Just as Ji Zhi was about to send a message to follow up, he saw one from Top Fan No. 2.
It was as if the other person had already guessed what he was thinking and had messaged first.
[Top Fan No. 2: There’s an A University App running in the top right corner of the video.]
Thanks to that reminder, Ji Zhi quickly checked the video and sure enough, spotted the A University App icon there. It was one he’d opened earlier and forgotten to close, and it had been running in the background all along.
At the time, Ji Zhi’s attention had been entirely on the video’s content, so he hadn’t paid much mind to the top right corner of his phone screen. Plus, there were several other app icons showing as active, so he’d overlooked the detail.
He hadn’t expected Top Fan No. 2 to notice it instead. Ji Zhi couldn’t help but marvel inwardly at their sharp observational skills.
Now that he knew they hadn’t dug into his personal info, Ji Zhi breathed a sigh of relief. He made a mental note of the slip-up to avoid repeating it.
Steadying himself, Ji Zhi focused on the other person’s earlier message.
Top Fan No. 2 had spotted the evidence, so Ji Zhi saw no point in denying it anymore.
After thinking for a few seconds, he quickly typed back: [I didn’t realize you were in A City too.]
[Sure, of course. It’s just that things have been busy at school lately, so we’d have to meet up sometime later.]
The reply came almost immediately.
[Top Fan No. 2: How busy exactly? When?]
Ji Zhi once again felt the other person’s persistence. It seemed they wanted a concrete date.
He knew Top Fan No. 2 wouldn’t be as easy to brush off as Top One, so in the end, he vaguely mentioned some day next month, figuring he could make excuses closer to the time.
[Top Fan No. 2: If you run into any trouble, feel free to ask for my help.]
It wasn’t the first time Top Fan No. 2 had offered assistance.
Though their preferences and personality were a bit hard for Ji Zhi to pin down—making him wary and keen to keep his distance—he had to admit some of their advice was like a guiding light, especially when he was puzzled or in a bind.
In person, they would probably make a great mentor or elder figure.
If he weren’t worried about revealing too much, Ji Zhi would have loved to ask about that streaming contract.
Setting his phone aside, Ji Zhi glanced at the time and realized it wasn’t early anymore. He got up in a hurry to wash up and change, preparing to head out.
Ji Zhi dreamed of becoming a translator. Though he wasn’t pressed for money right now, he’d still found an internship related to translation.
He was only a freshman, but his English was strong. Plus, with Chen Xingwen’s wide network and sharp intel, he’d landed a spot in the translation team at Stellar Entertainment, a top brokerage firm, thanks to his friend’s help.
Stellar Entertainment was one of the country’s premier entertainment conglomerates. Though it hadn’t been around long, it boasted plenty of domestic and international stars under its banner. With plans to expand overseas and sign talent from abroad, the company had set up a dedicated translation team.
Lately, Stellar had signed a batch of foreign artists, expanding the team and bringing in Ji Zhi’s group of interns.
The office was a fair distance from campus, so Ji Zhi left an hour early and arrived at the building.
Stellar Entertainment’s headquarters towered in the city center, its glass curtain walls gleaming under the sun. Electronic screens cycled through the latest endorsements from the company’s top stars.
With paparazzi and fans often sneaking in, security checks were rigorous. Even with his intern pass, Ji Zhi had to go through a full scan before entering.
The first-floor lobby soared ten meters high, crystal chandeliers hanging over a mix of harried staffers and celebrities trailed by their agents.
The bustling scene made Ji Zhi’s heart race with a blend of nerves and excitement.
He was still new to the company and just an intern, so his workload was light—only two or three days a week for now. But Ji Zhi eyed the great pay and growth potential, hoping to go full-time after graduation. He planned to shine during his internship.
He usually aimed to arrive early, but traffic had delayed him by a few minutes this time.
Ji Zhi headed straight for the elevators, bound for his floor.
Just as he stepped in, a voice called from behind: “Hold the elevator!”
Looking up, Ji Zhi saw a woman in her early thirties striding toward them. Her tailored black pantsuit hugged a slim yet poised figure, pearl studs swaying gently by her ears with each step. She carried several iced coffees in hand.
