Wei Di quickly paid the parking fee and silently drove the car back onto the main road.
Jing Shun didn’t dwell on the small interruption. He leaned back and gazed blankly at the street scenery outside the window, absentmindedly rubbing the plush toy in his arms.
Suddenly, a voice came from beside him.
“Where did that plush toy come from?”
Jing Shun looked at Chi Gui, who had asked the question, and rarely showed a faint smile.
“Dr. Wen gave it to me. It’s very soft.”
He lifted the new little gift to show him, his rounded fingertips slightly pink.
Chi Gui’s gaze lingered for two seconds longer.
“Did the results come out? How do you feel?”
“Mm. There are indeed some psychological issues.” Jing Shun didn’t hide the fact. “Dr. Wen is very professional. We talked a lot today.”
In truth, at first Jing Shun had been somewhat guarded and unwilling to open up. Dr. Wen had noticed his resistance and didn’t force him—instead, she gently and professionally helped him relax step by step.
“……”
Chi Gui knew consultations like this usually involved personal privacy and didn’t press further.
In the front seat, Chen Yiming, ever perceptive, changed the topic.
“Mr. Xiao Jing, do you like dogs? Before we left, Dr. Wen suggested you might try raising one.”
Chi Gui immediately caught the key point.
“Raise a dog?”
Jing Shun tightened his grip on the plush toy and said casually,
“…It’s alright. I don’t plan to raise one.”
In reality, he had once raised a white village dog when he was a child. It was a filming dog he met at the age of six while on a movie set. As filming went on, they developed a bond.
After wrapping up the shoot, he couldn’t bear to part with it and cried for a long time holding the puppy. Seeing how much his son liked it, Jing Guanhai eventually helped arrange to adopt it.
Jing Shun named it after its role in the film—“Naiqiu.” He raised it for twelve years.
At eighteen, he not only suffered the blow of his parents’ divorce and their remarriages, but also lost his long-time companion.
Back then, he had once thought that if his life and income stabilized, he would raise another dog.
But fate struck too suddenly. In the following years, he was busy seeking treatment for his legs, leaving no energy for anything else.
After all—he couldn’t even take care of himself. How could he possibly take care of a dog?
He exhaled softly.
“Mr. Chi, what about you? Do you like dogs?”
Chi Gui’s expression shifted slightly.
“Not really. I don’t feel much about them.”
Rather than “not much feeling,” it was closer to dislike.
When he was young, he had been bitten by a mad dog in the countryside. Even now, there was still an old scar on his left shoulder that never faded.
Although he no longer remembered the pain, and the injury didn’t affect his daily life, the childhood shadow remained—leaving him with an unfavorable impression of dogs.
“Oh.”
Jing Shun responded softly, a faint, inexplicable disappointment spreading in his heart.
It seemed that for the time being, he should completely abandon the idea of raising a dog. After all, since he was living under someone else’s roof, not causing trouble was already enough.
Chi Gui caught the subtle drop in his tone and was about to say something when Jing Shun’s phone suddenly vibrated.
He refocused, checking the WeChat message.
After a few seconds, he hesitantly looked at Chi Gui.
“Mr. Chi, can I go out again tomorrow afternoon?”
“Who’s looking for you?”
Chi Gui blurted out, then immediately realized he had crossed a line.
“…Nothing serious, right?”
Jing Shun explained according to their agreement.
“It’s an agent I knew before, named Yu Xiuzhu. We had already discussed signing a management contract after my previous film finished.”
Unexpectedly, filming had wrapped early due to an accident.
“After that, he’s been quite concerned about me. He even visited me in the hospital, but I wasn’t in a good state then, so I didn’t talk much with him.”
In his previous life, due to his depressive mindset, Jing Shun gradually lost contact with Yu Xiuzhu and other friends. Now, he wanted to change all of that from the beginning.
“He just messaged me asking if I’m free these two days and wants to meet.”
