Chapter 24: A Formatted and Rebooted Brain

Lin Lu lowered his eyes and sighed, “Ruotang, why do I feel like you’ve changed…”

Jiang Ruotang, hands in his pockets, replied calmly, “Oh, people grow up, and growing up means changing.”

Lin Lu froze. Normally, wouldn’t someone ask, “How have I changed?”

Then he could’ve accused Jiang Ruotang of being cold or inconsiderate, but this response left Lin Lu with no opening to continue.

Seeing Jiang Ruotang head toward his family’s car, Lin Lu quickly grabbed him.

“Since you’re not going to the welcome party, can’t you at least show some goodwill?”

“Hm?” Jiang Ruotang turned, already guessing what Lin Lu was up to.

“You drew tons of sketches of Bai Yingchuan before, right? He hasn’t seen them. Why not give him that sketchbook from last semester’s finals—the best one you did? It’d show him he has fans here, give him support, and reflect your dad’s stance as a big director. Win-win, right?”

Lin Lu’s big eyes brimmed with expectation.

Win-win? More like a chance for you to use my sketches to make Bai Yingchuan hate me.

With that scheming mind, why not study harder for the Capital Huawen University’s business school? Your mom would soar in her circle. Why waste effort on me?

Instead of answering directly, Jiang Ruotang asked, “Bai Yingchuan’s mom is pretty close with your dad, right?”

“Huh? Yeah, they’re alright. My dad helped his mom out. I told you before—don’t you remember?”

That confirmed it.

Bai Yingchuan’s mother, Bai Yue, was once a celebrated actress, a national goddess.

But the industry was cutthroat. New actresses rose, and roles suited for Bai Yue dwindled. Her pride wouldn’t let her play supporting roles, shrinking her opportunities further.

Lin Chengdong, who could offer her a lead role each year, became a vital resource, making Bai Yue overly attentive to him.

If Jiang Ruotang’s guess was right, Lin Chengdong held some leverage over Bai Yue, making her obedient.

Lin Chengdong’s real goal wasn’t Bai Yue but controlling Bai Yingchuan, treating him as a cash cow.

That was the main reason for Bai Yingchuan’s coldness toward Jiang Ruotang in his past life.

No matter how much Jiang Ruotang gave, Bai Yingchuan only had eyes for Lin Lu—his mother’s leash was in Lin Chengdong’s hands.

In the end, Bai Yingchuan was weak. He didn’t cut ties with his mother or resist her control, nor could he let go of the spotlight Lin Chengdong provided.

At that moment, Bai Yingchuan approached, smiling. “What’re you two talking about?”

Eyes from all directions—classmates’ attention, admiration, jealousy—swirled around.

Bai Yingchuan might not like the stares, but he had to act at ease.

“Nothing much. I can’t make your welcome party because I have art studio. Lin Lu suggested I give you the sketches I drew of you last semester as a gift.”

Lin Lu tugged at Jiang Ruotang. “Why’d you just say that?”

Because I had to. It’s not my idea—it’s yours.

“Sure, I’d love to see them. Xiao Lu keeps saying you’re my biggest fan,” Bai Yingchuan said, his eyes holding a trace of anticipation.

Any fan would melt under that smile.

Jiang Ruotang scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, I can’t show you. I drew a ton—filled a whole room—but I cleared it out before summer to make space.”

“What?” Lin Lu was shocked. “Why… why get rid of them? I mean, what’s the room for?”

“A study.”

Jiang Ruotang was eager for Jiang Huaiyuan and Zhao Yunshu to marry, move in together, and make up for the family happiness they missed in his past life.

With Zhao Yunshu moving in, she’d need a study, so Jiang Ruotang emptied his art room.

“Don’t you already have a study?” Lin Lu asked, puzzled.

Jiang Ruotang smiled. “One’s not enough.”

After all, they’d be a family of four.

Bai Yingchuan said, “That’s a pity. If I’d transferred last semester, I could’ve seen your drawings.”

Standard polite talk—Bai Yingchuan probably didn’t mean it.

But when Jiang Ruotang glanced at his eyes, he saw a flicker of genuine regret.

At this age, his acting wasn’t as polished as it would be ten years later.

