A physique standing over 1.8 meters tall probably couldn’t win against someone over 1.9 meters. In case Qu Yuheng gave him a body slam, he reckoned he’d end up right back in the hospital. Jian Zhixu forcefully suppressed the urge to hug the man.
Walking up to the man’s side, he followed his line of sight down to a wilted, pure white hydrangea flower.
“If you leave, don’t ever come back.” Qu Yuheng, who had assumed the person was leaving, inexplicably felt a surge of anger well up inside him.
When you’ve been deep in the darkness for too long, a small flame suddenly appears and keeps you company, only to disappear one day he’d rather have never had it at all.
Judging by his tone, was he angry because of him?
Jian Zhixu hurriedly defended himself, “I didn’t leave, and I couldn’t bear to leave either. If I left, who would keep you company for breakfast, send you off to work, and wait for you to come home?” It was phrased with the absolute confidence of a legitimate spouse, making it sound as if Qu Yuheng wouldn’t be able to survive without him.
Qu Yuheng wasn’t buying it. His voice darkened as he said, “Don’t use that clingy routine you used on Qin Zi’an on me. Get lost while you still can.”
You couldn’t blame Qu Yuheng for being angry. Not to mention Xie Lan, even the blood-related members of the Qu family had never treated him with genuine care.
Jian Zhixu walked right up to Qu Yuheng, offering explanations and coaxing all at once. “Didn’t I go shoot a commercial this afternoon? If I had known you were coming back, I would have rescheduled for tomorrow.” He even threw in a tiny complaint, “I didn’t have your contact info, otherwise I would have called and told you earlier.”
Instead of taking responsibility, he was blaming him now! Qu Yuheng let out a cold snort. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not changing it,” Jian Zhixu changed his expression in a split second to one of solemn seriousness and stated grandly, “Don’t ever compare yourself to that idiot again—he doesn’t deserve it.”
His clear eyes were firm yet gentle, much like the lingering floral fragrance that effortlessly tugged at someone’s heartstrings when they least expected it. The cold expression frozen on Qu Yuheng’s face softened slightly.
“To prove I’m not clinging desperately, I’ll pay rent from now on,” Jian Zhixu promised with a deadpan, serious expression. “I’ll pay it the moment my salary comes in.”
Qu Yuheng looked at him with utter disdain. “Is that tiny salary of yours even enough?”
“It’s not, there are too many places to spend money,” Jian Zhixu said, looking troubled as he started counting on his fingers one by one: “Rent, food expenses, what I owe the company, and Flower Daddy…”
“Who the hell is Flower Daddy?” Qu Yuheng furrowed his brows in displeasure. “A sugar daddy?” Everyone knew what a sugar daddy meant in the entertainment industry.
Jian Zhixu chuckled secretly, side-eyeing him with a tease. “Are you jealous?”
Jealous?
He had never felt that way toward Xie Lan, let alone Jian Zhixu. Qu Yuheng said coldly, “You’re overthinking it.”
Jian Zhixu spoke without missing a beat, “Flower Daddy is so good to me! Whenever I’m broke, I just go to him, and I can get as much as I want” provided my credit score is fine.
“Get lost and go find your Flower Daddy.” Qu Yuheng turned around and strode back into the house with his long legs.
Jian Zhixu chased after him shouting, “Flower Daddy isn’t as tall as you, and he’s not as handsome as you!”
After entering the house, Qu Yuheng picked up his phone and sent a text message to his assistant: [Find out who “Flower Daddy” is.]
A minute later, the assistant gave a brief and clear reply: [A credit loan product from a certain financial institution.]
At dinner time, Qu Yuheng didn’t give Jian Zhixu a single pleasant look and went straight up to the second-floor study after finishing his meal.
Jian Zhixu stayed behind to help Aunt Mei clean up, casually mentioning that the hydrangea flower in the backyard seemed like it couldn’t survive.
“To grow hydrangeas, you really have to look to Madam.”
Aunt Mei let out a long sigh, reminiscing about how the courtyard of the old family estate used to bloom with hydrangeas of various distinct varieties, looking exceptionally gorgeous, and how Madam loved them the most. Sometimes, the eldest young master would bring the little young master along to help plant flowers, and the father-son duo would finish playing covered from head to toe in mud while Madam watched from the side with a helpless expression.
