Chapter 6: The Candid Photo Uproar

From Yao Shan’s words, it seemed that Duan Zhao might actually be the true boss of Stellar Entertainment, with the current CEO serving merely as a high-level manager he’d hired.

Of course, Yao Shan added that this was just a rumor she’d heard—she had no idea if it was really true.

A spark of anticipation flickered in Ji Zhi’s heart. Though he had no entrepreneurial ambitions of his own, he’d devoured countless news reports about Duan Zhao back in high school and even used him as material for essays. As a result, he held the man in genuine admiration.

If this really was Duan Zhao’s company, then didn’t that mean Ji Zhi was working under him?

Just then, Ji Zhi caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye of someone rushing into the building downstairs in a frantic hurry.

The man was dressed in a suit, but he looked utterly disheveled.

The others noticed too. From their chatter, Ji Zhi learned this was the boss, who’d been out of town for the past few days.

Seeing the boss caught so off guard, people were already speculating about why Duan Zhao had shown up out of the blue.

Some said it might be because the boss’s recent scandal with a certain actress had blown up and reached Duan Zhao’s ears. Others gossiped suggestively about whether Duan Zhao had his eye on some female star—after all, public records showed he had no girlfriend.

As the conversation veered further off track, Yao Shan passed out coffee to the other interns and spoke up. “Alright, alright, gossip time’s over. Can we get back to work now?”

Hearing her words, Ji Zhi and the others snapped out of it and followed her toward the office.

Stellar had plenty of translation teams handling various tasks. The one Ji Zhi was on was responsible for the company’s latest idol survival competition reality show.

With trainees from other countries featured in the program—and it airing on international platforms too—translations were essential.

Ji Zhi’s main job right now was handling the interview segments in the behind-the-scenes clips.

After getting the interview list and scripts from another department, Ji Zhi headed to the filming site with Yao Shan leading the way.

Since Ji Zhi had joined the company later than the other interns, Yao Shan still needed to walk him through the procedures.

She quite liked his personality. He was a bit shy, but diligent in his work and always completed the tasks she assigned without fail. So on the way over, she shared tips on dealing with celebrities and artists.

After all, in their line of work, translation skills were only half the battle—you also had to know how to interact with the talent.

Once they arrived at the filming base, Yao Shan quickly got Ji Zhi started on the job.

Ji Zhi had visited the site twice before, but only to observe her work. This was his first time doing it hands-on.

The foreign trainees had varied personalities. Some, knowing Ji Zhi was acting as translator between them and the host, deliberately slowed their speech. Others barreled ahead at top speed, growing visibly annoyed when Ji Zhi politely asked if they could repeat themselves. Yao Shan had to step in to smooth things over.

As the morning interviews wrapped up, Yao Shan encouraged him. “You did great! My first time translating interviews, I was so nervous I had to ask them to repeat every line two or three times. One even asked why I hadn’t brought a recorder!”

Ji Zhi knew she was exaggerating to cheer him up, and he nodded gratefully.

With more foreign trainee interviews scheduled for the afternoon, Ji Zhi and Yao Shan grabbed lunch right there at the base.

But trouble struck on the way back to the studio.

Yao Shan ducked into the restroom, leaving Ji Zhi to wait for her at the hallway corner.

As he scrolled through his phone to kill time, a sharp voice barked from nearby. “What are you filming?!”

Ji Zhi’s heart jolted. He looked up instinctively to see a middle-aged man storming toward him, hand outstretched for his phone.

Though Ji Zhi had no clue what was happening, he dodged aside on reflex as the man lunged for his device. Only then did he realize the guy was trying to snatch it.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but the man cut him off.

Seeing Ji Zhi evade him only made the middle-aged man angrier. “Hand over the phone!”

“Acting like a sneaky little punk, daring to take candid shots…”

Wait—what candid shots?

Ji Zhi grew even more baffled but denied it reflexively. “I wasn’t filming anything.”

The middle-aged man shot back, “Don’t play dumb with me! I saw you lurking here, holding your phone right at us all sneaky-like!”

“Give me the phone!”

He was aggressive and clearly not interested in explanations.

Fortunately, Yao Shan showed up looking for Ji Zhi just then.

