Baby, Don’t Cry: President Huo Coaxes You With Red Eyes

'The closer he came to having her, the more afraid he was of losing her!' This line. This single line from Huo Shengbai's internal monologue completely reframes everything that just happened. I went into this section thinking it was a straightforward romance-protection fantasy. Rich guy saves girl from bullies. Cute. But then I hit that paragraph and suddenly Huo Shengbai isn't just a savior—he's a man who waited two minutes outside while his rival drove away, deliberately letting Wen Zhili see Huo Cheng's true colors, manipulating the situation because he's terrified she'll go back. The stakes here are layered in a way that made me put the book down. On the surface: Wen Zhili's reputation is destroyed, she's being harassed, people are calling her a slut. Those stakes are huge and real. But underneath: Huo Shengbai is fighting his own insecurity. He knows she chose him, but he doesn't trust that she'll keep choosing him. So he gives her a black card with no limit, offers to pay her to teach him pipa, positions himself as her protector—all while secretly hoping she'll never look at anyone else again. And Wen Zhili's internal conflict is equally sharp. She spent her past life loving a man who despised her, and now she's learning to fight back. The moment she swings her bag at Huo Cheng and says 'I'll go tell Master Huo'—that's not just revenge. That's her claiming power she never had before. She's not afraid of consequences anymore. She's done being the good girl who takes it.

There's so much symbolism packed into these chapters that I think deserves its own deep dive. Let me start with the most obvious one: the black lace dress. Wen Zhili wore black lace exclusively for a year because Huo Cheng told her he liked it. She preferred cheongsams but suppressed that preference to please him. The black lace represents her erasure—her willingness to become someone she wasn't just to be loved. When she finally changes back to the cheongsam, it's not just a wardrobe change. It's a declaration of selfhood. Then there are the kiss marks on her neck. The text mentions she deliberately chose a scarf to cover them before going to school. These marks symbolize possession—Huo Shengbai marking her, claiming her. But here's the thing: unlike her relationship with Huo Cheng, where she was emotionally abused and stripped of identity, these marks seem to carry a different meaning. She's not hiding them out of shame; she's hiding them because she's self-conscious. There's a difference. The scarf becomes a symbol of her own modesty and boundaries, not someone else's control. The WeChat profile picture detail is surprisingly loaded. Wen Zhili's default picture is still a photo of her and Huo Cheng. She changes it to her cat only after Huo Shengbai adds her. This small action represents her letting go of the past—not dramatically, not publicly, but privately and deliberately. Huo Shengbai notices nothing, which makes his jealousy even more ironic because he's jealous of a photo while she's already moving on. And the most powerful symbol: the high heel. Wen Zhili throwing her high heel at Huo Cheng's face is the ultimate rejection of the femininity he tried to control. She's weaponizing the very thing he made her perform for. In her past life, she dressed in black lace to please him. Now she uses her own clothing—her own femininity—as a weapon against him. The heel striking his face three times is almost mythological in its symbolism. Three strikes. Three years of abuse answered in three seconds.

I need to talk about how this section moves because honestly the pacing is wild. We start in a hospital room—peeling pears, black cards, pip lessons—and then BAM, next chapter she's being publicly slandered at school, then harassed in an alley, then fighting a man with her shoe. The author doesn't give you a single breath between scenes. It's relentless. And I think that's intentional. The story is basically saying: your life can go from 'my fiancé is feeding me fruit' to 'a pimp just offered me three hundred bucks' in the time it takes to finish a paragraph. That mirrors Wen Zhili's experience perfectly. She's not given space to process because the world won't let her. The chapter breaks are doing interesting work too. Chapter 9 ends with her walking out of class after reporting to police, and Chapter 10 opens with Huo Cheng confronting her in the hallway. No transition, no time jump explained—just collision. It feels like the story itself is angry on her behalf, like it can't wait to throw the next punch. But there's one moment where the pacing actually slows down and it's gorgeous: when Wen Zhili is beating the pimp and her hairpin comes loose, her hair cascades down, and Huo Shengbai just watches. The narrative lingers there. It's the only time in this entire section where the story stops running and actually looks at something. And it's a moment of pure visual poetry—this fierce woman, hair flowing, taking down her attacker, while the man who wants her watches like he's seeing her for the first time.

