Chapter 25: Gold Will Always Shine

Jiang Ruotang said patiently, “While Grandpa Qin is still around, let him and Aunt Zhao investigate thoroughly. You can’t hide fire with paper. If there’s a problem, it’s better for the company to prepare now than to be crushed under Mount Tai’s weight, unable to patch the leaks.”

Jiang Huaiyuan sat quietly, lost in thought for a long time. “No wonder…”

“No wonder what?”

“No wonder when I said Yunshu wouldn’t stay in the finance department, Chengdong was so thrilled. Even my boutique suspense drama project—he used to say the audience was too niche to make money, but today he was suddenly generous with the budget…”

Jiang Ruotang shook his head, exasperated. “Dad, you see it clearly but don’t act. You think avoiding conflict with Uncle Lin is helping him? When he’s crying behind bars, will you send him a KFC family bucket?”

More importantly, if Lin begged, Jiang Huaiyuan would soften. Once dragged into the mess, climbing out would be tough.

“I get it,” Jiang Huaiyuan said, realization dawning. “Wait, Ruotang… how do you suddenly know so much? You used to just…”

“Just what?” Jiang Ruotang put on a curious, innocent look.

“Just go, ‘Bai Yingchuan’s so hot!’” Jiang Huaiyuan mimicked his son’s fangirl tone perfectly.

At that, the dragon fruit in Jiang Ruotang’s mouth nearly sprayed out, a black seed landing on Jiang Huaiyuan’s lip like a matchmaker’s mole.

“Whoa, slow down. Bai Yingchuan is hot…”

“Dad, the real hot one is you,” Jiang Ruotang said earnestly.

Jiang Huaiyuan looked confused. “Huh?”

“It’s your lens, your atmosphere, that makes him so captivating on the big screen. My love for him is really love for you.”

“You’re praising me like I’m a kid getting a gold star in elementary school,” Jiang Huaiyuan said.

“Hahaha!” Jiang Ruotang laughed. “But I’ve got two other things to discuss with you, Dad.”

“Go ahead.”

“First, I want the attic as my art studio. Move your fishing gear to the basement storage.”

“Why the sudden love for the attic?”

“Triangular windows—artist’s romance. Your fishing rods are wasted up there.”

Jiang Huaiyuan burst out laughing.

“Fine, fine. I’ll tell Xiao Gao and Sister Juan to move it downstairs.” He paused. “And the second thing?”

“Aunt Zhao’s out there breaking waves for you. Shouldn’t you secure her rear?”

“Of course. Any suggestions?”

After these days, Jiang Huaiyuan had noticed his son’s advice was always spot-on.

“Love the house, love the crow. Changfeng’s basically your son too. Parents plan far for their kids. Isn’t it time to plan for him?”

Jiang Huaiyuan slapped his knee. “I want to help, but Changfeng loves basketball… How do I handle that? I’ve trained you in painting since you were little—I know what to do there. But Changfeng’s on his own, just playing games, earning certificates, waiting for college coaches to scout him.”

“Then decide: do you want him on the broad, bright path to his dreams, or just coasting through college?”

“The bright path, obviously,” Jiang Huaiyuan said, sitting up.

“Then train him as a professional basketball player.”

“Can he make it?” Jiang Huaiyuan knew Van Gogh, Monet, Vermeer, but not basketball stars.

He had no clue about Changfeng’s potential or how to nurture it. His friends raised kids for business or arts like piano or violin—basketball was uncharted territory.

“How will you know without trying?” Jiang Ruotang sent him some files. “These are from trainers, coaches, and nutritionists. If he doesn’t train systematically, his talent might go to waste. I’d help, but it’s not my place. Dad, you need to step up.”

“Tangerine, you’ve grown up so fast… I feel like a useless kid in front of you,” Jiang Huaiyuan said, head lowered.

“Maybe Aunt Zhao likes that about you,” Jiang Ruotang teased, waving his hand. “Your Majesty has work to do. Court dismissed.”

“Alright, do your homework.”

Closing the door, Jiang Huaiyuan grinned at Sister Juan. “Tomorrow, you and Xiao Gao move my fishing gear from the attic to the basement. Clean it up—Ruotang wants it as his art studio.”

“Yes, sir,” Sister Juan said, noting his uncontainable smile. Strange—before, he’d leave talks with Ruotang looking defeated. Since summer ended, he’d come out refreshed.

