Chapter 1 Part 1

Abyssal City West Suburb Film City.

The large-scale ancient costume drama Da Qing Feng Yun, produced by Xingyao Entertainment and directed by Mo Song, was in the midst of intense filming.

Due to the sweltering heat, the pot-bellied Director Mo sat behind the camera, ceaselessly fanning himself with the script in his hand, while the assistant director stood on high, barking orders to the extras through a megaphone.

Today featured a scene of disaster victims entering the city, so the site was packed with extras.

Though the disaster victims were fake, their tattered costumes had been worn by countless people before, and the headpieces and shoes were especially filthy. With dozens of extras crammed together, the stench on set was unmistakable.

Halfway through filming, Director Mo’s assistant Xiao Liu suddenly hurried over and whispered something in his ear: “Director Mo, President Yu is here. He’s already at the front city gate.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Upon hearing that the big boss had arrived, Director Mo leaped up with agility that belied his build and hurriedly led his assistant outward.

Halfway there, he suddenly remembered something and waved at the assistant director, signaling for a break.

Everyone present was sharp; seeing Director Mo’s actions, they understood immediately. The male third lead playing the imperial censor on patrol, the on-site producer, the drama coordinator, and others all quietly followed, hoping to say a word to the big boss and get on familiar terms.

Male third lead Ying Lin was one of Xingyao’s own, but his agent had poached him from another company just this year, so he had yet to meet the big boss. He quietly nudged the on-site producer and asked, “Why did President Yu suddenly come over?”

They had been shooting for over two months, and this big boss had never once appeared. Of course, that made sense—their President Yu was the youngest grandson of the Yu Clan Consortium’s chairman, a rich heir born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Not only did he manage Xingyao Entertainment, but he also oversaw several subsidiaries, all tied to the entertainment industry.

Though their crew’s investment wasn’t small, Xingyao produced over a dozen such dramas annually, plus movies, web series, documentaries, and more. The big boss couldn’t possibly visit every set.

The on-site producer shot him a quick glance but said nothing: Ask me? Who do I ask?

But the producer’s indifference couldn’t dampen Ying Lin’s excitement. The other leads had no scenes this morning, yet he was here—wasn’t this a chance from the heavens?

President Yu hadn’t come alone, of course; his special assistant trailed behind. But Ying Lin, the entire directorial team, and even the extras who hadn’t fully dispersed all fixed their attention on the elegant figure ahead, impeccably dressed in a suit, with even the top button of his shirt fastened neatly.

His strides were unhurried, but his austere demeanor, the watch peeking from his cuff, and the custom leather shoes on his feet all silently proclaimed their exorbitant value.

The extras weren’t fools either. Dressed like this on a set and warranting a personal welcome from the director, he was clearly someone they couldn’t afford to offend. They scattered before he approached.

Ying Lin trailed behind Director Mo, intending to step forward and chat, but someone beat them to it—

A young extra in refugee garb, decent-looking, had originally meant to dodge as well. But whether from too much sun exposure, his under-eye circles were dark, and his lips drained of color.

As he passed in front of the big boss, his body suddenly swayed, and he pitched forward headfirst, crashing right into him!

“President Yu!” Mo Song’s eyelids twitched. He quickened his pace, bent down, and reached out, intending to help the special assistant pull the man away now that President Yu had recovered.

He had seen too many such incidents in the industry; his first thought wasn’t that the young man had fainted from heatstroke, but that he was faking it for some ulterior motive. Why else collapse onto anyone but specifically into the big boss’s suit pants?

Yes, right onto the suit pants—and he was still clutching them, refusing to let go.

Pulling this stunt right in front of him—did they think Director Mo was blind? Fire him, absolutely fire him!

Mo Song was furious. He tugged but couldn’t pry him loose, so he used more force.

“Wait.” Yu Qingxian suddenly called a halt, his face darkened as he tugged at his pant leg. Seeing the grip was iron-tight, he could only take a deep breath and say, “First, carry him to the shade.”

Others might not know, but he felt it clearly—that collision had been solid. He had no intention of catching the man, but as the other fell, he had unwittingly grabbed Yu Qingxian’s pants pocket!

If he hadn’t reacted in time, his pants might not have survived!

…

In a daze, Chu Yi caught sight of a pair of beautiful phoenix eyes—sharp at the inner corners, with narrow tails that drooped aggrievedly before sweeping upward. Long lashes veiled the pale ripples within, but they couldn’t hide the chill in those eyes.

“Awake? Can you let go of my pants now?” The owner of the phoenix eyes stated coolly.

Before Chu Yi could react, a numbness shot through his fingers, and something was yanked from between his stiff grasp.

Those pale phoenix eyes gave him one last look before turning away, saying to someone, “He’s yours now.”

That person chuckled. “Don’t worry, President Yu, I’ve got this…”

When Chu Yi awoke again, the memory fusion was complete.