ASHES CH4: Pastries

Luo Zhi had actually prepared himself mentally early on for Huaisheng Entertainment to be taken away.

In the eyes of Luo Chengxiu, the head of the Luo family, an entertainment company that had once almost been delisted and gone bankrupt, and now barely managed a medium scale, might have some value, but it was far from worth fretting over.

To Luo Chengxiu, this was merely a casual decision.

Giving the company to Jian Huaiyi was just to ensure Luo Cheng had the family’s backing behind her so she wouldn’t be bullied.

Compared to Luo Zhi, leaving Huaisheng Entertainment in Jian Huaiyi’s charge, and having Jian Huaiyi responsible for taking care of Luo Cheng, naturally put everyone in the family much more at ease.

Luo Zhi clicked open the unread emails in his inbox.

Luo Chengxiu had personally gone to the company and personally sent someone to take over, which meant Huaisheng Entertainment was truly connected to the Luo family’s network.

Those board members, usually stingy with providing and sharing even the slightest resources and only active when dividing profits, were now displaying unprecedented efficiency.

In just the time it took to make a phone call, these people had already pooled their wisdom and found reasons why Luo Zhi was “unable to continue managing the company.”

Perhaps having seen Jian Huaiyi’s bruised face, the wording of the email was quite polite, cautiously stating that his personal image had brought a certain degree of negative impact to the company, and he was no longer suitable for the position of general manager.

Luo Zhi closed the car window.

He casually lowered the air conditioning by two degrees and clicked on the link attached to the email to take a look.

It was a trending search that had just shot to the top a few minutes ago.

The timing was perfect. Just two hours ago, the currently booming top-tier idol, Li Weiming, suddenly posted a Weibo, recounting a past he couldn’t bear to look back on.

In this Weibo post, Li Weiming recalled an incident from two years ago when he hadn’t blown up yet and was just an unknown D-list artist. He was forced by a certain executive to go to a hotel late at night and get a room.

In the Weibo post, Li Weiming bluntly admitted without evasion that this incident had a considerable impact on him.

Li Weiming said that since that incident, he had been continuously suppressed and blacklisted, and he himself had developed severe psychological problems, only recently mustering the courage to step out of the shadows.

Although the Weibo post didn’t name anyone specifically, nor did it point to anyone explicitly, everyone knew Li Weiming was an artist under Huaisheng Entertainment.

In recent months, Li Weiming had become a household name due to a major IP adaptation. This Weibo post fit his character in the drama perfectly. The pain, hesitation, despair, and desperation he portrayed in the drama were instantly mapped onto the long Weibo post. One stone stirred up a thousand ripples, sweeping up countless fans and passersby in righteous indignation and sympathy.

It didn’t take long for angry fans to dig up a string of information, peeling back the layers like solving a case, until finally locking their target on Luo Zhi, who had just taken over the company two years ago.

…

Up to this point, there was no longer any suspense about the matter.

When Luo Zhi debuted as a singer, because of the dark history exposing him using his power to bully others, he had been chased with who-knows-how-many threatening letters.

People everywhere chased him with insults and curses, wishing him an early death, tirelessly writing essays everywhere to “educate” people about his evil deeds.

Even the comment sections of the few songs Luo Zhi wrote were full of “Such a good song, ruined by this kind of person singing it,” “Begging for a cover,” “The song is good, but the singer’s name is like rat droppings in a good pot of soup.”

Later, Luo Zhi withdrew from the industry, and there was hardly any news of him online, forcing this unvented malice to accumulate… This time, it finally found an opening, pouring out with almost the force of a bursting dam.

More and more related topics appeared, and public opinion snowballed. Every now and then, someone claiming to be “hotel staff” would pop up, confidently describing how Luo Zhi forcefully took what he wanted, and how Li Weiming was innocent, staunch, and resisted to the death, described so vividly as if they had been at the scene.

Luo Zhi even scrolled past a few blurry old photos.

You couldn’t clearly see the head or face at all; even the human figures had to be barely deciphered.

He didn’t know what kind of piercing eyes it took to recognize at a glance that this was Luo Zhi coercing Li Weiming.

After looking at over a dozen versions of the late-night hotel mystery, Luo Zhi put down his phone, which was hot from scrolling, rested his head on his arms, and closed his eyes.

…

To be honest, Luo Zhi sometimes felt that Jian Huaiyi really thought too highly of himself.

For example, wanting to snatch a company that condensed all of Luo Zhi’s blood, sweat, and tears from his hands.

Jian Huaiyi would first lay out the board, burying this chess piece, Li Weiming.

After that, Jian Huaiyi would arrange a few “coincidences” to make Luo Cheng interested in acting, trying to guide Luo Cheng to develop the idea of entering the entertainment industry before graduation.

Following that, Jian Huaiyi would make Luo Chengxiu realize the need for someone trustworthy to manage Huaisheng Entertainment.

Finally, he had to detonate everything in a single day, making the furious Luo Chengxiu completely make up his mind to permanently kick Luo Zhi, this useless bastard who only ruined things, out of the company.

…But actually, there was no need to go through so much trouble at all.

If Jian Huaiyi wanted to take Huaisheng Entertainment from his hands, all he had to do was say a word to Luo Jun, Madam Luo, or the head of the Luo family.

Just like over the past dozen years, Jian Huaiyi took his name, took his birthday, took his home, “accidentally” corroborated fabricated dirt on him the night of his debut finale, taking away everything Luo Zhi cared about or didn’t care about.

Jian Huaiyi really didn’t need to fear him so much.

