Chapter Eighty-Six: You Are Still That Honey Girl (2)
Jiang Yun paid no attention to their expressions. He opened his palm and, pointing in Xue Lan’s direction, spoke as if to himself, “They came here all the way from Xiaoxiang, spending an entire night on the train!”
Everyone grew even more perplexed, unable to discern what Jiang Yun was up to.
Jiang Yun picked up the diary. “Take a look at this.”
The female reporter from Shanghai Television accepted the diary and began to read its yellowed pages, faded ink.
She read aloud.
“February 2015, Lin Xiaohé donated one thousand yuan.”
“March 2015, Lin Xiaohé donated five hundred yuan.”
“April 2015, Lin Xiaohé…”
A dampness gathered at the corner of the reporter’s eye as she continued.
“November 2017, Lin Xiaohé’s cumulative donations reached ten thousand yuan.”
“November 2019, Lin Xiaohé’s cumulative donations reached thirty thousand yuan.”
“November 2021, … cumulative donations reached fifty thousand yuan.”
The reporter closed the diary. “Mr. Jiang Yun, I understand your intent.”
Jiang Yun nodded.
The reporter passed the diary to her counterpart from Real-Time Weibo.
The Weibo reporter opened the diary.
“February 2015, Lin Xiaohé donated one thousand yuan.”
“March 2015, Lin Xiaohé donated five hundred yuan.”
“April 2015, Lin Xiaohé…”
She kept reading.
“November 2017, Lin Xiaohé’s cumulative donations reached ten thousand yuan.”
“November 2019, Lin Xiaohé’s cumulative donations reached thirty thousand yuan.”
“November 2021, … cumulative donations reached fifty thousand yuan.”
She looked up. “Mr. Jiang Yun, we will continue reporting on this matter!”
“Mm.” Jiang Yun nodded.
The Shanghai Television reporter approached Xue Lan. “Director Xue, hello. I’m Xia Li. Are you available for an interview now?”
Xue Lan nodded.
“I’m Wei Lan,” the Weibo reporter introduced herself.
“It’s fortuitous that Ms. Lin Xiaohé is here as well. Let’s begin the interview,” Wei Lan said.
Lin Xiaohé, puzzled, walked over to Jiang Yun. “Mr. Jiang Yun, what exactly did you show them?”
“Nothing much,” Jiang Yun replied, unwilling to elaborate.
The interviews lasted from noon until afternoon.
Afterward, both sets of reporters hurried away to meet their deadlines.
Jiang Yun sent Li Lulu a message on WeChat: “Come to my office.”
Knock knock knock.
“Come in.”
Li Lulu entered. “Boss, what is it?”
“Arrange a hotel for them.”
“Alright, boss.”
Xue Lan stood. “Mr. Jiang Yun, there’s no need to trouble yourself. We can manage on our own.”
Lin Xiaohé added, “Yes, we can handle it ourselves.”
“It’s already late. Listen to me,” Jiang Yun replied casually, the kind of ease that made him approachable.
Lin Xiaohé wanted to protest further, but Xue Lan nodded. “Very well, thank you, Mr. Jiang Yun.”
“Mm.”
Jiang Yun arranged a hotel for Xue Lan and her group.
He and Li Lulu drove home together.
Beep.
Jiang Yun glanced at his phone; it was a message from Li Mengya: “What are you doing?”
“Just got off work.”
“Where are you?”
“Just arrived home.”
“Mm.” Li Mengya replied with a simple affirmation, then sent nothing more.
Jiang Yun returned to Yaxing Shengshi Gardens.
He went upstairs and opened the door.
“You’re cooking tonight!”
“Huh? Boss—” Li Lulu groaned.
Jiang Yun headed to his room. Now it was time for another task.
He opened his computer, logged into his Justice Messenger alternate account.
He converted the recorded audio into a file and published it.
Justice Messenger V: “Some people register other’s songs as their own and still have the nerve to accuse others of plagiarism. [Link]”
Ding! “Justice Messenger V,” the account you follow, has posted a new update!
Online followers quickly received the notification.
“Justice Messenger’s got another big scoop, everyone go check it out!”
“Wow, Justice Messenger’s dropped a bombshell again, let me see what it is!”
“Wow, it sounds like Justice Messenger is hinting at something!”
“I’m here lurking!”
“Make way, I’ve brought my little stool!”
“Little stool +1”
“Little stool +10086”
After several major incidents, Jiang Yun’s Justice Messenger account always delivered sensational news. Now it boasted fifty million followers, equaling the main account.
Zhang Ming was a diehard gossip addict. The plagiarism scandal from “The Voice” had already satisfied his appetite, but he wasn’t going to miss this latest bombshell.
He clicked on Justice Messenger’s link: the sound of a man and a woman on a phone call.
“Han Han, are you sure you want to do this? Zhang Yang is your friend!”
“Wang Yin, if I don’t do this, who’s buying you a phone? Who’s buying you a purse?”
“But…”
“No buts. He sings in front of me all the time. I’ve given him feedback, so it’s basically our joint creation!”
“…Alright.”
After listening to the recording, Zhang Ming felt instantly unsettled.
Mother, this world is too dark—I want to go home.
If not for this recording, I’d still be that boy who believed in sunshine.
This scene played out for many people; suddenly, the world seemed unbearably dark.
“Mom, I want to go home!”
“What’s wrong with this world? Am I the only good person?”
“Upstairs, you’re talking nonsense. I’m a titanium-alloy, ironclad good person!”
Meanwhile, Zhang Yang, having received Jiang Yun’s call, submitted a lawsuit.
At seven in the evening, Jiang Yun turned on Tomato TV.
“And now, a breaking news report.”
Xue Lan appeared on screen: “I am the director of the Xiaoxiang Duping District Welfare Institute, fifty-eight years old this year.”
On the screen, Xue Lan sat on a sofa, two children standing at her side.
“People must take responsibility for their mistakes—”
“But those who err deserve another chance.”
“Xiaohé was once a child at the welfare institute; I watched her grow up. She made mistakes, and criticism is justified!”
“I only hope people can accept Xiaohé’s past.”
The reporter picked up a diary; the camera lingered on it for several minutes.
Reporter Xia Li read aloud:
“February 2015, Lin Xiaohé donated one thousand yuan.”
“March 2015, Lin Xiaohé donated five hundred yuan.”
“February 2015…”
“November 2017, Lin Xiaohé’s cumulative donations reached ten thousand yuan.”
“November 2019, Lin Xiaohé’s cumulative donations reached thirty thousand yuan.”
“November 2021, … cumulative donations reached fifty thousand yuan.”
At this moment, the plain news broadcast, without musical embellishment, left viewers with moist eyes.
At the same time, Real-Time Weibo was rebroadcasting the news, drawing tears from countless online viewers.
Lin Xiaohé appeared on screen, not crying, presenting herself with modest grace.
Xia Li asked, “Xiaohé, is there anything you’d like to say?”
Lin Xiaohé thought for a moment. “These past days have been agony. I don’t ask for forgiveness, only that when people see me, they can still call me ‘Honey Girl.’”
Sobs broke out.
In front of televisions and across the internet, viewers wept, unsure where their sadness began.
“Xiaohé, you are still the Honey Girl…”
“Xiaohé, you remain the Honey Girl…”
“Xiaohé, you are still the Honey Girl you once were…”
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