Shen Youan’s room was very small. It had previously been a warehouse for miscellaneous items, and with only one small skylight, both the lighting and ventilation were extremely poor.
A small, 1.2-meter bed was pushed against the wall. The quilt on the bed was folded into a neat “tofu block,” and the sheets were without a single wrinkle. Aside from a desk and a wardrobe, the room was as clean as a model home.
Shen Youan found her backpack, packed two sets of clothes and the English books she had borrowed from the library, informed Zhang Jian, and left the Zhang household.
At this time in her previous life, Zhou Qin’s lover had accumulated a mountain of gambling debt. When the debt collectors couldn’t find the man, they tracked down the Zhang family, and the extramarital affair Zhou Qin had hidden for five years was finally exposed.
It had caused a massive scandal back then. For the sake of Zhang Tianci, her uncle had endured it and didn’t get a divorce. From then on, Zhou Qin had behaved herself, but she could only find ways to bully Shen Youan instead.
For her uncle’s sake, Shen Youan had initially tried to warn Zhou Qin, but the woman was hell-bent on seeking her own destruction.
Calculating the dates, the time was almost here. Shen Youan had no desire to witness such a mess.
This time, she would give her uncle a great gift. With a woman as disgraceful as that, it was naturally best to cut ties decisively.
Her phone suddenly rang. Shen Youan glanced at the screen.
It was a voice message from Zhao Heng: “Boss, I found the guy, but he thinks I’m a scammer and doesn’t believe me. It’s truly a case of a dog biting Lu Dongbin—he doesn’t recognize a good heart when he sees one.”
Shen Youan thought for a moment and typed back: Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.
Zhao Heng quickly replied with another voice message: “When the Boss makes a move, she’s worth two of anyone else. Yay!”
“By the way, Boss, I’m in Chuncheng right now. I’m on call whenever you need me. Feel free to use and abuse me as you wish.”
Shen Youan ignored him, took a taxi to the airport, and bought a ticket for the next flight to Chuncheng.
In a certain bar in Chuncheng, after Jiang Han finished his performance, he ignored the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd and left through the back door with his guitar on his back, his face expressionless.
Several young men with tattooed arms and wooden clubs blocked Jiang Han’s path.
Jiang Han’s face turned cold. “Move.”
He stood 1.85 meters tall, and his aura of suppressed violence was quite intimidating.
The leading youth crushed the cigarette in his mouth, spat it on the ground, and sneered, “You’ve got a death wish, trying to pick up Jin Ge’s woman. Break his legs.”
Two fists were no match for four hands, let alone so many. Jiang Han was quickly forced into a disadvantage. A heavy blow from a club landed on his back, making him stumble, but he forced himself to stay upright.
Spitting out a mouthful of bloody water, a trace of ruthlessness flickered in Jiang Han’s eyes as he charged forward again.
Knocked down, he climbed back up; knocked down again, he climbed up once more. He seemed tireless, ignoring the mocking laughter around him. His eyes held only a look of never-giving-up determination.
Shen Youan stood in the darkness and watched for a long time.
Jiang Han, the man who would one day become a world-renowned Superstar, was currently like a stray dog with nowhere to go.
Seeing a club about to swing toward Jiang Han’s legs—judging by the force, it would surely cripple him—Jiang Han let out a roar. He suddenly lunged and caught the wooden club with his bare hands.
Someone kicked him hard in the back. Jiang Han gritted his teeth and held on, gripping the club with both hands as he charged forward, forcing his opponent into a corner.
The three men behind him caught up and began punching and kicking his back.
Jiang Han’s jaw was tight. Bright red blood flowed down from his forehead, covering his face. The ferocity in his eyes surged like that of a savage wolf, terrifying the yellow-haired youth in front of him to the core.
The weak fear the bold, and the bold fear the desperate.
This guy was the literal definition of desperate.
Jiang Han gripped both ends of the club, pinned it against the yellow-haired youth’s neck, and pressed down hard.
