Yu Chanjuan was moved by his story, her eyes misting slightly. Yes, everyone makes emotional decisions. Even though she had always valued profit above all else, hadn’t she also once blindly married a man who, aside from his looks and assets, was utterly worthless? She had borne two children with him, raising them with all her heart. Even now, with one foot in the grave, the memories still surfaced, vivid and poignant.
She didn’t agree with Luo Ding’s values, but she couldn’t deny that his explanation made her like him more.
Luo Ding handed her a handkerchief. Yu Chanjuan was about to reach into her bag but paused and accepted the handkerchief instead. It wasn’t until she felt the soft, luxurious fabric in her fingers that she realized she hadn’t experienced such thoughtful care from a man in decades.
Feeling a bit embarrassed about her earlier intentions, Yu Chanjuan quickly wiped her tears. This kind of person… If Duan Xiubo really chose to be with him, she wouldn’t be surprised. If she were twenty or thirty years younger, she might have found herself falling for someone like Luo Ding, too.
As she wiped her tears, her fingers brushed over the edge of the handkerchief, and her curiosity piqued. She unfolded it and found Luo Ding’s name embroidered delicately in the corner.
“This…?” The handkerchief was clearly custom-made, from the material to the embroidery, but she couldn’t find a brand label.
“Oh, a fan gave it to me,” Luo Ding said after a moment of thought. “It’s been a while since I received it. Back when I was singing a cover at the Shanhai Tower concert last year, a fan threw it to me. I’ve used it ever since.”
Hearing this, the complexity in Yu Chanjuan’s gaze faded completely. She looked at the handkerchief for a moment longer, tracing her fingers over the embroidered name before carefully folding it and returning it to Luo Ding. “Thank you.” Last year, at Shanhai Tower—those words jogged her memory of the research she had done on Luo Ding. He had performed *It’s Been Awhile* back then. And to think, he’d been carrying this fan’s gift for nearly a year. That level of dedication and kindness wasn’t something one could fake.
Yu Chanjuan, feeling emotionally drained after the conversation, realized she hadn’t even touched her coffee. Her mind raced, calculations clashing in her head, and yet, after all that mental math, she found herself feeling petty for her initial approach.
She waved to her assistant, who hurried over, blushing furiously for some reason.
“Show some decorum!” Yu Chanjuan scolded.
The assistant mumbled an apology, helping her stand and then stepping back to stand at a respectful distance.
Luo Ding smiled and asked, “Shall I walk you out?”
“No need,” Yu Chanjuan shook her head. After a long moment of gazing at him, her thoughtful expression melted into a smile. “You’re quite an interesting person. I’m getting old, and my sons don’t really talk to me anymore. If you have time, I’d like to chat with you again. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Of course not.”
Her visit seemed to be more than just a recruitment attempt. Luo Ding was now completely puzzled.
Yu Chanjuan, satisfied, left the café, walking slowly but with a straight posture. Her carefully styled hair didn’t have a strand out of place, and even from behind, Luo Ding could tell her chin was probably held high.
He could never quite understand the minds of the so-called “upper class.” Everything they said seemed layered with hidden meanings, yet at the same time, none of it felt hostile. It was impossible to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Luo Ding wasn’t an expert in this game of words, but he was good at playing dumb. The more he played dumb, the more people seemed to think he was unfathomable.
Sipping his coffee, he couldn’t help but inwardly grimace. It tasted awful.
The fact that it was free was its only saving grace. If they had charged for it, twenty yuan would’ve been the maximum.
After getting into the car, Yu Chanjuan ordered, “Call Mr. Duan.” She wasn’t referring to Duan Xiubo.
Perhaps still winded from other activities, Duan Wanqing answered the call, his breathing a little uneven. Covering the mouthpiece, he rose from bed, leaving behind the sound of a disappointed woman groaning. Yu Chanjuan’s temper flared instantly.
“Shameless!”
