Contract Termination
Zhou Jueming opened his eyes. Before him stretched a huge wall with a metallic sheen. He was seated at a table with a black tempered-glass top.
Then he felt the tightness of restraints around his hands and feet, along with the sticky sensation of sweat covering his body, drained of strength.
Lowering his gaze, he saw that coarse rope bound his wrists and ankles to the armrests and legs of the wooden chair he was sitting in. Sweat dripped from his hair, dampening his eyelashes and blurring his vision.
At last, he heard a faint rustle. The door behind him opened, bringing in a slight breeze. A pair of black-trousered legs flashed across his field of vision, and someone sat down in the swivel chair opposite him.
The man spoke first, his tone cool. “How do you feel? I made sure you got the good stuff.”
Those were also the first words Zhou Jueming had heard in this world.
One moment, he had parked and turned off the engine in a hospital’s underground garage. The next, he was here, tied up and utterly exhausted.
Then came an unrelenting heat and weakness from deep within his body, while unfamiliar but coherent memories surged through his mind like a tide.
A strange face in the mirror of a crowded makeup station; the perpetually empty bed in a six-person dorm room; the man across from him, his face always cold… Scene after scene, all memories that belonged to someone else.
He looked up at the sharp-featured young man opposite him. The man’s face was strikingly handsome, but his expression was utterly cold. The discomfort in Zhou Jueming’s body made him frown before he could stop himself.
The man caught the unmistakable expression on his pale face. His mouth curled mockingly, and he tossed a stack of contracts in front of him.
Not even half a minute had passed, and even Zhou Jueming’s heartbeat had yet to settle after the sudden upheaval around him.
Someone came up behind him and roughly cut through the ropes binding him.
Once he was free, the angry red marks around his wrists stood out, burning with pain. Tiny fibers from the rope clung to the surface of his skin. Zhou Jueming drew his arms back from the armrests, where they had gone slightly numb, and slowly rolled his shoulders, while his mind raced to make sense of his situation.
It was bizarre, but he really did seem to have been reborn in the body of a stranger, a screen actor who shared his name. And with only a little thought, memories of the man opposite him, named Jiang Jie, began to flicker through his mind.
“You hired heartless paparazzi to follow and photograph him, then spent a fortune hyping up rumors that he was involved with his own uncle. You bought anti-fans for his new drama, stirred up hate, flooded it with bad reviews, and gave it low ratings. You dug up photos of him practicing smoking for a role when he was younger, just to get people to attack him. Whenever he acted with you, you ruined the scene. You made him do a single slap scene more than a dozen times. You even drugged his wine…”
A tablet slammed down on the table. Jiang Jie laughed and asked softly, “Zhou Jueming, how did I never realize you were so capable?”
Jiang Jie lit a cigarette. His voice came through the thin veil of smoke. “I thought you knew perfectly well why I chose you. If it weren’t for that face of yours, do you really think you could compare to him?”
He tossed several bound documents in front of Zhou Jueming. His voice finally shed its pretended softness and turned hard. “Pick one. This is the last kindness I’m going to show you. From now on, stay as far away as you can. But if I find out you’re still clinging to hope and pulling little tricks…”
He stubbed out his cigarette on a clean sheet of paper, scorching a large brown hole into it. Staring at Zhou Jueming, he continued, “That’s what will happen to you.”
Zhou Jueming finally lowered his stiff arms and glanced at the titles on the stack of documents. They all appeared to be contracts for variety shows and acting work.
He didn’t even open them before looking up at the man across from him. “I don’t need them.” His voice was even, only hoarse from exhaustion.
Zhou Jueming had never been one to waste time on things he didn’t like. He had no interest in entering show business or appearing on some variety show, and he didn’t want to choose between the contracts. That was his instinctive reaction.
Jiang Jie gave a short laugh. “Really? That’s not what you said when you shamelessly begged me for a script. I’m warning you: sign one properly and leave while I still have the patience. Otherwise, you’ll be the one who loses out. If you come crying to me afterward, things won’t be this simple.”