He finished explaining and waited quietly for a few seconds.
Seeing that Chi Gui didn’t respond, he urged softly,
“…I’ve reported it. Can I go out now?”
Chi Gui raised an eyebrow slightly at his muffled tone.
“Mm. I know. I didn’t say you couldn’t go. But let Chen Yiming and the others go with you tomorrow. It’s not convenient for you to go alone.”
Jing Shun squeezed the dog toy’s ear.
“Mm, okay.”
…
After a full afternoon of exhaustion, Jing Shun was completely drained and went straight to his room to rest after arriving home.
Watching him go upstairs, Chen Yiming asked,
“Sir, should I check that agent’s background in advance?”
Chi Gui gave a faint acknowledgment.
“As soon as possible.”
Even if it didn’t involve privacy, at the very least they needed to know whether this “Yu Xiuzhu” was reliable.
Chen Yiming worked efficiently.
Before nine that night, Yu Xiuzhu’s information was already placed in front of Chi Gui.
“Sir, Yu Xiuzhu is 31 years old, from the capital. He is indeed a licensed agent. His father is the well-known director Yu Chuan, and his mother Fang Kehui is also a famous producer in the industry.”
His family also had other relatives in entertainment, business, and even politics.
These were all public records. In other words, Yu Xiuzhu was a genuine elite “young master” from the capital, with an excellent background.
Influenced by his parents, after graduating from university he co-founded Dingxing Studio with friends, handling artist management. He had also managed several artists himself.
“His most famous client is Xie Congjin, who has become one of the top stars in the industry in recent years.”
Chi Gui turned another page of the digital file and suddenly caught a keyword.
“Money laundering?”
“Ah, yes.”
Chen Yiming elaborated.
“Two years ago, Dingxing Studio was exposed for using film investments for illegal money laundering. Around the same time, they also terminated contracts with several actors, including Xie Congjin.”
“Later investigations showed the illegal activity had nothing to do with Yu Xiuzhu—it was caused by the other two partners.”
However, due to the scandal, Yu Xiuzhu disappeared from the industry for a period of time. It wasn’t until early last year that he re-established a new studio in Haishi—Zhulin Management.
Chen Yiming added,
“Last October, Mr. Xiao Jing did meet him in Hengcheng. Not long after that, the production team had an accident.”
“I understand.”
Chi Gui returned the tablet.
“Tomorrow when they meet, keep a distance. Don’t interfere. Just ensure safety.”
“Understood.”
Chi Gui’s gaze shifted slightly.
“Also, ask Uncle Lin to come up. I have something for him to handle.”
“Yes.”
…
The next afternoon, Zhulin Management.
The studio had only been established for a year, but its interior design matched its name perfectly—bamboo-themed décor filled the space, even the lounge, giving it an elegant and refined atmosphere.
“Xiao Shun, here.”
Yu Xiuzhu handed him a cup of freshly brewed fruit tea.
“I know you don’t like coffee, so I made this for you—sweet and tangy. Try it.”
As his name suggested, Yu Xiuzhu exuded a refined, gentlemanly aura. He was gentle, considerate, and meticulous in his treatment of others, with a pair of smiling eyes that easily earned anyone’s goodwill.
Jing Shun smiled and warmed his hands around the cup.
“Thank you, Brother Yu.”
Yu Xiuzhu sat across from him.
“Since when do you need to be polite with me?”
The two of them actually knew each other quite early—
Back then, Jing Shun had acted in a film directed by Yu Chuan. Although it was only a very brief supporting role with minimal screen time, he unexpectedly became acquainted with Yu Xiuzhu, who had visited the set.
The two were eight or nine years apart in age, but they got along well and had maintained contact ever since.
“Xiao Shun, your condition seems much better than before.”
After hearing about the accident on set, Yu Xiuzhu had immediately visited Jing Shun in the hospital, and he also sent frequent messages checking on him via WeChat.