“Couldn’t you pick a better time to call?” Duan Wanqing wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. He stepped outside, shutting the door behind him to block the noise. “What do you want? It’s early!”
“It’s evening here!” Yu Chanjuan snapped. “I don’t care about your schedule. You can always turn off your phone if you don’t want to hear from me! And spare me those…”
She cast a glance at her assistant, who was trying to make herself invisible. Taking a deep breath, Yu Chanjuan forced out the word, “Trash.”
Duan Wanqing, unimpressed, frowned. “What do you want?”
“I met with that person you mentioned.”
Duan Wanqing perked up instantly. “So? Did you make a deal? What’s his attitude? How much money does he want?”
“Money…” Yu Chanjuan bit back her words, quickly ending the conversation. “Forget it. Leave it to him to decide.”
After hanging up, Yu Chanjuan stared out the window for a long time. A sudden thought crossed her mind, and she turned to her assistant. “Do you think it would be too abrupt if I invited Luo Ding to my birthday banquet?”
She waited for a response, but when none came, she frowned and glanced at her assistant, who was hunched over like a hamster, her shoulders trembling slightly.
Yu Chanjuan blinked.
Then she leaned over to take a peek and found the girl furiously typing something into her phone, the screen full of words. A moment later, a photo popped up.
It was Luo Ding.
“What are you doing?” Yu Chanjuan asked.
The girl jolted as if touched by a ghost, whipping around to face Yu Chanjuan with wide eyes. After a moment of stunned silence, she broke into an innocent smile. “Nothing.”
“Your phone,” Yu Chanjuan said, holding out her hand. The girl was her niece, so Yu Chanjuan couldn’t discipline her too harshly. But still, she couldn’t let her fall into bad habits.
The assistant hesitated for a moment but, seeing how determined Yu Chanjuan was, reluctantly handed over the phone with a pitiful expression. “Please don’t delete what I just wrote. It took me so long to pick the perfect photo.”
Yu Chanjuan snatched the phone and scrolled through the tiny text on the screen.
It read:
“Oh my gosh!!! After the show, I ran into my SON!! He’s so soft and sweet, with the most adorable, dreamy smile!!! His eyes are so clear, and his expressions are so innocent!!! My SON is so respectful and polite to an older woman like me!!! Momma loves you, and I’m gonna make sure your album sells out!!! Here’s a picture of my precious SON!!! You must be tired, dear. Go home and rest. Let Momma take care of you!!!”
Yu Chanjuan: “…”
“Your son?”
Her niece turned her face away in embarrassment.
“And you called yourself ‘Momma’?”
Her niece’s face turned even redder.
Yu Chanjuan scrolled further and finally found the picture. The phone’s camera quality was high, capturing her own elegant figure, making her and Luo Ding appear like mother and son. Luo Ding was in the process of receiving his handkerchief back from her, wearing a gentle smile, his gaze respectful. The pale wrist peeking out from his sleeve looked so delicate it seemed like it could snap at any moment.
In that frozen moment, Yu Chanjuan finally noticed the fatigue that Luo Ding had been carefully concealing behind his smile. Between rehearsals and filming, he must have been exhausted. Yet, sitting opposite her earlier, not once had he yawned.
Yu Chanjuan sighed and returned the phone to her niece, watching as she quickly turned away and clutched it to her chest as if she were afraid it would be taken away again.
Young people and their world, she thought.
*******
As Luo Ding’s fame skyrocketed, fan-taken photos became rarer due to increased security. When this photo emerged, it caused a frenzy in the fan community. Once it was confirmed that the older woman sitting with Luo Ding was the poster’s aunt, speculation about a stalker taking the photo was dismissed, and fans began obsessively praising it.
The poster continued to upload more candid shots of Luo Ding from the show. From a fan with only a few followers, they rapidly gained over 5,000 new fans overnight.
