Chapter 3: Declutter

Jiang Ruotang didn’t care what Lin Lu thought of the message he’d sent. He was brimming with anticipation for his current life.

He eagerly opened the wardrobe in his room, revealing the uniforms of Beicheng Guangyao High School and an assortment of casual clothes. These were exactly the styles he’d loved at eighteen, and their texture and scent… everything reminded him that this was real.

Pulling open the desk drawer, he found a thick stack of untouched test papers.

Jiang Ruotang placed his hand on them, taking a deep breath—three days until school started, and this pile of papers was completely blank. Talk about a hellish start!

Then he remembered something and hurried to the room next door, flipping on the light…

“Holy…”

The room was packed to the brim with merchandise of Bai Yingchuan.

Life-sized standees, pillows, postcards, card collections, blankets…

It was like a mini warehouse.

“Was I this obsessed before?”

This was straight-up hoarding!

Jiang Ruotang took a step forward, and the slight vibration triggered a domino effect. A pile of photo frames and albums stacked on top of a cabinet came crashing down, a hardcover photobook smacking him square on the head.

“Ow!” Jiang Ruotang crouched, tears streaming from the pain.

Talk about karma!

“Tangtang! What’s wrong?” Hearing his howl, Jiang Huaiyuan rushed upstairs.

“Dad, I’m fine… I just didn’t expect this room to be so full of junk…”

“Junk…” Jiang Huaiyuan glanced around. “Didn’t you say these were your treasures, and no one else was allowed to touch them?”

“Heh…”

I must’ve been out of my mind to treat this scrap as treasure!

Jiang Ruotang shook his head, tilting his ear to check for the sound of waves.

These things were still here, confirming he’d truly returned to being eighteen.

“Dad, it’s fine… let’s go have breakfast.”

With that, Jiang Ruotang pulled his father downstairs.

“The door to your ‘treasure vault’ is still open…” Jiang Huaiyuan said, glancing back.

“Treasure vault…” Jiang Ruotang’s mouth twitched. “Leave it open. It’ll get moldy without air circulation.”

Since his cancer diagnosis, Jiang Ruotang hadn’t been able to eat much, or even if food was in front of him, he had no appetite. Now, facing a full breakfast spread, his mouth watered, he swallowed hard, and his stomach let out a loud rumble.

The steamed buns had chewy skins, with water chestnuts mixed into the meat filling, giving a crisp bite.

The shrimp and chive rice noodle rolls were translucent, revealing pink shrimp inside, drizzled with Juan-jie’s secret sauce—pure bliss.

Jiang Huaiyuan watched his son devour breakfast and couldn’t help but say, “Yesterday you were complaining that Juan-jie only makes the same few things and you’re tired of them…”

“These few things are culinary perfection.”

In the years he’d been a lackey for Lin Lu and Bai Yingchuan, he’d woken up earlier than roosters. Especially when Bai Yingchuan had events or was on set, Jiang Ruotang often skipped breakfast entirely. Occasionally, when Lin Lu visited the set, she’d thoughtfully bring KFC breakfast for the crew, but Jiang Ruotang was too busy coordinating to do more than scarf down a couple of bites.

Later, when he was hospitalized, Zhao Yunshu or Zhao Changfeng brought him breakfast. They had work, so they’d just pick something clean and hygienic from a shop and drop it off.

Eating a leisurely homemade breakfast like this felt like a lifetime ago for Jiang Ruotang.

He’d almost forgotten he was once a rich second-generation kid, the “young master” of a film company.

Jiang Ruotang polished off the chives on his plate. Jiang Huaiyuan and Juan-jie exchanged glances, as if wondering if this was still their picky little master.

Juan-jie tentatively asked, “There’s tofu pudding in the kitchen, Ruotang… want some?”

Jiang Ruotang nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

“Sweet tofu pudding okay?”

“Life’s bitter enough—I need sweet.” Jiang Ruotang nodded again.

He recalled that the old him only ate savory tofu pudding, the kind with meat sauce and toppings. If Juan-jie was too busy in the morning to make the sauce and prepared sweet tofu pudding instead, Jiang Ruotang would sulk and refuse to touch it.

“Oh… I’ll go get it.”

Juan-jie thought the sun must’ve risen from the west. The young master was eating sweet tofu pudding? Had he been out breaking bricks last night? He wasn’t picky at all this morning.

After breakfast, Jiang Huaiyuan headed out. Turning back, he saw his son sprawled on the stairs, watching him.

“Uh… I’m heading out,” Jiang Huaiyuan said, a hint of unease in his voice. He’d made plans with Zhao Yunshu to go cycling in the countryside.

His son had always been vehemently against him remarrying. Mentioning Zhao Yunshu was enough to set Jiang Ruotang off.

As he left, Jiang Huaiyuan half-expected his son to throw a fit.

“Go ahead,” Jiang Ruotang said magnanimously, lifting his chin. “That outfit’s not bad—doesn’t look too old-fashioned.”

“Really?” Jiang Huaiyuan scratched the back of his head.

The big-shot director was a pushover in front of his son.

“Aunt Zhao doesn’t like steak—she has pharyngitis and prefers light flavors. Hey, have you taken her to Mingyue Pavilion? Their Lotus Pond Moonlight dish should suit her taste.”

“Huh?” Jiang Huaiyuan was stunned. What was his son saying?

“Don’t just take her for a walk in the evening. After cycling all afternoon, she’ll be tired. Take her to a movie. She’s not into artsy stuff—she likes big-budget blockbusters.”

“…Oh.” Jiang Huaiyuan stepped out, nearly tripping on the stairs.

