Jiang Shunnian received a call from his agent, who wanted him to attend a dinner that evening.
The agent lectured him endlessly: “Jiang Shunnian, you have to perform well tonight. This big shot has top-tier resources in the industry. He loved your performance as Zuo Qingheng in Lin’an Regrets and specifically asked to meet you. If you… serve him well tonight, the male lead role in his next project is yours!”
“Brother Zhang, I only have a bit of popularity right now and can’t carry a drama yet. I’m not really suited for a lead role,” Jiang Shunnian said, furrowing his brows in a polite refusal.
He had started acting in his sophomore year of college, beginning with bit parts that had just a few lines. Later, he landed the role of Zuo Qingheng in the big production Lin’an Regrets. His screen time was limited, but he had a standout moment in the finale: as the dynasty fell and the nation crumbled, he held the young emperor and leaped into the river, earning the heroic reputation of “the king dies for his land.”
That scene exploded online after airing, going viral beyond the fandom. He gained a ton of fans on Weibo, with numbers skyrocketing so fast it felt like a dream.
But Jiang Shunnian was self-aware. He knew his breakout was mostly thanks to the drama’s top-notch production, solid script, and well-crafted character—not because his acting was exceptional.
That’s why he planned to keep a low profile, hone his skills, grind through more sets, and gradually work his way up to a lead role.
He was only twenty-two. No rush.
But his agent shot back: “You want to play supporting roles forever? There are actors everywhere, but good scripts are rare. You’ve got this shot at fame, and you’re pushing it away? I’ve never seen anyone like you. Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you tonight.”
Hearing this, Jiang Shunnian could only agree.
As evening fell with clouds painted across the sky, agent Zhang Yuan pulled up in his car to pick him up. Jiang Shunnian dressed simply, but his stunning face made even cheap clothes look bespoke.
Zhang Yuan gave him an appraising look and smiled in satisfaction.
Once tonight’s over, the big shot’s resources are mine, he thought. As for Jiang Shunnian, I’m not renewing his contract anyway—no loss.
Plus, the big shot will slip me something on the side.
The very thought made Zhang Yuan’s lips curve upward.
Rush-hour traffic crawled like a dragon, but the usually road-rage-prone agent was in an unusually great mood. Jiang Shunnian found it odd, but their relationship was lukewarm at best, so he didn’t ask.
The private club was built like a lavish palace, leaving Jiang Shunnian momentarily stunned.
“This is S City’s most upscale spot. Once you snag Best Actor awards, coming here will be as routine as grabbing a bite.”
Zhang Yuan parked his ten-grand compact car, and Jiang Shunnian stepped out. Zhang Yuan was a beat slower opening his door—only to get shooed by the doorman: “Sorry, sir, rideshares aren’t allowed to park here.”
Zhang Yuan’s face turned green. Jiang Shunnian ducked his head, stifling a laugh until his shoulders shook.
“Judging a book by its cover! I have a reservation!” Zhang Yuan barked. “Tianxi Private Room.”
The doorman’s face paled. He apologized profusely: “My mistake, sir! Please don’t hold it against me.”
Tianxi Private Room was the club’s top suite, rarely opened and impossible to fake. That’s why the doorman panicked at the name.
Zhang Yuan itched to complain, but with the big shot arriving soon, he swallowed his anger: “Enough. Lead the way.”
Jiang Shunnian nearly chuckled again, trailing Zhang Yuan closely. Inside the room, the opulence shocked him anew—gold-inlaid jade tabletops, rosewood chairs with Suzhou-embroidered cushions.
He hardly dared sit.
They didn’t wait long before a poised hostess pushed open the door. Leading the group was a man in his forties, followed by a well-known director, screenwriter, and two assistants.
His looks were merely passable, his figure gone to seed with a prominent beer belly—like a nouveau riche.
His gaze locked on Jiang Shunnian immediately, a glint flashing in his slightly cloudy eyes. He feigned warmth: “You must be Little Jiang? As striking as in the drama.”
He skipped introductions, and Jiang Shunnian, unsure of his identity, didn’t dare ask. He just greeted: “Hello, I’m Jiang Shunnian.”
“Come sit.” The man beckoned him to the seat beside him; Zhang Yuan took the foot of the table, grinning obsequiously.
Jiang Shunnian hated these scenes, sitting stiffly. It’s fine, Jiang Shunnian. Just get through it!
