During dinner, Yu Shaotian casually mentioned a conversation with Duan Xiubo to his mother, Yu Chanjuan. Upon hearing it, Yu Chanjuan paused mid-bite and asked, “Assassin? That’s not one of Triumph’s projects, right? Why would he bring it up to you?”
“He didn’t bring it up to me directly,” Yu Shaotian explained. “It was just something he mentioned in passing. But, oh man, he’s been in such a mood lately. Ever since you went to see Luo Ding, he’s been giving me the cold shoulder for months, acting all distant. He even threatened to terminate his contract. I’ve been walking on eggshells around him ever since.”
“Stop saying such things,” Yu Chanjuan chided, her tone sharp. “You shouldn’t speak about your brother like that.”
Yu Shaotian sighed. “Alright, alright, my bad. But honestly, I have no idea what’s going through his head. He just said that Assassin is a great script, and Luo Ding likes it, so he’s looking into the casting. But seriously, why does it matter to him if Luo Ding likes it?”
Yu Chanjuan chewed her food thoughtfully, blinking. “Luo Ding likes it, huh?”
Realizing he had let something slip, Yu Shaotian quickly ducked his head and focused on his meal.
Yu Chanjuan sighed deeply. It seemed that Duan Xiubo wasn’t trying to hide his feelings anymore, openly mentioning Luo Ding in front of Yu Shaotian. It reminded her so much of Duan Xiubo’s father, Duan Wanqing. Back when Duan Wanqing had wanted a divorce, he hadn’t hesitated to bring it up directly. Even when Yu Chanjuan had refused, hoping to preserve the family for the sake of their children, Duan Wanqing had gone as far as to take her shopping, only to buy gifts for his new lover.
After that, Yu Chanjuan had arranged for someone to give Duan Wanqing a bloody beating, and their marriage had officially ended. Now, it seemed Duan Xiubo shared his father’s straightforwardness. He wasn’t one to hide things or engage in secret affairs.
She wasn’t sure how to handle this situation. But recently, after hearing Luo Ding’s music, she had developed a certain fondness for him. After thinking it over, she said, “Help him out with this Assassin business. If he’s doing it on his own, it’ll be harder for him than if the company gets involved.”
Triumph quickly gathered all the details for Yu Shaotian to share with Duan Xiubo. They uncovered everything: from the financial gaps in the production, to the internal conflicts, to how Universal was holding onto the funds. They even found out that many of the cast members had left due to scheduling conflicts after the production was delayed multiple times.
When Yu Shaotian brought this information to Duan Xiubo, he was nervous, but Duan Xiubo was in a great mood, even offering him a rare, sincere smile.
Yu Shaotian felt relieved, but then immediately annoyed at himself for feeling so eager to please.
How pathetic.
Duan Xiubo didn’t care about his brother’s inner conflict. Now that he had confirmation that Su Shengbai’s role wasn’t secured, he was satisfied. The production was in chaos; apart from the original directing team, most of the cast had left due to scheduling conflicts. Even Xu Zhen’s mental state seemed unstable, leading most actors in the industry to avoid the project like the plague.
Knowing all this, Duan Xiubo still couldn’t understand why Universal, despite the relatively small financial gap, hadn’t stepped in to ensure the movie got made.
As he looked further, the answer became clear.
Xu Zhen had pissed off too many people, and one of them was Jiang Changfeng. With Cao Dingkun gone, there was no one to shield Xu Zhen, and Jiang Changfeng was taking his chance to sabotage him.
This situation was far more complicated than Duan Xiubo had initially thought. He had assumed it was just about money, but now it was clear that the entire production was falling apart. From the top down, nothing was stable.
The idea of simply investing to ensure Luo Ding could complete the film was becoming less and less appealing.
When Yu Shaotian heard Duan Xiubo’s request, he thought it was a joke.
“Buy it? How? The movie’s rights aren’t Universal’s; they’re with Xu Zhen. Even if you invest, you’d just be another investor. What could you possibly buy?”
“I don’t need the rights,” Duan Xiubo said casually. “I just want to take over the production and have the authority to make personnel changes.”
“That’s a long shot,” Yu Shaotian said, shaking his head. “Jiang Changfeng is notoriously difficult to deal with. There’s no telling how he’ll react. At best, you’ll get to invest, maybe put a few people in the cast, and hope for a return on investment.”
“That’s not good enough,” Duan Xiubo replied firmly. “You’ve seen how chaotic that production is. Do you really trust Xu Zhen to finish the movie?”
“Xu Zhen is a well-known director. There aren’t many in the country who can match his technical skills.”
“Have you seen what he looks like lately?”
