Dinner took place at a revolving restaurant, where both the ambiance and the food were top-notch, accompanied by gentle, soothing piano music.
Fu Yanli asked Jiang Shunnian about his favorite music genres, then waved over a server for a quick chat. Soon, the soft, healing strains of Kiss the Rain filled the hall.
Jiang Shunnian knew how to cook, but only simple boiled dishes or basic stir-fries, and the flavors were nothing special.
As an entertainer, he maintained strong professional discipline—normally sticking to boiled chicken breast and veggie salads at home. But tonight, he couldn’t fully resist the temptation and ate a bit more.
He wasn’t prone to gaining weight anyway, so the occasional indulgence was fine.
Mostly, chatting with Fu Yanli was just so enjoyable. Fu Yanli shared stories from his time studying abroad, and Jiang Shunnian found even his meal tasted better because of it.
When asked, he opened up about his own experiences too, laying all his preferences bare.
By the time they finished, they’d exchanged contact info, and Jiang Shunnian had agreed to temporarily move into the apartment upstairs from Fu Yanli’s.
That same night after returning home, Fu Yanli called Shen Boheng. He instructed the chef to compile some recipes—he wanted to learn to cook—and had someone prep the upstairs apartment, adding essential furniture, and to do it fast.
Shen Boheng already knew his young master had found someone special. Hearing about the rapid progress, he was thrilled for him and immediately made the arrangements.
Fu Yanli then sent people to help Jiang Shunnian move. His belongings were so few that they didn’t even fill a single car.
The massive flat, over three hundred square meters inside, was decorated in an elegantly luxurious style—like a dream home. Jiang Shunnian mentally calculated how many films he’d need to star in to afford something like this. Maybe not even twenty years? Owning a place like this by forty would be fine.
He happily settled in. Fu Yanli was swamped during this period, handling internal company affairs—leaving early, coming home late, and sometimes crashing at the office.
But Fu Yanli never forgot to chat with Jiang Shunnian each day. Likewise, Jiang Shunnian checked in on him, wishing him smooth sailing.
A little over a month later, Shixu Media was fully established. Jiang Shunnian received his contract, and upon seeing the generous terms, he knew—even without a lawyer—that it was hugely in his favor. The term was just two years.
Is Fu Yanli running a charity? Jiang Shunnian felt almost embarrassed and proactively suggested extending it to five years.
If this contract held true, Jiang Shunnian could even see himself signing with Shixu for life.
The agent assigned to him was a big name—top-tier in skills, connections, and savvy. She’d launched countless film emperors and empresses, even million-selling albums.
The signing had been delayed precisely to wait for her.
When Jiang Shunnian met agent Chen Jun, he was downright nervous, terrified she might look down on him.
But Chen Jun was approachable. She discussed his career path, and Jiang Shunnian was so impressed by her vision that he nodded eagerly, promising full cooperation.
That very day, she took him to meet a director for tea. After performing a few segments on the spot, he landed a supporting male lead role.
Easy as pie.
The assistant Fu Yanli found for him was also a woman named Xie Jing, a former national martial arts champion—seven-dan Wing Chun, held back from eight-dan only by age. She could subdue anyone in five seconds flat. If this were ABO, she’d be a straight-up female Alpha.
Her features were sharp and handsome, her style androgynous—cool, badass, and tall, about Jiang Shunnian’s height.
Jiang Shunnian was thrilled. An assistant like this gives you total peace of mind.
Why are both the agent and assistant women, though?
He didn’t dwell on it, figuring they were just the right fit.
By now, Fu Yanli had solidly claimed the chairman position at Fu Group, purging all those who opposed him or tripped him up in the shadows.
Of course, he hadn’t forgotten to send someone to confront Qin Guanyue directly: Jiang Shunnian was his man. Withdraw the blacklist, and never eye him again—or Fu Group wouldn’t hesitate to make an enemy of Qin Group.
Qin Guanyue hadn’t expected Jiang Shunnian to find such strong backing so quickly. For ordinary capital, he could’ve leveraged Qin Group’s pressure to snatch him back. But Fu Group?
With deep roots across four generations—older than Qin Group itself—and Fu Yanli’s ruthless tactics over the past month earning their wary respect, it didn’t seem the work of some twenty-something kid.
No matter how resentful, Qin Guanyue had to bow his head and crestfallenly lift the blacklist.
Still, he nursed his grudge, plotting some sneaky competitive moves.
For instance, learning Jiang Shunnian had snagged a supporting male lead, he pulled strings to swap the male lead with a powerhouse from his own company—gearing up to suppress Jiang Shunnian on set.
But Jiang Shunnian never even joined the production. And later, the crew imploded in scandal, nearly killing the project.
Of course, that’s a story for another time.
Fu Yanli watched Jiang Shunnian’s happy demeanor, his own eyes crinkling with amusement—and a subtle, imperceptible indulgence and pampering.
“To celebrate, come over to my place for dinner tonight,” Fu Yanli suggested. “Fresh ingredients just arrived—some excellent seafood.”