“I’m not done painting forever. There’ll be chances. Anyway, I gotta go—my car’s waiting.”

“Alright, bye…” Lin Lu waved.

Watching Jiang Ruotang’s back, Lin Lu frowned. “What’s with him?”

It was like his brain had been formatted and rebooted.

“What’d you say?” Bai Yingchuan glanced at Lin Lu, his gaze piercing through his facade.

Lin Lu panicked. “Nothing. Yingchuan, my car’s here. I’ll take you home.”

Back home, Jiang Ruotang slipped into slippers at the entrance, did some practice questions in his room, and, when tired, watched Zhao Changfeng’s game footage on his computer.

Propping his chin, he replayed Zhao Changfeng’s rebound clips. He used to think athletes were just sweaty, brute-force types who couldn’t reason. Now, he could appreciate the muscle lines from Zhao Changfeng’s shoulders to forearms. He should be dragged to the studio as a model.

Way better than a cold David statue.

Recently, Jiang Ruotang had sent Zhao Changfeng’s game footage to coaches, who offered advice and training plans for his future. Jiang Ruotang took note, ready to put them into action.

Past 10 p.m., Jiang Huaiyuan returned.

Sister Juan brought fruit upstairs, and Jiang Huaiyuan took the tray to personally deliver it to Jiang Ruotang’s room.

After a long cold war over Zhao Yunshu, their relationship had warmed, and Jiang Huaiyuan seized the chance to bond.

Hearing the knock, Jiang Ruotang leaned back in his chair. “Dad, come in.”

“How’d you know it’s me, not Sister Juan?” Jiang Huaiyuan set the tray by his desk, noticing practice papers and a paused basketball game video on the computer, frozen on Zhao Changfeng catching a ball.

Jiang Ruotang grinned. “Sister Juan’s knocks are crisp. Yours are sneaky.”

“I didn’t want to disturb your studying,” Jiang Huaiyuan laughed.

“Taking a break. Dad, got something to say?”

“I just wanted to tell you, you were right. Grandpa Qin fully supports moving your Aunt Zhao to the audit department. From what he said…” Jiang Huaiyuan trailed off.

His son was still a high school senior—company matters would only confuse and worry him.

Jiang Ruotang propped his chin, smiling. “Dad, does Grandpa Qin also think there’s an issue with the finance line? Lin Chengdong’s reach is too long, and even Grandpa Qin isn’t sure about the company’s true financial state. The audit department’s people are all talk, no action—basically useless. It needs a go-getter like Aunt Zhao to shake things up.”

“How do you know that?” Jiang Huaiyuan was stunned.

This was intel Zhao Yunshu had shared with Jiang Ruotang in his past life during the money-laundering case.

By saying this, Jiang Ruotang wanted his father to see he wasn’t a sheltered prince who only chased Bai Yingchuan and splurged. He hoped his father would discuss things with him, so he wouldn’t be blindsided if the company crumbled.

“Dad, listen. I think Uncle Lin’s spread himself too thin. I used to be a big Bai Yingchuan fan, hanging out in fan circles. There’s lots of gossip—some worrying signs.”

Jiang Huaiyuan looked into his son’s eyes. “What’d you hear?”

“No wall is airtight. Netizens, especially fans, are sharper than Sherlock Holmes.”

“Tell me,” Jiang Huaiyuan said, his brow furrowing.

“Uncle Lin’s been boosting several big stars, right? Fans say he might be laundering money through their movie box office or TV production costs. Of course, it could just be fans smearing rivals to protect their idols… but the bigger the operation, the more problems arise.”

Jiang Huaiyuan’s expression grew serious. Deep down, he’d likely sensed something off with Lin Chengdong but, as childhood friends, hesitated to confront him.

“Dad, if you don’t plan ahead, trouble’s closer than you think. If Aunt Zhao takes charge of audits, you have to back her. Don’t waver between her and Uncle Lin or play peacemaker. Grandpa Qin’s still sharp—he’s been your rock for years. He’s nearly eighty and still won’t retire. You think he’s just bored? He’s worried about you.”

Even his son saw it, making Jiang Huaiyuan feel ashamed.