“How much to keep him?”
The moment Jiang Nan’s words landed, a flash of icy chill passed through Shen Li’s eyes. The brows that had been slightly furrowed from the pain twisted even tighter.
How many years had it been since anyone had spoken to him like that?
Could this “Jiang Nan” be someone who had known them in the past?
Shen Li’s gaze turned frosty cold, radiating an inviolable authority. His lips pressed into a thin line, betraying a trace of disgust. “What do you mean by that?”
“What do I mean? Exactly what I said,” the man replied with a disdainful look in his eyes. “I called you ‘teacher,’ and now you actually think you’re one?”
Shen Li knew all too well how things worked in the entertainment industry. Even if a dog wandered into camera shot, these so-called “civilized” types would bow and call it “teacher” with all due respect.
But the second those cameras stopped rolling, “dumbass” replaced “teacher.” They slapped it onto the name of anyone who crossed them.
If you lacked fame or solid backing, even a minor celeb with a bit of online buzz could climb on top of you, take a dump, and crown themselves emperor.
Shen Li nearly laughed at how fast this guy could flip like that, but he held it in. Otherwise, his lips would have curled in contempt.
Seeing Shen Li stay silent, Jiang Nan figured he had him completely rattled and pressed on. “I’ve known about you for a while. Weren’t you just the assistant Qian Xingzhi kept? Then you slept your way to the top. What, got dumped by Qian Xingzhi and now you’re looking to debut on this show?”
Shen Li’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You saw us more than ten years ago?”
Jiang Nan snorted. “Saw you? More than that. At Qian Xingzhi’s original engagement party, I even heard his mother talking about you.”
Shen Li’s expression hardened. That confirmed it.
Someone from Qian Xingzhi’s circle who happened to know him.
Over ten years ago, when Qian Xingzhi was just breaking into the entertainment industry, the trashy tabloids were full of it. Qian family heir ditches marriage alliance with real estate giant Zhao family, pisses off the Sun and Li families—good-for-nothing, hopeless at school or business.
Defied his parents’ plans by enrolling in media university. Hell, he even wanted to become an actor.
And among Qian Xingzhi’s laundry list of scandals, one stood out as utterly ridiculous: constantly messing around with small-time models.
He even kept a particularly gorgeous rent boy by his side, passing him off as his assistant.
That’s when those bottom-feeder tabloids ran the line: “When there’s work, the assistant works; no work, he works the assistant.”
Shen Li, the unlucky “model assistant” in question, never made headlines himself, but a handful of people had spotted him back then.
Shen Li couldn’t be sure if Jiang Nan had crossed paths briefly with Qian Xingzhi at the time or simply glimpsed him once.
After all, the gossip from Qian Xingzhi’s relatives and friends claimed their “romance” only started after Qian entered showbiz. That’s when he supposedly met this seductive bitch, threw some cash at him, kept him as a traveling assistant, and dragged him everywhere.
But the truth was far different.
He and Qian Xingzhi had been scrambling every way they could to repay a nine-million bank loan.
That sum came from Qian Xingzhi mortgaging the house his maternal grandpa had left him on his deathbed. Every yuan went toward treating Shen Li’s mother’s rare disease.
They weren’t even married yet.
Truth be told, nine million was pocket change to a family like Qian Xingzhi’s.
But ever since Qian Xingzhi started dating him in high school, his parents—with their iron grip on everything—had cut off all his financial support. When he refused to dump his boyfriend over being a man, they went and had IVF at age forty to produce a little brother.
By the time Qian Xingzhi graduated college, defied them by joining showbiz, and flat-out rejected the arranged marriage…
His father, right in front of Shen Li, signed over one hundred percent of the inheritance to the kid who wasn’t even five.
Shen Li mulled it over time and again. He kept telling Qian Xingzhi they should call it quits.
Qian Xingzhi wouldn’t hear of it, so they just kept going.
Later, Shen Li joined the SWAT team and worked out of town. Qian Xingzhi moved into his place to look after Shen Li’s mother like a dutiful son.
Even later, Shen Li headed to Hong District for disaster relief. A flood swept him away; they even issued an obituary. His mother, heartbroken, tried to end it all multiple times. Qian Xingzhi pulled her back from the brink every single midnight.
So when the villagers in Geng Family Village fished Shen Li out and he called home to learn his mother’s condition had crashed—life hanging by a thread, no idea what to do—Qian Xingzhi scooped the still-recovering Shen Li off a plane at the airport.
They didn’t even make it out of the terminal before Qian Xingzhi whisked Shen Li and his mother-in-law off to Northern Europe for top specialists.
Specialty meds ran a hundred thousand per box; they used over seventy.
Surgery costs on top: over nine million total.
Shen Li figured if he stuck with police work, he’d never pay Qian Xingzhi back.
