Originally, seeing Qi Han’s provocation, Li Qi had wanted to roll up his sleeves and step in himself, to prevent Qi Yuqiu from doing something foolish again and giving others leverage. Unexpectedly, this kid remained unfazed, which genuinely gave him some relief.
“The company has already terminated the contract with Qi Han.” Worried that Qi Yuqiu might be holding back his anger and causing trouble later, Li Qi proactively informed him of the outcome. “After you left yesterday, many newcomers in the company filed a joint complaint. Several of the most promising newcomers were nearly driven to depression by him.”
No one had dared to touch him before, but he was unlucky enough to run straight into Qi Yuqiu, a solid rock.
Qi Yuqiu smiled. “People like him won’t get far anywhere. Too many schemes—even if he hadn’t crossed paths with me, his luck would have run out.”
The artist director at Jushang Entertainment was named Sun Zhi. When they arrived at Manager Sun’s office, he was in the middle of a conversation with a man in his thirties.
The man was slender, with slightly curly hair that fell to his ears. His face differed from the currently popular “little fresh meat” idols, exuding a masculine handsomeness. However, a shadow of gloom lingered between his brows, casting his entire demeanor into a state of low spirits.
“You still want to hold a concert? What era is this? No one wants to listen to your songs anymore, understand?” Sun Zhi gestured for Qi Yuqiu to wait, continuing without sparing the man any face. “I know you’re a veteran of the company, but this isn’t the small workshop of a dozen people it used to be. Hundreds are waiting to be fed. I can’t just throw money away for nothing!”
“One last one,” the man said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. “After this, I’ll retire from the industry.”
Sun Zhi seemed somewhat irritated. “Retire, retire again—what are you thinking? How old are you? Don’t you need to earn a living or eat? I told you to join variety shows, but you’re too proud. If you’re so proud, save up the money for your concert yourself!”
The man suddenly laughed. “If no one listens to my songs anymore, why should I stay? Go on those variety shows, fake it, praise people who don’t even understand what music is, and use what little reputation I have left to deceive fans, just for a bite to eat?”
Sun Zhi’s face turned cold. “Isn’t that how it is now? Being able to eat is already good enough. While people still remember your name—in a couple of years, the younger generation won’t even know who you are.”
“I can’t do it,” the man said, running a hand through his hair, a hint of pain flickering in his expression. “I just can’t. Forget it.”
“Go back and think it over. I happen to have a talent show that needs people. Think carefully—maybe after the variety show, you’ll be able to hold that concert.”
The man smiled bitterly, stood up, politely nodded to Qi Yuqiu and Li Qi, and left.
After he was gone, Manager Sun sighed. “Stubborn as a mule, no flexibility.”
Qi Yuqiu shook his head. “That’s probably what true passion for one’s career looks like.”
There are always those who pour their entire lives, even their very existence, into loving something. Calling them foolish—Qi Yuqiu didn’t agree. Such pure pursuit is rare but deeply moving.
“Passion doesn’t put food on the table,” Sun Zhi sighed. “You know why I called you here today. So, tell me, what are your thoughts on your future development?”
Li Qi had limited resources to fight for, so naturally he said it depended on the company’s arrangements. Sun Zhi turned to Qi Yuqiu: “Yuqiu, have you thought about which path you want to take in the future? Do you want to become a top Traffic star and achieve great fame, or do you want to take it step by step as an actor?”
Qi Yuqiu thought of the original owner’s wish and stroked his chin: “I’d like to ask, what does it take to stand at the very top of the entertainment industry?”
Li Qi: …
Sun Zhi: …
Li Qi felt his heart condition acting up again. This Qi Yuqiu—why did he always manage to infuriate him with just one sentence? Was this some kind of innate talent?
“I was just asking casually,” Qi Yuqiu said calmly, noticing their expressions.
“Well, it’s good that Yuqiu has such ambitions. Having goals gives you motivation to strive,” Sun Zhi coughed twice, speaking awkwardly, though inwardly he looked down on Qi Yuqiu.
A nobody who couldn’t even be considered Traffic, yet talking about reaching the peak of the entertainment industry—did he even know his own worth? If it weren’t for the cooperation between the company and the Gu Group, why would he, a director, bother planning a development path for a nearly hopeless minor artist like this?
Sun Zhi handed a piece of paper to Li Qi: “This is my plan. Take a look. Yuqiu’s image isn’t great right now, so it’s best for him to lay low for a while. During this time, we’ll find him a few minor roles in big productions. Once the online chatter dies down, the shows will air around the same time, giving him some exposure. Then we’ll have a few veteran actors speak up to help clear his name.”
After that, he’d participate in variety shows to establish a persona and reshape his image. Following that, he could take the normal route and star in one or two idol dramas. This plan was quite fitting for Qi Yuqiu’s current situation.
Li Qi naturally had no objections. The plan Sun Zhi proposed was beyond anything he had ever dared to imagine. Whether it was big productions or the variety shows later on, these were opportunities he could never have accessed on his own.
Qi Yuqiu seemed about to say something but hesitated. After receiving a fierce glare from Li Qi, he simply kept quiet.
“I’ve already contacted Director Chang Yan. For now, Yuqiu should focus on filming with Director Chang. I’ll reach out to you again when suitable scripts come in,” Sun Zhi said. “If there’s nothing else, you can go about your business. Li Qi, I know it’ll be tough on you during this period.”
After thanking Sun Zhi, Li Qi led Qi Yuqiu out of the office.
“What were you about to say earlier?” Li Qi asked Qi Yuqiu.
Qi Yuqiu replied, “Didn’t I sign a contract with Cheng Yu?”
Li Qi slapped his forehead—he had completely forgotten about that. “No, you can’t go on that variety show. If you don’t have the money, I’ll cover the penalty fee for you first.”
