Su Shengbai dared not look at the media present, but he knew that people around him were whispering, all because of Gu Yaxing’s statement.
“What past grudges?” Such a conciliatory tone only fueled speculation. What had once been a debated rumor was now solidified by that single sentence. Even Su Shengbai’s own fans were left speechless by his simple “yes.”
But what could Su Shengbai do? Refute it right there? Impossible. Gu Yaxing wasn’t Luo Ding. He wouldn’t let him off for the sake of old feelings. When Su Shengbai had left, it was right before their duo was about to participate in a significant event. Fearing complications, he had secretly left without telling Cao Dingkun, effectively pushing Luo Ding and Gu Yaxing back into the abyss just as they were glimpsing success. Gu Yaxing had harbored hatred toward him ever since, never hiding his disdain, not even when Su Shengbai’s fame rose thanks to the resources provided by Cao Dingkun. Even in public, when they crossed paths, Gu Yaxing had never shown Su Shengbai a kind face.
Behind the scenes, the dynamics are different. Stars like Su Shengbai have to care about their public image, and so does Luo Ding. But Gu Yaxing, being the boss, had nothing to fear. No one would stop watching a show or buying an album just because an actor’s boss was disliked or had a dark history.
Su Shengbai forced a smile, waved to the media, and straightened his posture as he headed backstage. His female companion immediately loosened her grip on his arm. “Brother Su, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Su Shengbai bit his tongue to steady himself.
Outside, the red carpet ceremony concluded.
People buzzed about the silent clash that had unfolded moments earlier. Hosts, journalists, and media personnel clustered together, dissecting Gu Yaxing’s sharp words.
Luo Ding’s fans were indignant:
“Those rumors were true! Su Shengbai is shameless. If Gu hadn’t spoken up, Su Shengbai’s twisted version of the story would’ve slandered Luo Ding again.”
“Desperate for fame and shameless to the core.”
“And his fans had the nerve to argue with us, swearing up and down that Su was innocent. Just wait for the fan recordings to come out; it’s going to be embarrassing!”
“If the media airs this, it’ll be humiliating. What is Su doing here anyway? He has no new songs, no albums.”
And that was exactly what the media circles were discussing.
Su Shengbai was well-liked on the surface. He was charming, socially adept, and attentive. But relationships between stars and the media are rarely built on personal bonds alone. Su Shengbai’s connections with these people weren’t strong enough for them to blindly support him. On most occasions, they greeted each other warmly, but now that he’d taken a tumble, they were more than happy to watch the drama unfold.
In the photos snapped earlier, Su Shengbai’s expressions were comical, transitioning from fresh and warm to stiff and frozen. While the pictures weren’t all crystal clear, none of it escaped the media’s sharp eyes.
“Talk about backfiring,” they all agreed.
Coming to the red carpet, hoping to regain some ground, Su Shengbai had only ended up making things worse.
As they scrolled through their photos, they traded insights, marveling at the striking contrast between the two former duo members now standing worlds apart.
“Luo Ding’s the real deal. He doesn’t seem like much at first, but once he’s on camera, his presence is undeniable. Su Shengbai looks okay on his own, but next to Luo Ding? There’s no comparison.”
In the photos, Su Shengbai tried his best to showcase his charm, his tall and slender frame, his delicate features. On his own, he was indeed photogenic. But standing beside Luo Ding, his radiance was completely overshadowed.
Luo Ding’s smile was different from Su Shengbai’s—subtle, controlled, and effortlessly graceful. It was the smile of someone unbothered by the spotlight, exuding a quiet but commanding presence. Next to him, Su Shengbai appeared smaller, less refined, and completely outmatched.
Su Shengbai had only managed to walk the red carpet and get the hosts to throw a few curveballs at Luo Ding because of someone else’s backing, not his own influence.
Backstage, as Su Shengbai tried to calm his anger, he quickly realized that the awkward moment had been captured by every reporter present. He rushed to call his boss, Jiang Changfeng.
Jiang Changfeng’s voice was always lazy and unbothered. He didn’t even need to ask to know what had happened. “Messed it up?”
