“Wow, you’re so amazing.”
Xin He eyed Song Xun suspiciously, wondering how he could say something so nauseating.
Sister Zhang shot Xin He a glance and shook her head disapprovingly.
“If there’s nothing else, you can leave now. We still have things to discuss.”
Xin He’s triumphant attitude felt like punching cotton—utterly ineffective.
In the past, Song Xun would have been fuming, grinding his teeth and firing off a few sarcastic remarks. But now, he seemed completely unfazed. Xin He couldn’t help but wonder: had Song Xun leveled up so much, or had he simply changed tactics?
What annoyed him the most was how protective Sister Zhang was of Song Xun. After all, he and Song Xun had joined the company around the same time, and he had known Sister Zhang even longer. If he didn’t know that Sister Zhang was already married and wasn’t interested in someone like Song Xun, he might have suspected there was something more between them.
“Hmph, as if I care.”
With that, Xin He put on his sunglasses, rolled his eyes, pushed the door open, and left. Perhaps to express his displeasure, he slammed the door shut with an especially loud bang.
Song Xun clicked his tongue a few times. “Kids these days have quite the temper.”
Sister Zhang was also puzzled. Song Xun hadn’t flown into a rage but remained calm and composed, watching Xin He act like a clown.
“You’ve changed quite a bit lately.”
Just as Song Xun was about to praise himself, Sister Zhang suddenly exclaimed in horror, “You haven’t gotten involved with that kind of stuff and been possessed, have you?!”
“…”
“Haven’t I told you? You mustn’t mess with those things! How many artists in the industry have gotten into trouble after dabbling in that unclean stuff? You, you, you—you need to stop right now!”
Song Xun sighed helplessly and insisted he hadn’t done anything of the sort. Seeing that Sister Zhang still didn’t believe him, he simply gave up explaining.
With an imagination like that, Sister Zhang shouldn’t have stooped to being his agent. If she became a screenwriter, she’d undoubtedly be a rising star in the literary world.
.
In a suburban area near Jing City, there was a small river, clear and sparkling, often frequented by elderly people who came to fish.
Song Xun, wearing a fisherman’s hat, carrying a bucket, and dragging a fishing line, arrived at the spot.
He was a typical homebody. Aside from filming, his only hobby was being a fishing enthusiast.
Unlike other fishing enthusiasts who would fish all day and catch everything but fish, Song Xun had honed his skills over the years. Perhaps he had a natural talent for it. If he spent a whole day fishing, he would always return with a full haul.
Finding a random spot, Song Xun unfolded a small stool, sat down, baited the hook with some fish food, and cast it into the river. Leaning back comfortably on the stool, he waited for the fish to bite.
After a while, two elderly men arrived nearby. Though dressed plainly, they carried an air of distinction. The watches on their wrists were clearly expensive. Song Xun glanced sideways—his former agent had owned one, but he only wore it on important occasions, treasuring it dearly the rest of the time. These two old men were clearly not ordinary.
“Come on, Old Yan, sit here.”
The old man in the light-colored shirt warmly greeted the man beside him, pushing his sunglasses up to reveal a pair of wrinkled eyes. The other man, however, seemed somewhat disdainful, as if unwilling to lower himself to sit on such a cramped stool.
“Seriously, what are we doing here in this scorching heat?”
The sky was a brilliant blue without a single cloud in sight. The blazing sun shone directly over the entire river.
There wasn’t even a patch of shade, yet here they were, basking in the sun. Most people wouldn’t dream of doing something like this.
“It’s just that I see you constantly stressed and anxious over company matters every day. Look at all those white hairs of yours. We’re about the same age, but you look quite a bit older than me.”
Age has never been an issue exclusive to any gender. Once you reach a certain age, people always start to care.
“It’s all because I’ve been working so hard for the company. Ah, you just don’t understand.”
“Alright, alright, I don’t understand,” the man didn’t argue with him and handed him an exquisite fishing rod.
Yan He took it, reluctantly sat down, and followed Xiao Mu’s instructions—baiting the hook and casting it into the water. He remained calm and composed. After all, he handled so many company matters daily; how hard could fishing be?
But after nearly an hour, not a single fish had bitten. Yan He frowned and glanced at Xiao Mu beside him. While Xiao Mu hadn’t caught many, he had managed to hook a few small fish. Yan He wondered—had he done something wrong?
Rubbing his chin, he noticed a young man wearing a fisherman’s hat not far away, reeling in his line with a large fish on the hook.
Looking closer, the bucket held several bigger fish. Yan He remembered this person hadn’t arrived much earlier than them.
Not only had Yan He noticed, but Xiao Mu beside him was also filled with immense curiosity about the young man nearby.
Song Xun fished for a while but soon found it uninteresting. He poured the fish from his bucket back into the water, an act that left Yan He utterly envious.
“These youngsters nowadays are truly something,” Xiao Mu sighed.
“Ah, I must be getting old.”
Song Xun picked up his bucket and was about to leave when the outgoing Xiao Mu stopped him.
“Hey, hey, young man.”
Song Xun turned around and saw the two men of distinguished demeanor. He was about to ask, “Fishing…” but then remembered the ill-mannered old men from his hometown and quickly changed his wording.
“Elder, what can I do for you?”
“…”
Yan He and Xiao Mu exchanged a glance—he’s talking about you!