The youth quickly struggled for breath. The fear of impending death caused his pupils to shrink. Even as the clubs from the three men behind Jiang Han fell like rain on his shoulders and back, Jiang Han refused to let go.
The yellow-haired youth, gasping for air, waved his hand. Only then did his three companions stop.
After a long while, Jiang Han finally released his grip.
The yellow-haired youth’s knees went weak, and he collapsed to the ground, his eyes fixed on Jiang Han with lingering terror.
This was a ruthless character.
The youth hissed through gritted teeth, “You’re lucky today. Let’s go.”
His three lackeys supported him as they scurried away in disgrace.
Quiet returned to the alley. The heavy metal rock music from the bar could be heard faintly. Occasionally, a passing pedestrian would see a man sitting by the roadside with a bruised face and a head covered in blood, and they would quickly pick up their pace to leave.
Once his breathing leveled out, Jiang Han propped himself up and stood. He reached for his guitar to leave, only to realize it had been smashed during the fight.
The ruthlessness in the depths of Jiang Han’s eyes surged once more. He carefully packed away the broken guitar and limped out of the alley.
Shen Youan followed from a distance. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she truly wouldn’t have been able to associate this man with the Superstar who would call the shots in the entertainment industry decades later.
In her previous life, Shen Youan’s only interaction with him was backstage at a fashion event. Because she had offended the “capital,” she was being suppressed and had made a fool of herself on the red carpet wearing an out-of-season, ill-fitting gown.
And Jiang Han had been the grand finale star.
Backstage, because of a staff member’s “mistake,” she had been doused with cold water. It was the middle of winter, and she nearly froze to death. Jiang Han had passed by, saw her pitiable state, took off his coat to drape over her shoulders, and left without saying a word.
Even after many years, Shen Youan still remembered that warmth.
Later, when she was blacklisted and hiding in her rental room out of boredom, she would listen to his songs, search for his news, and read gossip about him on celebrity sites.
He sang in bars at eighteen. At twenty-two, he was discovered by a famous music producer with a keen eye. Under the banner of a musical prodigy, he released his first album, which became a hit across Asia, marking the beginning of the era of Jiang Han.
The sales of his every album would break records in the music scene and sweep top music awards. In that era, even a three-year-old walking down the street could hum a few lines of his songs.
A music critic once described him like this: Jiang Han is the last brilliant pearl of the declining Chinese music scene.
He was, in himself, an era.
Shen Youan was lost in thought until a man’s wary and cold voice reached her ears: “What do you want?”
Shen Youan raised her head calmly. “Jiang Han, I’ve been observing you for a long time. Are you interested in making your debut?”
Jiang Han’s pupils constricted slightly.
Under the dim streetlamp, he could only see a silhouette—slender and tall.
The crisp voice was steady and composed, possessing a powerful confidence that instinctively commanded belief.
Jiang Han sneered. “You really are persistent.”
“I imagine trouble like tonight’s isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last. You are very talented. I’m sure you don’t want to waste your time on trivial matters that exhaust your body and mind.”
The figure walked forward a few steps until she was in front of him, tucking a business card into his chest pocket.
Jiang Han saw those hands—slender and elegant. Under the streetlamp, they emitted a luster like white jade.
In the moment his mind wavered, the owner of that hand had already withdrawn.
“One day, you will become the most dazzling pearl in the music scene. Trust me, and trust yourself.”
Jiang Han returned to his rented room, casually tore the late-payment notice off the door, and threw it into the trash.
Tossing himself onto the bed, Jiang Han closed his weary eyes.
Unbidden, the memory of those eyes he had caught a glimpse of surfaced in his mind.
They were as if shrouded in a layer of mist—elegant and mysterious.
One day, you will become the most dazzling pearl in the music scene. Trust me, and trust yourself.
Jiang Han pursed his lips and reached into his chest pocket, pulling out the business card.
He looked at it repeatedly against the light.
Bianyu Entertainment, Music Department Director and Gold Medal Agent — Zhao Heng.