“…”
Yu Shaotian couldn’t argue with that. Xu Zhen’s recent public appearances were startling, to say the least. He looked like a completely different person—angry, unhinged, and showing all the signs of someone on the verge of a breakdown.
“Exactly,” Duan Xiubo said, his expression saying *I told you so*. “Even if Xu Zhen stays on, we need more people on the directing team. I don’t trust him alone.”
Yu Shaotian sighed and leaned back in his chair, squinting at Duan Xiubo’s unusually calculating expression. Shaking his head, he chuckled. “You’re doing all this just for Luo Ding? What’s your deal with him? Why can’t you be this considerate of me for once?”
Duan Xiubo smiled coolly. “Heh.” You think you’re on Luo Ding’s level?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yu Shaotian frowned.
“I’ve got dinner plans with Luo Ding. We’ll talk more later. Get this done, and we’re even for last time,” Duan Xiubo said, getting up to leave.
“Duan Xiubo!” Yu Shaotian called after him, frustrated. “Are you serious? I didn’t want to think about it, but Luo Ding is a guy. If you’re just playing around, fine, but two men together—it’s not…”
Duan Xiubo raised a hand to cut him off. “What’s our mom? A man or a woman?”
“That’s our mom!” Yu Shaotian snapped back instinctively, then muttered, “…woman.”
“And our dad?”
“…Man,” Yu Shaotian admitted, frowning deeper.
“So there you have it,” Duan Xiubo said with a shrug, flashing an innocent look before walking out the door. Yu Shaotian sat there for a while, mentally spinning his wheels around Duan Xiubo’s logic. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed… reasonable?
No! This is completely wrong! Nothing about this makes sense!
******
Jiang Changfeng had a reputation for being temperamental and difficult to work with, often described by his assistants as downright neurotic. He was unpredictable, swinging from calm and polite one minute to passive-aggressive and cutting the next. His scoldings never came directly but were wrapped in layers of sarcasm, often leaving the recipient in tears without ever understanding what they did wrong.
People often speculated that he must have some kind of mental illness—maybe bipolar disorder or some form of psychosis. But whether through luck or sheer force of will, his company had continued to grow, with Universal’s influence expanding overseas. This only made his eccentric behavior worse.
Jiang had a habit of sitting on his desk rather than at it during meetings, a quirk his assistants had long since grown accustomed to.
“Pfft,” he muttered, flipping through Luo Ding’s latest endorsement photos for Vanke Menswear. The elegant composition and rich colors were clearly the work of a master photographer. As the face of the brand, Luo Ding’s popularity had soared, with his appearance now gracing billboards and magazine covers worldwide. It was said that his fees for attending commercial events now rivaled those of top-tier stars.
“A face like that and he still managed to make it big,” Jiang Changfeng mused, then chuckled to himself, his thoughts wandering. “That guy really has an eye for talent.”
“Boss,” his assistant said, “Yan Jingjing’s divorce has gone public, and the whole world knows about it now. She’s also leaked all of Huo Lianshan’s scandals. Huo has probably figured out she’s the one behind it, and the company might not be able to contain the fallout.”
“Let him go to hell,” Jiang Changfeng scoffed. “He’s useless. Can’t believe he’s still strutting around. Delay any retaliation against Yan Jingjing for now. We’ll deal with it later. The guy’s got no skills, just a lot of attitude.”
This was typical of Jiang’s way of speaking, and no one dared to challenge him. The conversation moved on to discuss Huxiao, another artist trying to negotiate with Universal after being rejected once.
Jiang laughed. “Ignore him. Let him stew. I’ve got no time for him right now.” He seemed to have lost interest in his old feud with Gu Yaxing. Although Jiang had once taken great pleasure in poaching artists from Yaxing’s studio, Huxiao’s persistence had become tiresome.
The final item on the agenda was Triumph Media’s interest in taking over Assassin.
Jiang flipped through the Assassin script, squinting thoughtfully, lost in either deep contemplation or complete indifference—it was hard to tell. After a long silence, the assistant nervously mentioned some of the terms Triumph had hinted at.
“Luo Ding?” Jiang’s brow furrowed. “What’s he got to do with this? He’s with Yaxing, not Triumph. Why would they care?”
The assistant braced himself and repeated what he had been told: that Luo Ding liked the script, and Duan Xiubo was pushing for it.
Jiang blinked, clearly puzzled. “Wait, what?”
The assistant repeated the explanation, knowing it sounded suspiciously suggestive. The fact that Triumph had been so open about it made it all the more confusing. It was almost too blatant to be real, which made it harder to believe anything shady was going on.