The fans eagerly analyzed every detail:
“Luo Ding doesn’t talk much in private,” the poster noted. The fan base, in turn, gushed, *Wow, he’s so quiet and calm! Next time we do a fan event, we’ll all remember to stay quiet and respectful!*
“He smiled the whole time at everyone he met,” the poster added, prompting another wave of adoration: *How is he so soft, so polite, and so adorable?!*
“When Luo Ding made eye contact with me and nodded, my heart melted,” the poster wrote. But instead of more gushing, this time the comments took a more aggressive tone: *Come out, poster! We just want to *talk*.*
Then came the most groundbreaking revelation.
The photo was enhanced and cleaned up by a member of the “Luo Ding Support Group,” who made a remarkable discovery.
One of the older fan accounts—who had originally supported Luo Ding’s character Fu Zhu—exclaimed: *OMG!!!! That’s the handkerchief I embroidered and gave to him!!! He actually kept it and is using it!!!!*
Everyone knew Luo Ding’s company had a strict no-gift policy. So when this fan revealed that their gift had not only been accepted but carried by Luo Ding for almost a year, the fandom exploded with excitement.
The fan community fell silent for a moment of reflection.
It had been almost a year since that live performance at Shanhai Tower. Everyone remembered the difficult circumstances Luo Ding had faced at the time—he was an emerging artist, inexperienced, with no major works to his name, and constantly questioned and criticized.
Even after the success of the cover, there were still many doubting voices accusing him of lip-syncing. Many insisted that he had faked his performance, and even amateur videos taken by fans couldn’t wash away the skepticism. Yet, Luo Ding had persevered, smiling through it all, and that smile never wavered.
Without realizing it, so much time had passed.
The man they cherished, supported, and fought for had now stepped onto bigger stages, becoming known to more and more people. No one questioned his abilities anymore. No one would ask “Who is that?” in the comments when he trended on social media. He had grown from a seedling into a towering tree in the entertainment industry, one that everyone had to notice.
Many of the fans who had stood by him from the beginning were filled with pride, knowing they had played a part in his success.
And with this simple handkerchief, carried with him for almost a year, Luo Ding showed that he hadn’t forgotten his roots.
That was the true value of an idol.
*******
Yu Chanjuan wasn’t often in the public eye, so Duan Xiubo didn’t know her. When he saw the fan photo of Luo Ding with an older woman, he wasn’t as concerned about who she was—he was more worried about how tired Luo Ding looked.
He even called Wu Fangyuan back in China, asking about Luo Ding’s recent schedule. Hearing that Luo Ding had been working non-stop, Duan Xiubo was furious.
“Do they think he’s a workhorse?!” Duan Xiubo exclaimed. “Twelve-hour workdays? That’s insane!”
Wu Fangyuan, feeling a bit wronged, tried to explain, “It’s not like we’re forcing him to work. Gu Yaxing and I both told him to take it easy, but he said he was fine. He’s the one picking these jobs, saying the album isn’t in production yet and he has free time. When I tried to get him to slow down, he snapped at me.”
Small companies had this problem. If it were a big company like Universal, the manager would have complete control over the artist’s schedule, with no room for negotiation. But at Yaxing Studio, both Gu Yaxing and Wu Fangyuan, who had worked with Luo Ding for so long, couldn’t rein him in.
Duan Xiubo decided he would talk to Luo Ding directly. He tried to reason with him, “You’re overworking yourself. I heard you’ve been working six in the morning until eight at night. That’s over twelve hours!”
Luo Ding, confused by Duan Xiubo’s concern, shrugged it off. “Am I really working that much? It doesn’t feel that bad to me.”
“Not that bad?!” Duan Xiubo felt even more distressed. “Do you realize you’ve been working twelve-hour days? Even an iron man couldn’t handle that!”
Luo Ding didn’t quite understand Duan Xiubo’s concern. Right now, he was just doing a few smaller jobs—some were four to five hours, others a bit longer. These jobs didn’t require him to be working every second. He had breaks, time to nap. In his past life, he’d worked much harder, with barely six hours of sleep sometimes. How could he rest when he wasn’t even done with his album? Once it was finished, he planned to take a month off before filming his next movie.