So he quit SWAT. He nursed his mother through recovery while scraping for gigs in entertainment.
Everyone knew the industry paid fast.
But with a face that could steal the spotlight from any leading man—no acting school, no connections, and zero interest in sleeping his way in—no one would touch him.
Half a month of hustling landed him only magazine shoots and Taobao ads as a model.
The pay was a pittance. At that rate, it’d take seventy or eighty years to clear nine million.
Qian Xingzhi watched him struggle and ripped up the IOU.
“I told you, it’s a gift. No need to repay.”
Shen Li gave a wry laugh. “You think I’m the type to mooch off you?”
Qian Xingzhi tugged his lips in that cool-guy pose, but the grin danced in his eyes and brows. “Marry me, then. Starting today, we pay it back together.”
Somehow, just like that, they tied the knot—no fancy date, straight to the courthouse.
Shen Li still couldn’t land high-paying work, so he stuck by Qian Xingzhi’s side. Helped sort company setup details, managed daily life. Modeling dried up.
That’s when the tabloids spun it:
Qian heir gone rogue, bangs men, keeps wild models, dumps all the dirty work on his assistant.
Pure bullshit.
Looking back now, Shen Li realized those days were the happiest, most carefree of his life.
His mother’s illness, properly managed, could give her twenty more years.
No nine-to-five; slept as late as he wanted.
Qian Xingzhi wouldn’t dream of burdening him—not even with luggage. The only things he let Shen Li handle were papers: company docs, or Ministry of Public Security Criminal Police Team recruitment exams. And with his brain, that stuff was child’s play.
Back then, he couldn’t care less about the gossip, no matter how ugly.
They were married. Outsiders could yap all they wanted.
Divorce changed everything.
Now Shen Li hated anyone dragging that history out to trash Qian Xingzhi.
Qian had clawed his way to the top, no scandals in years. Shen Li wouldn’t let his own past taint that spotless rep.
He was on this variety show today, under the public eye. Perfect chance to set those old tabloid tales straight.
They’d been legally wed from day one. Qian Xingzhi had no taste for wild models. Shen Li was a proud party member who’d cleared every yuan legitimately before his next public job. Kept? Hardly.
All of it deserved a clear explanation to the viewers.
But no cameras in the bathroom.
Spilling it to Jiang Nan wouldn’t change a thing.
A cold glint flickered in Shen Li’s pain-dimmed eyes. His breathing slowed, deepened—silently bottling the fury inside.
At last, he said calmly, “Oh, so Mr. Jiang didn’t join the show to remarry his ex-wife. You’re here to keep me, this ‘wild model’?”
Jiang Nan’s gaze still lingered on Shen Li’s waist, heavy with meaning. “Not quite.”
“Not quite? Then what?”
Shen Li pressed without flinching, fishing for the man’s real reason for the show.
But Jiang Nan, the old fox, sidestepped. “What I’m saying is—if you’re game, we could do that private money-for-services thing. In case you and Qian Xingzhi crash and burn. Go private with me, and I won’t skimp.”
Two “privates”—clearly nothing to see the light of day.
Shen Li offered no reaction, just watched him steadily.
Even the tiniest tells betrayed the agony ripping through Shen Li’s body, but his posture stayed ramrod straight, like a bowstring pulled taut. His clear eyes cut like blades. In a level voice, he asked, “Won’t skimp? So, how much?”
“Like I said—double whatever Qian Xingzhi paid you.”
Shen Li’s brow creased. Bluntly: “You mentioned over ten years back, Qian Xingzhi gave me nine point four eight million. A month? No inflation adjustment, knock off a bit—call it nine million. Double that?”
Jiang Nan’s face shifted visibly.
Shen Li kept going. “Eighteen million. Pocket change for you, right? One lump sum?”
Jiang Nan let out a scornful huff. “Don’t inflate your price here, messing up the market. Nine hundred thousand a month? What, ass diamond-studded?”
Shen Li let out a mocking chuckle. His cool gaze pinned the man’s crotch, face blank. “Oh, so you guys have a whole market down there?”
“Damn right,” Jiang Nan shot back, arching a brow. “Even top-tier headliners at the best clubs don’t charge that much. I suggest you shop around before taking clients.”
Shen Li’s brows knit tight. “Which club?”
“Yellow Donkey Club.”
“Be specific. Where? When do they have events?”
“Jinshui Road, after ten at night. Members-only invite.”
“You know the owner?”
The man caught Shen Li’s keen interest and grinned slyly. “Know him? He’s my ironclad bro. Show ends, I’ll take you.”
“No need. Tonight, I’ll send my apprentice to check it out.”
“Oh? An apprentice? He fish for men like you?” Jiang Nan paused, brow furrowing as something clicked. “Wait—your marksmanship—”
Shen Li cut him off with a faint smile. “Training class. Specializes in screwing over men.”