The son of the Luo family head and Madam Luo, the eldest brother’s younger brother, the little sister’s second brother—all of these were Jian Huaiyi.

Luo Zhi was like a thorn in their eyes; even his mere existence constantly provoked their annoyance and disgust.

…

Thinking of this, Luo Zhi felt he should probably be sensible and not go back to the Luo family home to annoy everyone.

But for a moment, he couldn’t seem to figure out where else he could go.

Usually, if he couldn’t go home, at least he had the company to go to.

Luo Zhi had placed a single bed in his office. When he got tired of handling work, he would crash and sleep for a bit. When he woke up, he would continue pouring coffee and working overtime. If he got too tired, he would play the guitar for a while.

It wasn’t really that he was dealing with ten thousand matters a day; it was just that filling his days so fully left no gaps in his brain.

With no gaps, he wouldn’t let his thoughts wander over a bunch of messy things.

He wouldn’t feel sad.

Luo Zhi was actually doing alright now. Compared to sadness, his clearer feeling was actually “bewilderment.”

The intense bewilderment of suddenly having nothing to do and nowhere to go, an almost overwhelming blankness.

While this bewilderment had not yet begun to erode his ability to act, Luo Zhi fastened his seatbelt, started the car, and drove out into the overly dazzling, blinding white sunlight.

Luo Zhi drove around the city center a few times, found a parking lot to park, and prepared to casually buy a couple of pieces of clothing to change into first.

They say clothes make the man, and it seems there’s some truth to it.

Luo Zhi’s appearance was actually very striking—one could easily guess that someone who could hide their identity and background, and merely rely on a face and a guitar to fiercely carve out a bloody path in a talent show, was at least at a level that could withstand high-definition close-ups.

As for how the wind shifted drastically later, public aesthetics seemed to follow the gossip trends. After the rumors spread like wildfire across the internet that he used his family background to suppress people, threatened the program team to give him a green light, and oppressed other innocent amateur contestants, a post titled “Am I the only one who thinks Luo Zhi is incredibly ugly?”, which was clearly blind, remained endlessly popular. Every now and then, it would be dug up and stepped on again… There was no need to dwell on these things anymore.

Luo Zhi himself didn’t care much about these things, though.

Negative popularity was still traffic. He relied on the heat generated from fighting a smoke-filled path all the way to make people remember Huaisheng Entertainment, pulling up the company from the brink of bankruptcy, and promoting several leading artists, so it was a fair trade-off.

…

It was just that right now, Luo Zhi found it really hard to associate himself with any better image.

That trench coat was either covered in blood or mud; it had long been unwearable. He simply tossed it in the car and didn’t bring it down, preparing to take it to the dry cleaners later.

Luo Zhi didn’t have tinnitus at the moment. Although he was still a bit dizzy, it was within a tolerable range.

He entered the mall. The air conditioning was blowing, yet he was still breaking out in cold sweats in waves.

This shirt had already been soaked through with sweat several times; the collar lay limp and floppy, the cuffs were stained with blood, and the trouser legs were covered in dust.

Luo Zhi himself felt a bit disheveled.

He looked at himself in the mirror and thought detachedly for a moment: if someone took a few photos like this and posted them online, would those anti-fans who hated him to the bone pay money to buy them?

Luckily, he didn’t run into anyone he knew.

Luo Zhi closed his eyes, brought his index and middle fingers together, and pressed hard on the space between his eyebrows twice.

He was just trying to remember what he came here to do when he faintly heard someone calling his name. The voice came from behind and to his left, blurry and the content indistinguishable.

…

But that voice line, Luo Zhi was very familiar with.

Luo Zhi was about to turn and leave, but that figure had already caught up quickly from behind him, raising a hand to stop him.

Luo Zhi paused his movements and raised his eyes: “Brother Chenbai.”

If he were given a question, asking him to name the person he least wanted to see in this kind of place within five seconds, the answer would probably be Ren Chenbai.

Ren Chenbai was one of Luo Zhi’s few childhood friends.

Because Madam Luo would have a severe episode the moment she saw Luo Zhi, for a very long time, Luo Zhi had been fostered in the Ren family.

Ren Chenbai’s mother was Madam Luo’s best friend. The two were the closest in their childhood. Loving the house and its crow, Mother Ren had always doted on little Luo Zhi.

Later, Ren Chenbai’s mother passed away from an illness. There were too many things to deal with at home, so Luo Zhi was sent back.

The time living with the Ren family was probably the most relaxed and happy few years Luo Zhi had.

Ren Chenbai was two years older than Luo Zhi and had already taken over the family business. His temperament was gentle and calm, amiable to everyone, and he always helped take care of Luo Zhi because of his mother’s dying wish.

Since childhood, Luo Zhi had trusted and felt close to Ren Chenbai.

He viewed the other person as his role model, the person he wanted to be close to the most.

Little Luo Zhi secretly wrote in his diary that when he grew up, he still wanted to live with Brother Chenbai, to be a family with Brother Chenbai, Uncle Ren, and Auntie Ren. Today he made three portions of pastries; he would eat the bad ones himself, and give the best one to Brother Chenbai.

Luo Zhi had truly planned it this way.

…Before he realized he had left one pastry behind, excitedly running to chase after Ren Chenbai, only to reach the door and see Ren Chenbai in the distance tossing that box of pastries to a stray dog by the road, frowning as if throwing away some particularly disgusting garbage.

Before that, Luo Zhi had always wanted to grow up to be as good a person as Brother Chenbai.