Qi Yuqiu disagreed: “He came to me when I was down and out. Now that I have other options, abandoning him like this—isn’t that just being a scumbag?”
“What nonsense are you talking about? Do you even know what ‘scumbag’ means?” Li Qi chuckled. This kid was becoming more and more unreliable. “Fine, go if you want. It’s not even certain the show will air anyway.”
As the two reached a corner, Qi Yuqiu saw Old Ghost leaning gloomily against the wall, faint traces of Black Qi emanating from his body. He told Li Qi to go ahead without him.
Walking over, he heard arguing from the stairwell. Peering through the door crack, he saw one of the men was the same person he had seen earlier in Sun Zhi’s office, while the other was a fashionably dressed young man.
“Teacher Sheng, if I sing those songs of yours, more people will hear them. Isn’t that exactly what you want?” Yan Wenguang’s tone was flippant. Though he addressed him as “teacher,” there was not a trace of respect on his face.
He had just won the Best Newcomer Award for a television drama for his role in a war-themed idol drama. His company planned to strike while the iron was hot and release an album for him, building up his image as a talented artist. Originally, the company had bought a few songs from outside sources, hired lyricists to fill in the words, and then credited the entire composition and lyrics to Yan Wenguang’s name. However, Yan Wenguang looked down on those songs.
They were too mediocre, unworthy of his current status and reputation. Yan Wenguang believed only the top lyricists could write the songs he wanted, but all of them had turned him down.
At the time, Yan Wenguang was so furious he cursed them out—a bunch of washed-up old-timers, who did they think they were? It would be an honor for them if he sang their songs! They just couldn’t see the bigger picture!
Just as he was about to give up, he happened to see Sheng Jun’s handwritten drafts. At first glance, he felt they should be his, Yan Wenguang’s, work!
However, when his manager approached Sheng Jun, he was rejected again. Yan Wenguang was practically seething. But the songs had to be his, which was why he had come to see Sheng Jun privately.
Sheng Jun looked at this young man, nearly ten years his junior—arrogant, overbearing, with no regard for others, lacking both talent and virtue. Yet he had millions of fans, making him more valuable than Sheng Jun, a faded singer who had disappeared from the public eye.
“My songs are not for sale. Give it up.” Sheng Jun knew Yan Wenguang’s visit was also at the behest of the company’s higher-ups. They were only refraining from speaking to him directly out of respect for his long tenure since the company’s founding, leaving a final shred of dignity for both sides.
Yan Wenguang hadn’t expected Sheng Jun to dare refuse him. His eyes widened as he said, “What did you say? You won’t sell them to me? Sheng Jun, I call you ‘Teacher Sheng,’ but do you really think you’re something special? Take a look at your situation—would anyone even recognize you if you walked outside?”
“No need for your concern. The songs are not for sale!” Even with his cultivated demeanor, Sheng Jun couldn’t tolerate being insulted by a junior. His expression darkened instantly.
Yan Wenguang sneered, “Fine, don’t sell them. Let me tell you, there’s nothing I want that I can’t get. I was even planning to let you make an appearance at my concert to get some exposure, but it seems some people just don’t know when to accept a favor.”
Anger surged in Sheng Jun’s heart. He said in a low voice, “My songs might be given to someone else, but that person will never be you. Because someone like you doesn’t deserve them!”
“You!” Yan Wenguang’s eyes turned red with rage. Since his rise to fame, even the company’s directors wouldn’t speak to him like this. This Sheng Jun was just too arrogant!
Without hesitation, he raised his hand to slap him. He believed that even if he hit Sheng Jun, the company wouldn’t do anything to him.
At the very moment he raised his hand, the stairwell door rattled violently, swinging back and forth. A chilling wind swept through the enclosed space.
The wind swirled and wrapped around Yan Wenguang. Suddenly, he felt a cold sensation at the back of his neck, followed by a feeling as if his throat were being squeezed, making it almost impossible to breathe. He tugged at his collar, but it was no use.
“Get out!” A faint, furious roar exploded in his ears. Yan Wenguang glanced around, breaking into a cold sweat. Too frightened to stay any longer, he ignored Sheng Jun’s astonished expression, pulled open the door, and fled.
Qi Yuqiu stood in the corner, watching the panicked young man run off into the distance. He turned his head to see Old Ghost, whose face was faintly shrouded in Black Qi, hanging his head and staring at his own hands.
“I… I hit someone,” Old Ghost said, somewhat at a loss. He had been dead for so long and had never once entertained such thoughts. “I was just too angry.”
Qi Yuqiu nodded. “You grabbed his neck, but that wouldn’t count as minor injury, would it?”
Old Ghost quickly nodded in agreement. “Right! Even if it were examined at the hospital, it wouldn’t be considered a minor injury. I didn’t use much force at all.”
If it didn’t constitute a minor injury, then he hadn’t committed a crime. Even if the police came, at most, he’d only get a verbal warning. Thinking this, Old Ghost breathed a sigh of relief. He had been a law-abiding person in life, and he intended to remain a law-abiding ghost in death.
“So… will you take me in?” Old Ghost asked cautiously. He knew Qi Yuqiu was no ordinary person—perhaps he came from some Taoist temple. Having seen him harm someone, would Qi Yuqiu allow him to stay here?
Qi Yuqiu glanced at him sideways. “Do you have money?”
Old Ghost shook his head blankly. He was dead—where would he get money?
“No money, and you still want me to do work for you? Dream on!” Qi Yuqiu said with a look of disdain.
Old Ghost was taken aback for a moment, then couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you… thank you.”
Qi Yuqiu waved a hand dismissively.
Sheng Jun had remained in the stairwell the entire time. Old Ghost’s expression darkened. “I never imagined he would end up in such a situation.”