Chapter 45

Just after wrapping the MV shoot, Zhao Yunjing gave Jing Li a day off to rest properly at home.

With no classes to attend, Jing Li printed out the script that Xie Jun’s assistant had sent over the night before. He carried it up to the spacious terrace on the second floor and settled comfortably into the swing chair, basking in the gentle sunlight. He pushed off the floor with his toes, setting the swing into a soft, lazy rock.

Xie Jun’s new drama was called Joys of the Human World, a warm and healing tale.

It followed two lonely boys who met on campus, their youthful affections budding tentatively. From there, they strove to better themselves for each other’s sake, growing more outstanding together.

Jing Li’s role wasn’t the lead but a substantial supporting character named Pei Yingxing—a young master who wanted for nothing materially but starved for love, isolated in his privilege. He had his own love line, paired with the grade’s top student, Fu Bo.

In the early stages, Pei Yingxing and Fu Bo’s dynamic was pure playground antics, full of constant bickering. Pei Yingxing saw the top student as aloof and full of himself; Fu Bo viewed him as detached from everyday life.

Yet Pei Yingxing could never win their verbal sparring matches and always ended up stewing in his own frustration.

The turning point came during an unexpected elevator malfunction that trapped Pei Yingxing and Fu Bo inside. Pei Yingxing, terrified of the dark and gripped by claustrophobia, clung desperately to the top student’s hand—the young master showing vulnerability for the first time.

From there, their relationship evolved naturally. They grew closer, and Pei Yingxing gradually revealed his fragile side to Fu Bo.

The story’s most intimate moment was a single kiss between the two protagonists—gentle and chaste, just the barest brush of lips. Pei Yingxing and Fu Bo shared nothing more than hand-holding and embraces.