Su Shengbai felt deeply ashamed. “I’m sorry. Everything was going smoothly until…”
“I only care about results,” Jiang Changfeng scoffed. “Forget it. You were never cut out for the big leagues. Did the reporters catch it?”
“…Yes.”
“I’ll handle it.”
Jiang Changfeng hung up the phone and glanced around. His two assistants stood behind him, awaiting instructions. “The red carpet’s over. Did anyone spot Gu Yaxing or Luo Ding?”
The two assistants exchanged glances, puzzled by their boss’s interest. But they dared not ask. Jiang Changfeng was notorious for his temper, and any hint of questioning would set him off.
“There!” They finally spotted Luo Ding being escorted to the waiting area, relief washing over them.
Jiang Changfeng stood up, brushed off his pants, and ran a hand through his hair.
**
Gu Yaxing was furious. “I can’t leave you alone for a second! These vultures are always looking for an opening to screw you over!”
“Why get so worked up? This won’t be the last time,” Luo Ding said, patting Gu Yaxing on the shoulder. “You saved me back there. Take a deep breath, drink some water. You’re making a scene in front of all those cameras. Relax.”
Gu Yaxing felt like crying, but he held it in, maintaining his facade as the boss. He stiffened up and nodded, though Luo Ding’s words did soothe him a little.
Luo Ding didn’t pay much attention to the dim lighting. He still had to change backstage for his performance, and since they had rehearsed earlier, he was familiar with the venue layout.
Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted: “Luo Ding?”
Luo Ding’s eyebrows shot up. He recognized that voice immediately and turned slightly to the side. His lip twitched. “Mr. Jiang?”
Jiang Changfeng was slightly taken aback. He rarely appeared publicly, so it surprised him that Luo Ding had recognized him right away. A part of him was pleased—perhaps Gu Yaxing had mentioned him often? Or could it be that Luo Ding was considering jumping ship and had done his homework on the industry’s major players?
He waited, but when Luo Ding didn’t react further, Jiang dismissed the idea.
“Luo Ding…” Jiang was displeased with Luo Ding’s indifference. He was, after all, a major company boss. Had it not been for Gu Yaxing’s attendance, he wouldn’t have deigned to come to this event. While Luo Ding was famous, he was still just a rising star. Jiang expected at least some acknowledgment of his status.
But Luo Ding knew Jiang Changfeng too well—arrogant, childish, and obsessive. After working with him for years, Luo Ding understood that Jiang was like a leech. Showing any interest would only result in being sucked dry. While they had worked together in the past, Luo Ding had never liked his methods, and the harsh contracts that Universal imposed on newcomers spoke volumes. In his previous life, before his fame, Luo Ding’s time at Universal had been worse than that of a coal miner. Now that he was free, there was no way he’d ever want to return. Moreover, Universal’s relationship with Gu Yaxing’s studio was far from amicable, so Luo Ding’s coldness toward Jiang was entirely justified.
Gu Yaxing wasn’t having it. “What are you doing here!?”
Jiang Changfeng was startled by their bluntness. It seemed both Luo Ding and Gu Yaxing had no problem ignoring or challenging him.
Facing Gu Yaxing, the traces of youth had long left, replaced by the lines of a man who had faced many struggles. Jiang, however, still found him as attractive as ever.
“Why can’t I be here? I’ve got artists attending the awards show too. My presence is legitimate. You, on the other hand, haven’t been at an event this big in a while. Nervous?”
Gu Yaxing gritted his teeth. “Get lost!”
“Ha,” Jiang smirked before turning to Luo Ding. “People always want to move up in the world. A small studio like Gu Yaxing’s can’t offer the same opportunities as a big company. Su Shengbai was smart enough to realize that early on and seized his chances. But it’s not too late for you. If you’re willing to join us, I can give you a ‘B contract,’ complete with a professional team of managers and stylists. You’d have better resources than what you get here.”
Jiang watched with amusement as Gu Yaxing’s eyes flared with rage and instructed his assistant to hand Luo Ding a business card.