“Hahaha, we wanted to ask for your advice. How did you manage to catch so many fish in such a short time?”
Upon hearing this, Song Xun set down his bucket, more than willing to share his knowledge.
Taking Yan He’s fishing rod, he immediately noticed the line wasn’t properly adjusted, there was too much bait, and the hook wasn’t secure, causing it to drift away shortly after being cast into the water.
After making the adjustments, Song Xun handed the rod back to Yan He. “Try again. Fishing requires patience—it’s about cultivating oneself. Sit a while longer, don’t rush, and the fish will come to you on their own.”
With that, Song Xun smiled and left.
Yan He, accustomed to being in a position of authority, was being advised by a younger person for the first time, yet he didn’t feel like the young man was showing off. Xiao Mu also found this person quite interesting, appearing far more composed than his age would suggest.
“Oh, if only my good-for-nothing son were half as steady as him.”
“Tsk, is your son as troublesome as mine?”
“Old Yan, are you really trying to compete with me on this?”
Just after returning from fishing to his apartment, Song Xun was about to enter the residential complex when a man covered in flabby flesh stopped him.
“Stop right there! Finally decided to show up?”
Song Xun narrowed his eyes slightly, sizing up the man in front of him.
Thick eyebrows, big eyes, and dark skin—it was clear he had been handsome in his youth.
But the stench of alcohol, yellowed teeth, and the unmistakable signs of a long-time smoker were evident. Even from a slight distance, the mixed odor of tobacco, alcohol, and sour sweat was overwhelming, as if it had been fermenting.
Song Xun wrinkled his nose and took two steps back.
“I’m out of money. Hurry up and send me some!”
As soon as these self-righteous words were spoken, Song Xun immediately understood the man’s identity.
“I have no money. None. Not giving.”
Song Xun was straightforward and directly refused Liu Fumin’s demand.
“Hey! A son spending money on his father is only natural! If you dare not give me the money, I’ll post online about how unfilial you are!”
Hearing this, Song Xun couldn’t help but find it amusing.
He crossed his arms, looking down at Liu Fumin with a condescending gaze. Not to mention that the original host already had plenty of scandals—one more wouldn’t make much difference. After all, even negative publicity was still publicity.
Besides, the original host had given Liu Fumin enough money over the years. He had no intention of giving him anymore.
“I said, I don’t have it.”
Song Xun snorted coldly and turned to walk into the residential complex. But Liu Fumin was a small-time troublemaker who never held a proper job, preferring to hang out with street loafers, spending his days smoking, drinking, and gambling. He was no pushover and wouldn’t give up so easily.
“I’m telling you, whether you give it willingly or not, you’re giving it today!”
He grabbed Song Xun’s arm, his expression vicious, as if he wanted to skin him alive.
Though Song Xun was thin and frail, he wasn’t someone to be trifled with. He pushed Liu Fumin away and pulled out his phone from his pocket. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police!”
“Go ahead! Even an honest official finds it hard to settle family disputes. What can the police do? How much can they really interfere?”
Seeing Liu Fumin’s shameless, unyielding attitude, Song Xun lost his patience. “What do you want?”
“Give me a million. Once I have the money, I won’t bother you again.”
“And you’ll never come looking for me again?”
Liu Fumin thought to himself, How could that be? You’re a cash cow. I’ll cling to you for life, sucking you dry, making sure you keep giving me money.
But for appearances’ sake, Liu Fumin had to nod.
How could Song Xun believe him? In the original story, the cannon fodder character never escaped his stepfather until his death. Liu Fumin was like a tick. He wouldn’t leave until he had sucked every last drop of blood.
“Fine, but you’ll have to give me some time. I’m tight on cash lately and can’t come up with that much money.”
Liu Fumin agreed. After all, he knew where Song Xun lived and where he worked. The monk can run, but the temple can’t.
“Hurry up and get it ready. Don’t even think about playing tricks.”
With that, Liu Fumin pulled out a pack of cigarettes he had swiped from a gambling buddy, casually lit one, took a few puffs, found the taste unpleasant, and tossed it on the ground.
Seeing this, Song Xun quickly walked toward the residential complex and ran to the security booth, where he said to the guard,
“Sir, someone just threw a cigarette butt outside our complex, and it’s still lit!”
The security guard was a retired soldier. Though advanced in years, he was still spirited and had a strong sense of justice. Hearing this, he grabbed his warning baton and dashed out in a flash.
Liu Fumin smacked his lips, thinking, These off-brand cigarettes really are terrible. Anyway, Song Xun will make money for me sooner or later. He was just about to head to the supermarket to buy an expensive pack when, after taking a few steps, someone shouted at him from behind. Turning around, he saw the gray-haired old man charging toward him with surprising speed, baton in hand.
“Stop right there! Can’t you see the sign says no littering?”
Liu Fumin’s heart sank. This is trouble—he’s coming for me.
The city was strict about such things, and getting caught meant a fine. His pockets were emptier than his face. He didn’t even have enough to buy a pack of cigarettes, let alone pay a fine.
Without another word, Liu Fumin adopted the posture of a subway parkour runner and bolted away in a flash.
Watching the old man’s figure swiftly catch up ahead, Song Xun sighed with admiration.
“Your grandpa is still your grandpa.”