Chapter 15: Unexpectedly Went Viral

Three new energy vehicles were now fully engulfed in flames, the firelight reddening half the sky, the air thick with the acrid stench of burning rubber and batteries.

Although the middle vehicle’s spontaneous combustion triggered the chain reaction, the root cause was the first car’s tire blowout, which led to loss of control. Fortunately, no one in the last two vehicles was injured.

Yet seeing the lifeless body on the ground and the two others still unconscious, his heart still felt heavy.

“Bro, you’re awesome!”

Someone patted Qin Yun on the shoulder, genuinely impressed.

Qin Yun nodded; he noticed many people filming with their phones—some at the burning cars, others at him.

He paid no mind to them; his mood was complicated.

What he didn’t know was that his life-risking rescue had been filmed from afar—though blurry—and was already spreading across Douyin and Constable.

Platforms gave massive traffic boosts to real-time news; less than half an hour after the crash, it had been widely pushed out.

After a while, police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances broke through the traffic jam and arrived in succession.

Several traffic officers and firefighters rushed over, quickly setting up cordons, evacuating the crowd, and restoring traffic flow.

One officer checked his phone, then strode over: “Comrade, was it you who rescued those people?”

Qin Yun nodded, briefly recounted the rescue, then gave his contact and personal details. He didn’t linger, declined the suggestion to go to the hospital, and walked past the police cars toward his own vehicle.

He took a T-shirt from the trunk, slipped it on, sat in the driver’s seat, and sunlight streamed through the window, falling on his dusty arms.

Qin Yun started the car, slowly driving past the accident site, watching the scene recede in the rearview mirror, and exhaling softly.

He really had changed. In the past, he would never have done this—his first instinct would’ve been to flee far away. But just now, he’d rushed over almost instinctively—perhaps because of the system, perhaps because he’d broken free from his marriage.

Qin Yun didn’t dwell on it; he pressed the accelerator and kept driving toward Baoding Passenger Center.

Over an hour later, the car slowly pulled into the passenger center’s parking lot.

He parked randomly and spotted a girl crouching by the glass entrance, scrolling on her phone, occasionally smiling happily.

But when she swiped to the next video, she froze, eyes widening in shock.

She stared at the figure in the video—though distant and unclear, the silhouette was too familiar. Checking the location: Jingkun Expressway. Xia Qingqing instantly believed the man rescuing people was Qin Yun. She scrolled further and quickly found several more clips from different angles.

Qin Yun picked up Xia Qingqing’s bag from the passenger seat and walked straight toward her.

“Hey…” Qin Yun called from afar. When Xia Qingqing looked up, he waved the bag. “I brought it. How are you thanking me?”

Xia Qingqing’s eyes lit up, and she hurried over.

When she reached Qin Yun and saw his appearance, her expression changed.

“Qin… Brother Qin, was that really you in the video?”

“Video? What video?”

Qin Yun paused, then realized—the footage from the highway accident must have gone viral on social media.

“You mean the highway crash?”

Xia Qingqing nodded, gazing at him with admiration: “Yeah, I just scrolled through—it says a man risked his life to save trapped passengers. The silhouette looked just like you.”

Qin Yun didn’t deny it, nor did he confirm it; he handed her the bag: “Check if anything’s missing from your wallet.”

Then he asked: “Didn’t you say you were going home today? Why are you still here? Are you planning to take a bus all the way to Shanghai?”

Xia Qingqing shook her head, put the wallet into her backpack, and stowed the bag in the trunk.

“I’m taking a bus to Beijing Daxing Airport, then flying back to Shanghai.”

“Heh, still putting up with your car sickness?” Qin Yun remembered how pale and exhausted she’d looked the first time he met her, and couldn’t help smiling.

Xia Qingqing blushed: “It’s much better now. If I don’t look at my phone and just relax, I don’t get sick on short trips.”

“Alright then, good luck. Have a safe trip.”

Xia Qingqing quickly asked: “Brother Qin, where are you headed? Back to Beijing?” If he was going to Beijing, she wanted to hitch a ride.

“I’m going home—I’ll drive all the way to Zhejiang.”

Hearing this, Xia Qingqing felt disappointed but still said sincerely: “Thank you so much, Brother Qin. Drive safely. When you come to Shanghai, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

“Alright, goodbye.”

Qin Yun nodded, waved, and turned away.

Watching Qin Yun’s disheveled appearance compared to her classmates, Xia Qingqing suddenly felt a huge gap.

“Is this what mature men’s charm looks like?”

Qin Yun naturally didn’t know what Xia Qingqing was thinking. He reversed the car, waved at her again, and sped out of the passenger center. He’d planned to reach Hengshui by noon, but Xia Qingqing’s delay meant he wouldn’t make it before noon.

But he wasn’t hungry, so he wasn’t in a rush.

As he re-entered the highway toward Hengshui, Douyin was flooded with news of his rescue—had he been a content creator, this surge of traffic would’ve made him rich.