Jing Shun didn’t hide it.
“Someone invited Professor Song’s medical team out of retirement for me. I saw them for diagnosis last week—there’s still hope for my legs.”
The medical team was currently discussing and formulating a surgical plan based on his specific condition.
He had only gone for a second examination that morning.
“If things progress quickly, the first round of surgery can happen by mid next month.”
“Really? That’s great!”
Yu Xiuzhu was genuinely happy for him upon hearing this.
“If you need anything later on, just let me know.”
Jing Shun smiled.
“Thank you, Brother Yu.”
Yu Xiuzhu took a sip of coffee, hesitated, and seemed to have something on his mind.
Jing Shun noticed his hesitation.
“Brother Yu, just ask directly if you have something to say. You didn’t just ask me here for casual chat today, did you?”
Yu Xiuzhu smiled.
“You’re right, I do have something to ask.”
“Go ahead?”
“Xiao Shun, when did you get to know the chairman of the Chi Group? I’ve heard people say that you two…”
Yu Xiuzhu had extensive connections and was himself from a wealthy background, so he had vaguely heard some rumors.
However, the information hadn’t spread widely—likely because Chi Gui’s status and influence meant no one dared openly discuss his private life.
Jing Shun froze for a moment and didn’t immediately respond.
Seeing his silence, Yu Xiuzhu quickly added,
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into your privacy.”
“Brother Yu, I am living with Chi Gui, but I can’t disclose too much for now. However, you can rest assured—I know very clearly what I want and what I’m doing.”
“For me, nothing is more important than standing up again.”
He stopped there, leaving the matter at that.
Yu Xiuzhu understood his boundaries and changed the topic.
“Alright. Then what are your plans next?”
If the accident hadn’t happened, Jing Shun would already have been a signed artist under his studio, personally guided by him in the entertainment industry.
Having grown up around his director father, Yu Xiuzhu had absorbed a great deal of industry insight.
It was clear that Jing Shun had talent in acting.
Even though he had taken on many film and TV roles since childhood, with varying script quality, his natural talent had never been eroded—instead, his fundamentals had become stronger and his acting more refined.
Their eyes met, and Jing Shun saw the regret in Yu Xiuzhu’s gaze.
“Brother Yu, I won’t give up acting.”
He had never given up on his dream. He loved performing, year after year, unwavering.
“If I still have a chance, I want to stay in front of the camera and complete every role that belongs to me.”
Of course, he also knew that until his legs fully recovered, such opportunities would be rare.
Yu Xiuzhu sighed in relief at his determination.
“As long as you want it, my studio will always extend an olive branch to you. That offer still stands.”
A warmth rose in Jing Shun’s heart, and he gathered his courage.
“Brother Yu, I actually want to ask for your help. Do you have any work suitable for me right now?”
“You’re looking for work?”
“Mm!”
He answered sincerely.
“Even if it’s not in front of the camera, I’m fine working behind the scenes. I can do post-production editing, scriptwriting, storyboarding, subtitles, translation—anything…”
Although Chi Gui’s agreement currently ensured he didn’t need to worry about medical or living expenses, that agreement would eventually expire.
Jing Shun was no longer naive. Having learned from past experience, he no longer wanted to place his future in anyone else’s hands.
He knew he would eventually leave the Chi household. By then, he would not only need to repay Chi Gui, but also handle all kinds of expenses himself.
Since he was alive, he had to plan for the long term.
“Brother Yu, I want to save some money within my ability.” He took a sip of fruit tea, trying to suppress his lack of confidence. “And if it can still be related to the entertainment industry, that would be best.”
“Xiao Jing, I understand what you mean. As an actor, you really can’t stay away from exposure and public attention for too long.”
Yu Xiuzhu genuinely treated him like a younger brother and naturally wanted to help.
He searched through his thoughts—and suddenly had an idea.
“Wait, I actually just thought of a program!”