At last, Zhou Jueming’s jumbled thoughts began to clear. That was right: he was now in someone else’s body. He couldn’t simply put his own wishes first. And this person was a screen actor. He couldn’t just start acting completely out of character. He had a responsibility to this actor, too.
He exhaled softly, then pretended to consider the options before picking one. He flipped straight to the last page and quickly wrote his name after “Party B” with the black pen on the table.
Jiang Jie caught the swift, decisive movement from the corner of his eye. The furrow between his brows deepened. He reached out and held down the other end of the document, forcing Zhou Jueming to stop pressing his thumbprint. Their eyes met again, Jiang Jie’s black eyes fixed on him.
Zhou Jueming’s expression remained calm, but there was a trace of impatience in his voice. “President Jiang, what is it now?”
Jiang Jie stared at him, thinking how strange he was acting. Usually, Zhou Jueming would do anything to cling to him, terrified he’d be cast aside. But today, after being tied up once, he was ready to leave without a fuss or any attempt to hold on. It was downright bizarre.
Jiang Jie knew better than to trust a schemer. He was afraid Zhou Jueming still had some disgusting trick up his sleeve to use against that person.
His expression turned cold. “Zhou Jueming, don’t put on an act in front of me.”
The discomfort in his body and the impossible-to-please man in front of him made Zhou Jueming even more impatient. He lowered his head to wipe the red ink from his thumb and replied just as coldly, “Don’t worry, President Jiang. I won’t put on an act.”
He closed the document in his hands and pushed it across the table, keeping one copy for himself.
Zhou Jueming stood up. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the oddly cut, garishly colored clothes he was wearing. He looked down at Jiang Jie and said calmly, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”
His gaze fell to the dark glass, which dimly reflected a face he didn’t recognize. The shadow of Jiang Jie across from him shifted slightly.
Jiang Jie tapped his fingers against the smooth tabletop, then said, “If there’s a next time, you won’t just get a taste of that drug.” The fury in his voice had faded, replaced by a cold, almost lifeless tone, but the threat was all the stronger for it.
“Don’t show your face in front of… him and me again.” Jiang Jie’s voice paused strangely over the word “him.”
Zhou Jueming gave a slight nod and turned to leave the dimly lit office. Only then did he notice the two tall bodyguards in black who had been standing silently in the southeast corner of the room.
Jiang Jie watched him leave, his back straight and stride brisk, his gaze dark.
A long corridor stretched beyond the office. It was decorated in cool tones, with meticulous, immaculate precision, but almost entirely deserted.
Zhou Jueming was weak, so he walked slowly. In the glass along the side, he caught a blurry glimpse of “himself”: heavy makeup, a shock of bright blue hair, a slender build but a very tall frame.
Following his memories, he took the elevator down to the parking garage. The person who had driven him here was his assistant. The memories told him that after making his debut, the original Zhou Jueming had changed assistants six or seven times because of his bad temper. The current one was a young man who did his job, said little, minded his own business, and took his paycheck. That was why he’d lasted more than two months.
Zhou Jueming had just taken the passenger seat and set the contract he’d signed beside him when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He carefully pulled it out of the tangled zipper pocket of his pants, then paused, even wondering whether using it would count as invading someone else’s privacy.
Then he saw his eyes in the rearview mirror. They felt foreign, as if something were lodged in them. He was wearing light brown contacts, which made his eyes look unreal and unfamiliar.
He stared into those eyes in the mirror for half a minute before coming back to himself. Zhou Jueming and Zhou Jueming: he had inherited the man’s memories, past, everything. He had become him.
He unlocked the phone with his fingerprint. A message from his agent, Li Miaosi, read: Come to the office within half an hour. My office.
He quietly told the assistant to drive him to the company, then closed his eyes. His body was exhausted and weak, and the shock of this sudden change had rattled him. He needed time to sort things out.
Upstairs, he had only picked out a few memories connected to Jiang Jie. They were no more than scattered fragments.
The assistant hadn’t heard him get in the car and angrily slam things around or start swearing. In fact, he’d spoken so softly that it was completely out of character. The assistant glanced at him through the rearview mirror, puzzled.
Zhou Jueming slowly rubbed the marks around his wrists as he pieced together the original Zhou Jueming’s past.
