Chapter 127: Confronting the Reporter

Capital International Airport—the plane from Italy landed in the dead of night, just as dawn was breaking.

The Republic’s women’s volleyball team, exhausted from the World Women’s Volleyball Champions Cup where they had only managed to finish fourth, emerged from the terminal.

As one of the most influential teams in the country, the women’s volleyball squad had always been seen by fans as their own cherished daughters. They had never once disappointed their supporters, consistently achieving honors in various competitions. Yet this time, their performance left both fans and the media dissatisfied.

First and foremost, the Republic’s women’s volleyball team, currently ranked number one in the world, had only secured fourth place—a result that fell far short of expectations. Moreover, the team had clearly entered a transitional phase, struggling to fill the gaps left by several injured veterans. The situation worsened when their star player, Ma Dongmei, was sent off at a crucial moment, triggering a series of elementary errors and panic on the court that broke many hearts.

Naturally, Ma Dongmei became the scapegoat for some malicious media outlets and ill-informed fans, who began to single her out as a liability.

Such is the way of the world—praising some while tearing others down. In this restless society, it is all too common for people to place others on moral pedestals only to hurl criticism, all while failing to examine their own darker flaws.

Ma Dongmei’s expression was grim. Though by nature a cheerful soul, she was still just a young woman in her early twenties. Upon leaving the Italian airport, she had already endured malicious harassment from certain Italian and European media, their condescending Mandarin voices echoing in her ears. She felt as if enveloped by the world’s hostility. Even some teammates, harboring ulterior motives, began to subtly blame and distance themselves from her.

Pushing her suitcase through the noisy crowd, her body weary from the long flight and her spirit heavy with frustration, Ma Dongmei’s deepest longing was for a strong, warm embrace. In such moments, most women would think of their parents or, more often, their husbands.

“Ma Dongmei, what are your thoughts about being sent off in the semifinal? How do you respond to the fans’ and media’s criticism?”

As she hesitated, several microphones suddenly thrust toward her face, accompanied by sharp questions.

While the media can be just, some reporters go to great lengths to provoke their subjects. Their aim is simple: to enrage, then exploit the ensuing turmoil to create sensational headlines or to distort statements through selective editing.

Though airport security tried desperately to hold them back, Ma Dongmei found herself surrounded by reporters. Despite standing nearly two meters tall, she appeared unusually fragile. She had no idea what to say or what to do next.

Then, suddenly, the crowd of reporters around her began to be pushed and jostled unevenly from the edges.

“Are you crazy? What’s with the pushing? Can’t you see there’s an interview going on?”

“Who’s that? What’s going on? Why are you pushing people around like this?”

Looking up, Ma Dongmei saw a familiar towering figure forcefully shoving the reporters aside. Tears welled in her eyes—he had come. Dragging his disabled body, unconcerned with how the media would report or criticize afterward, he had come to rescue the woman he loved.

Wang Lei had lost a leg, but his physique remained formidable. Standing at one meter ninety-six, and with years of training behind him, he effortlessly parted the crowd and reached Ma Dongmei’s side.

“Alright, it’s okay now. Let’s go home.”

He pulled her gently into his arms, soothing the bewildered young woman.

“Who are you? What do you think you’re doing? Have some manners,” the reporters shouted, their frustration boiling over at Wang Lei’s sudden intrusion.

Ignoring their protests, Wang Lei tightened his hold on Ma Dongmei’s shoulder and prepared to push through the crowd. But these reporters, hungry for a big story, were determined not to let the opportunity slip away. They hoped Wang Lei would react aggressively, giving them tomorrow’s headline: “Ma Dongmei’s boyfriend assaults reporters at the airport, causing uproar.”

Microphones and recording devices were again thrust toward Wang Lei’s face, and some reporters recognized him.

With no hesitation, Wang Lei slapped away the microphones and recorders.

“Hey, back off! What do you think you’re doing? I’m disabled—if anyone dares shove a microphone in my face again, expect a court summons tomorrow.”

Though calm now, Wang Lei was raised in the capital and had once played at the national level. There was always a streak of defiance in him, and he was not one to be intimidated. A pack of unscrupulous reporters was no match.

“Are you married? Are you married? How about you?”

Before the reporters could retort, Wang Lei pointed at them one by one, demanding answers.

“I’m not married yet, but this is the girl I intend to marry, so I’m going to protect her. And you? You’re a bunch of scoundrels. When your own daughters get mistreated abroad, you don’t care. Instead, you fan the flames here to stir trouble. You don’t even check if you still have your own dignity.”

“Evidence? You have the nerve to talk about evidence? Those bastards overseas claimed that shit smells sweet—why don’t you go eat shit? What’s in that meat cavity of yours, flour? Anyone who watched the match knows the referee was blatantly biased toward the Pacific side. And you still have the gall to demand evidence? I’m not your father; I don’t have time to find proof for you.”

“Decency? Ha! You have the nerve to lecture me on decency? I’ll shove a microphone down your throat and see what you say then.”

“Right to interview? You have rights and I don’t? You think you’re human and everyone else isn’t? You actually have the nerve to talk about interview rights? To have that right, you must first be a citizen of this country. You ungrateful traitors, and yet you preach about rights to us.”

Wang Lei’s anger was unmistakable. He had only come to the airport to pick up Ma Dongmei—after all, Jinghai was close to the capital. But upon seeing a mob of scoundrels blocking her way, he stopped caring about reputation or consequences. The street-smart toughness he’d developed growing up in the capital took over completely.

“Well said. That’s a true son of the capital. Traitors get out.”

What no one expected was that after Wang Lei fiercely confronted the unscrupulous reporters, many onlookers and fans stepped forward in support.

After all, this was the capital. Wang Lei’s pure Beijing accent immediately won the crowd’s favor. Moreover, what he said made sense to most fans who had watched the game—they held no grudge against Ma Dongmei. It was only some malicious media’s reckless reporting that had sown confusion.

“Let’s go home.”

Wang Lei led the stunned Ma Dongmei through the dispersing crowd and out of the airport. Behind them, the disgraced reporters were met with the angry shouts of the gathered crowd, calling them “traitors.”