Chapter 18 Part 2

“Ding-a-ling—”

The phone shrilled like a death knell. Another pullout notice, no doubt.

He Qian’s face soured as he cradled the hot potato phone, mirroring Xiao Zhang’s earlier hesitation. Steel in his spine, he picked up and groveled: “Little Shen CEO! Hello, hello. Calling with orders? Listen, Xu Shengyang never fit our film anyway. Swapping him’s a win…”

Fresh off the plane, Shen Yu waited at baggage claim. The timid voice on the line drew a low chuckle from him: “Swap in who?”

His voice carried a hint of amusement, low and magnetic.

He Qian touched his ear reflexively. Damn, that timbre. He blurted along: “Yu Qi’d work. Hot, solid actor. Ties to Zhou Corporation, they say…”

Realization hit: “Fuck—President Shen, you’re not pulling funding!”

Shen Yu wheeled his cart out exit seven. The driver loaded his bags. He slid into the car, city traffic weaving past the window—unchanged from eight years back.

Shen Yu arched a brow. “Why pull out? I’m bullish on this flick.”

Stumbling on a sane backer left He Qian reeling. Bittersweet relief doused his fire, cooling to raw anxiety.

He sighed, only to hear teasing from the other end. “But inviting Yu Qi? I see you don’t have much capital, though your tone sure is bold.”

He Qian said shamelessly, “This isn’t for stabilizing you investors?”

Yu Qi had indeed been one of He Qian’s initial choices for the male lead. The movie “However, However” spanned two timelines, and capturing that aloof, arrogant image from the teenage years—one that wasn’t off-putting—was extremely difficult.

After combing through the entire entertainment industry, the only ones who made it onto He Qian’s shortlist were Xu Shengyang and Yu Qi.

He Qian suddenly had a flash of inspiration and flattered, “President Shen, I heard you’re also an alumnus of Jingyang. What a coincidence—Yu Qi graduated from Jingyang too. You’re alumni! If you just go and say something, he might agree out of alumni sentiment. With Yu Qi on board, our production would have that person’s backing…”

“Stop, stop. I don’t have that kind of pull.” Shen Yu was amused by this original story’s protagonist gong. He really was the type to climb a pole if given one—what a personality. No wonder he went from a nobody grassroots to a world-renowned director.

“You’re too modest, President Shen. How will you know without trying…”

Seeing He Qian’s mind racing, with clear intent to persuade further.

Shen Yu recalled the past and sighed. “This really won’t fly. Speaking of which, I have some bad blood with Yu Qi—and with that one.”

“Ah?” He Qian was startled. Hearing this, he could only beat a retreat in his mind.

Shen Yu added, “But I can help you pull in some other investments. Deal’s this: you find your own actors. Better to lack than overabundance—pick them carefully yourself.”

After getting the response, Shen Yu hung up.

Ten Islands Hotel had arrived. Service staff took his luggage and led him to the presidential suite on the top floor. As the elevator descended, a woman with exquisite full makeup and fine high heels brushed past Shen Yu. Her long hair carried a waft of misty fragrance.

A very pleasant perfume scent.

Shen Yu was about to step into the elevator when he heard a questioning voice from behind.

“Shen Yu?” A soft, melodious female voice rose in surprise.

Though he had planned it, the effect was unexpectedly good. Meeting an acquaintance on the first day—Shen Yu paused and turned around.

The voice’s owner had an elegant and poised demeanor, with long hair cascading like a waterfall. The instant her eyes met Shen Yu’s, there was a flicker of daze, but she quickly recovered.

The woman’s red lips curved up in a flawless smile—detached, yet impossible to fault.

Chen Miaomiao smiled. “It really is you.”

Shen Yu recognized her too. He extended his hand proactively, a smile on his face as he greeted warmly, “Long time no see.”

“Quite the coincidence.” Chen Miaomiao took his hand, then released it. Her gaze lingered on Shen Yu’s smile for a moment before she waved the documents in her hand at him. “I have things to do. Let’s catch up next time.”

“Miss Chen, wait a second.” Shen Yu called out to her and handed over his phone. “My old number’s out of service. If it’s convenient, could you give me your contact info?”

Chen Miaomiao paused at his words. She took the phone and let out a light laugh. “No wonder I couldn’t reach you. It was like you’d vanished into thin air.”

She stared straight into Shen Yu’s eyes, as if sighing. “Eight years…”

Shen Yu averted the woman’s gaze and apologized hurriedly. “Something came up. I’m really sorry. Next time I’m free, I’ll make it up to you in person.”

Chen Miaomiao smiled. “The person you owe an apology to isn’t me.”

Shen Yu was taken aback.

After entering her number, Chen Miaomiao handed the phone back to Shen Yu. “Excuse me.”

With those meaningful words, the woman turned and departed with composed elegance.

Shen Yu had no intention of staying long in Shangjing this time. He had only booked the hotel for three months.