Okay so let me just say this upfront: the fake STD rumor plotline is absolutely vile and I love it. Not love the suffering, but love how the author weaponizes it. Wen Zhili gets framed with photoshopped medical records, anonymous classmates calling her a slut, and then—plot twist—her ex Huo Cheng is the one throwing printed papers in her face like some medieval town crier. The irony is delicious because we know she's innocent, and the reader is screaming into the void while she just walks out calm as a cucumber. But here's what really made me sit up: the pimp scene. Wen Yuxuan literally orchestrates this. She signals the guy, sits in Huo Cheng's car like it's a goddamn theater production, and watches from the passenger seat. That's not just mean—that's calculated. And then Huo Shengbai shows up, but not before Wen Zhili herself flips this grown man over her shoulder and beats him with her high heel. The plot doesn't just rescue her; it lets her rescue herself first, and Huo Shengbai gets to witness it. That's a gorgeous narrative choice. The subplot with the black card and the pipa lessons is also doing heavy lifting. On the surface it's just 'rich guy gives money,' but Huo Shengbai's real motivation is sneaky—he wants her at his house every weekend. He's building a reason to be close to her while pretending it's a business arrangement. The plot is layering his obsession like an onion, and I'm here for it.

I need to talk about the cheongsam scene because it wrecked me in the best possible way. So Wen Zhili goes to this tailor shop she used to frequent before—before Huo Cheng told her she looked petty and provincial in cheongsams, before she switched to black lace because he said he preferred bright, flamboyant women. A year she hasn't worn one. A year of dressing to please someone who despised her for being herself. And when she walks out in that ink-wash colored cheongsam with a jade hairpin and emerald earrings, Huo Shengbai basically loses his mind. But here's what got me—the moment isn't just about her looking beautiful. It's about her reclaiming herself. The text says she had been careless and forgotten she was still wearing the black lace dress from the day before, and that she "must be overthinking it" about Huo Shengbai's feelings. She's still operating with old wounds. But then she deliberately goes to the tailor shop and orders FIVE sets of cheongsams. Five. This is a woman who is actively choosing herself, piece by piece. And the Huo Cheng reaction? He's standing there, stunned, realizing she's "like a lotus emerging from water—pure and beautiful." But it's too late for him. She's already in the Maybach driving away. The timing of that is just *chef's kiss*. He only notices her worth the moment she's no longer available to him. Classic. The most emotionally charged moment for me though was when Wen Zhili was falling asleep on Huo Shengbai's shoulder in the car. His embrace carries a faint scent of roses, and it's "a fragrance she liked." She melts into him. This is a girl who was abused, tortured, nearly starved, and burned alive in her past life, and here she is, finally feeling safe enough to fall asleep in someone's arms. The contrast between her past trauma and this moment of peace hit me so hard. I actually had to pause and process.

There's something deeply symbolic about the snacks Huo Shengbai gives Wen Zhili. She sighs 'I'm not a child anymore' but the truth is, in her previous life, snacks were a luxury she never had in the orphanage. Now, as an adult, someone is giving her treats like she's still precious. It's about reclaiming childhood she never had. The nightmare scene is similarly loaded - she's been traumatized by betrayal and abuse, and he comforts her like a parent would a child. But it's not patronizing; it's protective. She's never known parental love, and here's this man giving her exactly what she needed. The yellow objects trap is symbolic too - Wen Yuxuan wanted to steal her material possessions, and instead gets covered in waste. It's about how greed corrupts and how the universe (or in this case, Wen Zhili's preparation) turns that greed back on itself. And the stock market move? It's not just about money - it's about using knowledge from the past to secure a future. She's not gambling; she's investing in herself. Director Lu Hong's gratitude is another layer - he sees her as a benefactor, but really, she's just being smart. The theme here is agency. Wen Zhili is no longer a victim of circumstance. She's making choices, setting traps, investing wisely. The rebirth isn't just about living again - it's about living better, smarter, and with the power to strike back at those who wronged her.