So that was why.
After cleaning up, Jian Zhixu seriously retraced the plot in the book. The cannon fodder didn’t have many scenes he was just a catalyst for the main characters’ romance, taken out for a spin whenever needed. But things were different now; trying to spin him out of the picture? Not a chance in hell.
He needed to carefully plan his next steps.
First, he had to make money to pay off his debts. But most importantly, as someone who would stand beside Qu Yuheng in the future, he had to have enough confidence and backing to support himself—something he currently lacked.
The next morning, after sending Qu Yuheng off, Jian Zhixu called Zhao Bin.
Zhao Bin’s very first line was: “I don’t have money to lend you.”
Jian Zhixu said he wasn’t calling to borrow money, asking instead if there were any work arrangements recently.
He was actually asking for gigs proactively; Zhao Bin was quite surprised. Previously, Jian Zhixu had eyes higher than the heavens, turning his nose up at small commercials and minor projects, and frequently standing people up. Eventually, the company stopped picking up gigs for him, leaving him to fend for himself.
Since he was willing to take on jobs now, how could there be no arrangements? Bad publicity is still publicity, especially since the company was breathing down his neck, demanding Jian Zhixu pay off his debts before his contract expired.
Zhao Bin sent him a matchmaking reality show.
A brief glance told Jian Zhixu it had a script, requiring him to play a bottom-feeder trashy man with zero bottom line, or rather, letting the original owner play himself to stir up topics, drum up hype, and ride the waves of traffic.
His reputation couldn’t take any more hits, so Jian Zhixu turned it down.
Zhao Bin launched into a furious, head-to-toe tirade before snapping impatiently, “There’s a business dinner this afternoon, and the company plans to arrange for you to go. See if you can pick up a small movie role; maybe you’ll have a chance to make a comeback.” Before hanging up, he reminded him to dress formally.
At five o’clock, Jian Zhixu took a taxi and arrived at the Yazun Club.
Zhao Bin, who had been waiting at the entrance, stared with his eyes popping out as Jian Zhixu stepped out of the taxi.
A white shirt paired with black dress pants made the guy look clean and sharp, and even his vibe had completely changed, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to the wilted, lifeless look he had when they met last month.
It gave him the illusion of returning to five years ago when he first met Jian Zhixu—a young boy with a straight, tall frame, good bone structure, and high facial recognition. He looked textured even when filmed straight-on without any expressions, making him exceptionally suited for the big screen.
He had taken a fancy to him at a glance and immediately told the company to sign him.
Unfortunately, Jian Zhixu later self-sabotaged by letting a love-brain take over, refusing to listen even if pulled by ten oxen.
Since he couldn’t be pulled back, he might as well squeeze out whatever value he had left before his contract ended. Zhao Bin was extremely satisfied. “Today’s gig is definitely going to work out.”
Zhao Bin’s intuition hadn’t failed him; the clothes were indeed from when Jian Zhixu had just debuted. When he went back to get his luggage, he also returned his rental apartment. While sorting through the trash, he discovered a few hidden wardrobe gems that were still decent and brought them along.
Zhao Bin led him to a VIP private room, specifically instructing him before entering to read the room and absolutely not throw a tantrum.
The private room was luxuriously decorated and spacious, filled with the smell of smoke and alcohol. Jian Zhixu glanced around there were four people at the table, food and drinks already half-consumed, looking as though negotiations were nearly wrapped up.
Zhao Bin exchanged pleasantries with one of the men, and the man waved for them to sit down.
Jian Zhixu had just pulled out a chair near the door when the man called out to him, “You go to the empty seat opposite.”
There was only one empty seat on the opposite side, right next to the main seat. Sitting in the main seat was a pot-bellied middle-aged man whose lecherous gaze hadn’t moved away from him the moment he walked in.
Having survived as a Best Actor in the entertainment industry’s massive dyeing vat before, what kind of freaks and weirdos hadn’t he seen? He calmly walked over and sat down, waiting quietly to observe.