In the original plotline, during the movie’s early production, he helped the protagonist gong He Qian a great deal. But after Zhou Jinsheng learned of He Qian and Yu Tingsi’s matter, Shen Yu abruptly withdrew his investment mid-shoot as a token of submission to Zhou Corporation. Strangely, Zhou Corporation didn’t pressure the movie at all.

In the end, the film exploded in success. Shen Yu ended up with nothing—no benefits from Zhou Corporation, nor the profits he should have earned.

He got slapped hard in the face, toyed with like a clown before slinking away in defeat.

Every story needed its clowns, and that task was easy enough to fulfill. The hard part was the Zhou Jinsheng line.

For Shen Yu, it was just a blink from eyes open to closed, landing eight years later. But for Zhou Jinsheng, those were solid, real eight years.

Time was a silent current, ceaselessly crashing against coastal rocks until all traces were washed clean.

If it were the persona from eight years ago, approaching Zhou Jinsheng might have been easier.

But the man eight years later was a power-chaser consumed by authority and desire.

All the youthful spiritual energy had long been eroded away by the treacherous world. Probably only the face remained the same—and it was exactly the type Zhou Jinsheng despised most.

Fair enough, though. Shen Yu couldn’t stand people like Zhou Jinsheng either.

Even.

That afternoon, Shen Yu made a trip to the company.

Over these years, the Shen Family had gradually shifted its focus back to the domestic market. Though the top brass were abroad, headquarters had relocated to the East District.

After handling company matters, it was already deep into the night when he returned to the hotel. The suite came with an outdoor pool and balcony.

From the balcony, looking into the distance, he could see Little Zhou Mountain by the sea. The sunset gilded it in gold, and following the mountain’s contours upward, the faint outline of Sihua Gardens came into view.

Shen Yu lowered his gaze. On his phone was a screenshot from a piece of tabloid gossip news.

Zhou Corporation was always shrouded in mystery, especially its patriarch—photos of him rarely surfaced. This article had appeared in an obscure rag and thus evaded takedown, but the photo was extremely blurry.

One could barely make out a man in a black overcoat.

The man was tall, with broad shoulders. He leaned casually against a luxury car, a cigarette lit in his hand but unsmoked. The ember flickered dimly, smoke curling like clouds. His presence was profoundly heavy, his expression indistinct.

He didn’t look easy to approach.

Shen Yu’s fingers slowly rubbed the edge of his phone.

Zhou Mansion.

He got out of the car before the grand entrance, passed through the long corridor, and arrived at the study door. Yu Tingsi stopped with his files in hand, took several deep breaths, then raised his hand to knock.

“Enter.”

The voice from inside was like jade striking jade—husky and magnetic.

Yu Tingsi pushed the door open gently and entered.

The man in the study was handling documents.

If Zhou Jinsheng eight years ago had been a deep pool of water, then eight years later, he was more like an unfathomable abyss.

One more glance, and you’d tumble into endless depths.

Yu Tingsi gripped his fingers tight, then released them. He lowered his eyes and placed the materials on Zhou Jinsheng’s desk, saying softly, “This is the information you wanted.”

Many years prior, the Yu Family had fallen overnight, collapsing like a landslide. When the tree toppled, the monkeys scattered. Much of their assets ended up acquired by Zhou Corporation, including the Yu Family’s century-old ancestral home.

Yu Tingsi wanted to redeem the old house and get his big brother out of prison, so he struck a deal with Zhou Jinsheng: he would be adopted by Zhou Corporation under another identity, becoming Zhou Jinsheng’s openly wielded blade.

Zhou Jinsheng looked up, his gaze sweeping over the documents before him.

As Yu Tingsi left, he ran into Zhou Jinsheng’s special assistant, Song Shi.

Song Shi had grown up in Zhou Mansion from childhood. Old Master Zhou had groomed him, so he should have been loyal to the old man. But back then, he defected to Zhou Jinsheng, helping him fully seize control of Zhou Corporation. He was one of Zhou Jinsheng’s trusted confidants.

Song Shi spotted Yu Tingsi too. Dressed in a sharp suit, his demeanor was like a block of ice from the far north—stern and unyielding. Seeing Yu Tingsi descending the stairs, he gave a slight nod, then strode upward.

When Song Shi entered, Zhou Jinsheng was flipping through documents.

The pages were dense with text, charts, and data. If Shen Yu had been there, he would have been shocked.

These were unmistakably internal commercial secrets of Shen Corporation.

The assistant handed over his own documents, noticing a black cord bracelet on Zhou Jinsheng’s desk.

The bracelet’s edges were yellowed, with a dull black stone pendant. Amid the gleaming agates and jades, it looked worn and faded.

Song Shi averted his eyes and asked softly, “BOSS, should we hold back?”

“No need.”

The man’s finger paused on the document. His thin lips curved upward in a cold, cruel arc.

“Go for the kill.”