Both her eldest and second uncles were, after all, her uncles.

Among university students, there is a saying: “Would you rather be a coward your whole life, or a hero, even if only for a few minutes?” Clearly, Bai Haonan was the kind of man who reveled in those fleeting moments of exhilaration, even if only for a few seconds. His motivations might have been a bit cunning, but he didn’t bother with deeper considerations—he simply acted, without a trace of regret, smashing and running off as he pleased.

Yet after he leapt out and vanished, Qiao Yingna wept until she was drenched in tears. No matter how Sister Mai tried to comfort her, the tears would not stop flowing. Perhaps only she truly understood what Bai Haonan had given up for the sake of that impulsive act.

As a singer perpetually oscillating between a conventional career and the pursuit of her dreams, she understood better than anyone what ordinary success and stability looked like. How many could set aside the daily necessities of life to chase their dreams? How many have their ambitions ground away by the monotony of nine-to-five existence?

For most, a lucrative job like the one he gave up—a job that brought prestige and a touch of glamour—would be something they’d fight tooth and nail to keep. It suited that carefree, irreverent man so well. Yet, in a single instant, he let it go without hesitation, all for her… Perhaps it was this thought that nearly made Qiao Yingna faint from crying, until suddenly a figure crouched before her, offering a neatly folded handkerchief: “Who… is he, really?”

Qiao Yingna looked up to see the exceptionally clean and serious face of Guo Xiaoxiao. In that moment, Qiao Yingna instinctively reached out and clung to her like family, sobbing even harder. Yet the policewoman, clad in her one-piece tactical uniform, was unmoved, even prying open Qiao Yingna’s fingers with force. She repeated, “Who is he, really?”

Her tone grew heavier. “I’m only on duty here because I’m responsible for gatherings like this. I intervened at once and realized you were involved. That bearded man had to be him. I still don’t know exactly what happened, but if you want to help him, you’d better tell me everything right now!” It didn’t take much intelligence to piece things together—one look at the wooden-framed black glasses in Qiao Yingna’s hand was enough. Others might not have recognized them, but she did.

Unfamiliar with the distinctions within the police force—between special operations, tactical units, detectives, or community officers—Qiao Yingna gazed into the policewoman’s eyes, as if her soul was being drawn back from her world of grief and imagination to reality. Slowly, her sobs faded, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Sister Mai, who had been sitting nearby, opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by Guo Xiaoxiao’s piercing gaze. “Let me say this again: he’s now suspected of intentional injury and kidnapping for ransom. If you don’t help him, no one will be able to.”

Perhaps women truly grow up amidst tears and sobs. Qiao Yingna once thought she’d matured when her boyfriend broke up with her in her sophomore year, but now, in this moment, she felt she had truly become an adult. Even her tears and crying vanished as if by a miracle. Without needing to compose herself, she took a deep breath and spoke: “I don’t know. All I know is that when I, an award-winning singer, was being harassed by a sponsor, all those prominent people just watched, enjoying the spectacle. Only a few strangers risked themselves to save me. In that moment, no one could help me, right? Not the police, not my parents, not even society. It was only unrelated strangers who acted out of justice. What else could I possibly know? Do you think I’d know why he’d save a police officer who just arrested him for drunk driving? You tell me why.”

Perhaps her stage makeup had been streaked by tears, but it didn’t diminish the impact of the medical university student’s words, which hit the policewoman with wave after wave of emotion. When she finished, the two women stared at each other with wide eyes. At last, the policewoman in the black combat cap nodded. “Very well. I won’t break the law for him, but now I know what happened. I’ll do what I can within my authority to help him. Is there anything else you want to say?”

She rose as she spoke, and even sitting, Sister Mai couldn’t help but regard the policewoman with intense interest, the air of a manager about her.

Qiao Yingna also stood, making no effort to hide the glasses in her hand. “Thank you for your help. He told me that this industry is filthy, but it was him who helped me stand here, because he knew my dream was to sing on a bigger stage for more people. If I shrink back now, wouldn’t that waste everything he’s done for me? So I’ll keep singing, at least so he can hear my determination. Can the police guarantee my safety?”

Guo Xiaoxiao silently saluted and turned to leave, but could be seen approaching the commanding officer to report something before going to the door to make a phone call.

Sister Mai’s expression was animated. “That girl… is she also…?”

Qiao Yingna finally let out a laugh. “Yes! She’s also his second uncle!”

It was only then that she seemed to relax completely. She surreptitiously pulled out her phone to try and reach out to him, but of course, she couldn’t get through.

By now, many people were trying to contact Liu Hao. Bai Haonan himself hadn’t realized that, almost by accident, his act of bringing so many girls to the concert had set the rumor mill spinning. The two aspiring flight attendants and the well-endowed table tennis player aside, the two medical university juniors and three nurses from the First Affiliated Hospital had witnessed the entertainment industry’s dark side for the first time. Returning to their own circles, how could they not spread the tale far and wide?

Most especially, Chen Sufen—the mysterious girl—quietly escorted them back and instructed them all not to admit to knowing Hao if anyone asked, because they’d never see him again. Anyone with a conscience would feel indignant: was it really the case that, just to protect his woman, a promising man had to lose everything?

This was something neither Chen Sufen nor Bai Haonan had anticipated. The five girls sat together by the medical university football field for half an hour before splitting up to take action.

Women, at times like these, are easily swept up in emotion or even a touch of frenzy.

It was as if Liu Teddy, in his two months of sowing the seeds of love, had left his mark everywhere—even if most of it had been intercepted by Durex, he’d still made plenty of friends. Whether it was a fleeting encounter or a deeper connection, at least he’d left good impressions—no animosity in the aftermath. The news that Hao had run off after smashing someone’s head to stop the sleazy sponsor from harassing Qiao Yingna at the talent show spread like wildfire through the medical university and the hospital’s various departments.

Young scholars accustomed to a bright and upright world were stunned by the news. To see that ever-smiling coach suffer such a setback was a blow they felt deeply. It was especially poignant when the bio-engineering student took the car keys from the nurse, who added dramatic flair, saying that Hao had handed over the keys with instructions to return them, and then vanished.

It was almost the stuff of heroic legend.

That night, they quickly began to organize, contacting all the players and discussing strategies.

This was where the difference between men and women became clear: while the men debated what to do, the women were already flooding the internet with posts. Not just the nurses, but students as well. Some did it for Bai Haonan, others to support their senior Qiao Yingna. In recent days, Qiao Yingna had been the pride of the medical university; students were thrilled to see her win the regional championship, whether in person or via livestream. Now, reports of her being harassed and assaulted were spreading rapidly across campus networks and online forums, with every detail vividly described. The stark contrast drove the entire women’s dormitory into a frenzy.

If the dorm was ablaze, the internet was bound to follow.

Any forum or social platform that could be reached was used to break the news. Some even compiled standard documents and passed them around, determined to make as much noise as possible.

Any university student with a modicum of sense knew that only by making enough noise could Qiao and Hao be kept safe—only under the scrutiny of countless eyes could they avoid being quietly silenced by the industry’s unspoken rules.

And so, that night at the medical university, the winds of change howled. Ordinary people, driven by a sense of mission and justice, felt themselves becoming heroes—even if only as keyboard warriors online.

At least they could do something.