“The one sitting beside you is President Chen of Xinding Group, who’s also a film investor. He has a say in all roles except the male lead,” Zhao Bin introduced him enthusiastically, pouring a full glass of white liquor and urging, “Hurry up, give President Chen a toast first.”
Alcohol irritates the gastric mucosa, and the original owner ultimately died of stomach cancer. In fact, half the reason he learned cooking was to heal his stomach, not entirely just for Qu Yuheng.
Yet some business dinners couldn’t be avoided, and besides, he currently didn’t have the capital to refuse.
Jian Zhixu picked up his wine glass and said politely, “I’ll toast President Chen.”
President Chen chuckled happily, tilting his head back to down it in one gulp. After finishing, he praised Jian Zhixu, “Young people have a future. I’ll toast you back.”
Prompted by Zhao Bin and egged on by the others, Jian Zhixu drank a few more glasses.
Six or seven glasses down, a wave of heat surged upward, followed by a fierce burning sensation, like a small knife scraping across his throat and stomach lining.
The food on the table was as greasy as the men, and with an empty stomach, Jian Zhixu couldn’t bring himself to eat, leaving his chopsticks untouched.
President Chen sized up Jian Zhixu, his gaze drooling all the way from his long legs down to his refined face. Hearing Zhao Bin say his contract was about to expire, he leaned over and warmly invited him, “Xiao Jian, I have an entertainment company under my belt. Come join us, and you can pick whatever movies you want to shoot.”
Someone nearby exclaimed happily, “You’ve struck gold! This is the first time President Chen has proactively invited someone.”
There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world. Jian Zhixu, deeply versed in the underworld’s rules, didn’t want to publicly reject a successful president’s face either, so he just smiled and replied, “I’ll think about it.”
Zhao Bin anxiously chimed in, “What’s there to think about? It’s already great that someone wants you.”
Jian Zhixu just wanted to stab him and said nothing.
Thinking the fish had taken the bait, President Chen grew bolder, draping an arm over the back of Jian Zhixu’s chair, his fingers brushing against Jian Zhixu’s shoulder tentatively. Staring nakedly at the fair neck within arm’s reach, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down several times as he praised, “Your neck is the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
Jian Zhixu’s stomach churned with nausea, and he grabbed his chair to slide a bit to the right, but President Chen took the opportunity to wrap an arm around his shoulder and stop him. “Don’t go.”
Jian Zhixu pushed the greasy hand away unceremoniously. “President Chen, please show some self-respect.”
“Self-respect?” President Chen laughed sinisterly. “Let’s lay our cards on the table. If you follow me today, the role is yours right now.”
Zhao Bin blinked frantically at him to signal compliance.
Jian Zhixu ignored him. Since things had reached this point, he didn’t need to put up a front anymore, standing up directly. “Excuse me, everyone, I have something to attend to and must leave.”
“If you walk out that door, not only do you lose the role,” President Chen threatened him, “but don’t even think about having a foothold in this industry ever again.”
Anyone else would have cowed, offered a compromise, and apologized by now. Yet he showed zero fear of the vicious glint in the fat man’s eyes, turning around to leave the table.
President Chen had never been humiliated like this before, signaling the men at the table with his eyes.
A man blocked his path, and Jian Zhixu asked, “What, are you guys planning to use force?”
Seeing this, Zhao Bin rushed over to mediate, chanting “it’s a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding,” while quietly advising Jian Zhixu, “You need to grasp this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Once this village…”
“Brother Bin, I don’t give a damn about this crappy village,” Jian Zhixu interrupted Zhao Bin. “If you like it, you take it.”
“A piece of trash that can’t be molded! Do you think you still have a market?” Zhao Bin’s hypocritical smile vanished instantly. “Don’t forget you still owe the company money.”
Jian Zhixu understood now—the company was planning to use him to pay off debts. Leaving behind a single sentence, “I’ll pay back the money,” he stepped past the man.
The man grabbed his collar to stop him from leaving. “You have to stay and accompany President Chen.”
Jian Zhixu’s gaze turned fierce. “I’m afraid you don’t have the skills for that.” Before his voice faded, he used his body weight to press down on the man’s elbow joint and struck his jaw with a fist.