---

Sunday, Bai Yingchuan’s welcome party was at Lin Lu’s house.

The backyard lawn hosted a buffet with exquisite desserts, drinks, and fine tea. Well-dressed young people chatted in the sunlight about new luxury items or who got a new supercar—a world apart from school.

Bai Yingchuan wore a simple beige sweater and casual pants, sunlight dusting his hair and shoulders. Relaxed and handsome, every step was a frame-worthy scene.

As the star, guests flocked to him, praising his looks, comparing him to comic book heroes, or inviting him as a dance partner to private galas.

Only one man, about twenty-five or twenty-six, stood apart, not joining the fawning crowd.

Dressed in relaxed casuals, his soft, medium-length hair tucked behind his ears, he seemed steadier than the eager youths around Bai Yingchuan.

Lin Lu tended to him carefully, balancing warmth and restraint.

“Brother Mu, thanks for coming. Want me to introduce you to the others?”

The man, Mu Xianqing, the youngest son of Huan Yu Films’ major shareholder Mu He, smiled politely but exuded distance. Huan Yu was a small part of Mu He’s investments, which spanned real estate, cinemas, and art.

Mu Xianqing patted Lin Lu’s shoulder, smiling. “Xiao Lu, go entertain the others. I’m fine on my own.”

Lin Lu knew not to push—leaving Mu Xianqing to his own comfort was best.

The rich kids chatted, but someone tactlessly asked, “Hey, where’s Jiang Ruotang? Isn’t he Bai Yingchuan’s biggest fan?”

Eyes turned, as the day’s main “entertainment” was watching Jiang Ruotang fawn over Bai Yingchuan.

“Ruotang has art studio today, so he can’t come. He told Yingchuan already,” Lin Lu said, glancing at Bai Yingchuan. “Right, Yingchuan?”

Jiang Ruotang’s absence was awkward for Lin Lu, the host. Jiang Huaiyuan’s films excelled in both box office and critical acclaim, and their families were close. For Jiang Ruotang to skip Bai Yingchuan’s welcome party—his favorite star’s event—sparked gossip.

Were Lin Chengdong and Jiang Huaiyuan’s friendship sinking?

Bai Yingchuan nodded. “True. Ruotang’s been working hard lately. Art school exams are tougher now. Even with Director Jiang’s help, he’s got to put in the effort.”

“Oh, so he’s locked up studying, no playtime.”

“He came out to hang during summer when I asked, but yesterday he said he was studying. Guess it’s real!”

“God, Jiang Ruotang’s getting serious? I’m feeling the pressure!”

“Haha, why do I think he’s wasting his time? He’ll probably rely on his dad to send him abroad.”

Bai Yingchuan’s brow arched coldly.

Lin Lu nodded gratefully to Bai Yingchuan, but his use of “Ruotang” with a gentle, familiar tone made Lin Lu uneasy.

He drifted to the eaves, his smile fading.

Lin Lu was still reeling. How could Jiang Ruotang just stop liking Bai Yingchuan, even tossing out all those sketches filled with fervent love? Was this some coy tactic?

But… did Jiang Ruotang have that kind of cunning?

He was the type to charge headfirst, never turning back even after hitting a wall.

Bai Yingchuan was meant to be his leash, but if it couldn’t hold him, what could Lin Lu do?

He decided to test it. He sneakily snapped photos of Bai Yingchuan and sent them to Jiang Ruotang.

[Ruotang, doesn’t Yingchuan look extra charming today? Such a pity you’re at class and can’t see in person.]

At the art studio, a fruit platter sat in the center. Jiang Ruotang had just sketched the outline when his phone buzzed.

Glancing at the messages, he saw photos of Bai Yingchuan—none with him looking at the camera. Sneaky shots.

Just like in his past life, when Lin Lu used similar photos to egg Jiang Ruotang into worshipping Bai Yingchuan, none reflecting Bai’s true intentions.

Jiang Ruotang sneered, picked a few, forwarded them to Bai Yingchuan, and wrote: [These are nice. The rest are too blurry.]

Bai Yingchuan, mid-conversation, glanced at his phone and frowned.

Excusing himself, he stepped to a corner, typing: [You didn’t come—who sent you these?]

Seconds after sending, Jiang Ruotang replied: [Sorry, I thought you knew Lin Lu took them.]

Bai Yingchuan’s gaze darkened. He walked behind Lin Lu and sent a question mark.