Once seated, dishes arrived—each a work of art, complete with explanations of ingredients and plating philosophy.
Jiang Shunnian listened intently, sampling a bite after they did. Hmm, not great. Just fresh, pricey ingredients.
The big shot noted his every move, growing more pleased. So pretty and pure, no pretenses. This boy will be deliciously tender in bed. Tonight’s going to be exquisite.
“If you’d like more, we can order,” the big shot said genially.
Jiang Shunnian shook his head. “This is plenty.”
The big shot barely spoke to him, instead discussing the film market, hit dramas, and Lin’an Regrets with the director and writer—insights Jiang Shunnian eavesdropped on hungrily.
Midway through, the big shot stepped out for the restroom. Zhang Yuan brought Jiang Shunnian a glass of wine, whispering: “Toast him soon. He’s ignoring you.”
Jiang Shunnian’s tolerance was average, but the glass was small—should be fine.
The big shot returned. Jiang Shunnian, mentally rehearsing, raised his glass: “I’m still green, but I appreciate your interest. If we collaborate, I’ll give it my all.”
He rarely attended banquets and couldn’t spout flattery, but this was sincere.
The big shot chuckled, clinking glasses.
Jiang Shunnian held his breath and downed the red wine. Ugh, nasty.
He rinsed with tea.
After the toast, the big shot turned attentive, chatting with him and draping an arm over his shoulders.
Jiang Shunnian recoiled inwardly—the man was too close, his boozy breath foul.
He shifted away; the arm dropped to his waist, groping briefly.
Jiang Shunnian jolted, nearly leaping up!
Then dizziness hit, heat flooding his body.
Not drunk.
Damn, I knew Zhang Yuan’s deal was too good. Why did I believe him?
No time for regrets. He had to escape before the drug kicked in fully.
Got it!
“I’ll hit the restroom,” Jiang Shunnian smiled, standing.
The suite had its own, around the corner. He feigned that direction but bolted for the door at the last second. Unlocked—they hadn’t expected him to run. He burst out.
Zhang Yuan’s face twisted. “Jiang Shunnian, get back here!”
Fat chance. Jiang Shunnian sprinted for the exit, pursuit echoing behind. The exertion sped the drug; vision blurred, the maze-like club disorienting. Staff joined the chase. In panic, he dashed upstairs to the guest suites.
Footsteps still closed in. He needed a room to hide.
Doors locked—until the last one swung open!
He slipped in like a fish, slamming and locking it. Adrenaline crashed; his legs buckled, sliding down the door.
Will they follow? His heart raced, body burning. Want to strip… no, not safe yet.
And a growing emptiness behind…
“Who’s there? Get out.” A low, husky, magnetic voice rang out—strained, like he was holding back.
The room was dark. Jiang Shunnian strained to see a shadowy figure.
“I… I was set up, drugged to be taken advantage of. Can I hide here with you? Please,” he begged, trying to stand. Legs like jelly.
He gazed with watery, dazed eyes, hoping to sway him.
The man approached. Up close, he saw the shared symptoms: ragged breaths, feverish heat.
Oh. He’s drugged too?
He’ll agree, right?
Fu Yanli hadn’t expected to be drugged himself. Those bastards are desperate. He’d planned to endure, but now this young man slipped in.
His voice was clear like mountain spring water. Fu Yanli stayed wary, approaching to check—if a trick, out he went.
In the dark, he couldn’t see the face. No lights. He reached out, fingers brushing supple, silken skin—and long-suppressed desire ignited.
“What’s your name?” Fu Yanli gripped his wrist, palm scorching.
Jiang Shunnian wouldn’t give it—who knew who he was? A public figure, leverage…
He opened his mouth—a soft moan escaped first.
That sound was too seductive, too erotic. Fu Yanli’s control snapped. He yanked the boy into his arms, crushing him close, searing lips descending.
Jiang Shunnian, caught off guard, tried to struggle in shock—but strengthless, his pushes felt like playing hard to get.
And it was his first kiss. He’d never known a mere kiss could burn like this.
Fu Yanli found the boy sweet and intoxicating, unwilling to stop—even if he was a plant.
I’ll deal with them later.
With the boy melting into whimpers, Fu Yanli scooped him up, carried him to the bed, laid him down gently, then covered him…