The drama sought to capture something pure and beautiful, free of desire: two hearts simply drawing near. As the script’s opening line put it—”Joys of the Human World: meeting you, and from that day forward, getting better every single day.”

~~~

Jing Li fell in love with the story, losing himself in it completely. It wasn’t until he reached the end that he noticed Ji Yunzhang had joined him on the terrace at some point, sitting beneath a nearby parasol.

A laptop sat open in front of him, headphones on as he focused intently on whatever was on the screen. Sensing Jing Li’s gaze, he looked up.

Their eyes met. Ji Yunzhang removed his headphones and asked mildly, “Finished?”

“Mm, finished.” Jing Li climbed down from the swing chair and walked over, unable to hold back his praise. “This story is amazing—super gentle!”

“If you like it, take the role,” Ji Yunzhang said, gazing at him with a warm smile.

Jing Li nodded and set the script aside. He sat sideways, elbows propped on the table, hands cupping his cheeks as he asked curiously, “What about you? What’s your new project?”

“Teacher. Joining the crew in July for a three-month shoot, all filmed in J Province.”

“I’ll be playing a student, and you’ll be the teacher.” Jing Li couldn’t help laughing. “Teacher Ji—what a coincidence.”

Ji Yunzhang closed his laptop, wiped his hands clean with a wet wipe, and picked up an orange. He peeled it leisurely, then handed half to Jing Li. “Good thing we’re not in the same production.”

Jing Li popped an orange segment into his mouth and tilted his head, his expression puzzled.

Ji Yunzhang’s lips curved. “Can’t have a teacher-student romance.”

Jing Li blinked, then burst out laughing. He straightened up in his seat, stretching his long legs out into the sunlight beyond the parasol, swinging his toes idly once more.

“True enough.” Tamping down the flutter in his chest, Jing Li agreed.

After lunch, Jing Li called Xie Jun back and accepted the role in Joys of the Human World. Xie Jun was delighted and promised to get the contract ready soon.

Once business was settled, Xie Jun asked, “How are you feeling? Any lingering discomfort?”

“All good now.”

“That’s a relief.” He teased, “Your tolerance is abysmal, so at future wrap parties, I won’t let anyone toast you—or Yunzhang will have my head.”

Jing Li glanced sideways at Ji Yunzhang, his lips quirking upward. “One glass should be fine.”

“Haha.” Xie Jun chuckled a few times.

Sobering up, he added, “Alright, that’s it for now. See you in May.”

After hanging up, Jing Li dialed An Jiaming and filled him in.

“I know,” An Jiaming said. “I’ve read the script too—it’s a great story. Just do your best.”

Xie Jun had instructed his assistant to send two copies of the script: one for Jing Li, and one for An Jiaming.

He knew full well how much Ji Yunzhang cared for and valued Jing Li; the script was bound to pass his review regardless. Sending duplicates simply cut out the middleman.

An Jiaming continued, “I’ve got another script on my end, but it’s not a film—it’s a web drama. Ancient costume detective light comedy. Screenwriter Yu Xiao, director Zhou Zhixin, produced by Xingxiu Entertainment. The cases are all brilliantly crafted. Your role would be the third male lead: the young master of the General’s Mansion—accomplished in both letters and arms, loyal and righteous.”

“This character’s setup is pretty good. I’ll send you the script—take a look. If you like it, go ahead and take the role. It won’t conflict with Joys of the Human World; that one doesn’t start filming until September. But you’ll need to join the crew at the end of July to practice the action scenes with the martial arts choreographer first.”

“Got it,” Jing Li replied.

After the call ended, An Jiaming sent over the script not long after. Jing Li printed it out and was just about to start reading when his phone rang.

It was Wen Yang.

He retreated to his room to answer.

Wen Yang spoke first when the call connected. “You busy?”

“Not at all. Pretty free, actually.” Jing Li sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

Wen Yang let out a forced laugh, trying to sound casual. “Same here. I’ve been totally idle lately—over a month stuck at home now.”

Jing Li picked up on the strain in his voice and frowned with concern. “What happened?”

Wen Yang fell silent. Jing Li didn’t press him.

After a moment, his tone grew heavier as he spoke slowly. “Last month, at the company banquet, I offended one of the directors. After that, all my work got put on hold. Last night… I went to apologize.”

“Director Yang said it’d be fine if I let him sleep with me once. I refused, so he brought out a ton of booze—red and white mixed together. Said he’d forgive me if I finished it.”

“I can’t hold my liquor.”

“You know the rest. I made an excuse to hit the bathroom and bolted. His bodyguards chased after me.” Wen Yang paused for a long time before continuing. “As for Zhou Suye… I know him. It was a one-time accident. We…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say he’d gotten drunk and slept with him, so he glossed over it.

Since he didn’t elaborate, Jing Li didn’t pry. He just asked, “Is he pursuing you?”

“Yeah.”

With Zhou Suye genuinely pursuing him, Jing Li felt relieved and let the subject drop. He changed the topic. “What are your plans with Kerry?”

“I want out. Terminate the contract.” Wen Yang no longer sounded lost like last time. He’d made up his mind—he had to leave, no matter what.

Jing Li backed him without hesitation. “Got enough for the penalty fee? If not, I’ll lend it to you.”

Wen Yang actually laughed for real. “I’ll crunch the numbers. If it’s short, I’ll hit you up.”

His tone lightened a bit. “Where do you think I should go?”

