Chapter 119

Chapter 119: Something’s Wrong With This White-Haired Kid!

“Have you ever considered that the people you interviewed felt exactly this way?” 

“……”  

Returning home after school, Yiwen watched the entire news segment in a daze.  

It had all happened so suddenly.  

But this incident likely wouldn’t change anything. The internet would remain the same toxic cesspool as always. People would still believe edited, out-of-context clips and hurl abuse like before.  

Those who had once attacked her would probably just think, Oh, so it was a misunderstanding, then move on without a shred of guilt.  

After all, too many had participated—most didn’t even consider themselves part of the cyberbullying mob.  

In an avalanche, no single snowflake bears responsibility, yet each believes itself innocent, merely following the flow.  

Sitting blankly at her desk, Yiwen redownloaded the video app she hadn’t opened in over a year. It took three attempts to recall her password correctly.  

Her follower count had plummeted from three million to just over eight hundred thousand. Fumbling slightly, she navigated to her profile and found her final upload—that clumsy, desperate attempt at a clarification video.  

Many hate comments had been deleted, but remnants remained: “RIP”, “Jingyin was decent in life, let’s all spit on her grave”.  

A year ago, these would have devastated her. Now, they only drew a bitter, mocking smirk.  

She sorted comments by newest.  

“Jingyin, we failed you. 😭”  

“Please come back.”  

“I always felt something was off, but the backlash was too intense to speak up.”  

“Knew she was innocent! You normies will never understand how debilitating these ‘quirks’ really are…”  

How many of these accounts had once joined the witch hunt? Their tune changed completely with the shifting winds.  

Most hate videos had been taken down, replaced by apologies and “objective analyses.” As for forgiveness? The internet had already forgiven them on Yiwen’s behalf—their remorse seemed sincere enough.  

The few remaining call-out videos now drowned in sarcastic comments and mocking emojis.  

Just as they’d once treated her.  

Not that it mattered—they’d already milked the drama for views and followers.  

Yiwen exited the app and uninstalled it immediately. That was her final statement on the matter.  

Did they really expect her to return with a smile?  

She’d moved on.  

Grown up.  

Jingyin was dead. Let her rest.  

Now, what next? She could probably resume living as a girl. Her classmates might be shocked, but they’d understand why she’d disguised herself—none of them were malicious.  

Most girls at school admired Yiwen from afar, like some unattainable idol. Not because she was extraordinary, but because collective infatuation had snowballed into myth.  

“So many like him—why would I have a chance?” That was their logic.  

Few dared make a move like Tiger Girl. At this age, many still waited passively for romance to find them, like some shoujo manga fantasy.  

She’d stick to her plan. Though part of her longed to see their reactions if she revealed herself now, the embarrassment outweighed the curiosity. After graduation, when everyone scattered, she’d restart as a girl in college.  

Cheered by the thought, Yiwen opened her bedroom door—for the first time in a year, she actually wanted to share news with her mother.  

Passing Mi Xiaoliu’s slightly ajar door, she peeked inside. Privacy clearly wasn’t his priority, she’d often glimpsed him hugging a pillow through the crack during midnight bathroom trips.  

Pushing the door open, she found him “studying”—or rather, defacing textbook illustrations.  

The original depicted a female teacher comforting a student: “Don’t give up, Xiao Ming!” Now, the teacher sported angry brows, fangs, and a knife in her free hand. Xiao Ming wept under thick, downturned eyebrows.

The teacher’s dialogue had been crossed out and replaced with: “Gloria, hand over the hot dog and I’ll spare your life.”  

Yiwen: “……”  

What kind of cartoons has this kid been watching?!  

Gloria was that blonde upperclassman’s name, right? What would she think if she saw this? Did you forget she checks your homework, you little dummy?  

Notably, Mi Xiaoliu’s phone kept playing music while he doodled—the same playlist Yiwen had added long ago.  

Hearing them now evoked entirely new emotions.  

She’d even taught him how to add new songs, yet he only ever listened to these few. He must genuinely like her singing…  

“Xiaoliu.” Yiwen’s voice turned uncharacteristically shy. “Turn around and look at me.”  

If there was one person she could tell, it was him.  

If she couldn’t see everyone’s reactions, she’d at least seek validation from Mi Xiaoliu.  

Her heart pounded. How would he respond?  

Mi Xiaoliu stood obligingly and faced her.  

“I have a secret…” Hugging her left arm, she averted her gaze with an angelic yet embarrassed smile. “I’m actually a girl.”  

“Mmm.” Xiaoliu nodded and sat back down to resume doodling.  

Yiwen: “??”  

Did he not hear me?  

“I’m serious. I really am a girl.” She assumed he thought she was joking. “That bra you saw before was mine too.”  

“Mmm.” Another nod.  

Yiwen: “??”  

Sure, Mi Xiaoliu was clueless about many things, but he knew the difference between men’s and women’s restrooms! 

He’d even shown awareness of gender boundaries before—like when Gloria draped an arm over his shoulders and he’d recoiled (Though that was probably just fear).  

Is he playing it cool? Or did he already know? Toby had called her “sis” in front of him…  

Fine. Time for the nuclear option.  

She physically turned Mi Xiaoliu’s head back toward her. “Xiaoliu, my real name is Jingyin Lamorette. I’m the one who sang those songs you’re listening to.”  

“Oh.”  

Yiwen: “????”  

Oh? Just oh?! You little—  

At that moment, the current song ended, transitioning into the next track:  

“OOOOOHHHHH—”  

Rise and Fall—colloquially known as The Pantheon Execution Theme.  

Yiwen: “……”  

She’d been so eager for Xiaoliu’s reaction—though his expression rarely changed anyway.

“Hahaha! This little white-haired brat is killing me!” Sasha cackled uncontrollably in the depths of Mi Xiaoliu’s mind.  

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” Yiwen stood frozen in disbelief.  

“No.” Mi Xiaoliu shook her head.  

Yiwen grabbed his phone and checked. Turns out it wasn’t his personal playlist—he’d been listening to the trending charts. Somehow, her songs had resurfaced in popularity.  

Recent events had inexplicably revived her fame.  

But as she’d resolved earlier: Jingyin is dead. Let her rest.  

Returning to the home screen, she noticed The Best Game Ever (™) still installed. She meant to delete it for him, but accidentally tapped the video app beside it instead.  

Odd. Mi Xiaoliu never used to have this app. Its position behind the game suggested a recent download.  

Curious, Yiwen opened it.  

Username: The Most Useless Stand-in  

Clearly, the Hermit’s account.  

She’d logged in yesterday to upload the video and forgotten to sign out—not that this throwaway account contained anything else anyway.  

Only one video existed: The Complete, Unedited Footage of the Jingyin Incident, which included the accidental frame where Hayakawa’s face was visible.  

This video had been the catalyst for the online vindication. The Hermit had planted it first, then subtly fed other bloggers additional damning evidence about Hayakawa.  

Since people were still liking it, the video remained easily accessible.  

Yiwen stared blankly for a long moment.  

How did Mi Xiaoliu get this original footage from so long ago? Does it relate to his undisclosed abilities?  

She suddenly felt arms wrap around her from behind.  

“Xiaoliu… thank you.” Yiwen buried her face against his back, her voice muffled.  

“Mmm.”  

She pinched his cheek. “You little liar.”  

You totally knew.  

Sasha continued laughing gleefully inside Mi Xiaoliu’s mind, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.  

But five minutes later—long after their conversation had ended—Yiwen still hadn’t let go.  

That’s when Sasha sensed something amiss.  

This white-haired brat… something’s not right!