Recognizing her, Ji Zhi called out: “Sister Yao Shan…”
Yao Shan was the deputy team lead for translation, in charge of Ji Zhi and two other interns. She had a great temperament—no airs around the newbies—and wasn’t strict about tardiness, which was why Ji Zhi wasn’t rushing.
She spotted him too and handed over a coffee with a teasing grin: “Ji Zhi, I got these for you interns. Here, drink up—and once you do, you have to work hard for me, got it~?”
Ji Zhi thanked her shyly as he took it.
He handled girls in the livestream chat with ease by now, but face-to-face, he still got flustered and awkward around women.
Yao Shan dealt with artists daily and was a pro at reading people. She noticed his reddening ear tips right away. Knowing from their time together that he got bashful around ladies, she dropped the teasing and shifted to work talk.
At the mention of work, the flush faded from Ji Zhi’s ears, and he listened intently, which pleased Yao Shan.
The elevator dinged at their floor, doors sliding open.
As Ji Zhi and Yao Shan stepped out, they found the level buzzing with activity.
Stellar’s office space featured a sleek open-plan design, with a central spiral staircase threading through the building. Tempered glass steps refracted cool glints under the lights. From any floor’s railing, you could overlook the entire lobby below. Ji Zhi saw the other interns and some full-timers gathered at the rail, peering down.
Yao Shan frowned curiously: “What’s going on with you all?”
She got along well with the team—no strict hierarchy outside work hours—so no one panicked at her arrival. Instead, they chattered explanations.
Ji Zhi caught the gist.
Apparently, someone had overheard department heads buzzing about a big shot dropping by unannounced. Key managers and leads had been summoned to a meeting, sparking curiosity. Hence the railing vigil.
Ji Zhi followed their gazes and spotted several suited executives standing sentinel by the entrance downstairs.
Curiosity stirred in him too. Who could warrant such fanfare?
As he wondered, a commotion erupted below.
The revolving door spun, and the waiting execs rushed forward with excited welcomes.
Ji Zhi finally saw the man who stepped through.
His tall, lean frame was impeccably outlined by a bespoke suit—the premium fabric shimmering with subtle raven-blue undertones in the light. The double-breasted jacket was buttoned precisely to the top, its tie knotted impeccably in a silver-gray Windsor, tucked beneath.
Gold-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on his straight nose, the frames glinting with fine gold edges. They seemed made for his face. Behind the lenses, cool scrutiny sharpened eyes with slightly downturned outer corners, the frames accentuating their edge.
Those eyes were mesmerizing—narrow and elongated, the subtle droop lending a softness undercut by distant, deep brown irises. High brow bones, a peaked nose, and a jawline sculpted to perfection.
The execs trailed him at a respectful distance. He moved with ramrod-straight posture, right hand casually in his trouser pocket, custom onyx cufflinks peeking from his sleeves.
He wasn’t rushing, but soon vanished from sight amid the entourage.
The others had gotten a good look, though.
Realizing who it was, Ji Zhi’s pupils contracted, his heart pounding wildly. Even after the figure was gone, he stared blankly.
Someone nearby voiced his shock aloud: “Was that Duan Zhao?!”
Duan Zhao’s name was a household one.
He’d turned his first stock market windfall into a fortune, founding a hedge fund at twenty and snowballing millions into a business empire in years. Now he controlled several listed companies, pivoting from tech whiz to traditional industry titan.
Though he shunned interviews, Duan Zhao was a legend in business circles—the idol and aspiration of every entrepreneur.
Ji Zhi’s high school teacher had covered his story in detail, so he knew the basics. Back then, Duan Zhao featured in countless classmates’ essays.
Ji Zhi hadn’t escaped it either—his college entrance exam essay quoted the man’s journey.
He never imagined seeing in person someone he’d only read about in the Financial Times.
Was Duan Zhao here because the rumors were true? Did he hold shares in Stellar?
Ji Zhi had seen interviews confirming his stakes in various groups, so the thought came naturally.
Yao Shan blinked in surprise at the sight but recovered quickly: “Looks like the rumors might hold water. Our boss answers to Duan Zhao…”
The others picked up on her implication, shooting gossipy looks. Big firms like Stellar used hired CEOs; the real power behind the throne was no secret, just unknown.