The man staggered. After steadying himself and pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, he actually spat out a tooth. He hadn’t expected Jian Zhixu to look so frail and yet hit so hard.
“Grab him,” President Chen ordered.
In an instant, the private room erupted into a chaotic brawl of crashing dishes, shattered plates, curses, and roars.
Jian Zhixu’s moves were fast and vicious. Coupled with his youthful, flexible body, he initially gained the upper hand. But two fists couldn’t fight four hands; failing to defend in time, he took a few hits, which also ignited the suppressed bloodlust deep in his body. His punches became even sharper, aiming straight for the opponent’s vital points every single time.
During the melee, seeing President Chen trying to hide, he grabbed a soup basin right off the table and dumped it squarely over that big head. Let’s see you get spicy-red-oil-ed, you old lecher!
Hot, spicy mala tripe soup poured down. With a giant greasy bowl on his forehead, President Chen was incensed beyond belief. “Cripple him!”
Crap. Fearing he’d be caught in the crossfire, Zhao Bin sneaked toward the door.
Spotting him opening the door, Jian Zhixu casually grabbed a bowl and threw it at him.
Not caring who threw it, Zhao Bin panicked and bolted out, only to collide with a man in the hallway.
“You fu—” The curse died on his lips the moment he caught sight of the man’s cold face. Zhao Bin inwardly cursed his luck, immediately bowing and apologizing repeatedly.
Fortunately, the man ignored him and walked past.
Inside the private room, the four men had swarmed him from all sides.
Jian Zhixu tossed back the bangs blocking his vision, flexed his wrists, let out a heavy sigh of breath, and spoke with deep impatience, “Let’s all come together then.”
If it were his original body, these few rookie goons wouldn’t have posed any challenge, but this body was too weak. Before long, Jian Zhixu’s stamina was severely depleted, and he gradually lost the upper hand.
Taking advantage of a moment of distraction, one man threw a punch straight into his abdominal cavity.
Jian Zhixu winced in pain, covering his knife wound as he retreated a few steps. Yet his willpower was horrifyingly strong; after drawing a few deep breaths, he straightened his back again, suddenly feeling his back collide with something.
He turned around and locked eyes with a pair of chillingly cold black eyes.
The man wore a crisp, tailored suit, with his assistant standing by his side. Just how long had he been standing here watching?
Jian Zhixu curved his eyes into a smile and asked in pleasant surprise, “What are you doing here?”
Qu Yuheng looked at Jian Zhixu: his hair was poking out in all directions like a bird’s nest, the corner of his lips was split and seeping blood, and three buttons of his shirt were missing, exposing the greater part of his chest. He looked thoroughly disheveled yet utterly arrogant.
That smile radiated a hook-like, wild beauty.
President Chen, his face covered in red oil, felt a stir downstairs to think the world held such a person.
“Get out, anyone unrelated,” President Chen barked a warning, issuing a command once more: “Subdue him and I’ll invest another fifty million! I’m going to sleep with him tonight.”
One of the men had figured out Jian Zhixu’s weakness and threw a punch straight at his abdomen.
The expected punch never landed. A large, powerful hand grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted it back with a sharp crack, and the man shrieked in agony.
Qu Yuheng pushed the man away and motioned to the assistant beside him.
The assistant removed his half-rim glasses and tucked them into his pants pocket, stepping forward in long strides. In no time, the crisp sounds of breaking bones rang out one after another, accompanied by the wailing of men as they were knocked to the floor one by one.
President Chen grew too weak in the knees from fright, collapsing limply to the floor. The assistant was about to break his other arm when Jian Zhixu stopped him.
He squatted down in front of President Chen, his eyes icy cold. Picking up an ashtray from the floor, he aimed right for a certain spot and smashed it down.
President Chen shuddered, wetting his pants entirely.
“Ha! An old lecher looking like a bear trying to sleep with me—stop coming out to humiliate yourself. Go home and look in the mirror more often.”
Jian Zhixu put down the ashtray, walked over to Qu Yuheng’s side, and flashed a cheerful, crescent-eyed smile. “Let’s go home and eat, I’m hungry.”
Before he could take more than a few steps, the world started spinning, his vision went pitch black, and he instantly lost consciousness.