Jiang sat in silence for a moment, rapidly reviewing every interaction between Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo. He recalled their first collaboration, the subsequent rumors, and the ever-growing fanbase that treated the two like an inseparable duo. Piece by piece, he felt as though he was unearthing a truth that no one else had quite put together.
“Hah… hahaha… hahahahaha!” Jiang’s quiet chuckling quickly escalated into full-blown laughter, his body shaking with amusement. His assistants exchanged bewildered looks as Jiang leaned back and laughed louder, his voice echoing off the office walls.
“Interesting! So interesting!” He slapped the desk, his movements exaggerated, like a drunken man. “I’m impressed! Go ahead, let them have it. As long as we don’t lose money, who cares?”
“…”
His assistants, accustomed to Jiang’s erratic decisions, wanted to protest but thought better of it. “Are you sure?”
Jiang shot them a glare. “Go! Do what I said! I’m in a good mood!”
*******
For Xu Zhen, it felt like a gift from the heavens had landed in his lap. This unexpected lifeline had dropped down like a giant cake—thick, rich, and loaded with double yolks—so heavy that it nearly suffocated him with joy.
He had been recovering in a villa on the outskirts of the city when he received the call from the company. The moment he heard the news, he rushed to get his nurse to start the car. The nurse, confused and concerned, wiped her hands on her apron as she asked, “Mr. Xu, you haven’t had lunch yet…”
“Lunch? Who needs lunch? I don’t have time to eat!” Xu Zhen’s face was alight with an excitement the nurse had never seen before. The deep-set wrinkles etched into his face seemed to soften as his lips curled into a smile. For the first time in ages, he looked almost… kind. His sharp features were smoothed by the joy that seemed to radiate from him, and even though the nurse delayed him slightly, he didn’t lose his temper. He simply hurried upstairs to find a proper suit.
Unable to stop him, the nurse went to start the car and grabbed a few bites of steamed buns while waiting.
Once Xu Zhen had trimmed his hair, shaved his stubble, and splashed on some cologne, he dressed in a crisp suit, matching his tie to his cufflinks with care. He looked immaculate. As he sat in the backseat of the car, he could barely contain his excitement, his chest heaving with each breath, his eyes gleaming with hope as he stared out at the bright blue sky.
A second chance! A chance from the heavens! God hadn’t abandoned him! Cao Dingkun must have been watching over him from above, giving him this miraculous turn of events.
He had been close to despair. The funding for his film was running dry, investors were scarce, and Universal’s attitude had been nothing but cold. His masterpiece, the script he had poured his heart and soul into, seemed destined to crumble before his very eyes.
But then, just hours ago, Jiang Changfeng had called to inform him that Universal had transferred the production rights and distribution to Triumph Media. No one was more suited to direct this film than Xu Zhen, and surely, Triumph would see his talent and keep him on board. Triumph was known for its financial prowess, and for them, investing in a film like this would be a drop in the bucket.
This unexpected twist felt like divine intervention. As Xu Zhen shaved, his hand trembled over his heart, which was beating so hard it nearly burst from his chest. He was so excited he could barely breathe.
The villa was located on a hillside, and the winding mountain road was serene, like a river of mercury. As the car turned a corner, the bright and wide-open road to his future seemed just within reach.
“Hurry up,” Xu Zhen urged, wiping sweat from his hairline as he glanced nervously at the time.
The nurse responded with a calm “Yes, sir,” but as she turned the next corner, her face twisted in fear.
“Mr. Xu… Mr. Xu!” she cried, her voice shaking. “The brakes… the brakes aren’t working!”
Xu Zhen’s eyes went wide. The mountain road sloped downward, and the car was picking up speed at an alarming rate. The wind outside roared against the windows.
“What do you mean?” he shouted.
“I don’t know! I don’t know! The handbrake isn’t working either!” The nurse was close to tears. “The car was just serviced last week!”
Xu Zhen’s blood ran cold. His first instinct was to jump out of the car, but one look at the steep drop beyond the flimsy guardrail made him freeze. There was no way out. His body began to tremble uncontrollably as the wind whipped past, and he could feel the car accelerating with every passing second.
His mind raced with thoughts of conspiracy. The car had just been serviced—how could the brakes fail now? Could this really be an accident? Or was it… intentional?
As the car careened around a sharp bend, Xu Zhen’s stomach lurched, and a deafening roar filled his ears.
In the final moments before losing consciousness, he suddenly thought of Cao Dingkun’s wrecked car, the twisted metal remains that had tumbled down the mountainside.
Back then… how had Cao Dingkun felt? Was it the same as he was feeling now?
Keep me fueled with caffeine! Support me on Ko-fi! It helps a lot ! Thank you so much ♡(´･ω･)(･ω･`)♡
thank you for the chapter ☺️