The assistant respectfully held out the card, and everyone’s eyes turned to Luo Ding.
Gu Yaxing clenched his fists, nervous yet furious.
Luo Ding’s next move instantly relieved Gu Yaxing’s anxiety.
Pushing aside the card, Luo Ding smiled apologetically, but his tone was firm. “I’m quite happy at Yaxing Studio. There’s no need to switch. But thank you for the offer.”
Jiang Changfeng’s face darkened.
Somewhere in the crowd, Su Shengbai had spotted them and hurried over, trying to salvage the situation. “Luo Ding, are you crazy? This is a golden opportunity! Why would you want to stay in a small company?”
Luo Ding shot Su Shengbai a look that made his heart lurch. But Gu Yaxing had no such restraint. “Su Shengbai, just because you’re shameless doesn’t mean everyone else is!”
“Watch your mouth!” Su Shengbai snapped.
“Am I wrong?” Gu Yaxing sneered. “When you left, the company was struggling. You’ve been riding on your fame for years now, never once caring about Luo Ding’s situation. Now that he’s popular, you crawl back to him. Shameless is exactly what you are.”
Su Shengbai’s panic deepened, fearing Luo Ding’s growing dissatisfaction. “I didn’t have time to ask about Luo Ding’s situation. I had my own career to build. What was I supposed to do?”
“You didn’t care,” Gu Yaxing retorted coldly. “But you’re right about one thing—Luo Ding made it on his own, unlike you, clinging to Cao Dingkun like a dog for scraps. Your ‘success’ came from him. Now that he’s gone, look at you, like a stray dog. Don’t you feel ashamed?”
Su Shengbai was incensed. “I warned you to mind your words! Cao was like a brother to me. It’s not what you’re making it out to be.”
“A brother?” Gu Yaxing scoffed. “Where were you after his accident? Why didn’t you give him the grand funeral a ‘brother’ deserves?”
Su Shengbai was rattled. He had deliberately avoided mentioning Cao Dingkun after his death, fearing any association with the tragedy. Now, hearing Gu Yaxing bring it up as an attack, he blurted defensively, “You’re wasting your breath on this! Instead of picking fights, why don’t you focus on your failing company? Luo Ding is your only lifeline, and he’s only staying out of pity. Without him, you’re nothing!”
“Su Shengbai! Shut up!” Luo Ding’s sharp voice cut through the argument.
Su Shengbai flinched, turning to meet Luo Ding’s piercing gaze, his confidence faltering.
“Luo… Luo Ding?”
Luo Ding’s eyes bore into him. “I’m not staying at Yaxing Studio out of pity. Su Shengbai, you’ve changed.”
The weight of Luo Ding’s words hit Su Shengbai like a brick. He had always relied on Luo Ding’s admiration, taking for granted that Luo Ding would never turn against him. But now, with those few words, it was clear that something had fundamentally shifted.
Su Shengbai took a shaky step back, panic surging. He had revealed too much—his true, unfiltered thoughts, his frustrations. And now, in front of Luo Ding, all his carefully curated innocence had shattered.
Luo Ding added one last thing before walking away with Gu Yaxing, “People change, but you, Su Shengbai, have become someone I barely recognize.”
Su Shengbai stood frozen, terror flooding his veins. He had failed to control his temper, revealing the side of him he had always hidden from Luo Ding. The things he had said to Gu Yaxing would only deepen the wedge between him and Luo Ding. Worst of all, the red-carpet incident still hung in the air, waiting to be addressed.
Desperation turned his gaze toward Jiang Changfeng, hoping for support. But Jiang was already walking away, clearly irritated. His assistants hurried to catch up with him, reporting on the red-carpet blunder.
“Should we have the footage edited out or ask the media to bury the story?” one of them asked.
“No!” Jiang snapped, recalling the way Gu Yaxing had wiped his eyes. “Let it air. It’ll teach Su Shengbai a lesson about biting off more than he can chew!”
The assistants exchanged bewildered looks but followed their boss without further questioning.
R : SSB is done for ! hmphh!!
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