Wasn’t that a perfect plan?
Duan Xiubo still wasn’t reassured. Being far away, he couldn’t keep an eye on Luo Ding’s day-to-day activities. Back when they were together, he could at least make sure Luo Ding ate three meals a day and went to bed on time. But now, with the distance, who knew what Luo Ding was doing behind his back?
To calm him down, Luo Ding shared a funny story. He mentioned how he had recently met a woman from Triumph Media—Yu Chanjuan—who had approached him out of the blue. He ended the story with a laugh, asking, “You must know her, right? She’s pretty, probably was a real beauty when she was younger. She looks a lot like Yu Shaotian.”
At first, Duan Xiubo didn’t understand who he was talking about. But then it hit him. “Wait, you mean that woman in the photo with you?! That’s Yu Chanjuan?!”
“Yeah.”
“What did she say to you?”
Luo Ding chuckled as he recounted the conversation. “I couldn’t figure out what her angle was. During the taping, she sat in the VIP section and watched me the whole time. After the show, she said she was a fan, but then she started talking about recruiting me to Triumph Media. Then she just started crying out of nowhere. Her niece was pretty funny though, kept blushing and sneaking glances at me. I think she’s the one who took that photo. I’ll have to thank her next time…”
“Luo Ding,” Duan Xiubo cut him off. “Do you have any jobs lined up in Milan?”
Luo Ding blinked, thrown by the abrupt question. He thought for a moment before answering, “There’s a brand that invited me to their show, but I was going to decline because I’m too busy…”
“Don’t decline,” Duan Xiubo said. “Take the job. Your next movie is about male models, right? You’ve done flat modeling, but you’ve never really experienced the male modeling industry, have you? I’ll take you to see the show and you can learn how real models work.”
Luo Ding was puzzled. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I miss you,” Duan Xiubo said, pausing between each word. “I want to see you.”
Luo Ding had been about to brush off his request, but hearing those words, all his thoughts melted away. Smiling, he replied, “Okay, I’ll come. I miss you too.”
After a moment of silence, Duan Xiubo spoke softly. “I love you.”
“Mm,” Luo Ding replied, sensing his low spirits but not pushing further. “I love you too.”
Normally, when Luo Ding said this, Duan Xiubo would be over the moon for days. This time, however, he didn’t sound excited. He just let out a long sigh and whispered, “Yeah.”
After the call ended, Luo Ding sat there, deep in thought. Something was bothering Duan Xiubo. This was how he acted when he was upset—resentful, but also slightly guilty. What was he hiding? Could it be related to Yu Chanjuan? Was it connected to Duan Xiubo somehow? After all, Duan Xiubo had ties to Triumph Media and seemed close with Yu Shaotian. It made more sense for her to approach Duan Xiubo rather than Luo Ding, who was tied to Yaxing Studio.
But all these disjointed clues didn’t lead to any clear conclusion. Luo Ding decided that when they met in person, they’d have a proper conversation.
Whatever the issue, it could be solved by talking. If one conversation wasn’t enough, they could have two.
Luo Ding, always practical beyond his years, felt satisfied with his decision. On the other side of the phone, however, Duan Xiubo was fuming.
As soon as the call ended, he felt like picking a fight with Yu Shaotian. What was Yu Chanjuan’s deal? What was she up to? Based on what Luo Ding had said, her questions had all been filled with innuendo. Luo Ding, usually so slow to catch on, had even felt something was off. Had Yu Chanjuan figured out their relationship? Or was she just guessing?
Duan Xiubo wasn’t afraid of her. He wasn’t stupid, and his contract with Triumph Media was purely a nominal affiliation. They gave him some work, took a cut of his earnings, and in return, he had a label to his name. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, not a one-sided favor. Yu Chanjuan and Yu Shaotian had no right to act superior.
He couldn’t stand it. This needed to be dealt with immediately.
—-Triumph Entertainment = Triumph Media
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