After walking a few steps, he suddenly turned back, rushed to the door, and looked up to see his son still sprawled in the same spot.

“Ruotang… were you serious just now? You… you’re okay with it?”

A smile spread across Jiang Ruotang’s lips. “You’re my dad—can’t you show a bit of fatherly swagger? Even if I wasn’t okay with it, could you control your heart?”

Jiang Huaiyuan was silent for a dozen seconds. He and his ex-wife had divorced when Jiang Ruotang was very young. His ex, a free-spirited photographer, traveled the world and passed away in an accident when Jiang Ruotang was six. Jiang Huaiyuan, often away filming, wasn’t around much for his son either.

Guilt-ridden, Jiang Huaiyuan indulged his son’s every whim, which, in a way, spoiled Jiang Ruotang rotten.

When Jiang Ruotang heard about his father’s closeness with Zhao Yunshu, he reacted strongly. Somehow, he’d caught wind of rumors claiming that if Zhao Yunshu married in, she’d seize control of the Jiang family’s shares in Huanyu Entertainment, scheming to strip Jiang Ruotang of everything and leave him penniless.

This notion took deep root in Jiang Ruotang’s mind. No matter how Jiang Huaiyuan explained, Jiang Ruotang remained fiercely hostile toward Zhao Yunshu.

But the Jiang Ruotang standing before him now exuded an open-minded clarity, as if he’d swept away those messy thoughts without needing any explanation.

Jiang Huaiyuan looked into his son’s eyes and said earnestly, “I like Zhao Yunshu. I’m serious.”

“How serious you are, I don’t know. But there’s probably no one in the world who’d treat you better than Aunt Zhao” Jiang Ruotang said, resting his chin on his arms with a smile.

In that moment, Jiang Huaiyuan’s eyes reddened.

“Then… I’m off.”

“Mm.” Jiang Ruotang nodded.

Jiang Huaiyuan tilted his head, belatedly asking, “That ‘mm’ of yours… why does it sound more like a dad than me?”

“You’re just noticing?” Jiang Ruotang replied, amused.

Jiang Huaiyuan chuckled, turned, took a deep breath as if a weight had lifted, and headed out.

Watching his father’s back, Jiang Ruotang pictured his future family—a goofy dad, a kind and upright but shy mom, a husky-like younger brother, and the reborn him.

“Wait… the way he told me he likes Aunt Zhao, why did it sound like a son-in-law swearing loyalty to his father-in-law? What kind of image does my dad even have of me?” Jiang Ruotang rubbed his chin, his mind spinning with scenarios.

Turning around, he caught sight of his treasure vault again.

The old Jiang Ruotang, once he fell out of love, would’ve called the junk collectors to haul all these “treasures” away.

Declutter—clean and decisive.

But after experiencing tough times, Jiang Ruotang understood the value of money. Even if these roomfuls of merchandise were nothing compared to the allowance his father gave him, he decided to recoup as much as he could.

Every penny counts!

He posted in Bai Yingchuan’s fan group, saying he was about to enter his senior year and needed to focus on college entrance exams. Instead of selling his hard-earned merch by the pound, he’d rather pass it on to fans who truly adored “Brother Yingchuan.”

Back in the day, he’d thrown money around in the group, often footing the bill for fan meetups and events, earning him the title of “sugar daddy” and top fan. Many fans urged him to stay, trusting that his collection was authentic, and quite a few were interested.

Jiang Ruotang was ready to take photos one by one to post online, but a big-spending fan in the group asked for a video, then boldly offered a lump-sum price to take the whole lot. Jiang Ruotang was overjoyed—he hadn’t expected such luck.

Say what you will, Bai Yingchuan-related merch had a pretty high resale value.

Juan-jie stood dumbfounded at the “treasure vault” door, watching Jiang Ruotang, in an apron and arm sleeves, pack up things he’d cherished just yesterday into cardboard boxes.

“Ruotang… you’re really selling all this?”

“Yup, selling it… Juan-jie, come help me tape these up,” Jiang Ruotang said, tilting his chin.

“You won’t cry and want it back tonight, will you…?”

Seeing Juan-jie’s hesitation, Jiang Ruotang raised his right hand. “If I regret this, I’ll do a handstand and eat sh—!”

Juan-jie froze, her brain crashing: Did Ruotang just say he’d eat what?

Jiang Ruotang: Oh my god, what did I just say? I’m channeling Zhao Changfeng!

That guy was always swearing he’d eat crap, and now he’d rubbed off on him.

When the logistics truck pulled up to their house, Juan-jie finally believed Jiang Ruotang was serious about selling his “treasures.”

With the help of the delivery guys, it took half an hour to clear the room.

Jiang Ruotang stood with his hands on his hips, letting out a deep breath.

Finally, a clean slate.

“This room’s actually pretty big.”

Standing in the center, Jiang Ruotang was bathed in the orange glow of dusk filtering through the window, a soft halo framing his face.

Juan-jie came to call him for dinner and paused at the sight.

She’d always known Ruotang was good-looking, but being spoiled by his father had made him a bit willful. Though his heart wasn’t bad, he could be off-putting at times.

This was the first time she’d seen him with such a calm, serene expression, and it stirred a warm, familial affection in her.

“Juan-jie, dinner ready?” Jiang Ruotang turned, flashing her a smile.

“Yeah, it’s ready.” Juan-jie glanced around. “What’s this room for next?”

From her look, Jiang Ruotang could tell she assumed he’d fallen for another idol and was clearing space for new merch.

“For my little brother,” Jiang Ruotang said.

“Huh? What?”