Chapter 97 I Beg You, Help Me

Two months was enough time for a relationship to evolve into something new, shaped by periods of separation and the busyness of each person’s life.

Life in Congo was harsh.

That day, Lu Er and Ye Qingge were assigned the task of collecting firewood to prepare for dinner.

“Xiao Er, how’s it going? Do you have enough?”

Ye Qingge waved at Lu Er from a distance. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light on her pure and lovely face—it was a picture that was pleasing to the eye.

“Almost.”

Lu Er’s hands were covered in dirt. He thought furiously about the surgeon’s delicate hands of Song Jingmo.

He mused that, thankfully, it wasn’t Song Jingmo assigned to pick up firewood—otherwise, it would have been too degrading.

Ye Qingge was carrying a pile of firewood back when her foot suddenly slipped.

She stepped on a loose stone, let out a startled cry, and lost her balance, tumbling down the slope.

“Ah!”

A piercing scream shattered the quiet of the valley.

Lu Er’s heart tightened. Almost reflexively, he dropped the firewood and ran over as fast as he could.

“Ye Qingge! Are you okay?”

He saw Ye Qingge slumped at the bottom of the slope, her face pale as paper, sweat beading on her forehead, lips trembling.

Even worse, Lu Er’s pupils constricted as he noticed the glaring bloodstains spreading quickly on her light-colored pants.

The cameraman filming them was also startled, instinctively moving the camera closer.

Ye Qingge lifted her eyes toward Lu Er. The lively spark normally in them had been replaced with sheer panic.

Lu Er reacted immediately, taking a step forward.

He quickly removed his denim jacket and securely covered Ye Qingge’s abdomen and waist, shielding her from the camera’s view.

“Stop filming! Quick! Call an ambulance!”

Shouting to the crew, Lu Er bent down and scooped Ye Qingge up in his arms. Her body was icy cold and trembling.

She gripped his collar with both hands and whispered, in a voice only he could hear, “Please… help me… I beg you…”

Looking into her desperate eyes, Lu Er gritted his teeth. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take you to the hospital first.”

Within an hour, hashtags like #LuErPrincessCarriesYeQingge, #LuErYeQinggeEndUpTogether, #YeQinggeSuspectedPregnancy went viral online.

“What the hell?! What happened?! Did my house collapse?!”
“Isn’t Lu Er with Dr. Song? Is this cheating?!”
“Look at Lu Er’s nervous expression! And the blood on Ye Qingge’s pants… could it be a miscarriage?!”
“Timeline? Check the timeline! They’ve been filming this show for about three months!”
“Oh no… poor Dr. Song…”

The smell of disinfectant was sharp in the hospital.

The examination confirmed that Ye Qingge had indeed miscarried and needed an immediate uterine evacuation procedure.

Weak, Ye Qingge lay on the hospital bed, tears silently streaming down her face.

Holding Lu Er’s hand, her voice broke as she said, “I don’t know who the father is…”

“I didn’t even know I was pregnant. It might have been the dinner a week before filming the show… I drank spiked wine… and when I woke up…”

He had experienced being set up before—though not this extreme—but he could empathize with the helplessness and rage.

Suppressing the storm in his heart, Lu Er asked softly, “So… what do you want to do? Call the police?”

Ye Qingge shook her head desperately. “It’s been too long; the evidence is gone. And if I report it, my career will be ruined.”

“I beg you… help me. Just help me get through this, okay?”

Ye Qingge sobbed, “My younger brother suffers from severe lupus and needs huge medical expenses every month. I can’t lose my job.”

Her desperate, almost pleading gaze softened Lu Er’s heart completely.

He thought of Song Jingmo and the harsh reality for women surviving in this industry.

Last time, Ye Qingge had been dragged into a trending scandal. Out of consideration for Song Jingmo, she didn’t clarify publicly and was harshly criticized online.

Besides, they had collaborated many times, and Ye Qingge had always been like a caring older sister, offering him a lot of help.

Finally, Lu Er nodded firmly. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

Meanwhile, at a hospital thousands of miles away…

Liao Xubai held his phone and practically rushed into Song Jingmo’s office.

His face was a mixture of “see, I told you so” urgency and indignation. “Jingmo, look! Look at the trending search!”

He shoved the phone screen in front of Song Jingmo, showing the chaotic footage of Lu Er carrying Ye Qingge and the commotion outside the hospital.

“This is the person you devoted yourself to. This is the entertainment industry. There’s no sincerity—only games!”

Liao Xubai’s voice was agitated. “If Lu Er truly loved you, would he have waited six years without coming to find you? He’s at the top now; there are plenty of handsome guys and beauties throwing themselves at him.”

“He’s only with you for novelty. He probably doesn’t even remember you anymore. Wake up!”

“Moreover, he’s been filming this show with Ye Qingge day and night… and look what happened. You still trust him?”

Jingmo’s gaze fell on the screen, watching the familiar figure holding another woman.

Seeing the glaring titles like “end up together” and “suspected pregnancy,” his fingers tightened around the book he was holding, knuckles whitening.

Liao Xubai continued fanning the flames: “Netizens figured out Ye Qingge is over three months pregnant. Tracing back the timeline, it coincides with the start of the show.”

“A single man and woman, spending all day together, with someone like her… sparks will fly. It’s not surprising something happened.”

Song Jingmo recalled the past two months. Lu Er had indeed become increasingly busy.

Their WeChat conversations had changed from detailed, playful chats to simple “Good morning,” “Good night,” and increasingly frequent:

“Filming was exhausting today. I’m going to sleep.”
“Just wrapped up. Dead tired. Talk tomorrow.”

Several times, when the video call connected, the other side would simply send the sound of steady breathing.

Liao Xubai, seeing Song Jingmo’s shadowed expression, added more fuel: “There are too many beautiful people in this industry. Today they like you, tomorrow someone else. Don’t be foolish.”

After Liao Xubai left, Song Jingmo was alone in the office.

He picked up his phone, which was still on the chat with Lu Er.

The latest message was from that morning at 9:00: “Was filming okay yesterday? Stay safe.”

All day, there had been no reply from Lu Er.

Even when busy, Lu Er would usually reply with a sticker or a simple “miss you.”

A strange, cold emotion washed over Song Jingmo like a tide.

Hesitating, he finally called Lu Er.

The receiver rang and rang—“beep… beep…”—once, twice, until it disconnected automatically.

No one answered.

Song Jingmo put down the phone, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

Moonlight streamed coldly through the window, casting half of his figure in shadow.

The trending search titles, Liao Xubai’s words, the unanswered phone call, and the faint but growing distance over the past two months slowly wove an invisible net around him, tightening its grip.