The little star Zhou Jueming had grown up in a small county town. He’d emptied his family’s savings to get into a prestigious arts university in the capital. But his college roommate, Chen Yueqian, had already been a sensation, a top star with ten million fans and countless opportunities. Zhou Jueming’s refusal to accept mediocrity had gradually turned into intense jealousy, and even hatred, toward Chen Yueqian.
He didn’t care about his studies. After painstakingly building connections, he finally landed a bit part on a major variety show. Because his makeup made him look like Chen Yueqian, Jiang Jie, the young heir of the country’s biggest talent agency, took notice of him at once. He became the stand-in lover Jiang Jie had sought out to replace Chen Yueqian.
But even a stand-in for Chen Yueqian could get opportunities the little star had never dared to dream of. His obsession only grew stronger.
He used his connection with Jiang Jie to sign with the company and make his debut, then went on to use every resource at his disposal to slander and target Chen Yueqian. He bought anti-fans, spread rumors, and dragged Chen Yueqian down to make himself look better. He even went to great lengths to join Chen Yueqian’s production, using their former roommate connection to become his “friend.” Then, at the wrap party, he slipped an aphrodisiac into Chen Yueqian’s drink and arranged through a third party for a bottom-rung actress who had come up through erotic films to wait in a room.
Of course, it failed. A tall man took Chen Yueqian away before anything could happen. Once the other party made his move, every one of Zhou Jueming’s dirty secrets was exposed in a flood of revelations.
Zhou Jueming had transmigrated at a particularly fateful moment: just as the other party had made his first move, one intended to destroy him.
Screenshots of his chats about hiring paid trolls and arranging marketing campaigns to smear Chen Yueqian and make himself look superior were posted on trending topics. The internet was full of people cursing him.
After he’d marketed himself as a top student at a prestigious university, his transcript, marked with a sea of failing grades, was posted online. The disciplinary action the school had once taken against him was dug up and splashed across the headlines.
Jiang Jie had just returned from abroad. The first thing he did when he saw Zhou Jueming was drug him, end their relationship, and tell him to get lost. Chen Yueqian’s side didn’t report him to the police because they wanted to protect their privacy, but he was kicked off the production, and no one would dare hire him again.
Many deals he’d negotiated were unilaterally canceled. The company couldn’t even be bothered to send anyone but his agent to discuss the breach fees with him.
…
At last, Zhou Jueming opened his eyes. The car had reached the final traffic light before the company. He looked at the wait time, a full 80 seconds, let out a soft breath, then opened his phone to find the electronic copy of the contract he’d signed when he joined the company.
What was done was done. All he could do now was minimize the damage.
It was a weekday afternoon, and Huyang Media wasn’t busy. Zhou Jueming put on a mask and hat and, before getting out of the car, thanked the driver out of habit.
Ignoring the look the assistant gave him from behind, as though Zhou Jueming had gone crazy, he followed his memories and took the elevator to the ninth floor, where Li Miaosi’s office was.
The elevator doors were polished enough to reflect his slender frame. His bones looked almost too prominent.
Zhou Jueming frowned, his professional instincts as a wellness-minded traditional Chinese medicine doctor kicking in. A few illnesses and medicinal herbs flashed through his mind.
But the elevator was fast. It chimed as it reached the floor, and he had just pulled his thoughts back when he found himself face-to-face with two young women waiting outside. He stepped out first to let them pass.
But the women boldly looked him up and down, their eyes full of contempt and disgust, more intense than anything Zhou Jueming had ever encountered before. If a look had a smell, it would have been rotten eggs.
As they passed him, one of them spoke loudly right by his ear. “What a strong green tea. Disgusting.” Her voice, carried on the faint scent of her perfume, filled Zhou Jueming’s nose and ears.
But beneath his mask, his expression didn’t change in the slightest. He continued steadily toward the office.
Li Miaosi’s office, A905, wasn’t locked. He gave the door a light knock and pushed it open, only for a stack of A4 pages to fly straight at his face. Then came a shrill voice, blazing with anger. “What on earth are you doing every single day? You’ve ruined the company’s reputation completely!”