Seeing him cornered by the man, she hurried over, announcing herself as his supervisor and demanding to know what was wrong.

Once the man heard Yao Shan was Ji Zhi’s superior, his ire shifted to her. Finally, he explained. “Your subordinate was filming Long Yan!”

As he spoke, he jabbed a finger at the person nearby, now masked, with only his handsome features visible.

That was when Ji Zhi noticed there was someone else in the corner.

At the same time, the full story clicked for him.

Long Yan was a member of a famous idol group and one of the mentors for this survival show. The middle-aged man was his manager.

They’d come to the base for the afternoon recording. But passing the corner twice, they’d spotted Ji Zhi standing there—and the second time, he hadn’t even bothered pretending, aiming his phone straight at them.

Caught red-handed, no pretense at all—this was straight-up candid filming!

The manager’s alarms went off. Long Yan was a big idol; sneaky photos were a daily hazard. He’d told Long Yan to mask up while he confronted the guy.

Ji Zhi said, “…You passed by twice?”

His attention had been glued to his phone the whole time, and they were a good distance away anyway.

To prove his innocence, Ji Zhi turned his screen toward Long Yan’s manager. He’d been reading a bizarre news link forwarded by Chen Xingwen.

Ji Zhi figured showing the evidence would end it there. But the manager wouldn’t let up. “Who says he didn’t just switch from camera to chat real quick?”

“I need to check his photo album!”

Ji Zhi’s heart skipped a beat.

His gallery had screenshots of his live stream makeup looks, plus some private pics meant for his top three fans—letting strangers see them would be mortifying.

Ji Zhi said, “I didn’t take any photos. My album has private stuff; I can’t show it to others.”

Yao Shan understood and tried to mediate.

But Long Yan’s manager refused to back down, insisting on the phone. Yao Shan glanced at Long Yan, who stayed silent—clearly backing his manager.

This felt tricky to Yao Shan. She naturally believed Ji Zhi was innocent, but Long Yan was a mentor hired from another agency. Remembering rumors of him and his manager badmouthing the production team online before, letting fans swarm them, she realized this wouldn’t blow over easily.

Seeing Ji Zhi still hesitating, the manager lost his patience. “Hand it over, or I’ll report you to your company—they’ll fire you on the spot!”

Yao Shan’s heart clenched. She turned to Ji Zhi.

If it escalated to the company—and with this hot survival show getting tons of buzz from higher-ups—they’d side with a famous idol over an intern any day.

Ji Zhi had figured as much and hesitated.

Refuse, and he might get canned—he actually liked this job.

But hand it over, and his privacy…

The standoff grew tense. Just as the manager reached for the phone again, a casual voice drawled, “What’s going on here?”

The sudden interruption drew every eye. Everyone turned toward the sound.

When they saw who it was, they all froze.

The speaker sported eye-catching platinum blond hair, tousled just so, shimmering with a cool silver sheen under the lights.

His features were exquisitely sculpted, as if made for the camera: sharp brow bones like a blade’s edge, a high straight nose, amber eyes that flicked up playfully at the corners, full lips that seemed to carry a perpetual smirk even in repose. A signature silver cross earring dangled from his cartilage, glinting as he tilted his head.

Black leather Martin boots hugged his ankles, the cuffs slouched casually to accentuate his long legs. A distressed dark gray denim jacket hung over a pure black high-neck sweater, silver chains peeking at the collar to match his ringed fingers. A studded belt at his waist flashed in and out from under the oversized jacket hem as he sauntered closer.

Long Yan, silent until now, finally spoke, his tone lifting in surprise. “Teacher Jiang?”

Jiang Yaolin, the ultimate star kid in entertainment—no contest.

His parents were icons who’d dominated an era, so media spotlight had followed him since birth. From child actor debut over a decade ago, his looks and acting had always topped the newcomer ranks, earning him awards galore at a young age, with fans spanning all ages.

Beyond his actress mother’s talent, he’d inherited his singer father’s musical gifts—his singles shattered streaming records and snagged prizes. The director had pulled strings via an old connection to Jiang Yaolin’s dad to snag him as a mentor.

Though younger than Long Yan, entertainment seniority came down to experience and fandom. By either metric, Jiang Yaolin was the senior.