Jing Li’s first thought was Xingxiu, but then Ninghai came to mind.

He hadn’t known much about Ninghai Entertainment before, but after shooting the MV and interacting with Zhang Xi, he’d realized it was actually a solid company.

Ninghai Entertainment was a relatively new player, founded just seven years ago. Its boss had been a director at a record label, so its resources and connections leaned heavily toward music. That’s how they’d successfully launched Cheng Xinghao.

Of course, Cheng Xinghao’s own talent and gifts were exceptional too.

Since Wen Yang wanted to focus on music, Ninghai would be a perfect mutual fit—it could give him more stages to shine.

That said, Ninghai had its downsides.

For one, they were heavily promoting Cheng Xinghao, so most resources went to him first. Only what he passed on became available to others. For another, their resources were music-centric, meaning they couldn’t compete with bigger companies in other areas. If Wen Yang didn’t break through in music, he’d fade into obscurity completely.

Xingxiu wouldn’t have those issues. It was the top entertainment company in the industry, with no weak spots in any area—unmatched by the competition.

Jing Li laid out his analysis for Wen Yang and let him decide.

“Ninghai Entertainment, huh,” Wen Yang mused. “I’ll think about it.”

Noting that he hadn’t even considered Xingxiu, Jing Li prompted, “Xingxiu Entertainment would be even better.”

Wen Yang chuckled. “I know. But they wouldn’t sign me.”

Xingxiu Entertainment was undeniably elite and powerful, but its standards were sky-high. Wen Yang wasn’t selling himself short—he just wasn’t on their level.

Zhou Suye might pull strings for him, but did he really want to accept that kind of help? No.

“Anyway, enough about that.” Wen Yang shifted the conversation to Jing Li. “Your birthday’s the day after tomorrow. Any plans?”

Jing Li had long passed the age of getting excited about birthdays. “Same as always.”

“No birthday party?”

“Nope.”

“Gonna have a little world-of-two with Teacher Ji?” Wen Yang teased with a light laugh.

Jing Li pressed his fingertip into the pillow in his lap, watching it spring back before pressing again. His cheeks heated up. “You’re overthinking it.”

Wen Yang burst out laughing.

They talked for over an hour, until Jing Li’s phone was about to die. Once they hung up, he plugged it in to charge, left the room, and headed downstairs to the living room. He plopped down in front of Ji Yunzhang, sitting up straight.

Ji Yunzhang was reviewing a script. Seeing him approach and stare so obediently, the words “I need something” might as well have been written on his face. Amusement lit up Ji Yunzhang’s eyes.

“What do you want to ask?” His voice was soft, laced with laughter.

Jing Li didn’t beat around the bush. “Teacher Ji, is there any chance Xingxiu Entertainment could sign Wen Yang?”

“If he really has talent and aptitude in music, it’s worth a shot.”

“So it’s possible?” Jing Li’s eyes sparkled.

Gazing into those bright, eager eyes, Ji Yunzhang’s smile deepened. “Yes.”

He explained, “Xingxiu Entertainment has an extremely demanding music producer. If Wen Yang’s songs catch his eye, there’s a real shot at getting signed.”

Jing Li grabbed his arm. “Who is it?”

“Ruan Tingwu.”

Jing Li had heard the name before—a powerhouse music producer whose tracks always exploded in popularity. Cheng Xinghao’s last few albums had all been produced by him, including the latest one.

Jing Li nodded and let go. He rose from the sofa, planning to head upstairs and message Wen Yang right away.

But Ji Yunzhang caught his hand again.

“Hold on,” Ji Yunzhang said, amused. “No need to rush. I haven’t given you the contact info yet.”

Oh, right.

Ji Yunzhang handed him his phone, but Jing Li bolted anyway, calling over his shoulder as he ran, “Just send it to my WeChat. Thanks, Teacher Ji!”

He paused after a few steps up the stairs and turned back with a radiant smile. “I’ll be right down.”

And he was—less than five minutes later, Jing Li descended the stairs.

Ji Yunzhang glanced up. “All done?”

Jing Li beamed, his mood buoyant. “Yep!”

Thirsty after his excitement, he grabbed a bottle of Sprite from the fridge, took a couple of sips, and added, “Oh, by the way—the guy I bluffed last night using your name is a director at Kerry Entertainment. Yang Chengwei.”

Ji Yunzhang inclined his head. “I know.”

Jing Li blinked in surprise. “You do?”

“That private restaurant is co-owned by Sister-in-Law and some friends of hers. She sent me the surveillance footage this morning.”

The video had captured the entire incident in crystal-clear detail—including the part after Jing Li and the others had left, when Zhou Suye tracked down that director surnamed Yang to settle the score.

That was when Ji Yunzhang learned the person Zhou Suye had mentioned pursuing was Wen Yang.

“You can let Wen Yang know that guy’s not going to bother him anymore,” Ji Yunzhang said, speaking up for his friend. “Zhou Suye definitely left a lasting impression last night.”

Jing Li’s curiosity flared. “Can I see the footage?”

“I’ll grab the laptop.”

Ji Yunzhang fetched the computer, pulled up the surveillance file, and passed it over.

Jing Li ignored the early parts and skipped straight to after Zhou Suye headed upstairs. The camera only showed the hallway, so whatever happened inside the private room wasn’t visible. But it wasn’t long before the other man burst out, clutching his crotch, teeth gritted in agony as he fled like a demon was hot on his heels.

Jing Li couldn’t stop laughing.

“Can I screenshot this bit and send it to Wen Yang?”

Ji Yunzhang had never been able to say no to Jing Li. With an indulgent smile, he replied, “Go ahead.”