Jiang Shunnian loved seafood: low-calorie, deliciously fresh. He nodded at once. “Sure! Should I bring anything?”
“No need. I’ve got everything.”
Still, versed in basic etiquette, Jiang Shunnian showed up that evening with a lovely fruit-and-flower basket—beautiful, practical blooms and produce.
Fu Yanli took it with a smile. “Thanks. I’ll find a vase for these.”
The moment Jiang Shunnian stepped inside, the signature aroma of seafood hit him. Normally an appetite booster, tonight it churned his stomach.
In fact, he’d felt off since the morning two days ago—especially when brushing his teeth, a bit queasy.
But the symptoms were mild; he hadn’t paid it any mind.
His tolerance was high—this discomfort didn’t kill his hunger.
Fu Yanli wore smoke-gray loungewear, softer than his usual formal attire.
He set the dishes on the table and uncorked a bottle of red wine, pouring Jiang Shunnian just a half glass. “A friend sent this—supposedly great. Give it a try; skip it if it’s not your thing.”
“Got it.” Jiang Shunnian trusted Fu Yanli completely. He took a small sip—smooth, rich, velvety, better than any wine he’d had before.
But his stomach rebelled harder.
Still, you couldn’t waste seafood—or Fu Yanli’s effort.
Jiang Shunnian pushed through, picking up a piece of bluefin tuna sashimi from the fatty belly—pink flesh marbled with clear snowflake patterns. He could almost taste its tender melt-in-your-mouth texture.
But the instant it hit his tongue, nausea surged. He dry-heaved, dropping his chopsticks and bolting for the bathroom.
Fu Yanli’s face changed. He hurried after. “Shunnian, what’s wrong?”
Jiang Shunnian braced against the sink, retching nonstop. Fu Yanli gently patted his back, frowning. “Is the seafood off?”
It shouldn’t be—Shen Boheng personally checked it.
Jiang Shunnian couldn’t speak, clutching his stomach in misery, eyes reddening with physiological tears.
Fu Yanli’s heart ached. He immediately called his doctor friend Cheng Jingming. “Jingming, you free? My friend ate some seafood and suddenly started gagging. I’m bringing him in for a check.”
Cheng Jingming was on duty that night at Cheng Family Private Hospital—Fu Group had invested, and he and Fu Yanli were childhood friends.
“Come on over.”
Jiang Shunnian hadn’t actually vomited. He rinsed his mouth; the worst passed. Hearing Fu Yanli, he protested, “No need for the hospital. I’m fine—just haven’t slept well lately.”
Fu Yanli shook his head. “Better get it checked. Call it a pre-job physical.”
Jiang Shunnian apologized. “Sorry, Mr. Fu. Ruined dinner because of me.”
“No worries. I can cook again anytime. Your health comes first.”
Maybe it was the vulnerability of feeling unwell, but Jiang Shunnian gazed at Fu Yanli with an urge to hug him—or more precisely, be hugged by him.
But he held back.
Fu Yanli changed clothes and drove him to the hospital.
Seeing Fu Yanli’s tense worry, Cheng Jingming knew this guy had serious designs on Jiang Shunnian.
As his childhood friend, though he often wanted to cut ties, he’d still look out for his happiness.
After carefully querying Jiang Shunnian’s symptoms, Cheng Jingming’s expression turned subtly odd.
These signs… they scream pregnancy?
But Jiang Shunnian was clearly male, so he ordered bloodwork and an abdominal ultrasound. If it was stomach-related, a gastroscopy tomorrow morning.
With the orders ready, Cheng Jingming drew Jiang Shunnian’s blood himself, then personally did the ultrasound.
The image showed a healthy stomach—no issues. Cheng Jingming widened the scan to nearby organs, but froze at one spot, eyes bulging.
What the hell? He rubbed his eyes. Is that… a gestational sac?
A medical miracle? Cheng Jingming nearly doubted his skills.
But no matter the angle, there it was—a gestational sac!
About 40 days along, perfectly standard and healthy in shape and size. Without a uterus, the small sac had a soft protective shell, nestled cutely in Jiang Shunnian’s lower abdomen like a tiny, adorable bundle.
Seeing Cheng Jingming’s exaggerated face, Fu Yanli grew more anxious. “Jingming, what’s wrong with him?”
Jiang Shunnian felt scared too, subconsciously tugging Fu Yanli’s clothes.
Fu Yanli instantly clasped his hand reassuringly. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, I’ll get you treated. If the tech here’s lacking, we’ll go abroad.”
Cheng Jingming rolled his eyes. What is this, a drama? Domestic medicine’s world-class. But focus—he recalled Fu Yanli asking about post-care ointments a month ago. Glancing between them, he grinned at Fu Yanli. “Jiang Shunnian’s fine. He’s just pregnant.”
“Good…” Fu Yanli exhaled at the first half, but the second half stunned him blank. “Pregnant?!”
Jiang Shunnian stared in a daze. “Preg… pregnant? Me? How is that possible!”
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