But since the videos were shot from afar, no one could make out his face, so no one knew who the rescuer was.

As a result, Douyin even saw videos attempting to dox the rescuer’s identity.

Of course, these videos were quickly taken down.

Qin Yun had no idea the tidal wave of traffic had passed right by him. When he arrived in Hengshui and exited the highway into the city, it was already 1 p.m.

He decided to stay in Hengshui tonight and head to Shandong tomorrow.

Near the toll station, he checked into a hotel, took a shower, and noticed several missed calls—all from the same person.

He was about to call back when his phone rang again.

“Hello, is this Mr. Qin Yun? This is the Baoding Traffic Police… we need to verify some details…”

A woman’s voice came through the line.

Qin Yun said: “Yes, it’s me. What do you need?”

“Mr. Qin, one of the people you rescued in the highway accident has been confirmed dead. The other two have regained consciousness. Since this involves heroic conduct, there may be official commendation and a reward. Would you be able to come to Baoding later?”

Qin Yun sighed slightly. Though he’d known the man was dead inside the car, he still felt regret.

“No need. I’m just passing through Hebei—I’ll leave for Zhejiang tomorrow.”

“That’s too bad. But don’t worry—if there’s a heroism reward, we can deposit it directly into your bank account.”

“Thank you.”

Qin Yun didn’t care about the heroism reward—first, it wouldn’t be much, second, he’d simply done what he felt was right.

After hanging up, he went downstairs, found an old, weathered restaurant, ordered a donkey meat firecake, and satisfied his hunger.

What’s the point of travel? Is it visiting attractions? Or museums?

Qin Yun thought not. The point, to him, was tasting food you’d never tried, seeing scenery you’d never seen, hearing dialects you’d never heard, and meeting people from all corners of the land.

But not now—it was too hot. The heat rolled in waves, enough to peel your skin off.

Before he could return to the hotel, an old number rang.

Qin Yun glanced at the caller ID, surprised. He answered: “Boss, why are you calling me?”

A mature, commanding voice replied: “So it’s true—after graduation, relationships fade. You won’t even reach out when you’re in Hebei. Men, none of you are good.”

“Cough… cough…”

Qin Yun coughed twice, startled.

“Boss, what’s this about? Who upset you? I’ll teach them a lesson.”

“Pfft… look, you don’t even know where I live.” The voice sounded displeased.

Qin Yun froze, then realized: “Boss, you’re in Hebei? Didn’t you say you went to Hangzhou?”

“I went to Hangzhou. But can’t I go home?”

Qin Yun rubbed his nose, smiling wryly: “Are you on vacation? Are you home now?”

The voice huffed, then asked: “Where are you now?”

“Hengshui.”

The voice on the other end suddenly sounded odd: “Are you stalking me?”

“You’re in Hengshui too? But you said your hometown is Chengde.”

Chengde and Hengshui were separated by more than two full Beijings.

“My third aunt’s daughter got married—I’m here for the wedding.”

Then the voice added: “Send me your location. If you’re close, I’ll give you a chance to treat me to dinner tonight—see if married men all get fat.”

Qin Yun sent his location. She checked it and said: “Wait for my call tonight. Goodbye.”

Qin Yun opened WeChat Moments and found comments—exactly from the woman on the phone.

On the other end, Su Huan hung up, a smile curling on her lips.

“Who were you calling? Why are you smiling like that?”

The bride, noticing her cousin’s expression, grew curious.

Su Huan immediately wiped the smile off her face, glancing at her: “I didn’t smile. You imagined it.”

“Pfft!” The bride turned away. “I’m married now. Are you even planning to get married? Or even date? Since graduation, I’ve never seen you with a man.”

“Crude!”

Su Huan crossed her arms, gazing at her reflection: “I’m only 28. Why rush? As long as my mom doesn’t nag, I’ll marry at 38.”

“You’ll get beaten to death by Aunt Two, I’m telling you.”

In the mirror, Su Huan wore light makeup—soft brows, a straight nose, delicate lips—radiating gentle grace.

Her long, wavy black hair fell loosely over her shoulders, partly swept behind her ears, the ends slightly messy yet effortlessly casual.

A light beige short-sleeved shirt revealed arms that were pale, smooth, and translucent.

This woman, appearing so gentle, had a voice full of magnetic detachment—so utterly mismatched with her appearance.

“Can I come along tonight too?”

Su Huan shot her a glare: “What are you doing? You have to return to your in-laws this afternoon. Stay put and be a bride.”

"Pfft, I don't even want it."

At Qin Yun’s end, he returned to the hotel, scrolled through his phone, and found several local video recommendations all related to him, each with high likes and views. The comment sections were wildly active, with all sorts of opinions, but mostly praise.

"I never expected it to go this viral. Too bad—if I were less proud, couldn’t I just go live right now and make money on the spot?"

After thinking it over, though he still hadn’t decided what path to take with this account, he updated his Douyin profile: swapped the photo for a self-portrait, and changed his name directly to Qin Yun.