be getting a lawyer’s letter.

On top of that, Su Jin’s fans were formidable. They charged straight to the front lines to clarify and debunk rumors for the two of them—each one more battle-hardened than the last, swatting down keyboard warriors like they were nothing.

No one knew when it started, but people online were once again calling the two of them a perfect, heaven-made couple.

Even Su Jin’s supertopic had exploded with fanfiction:

“The Untold Story of the Superstar and the Boss CEO,”

“The Nation’s Idol and Her Beloved Little Wife,”

“Back Then She Was an 18th-Tier Nobody, Back Then She Was a Rustic Boss.”

And the genres? Everything under the sun—ancient angst, interstellar power fantasies, modern fluff. Whatever you wanted, it existed.

The pairing preferences, however, were hilariously unanimous: all Su Jin × Zhou Ying.

Jiang Zhinan scrolled for half a day before finally spotting one that listed Zhou Ying × Su Jin.

[Am I really the only one who thinks Zhou Ying × Su Jin is superior? She’s a CEO! A CEO!!]

1st comment: Sis how can you eat this heresy, come back to the main ship!

2nd comment: CEO or not, my girl is so A. SO A!

3rd comment: Su-gong.

4th comment: Su-gong +1.

5th comment: Su-gong +2.

6th comment: Let me disrupt the formation—Zhou-shou +10086.

Jiang Zhinan: “…”

She sighed, closed Weibo with a flick of her finger, and went back to work.

Truly, humanity was not worth the trouble.

Although everything had been handled beautifully on the surface, the incident still left an indelible shadow in Su Jin’s heart.

Countless times, she woke from nightmares, dreaming of a crowd standing before Jiang Zhinan—insulting her, slandering her, trying with cruel delight to tear her down.

And the worst part was that Su Jin couldn’t do anything.

She was shackled, trapped in a cage with no exit, forced to watch as Jiang Zhinan endured grievances and pain until eventually, she lost all hope and drifted farther and farther away.

Every time, Su Jin woke up crying.

Jiang Zhinan was the softest, most vulnerable place in her heart—the one person she could never abandon, the one person she could never live without.

She wanted to hold her forever, to keep her somewhere she only needed to turn her head to see, to hold her hand for the rest of their lives.

And so, in the end, Su Jin made an important decision.

She wanted to marry Jiang Zhinan—to be her partner for life.

She chose a particularly lovely afternoon to tell her. Jiang Zhinan was curled in her arms, watching a movie with rare leisure, a faint smile lingering at her lips.

Lowering her head, Su Jin kissed the tip of her nose, her heart and eyes filled entirely with her.

“Marry me,” she said, her voice steady and earnest.

The suddenness of it made Jiang Zhinan freeze for half a second.

Then she broke into a smile again.

“Okay.” Jiang Zhinan nodded softly, looping her arms around Su Jin’s neck as she rose to kiss her—lightly, tenderly.

A few crystalline tears slipped down in the moment that followed.

Their wedding was held three days later. Many people attended: Su Jin’s friends, Jiang Zhinan’s business partners and employees, and several well-known media outlets.

Given that, the two had chosen a modest but suitable venue—not large, but able to hold everyone comfortably.

The ceremony went flawlessly. They drank, exchanged vows, and slipped rings onto each other’s fingers amid a chorus of blessings.

When the media interviewed them, someone asked why Su Jin hadn’t booked a more lavish venue like other celebrities and held an extravagant wedding.

“We talked it over before. This is already more than enough,” Su Jin replied, glancing at Jiang Zhinan with a smile tugging at her lips. “Besides, the money we saved can go to my gi—no, to my wife.”

The moment she said it, laughter rippled across the entire venue.

Riding the wave, the reporter asked, “Then how do you plan to handle your income after marriage?”

“Give it to my wife,” Su Jin said.

“Everything goes to my wife.”

These answers, once broadcast, had the whole internet laughing themselves silly. Some fanfiction writers even sprang back into action and produced a new epic entitled “Wifey, Come Here, I’ll Wire You All My Money.”

The tone was delightfully unhinged, and it spread all over the supertopic and Weibo—eventually even reaching Su Jin herself.

She read it, found it pretty well-written, and casually gave it a like.

Within minutes, she was back on the trending searches.

This time: “Su Jin Personally Likes Fanfiction, Confirmed Wife-Whipped.”