As the year drew to a close, it was the busiest time for corporate overtime.

Whether it was because the entertainment industry was also scrambling to meet end-of-year KPIs, the Weibo trending charts in December were never quiet. Every day brought new gossip and headlines, leaving people overwhelmed.

Some news was dark, some was positive; some true, some false.

Among them, the hottest topics were the successful signing of the “Best Actor” Xie Jinghe by NO1, and the divorce variety show the company was about to launch.

Online discussions regarding these two pieces of news had yet to cease.

The news of Best Actor Xie Jinghe changing agencies alone had triggered several trending topics.

Setting aside the conflicts with Fu-Guang Entertainment—that was old news from last year.

However, at the end of November, a senior entertainment reporter, Wei Jian, leaked that the mysterious CEO of NO1—who never showed his face—had personally requested a meeting with Xie Jinghe. Just as the topic started climbing the trending list, paparazzi captured a long-distance shot of Xie Jinghe leaving the NO1 building.

The photo was blurry, but one could vaguely discern:

The Best Actor’s eyes were red and swollen, suggesting he had been crying.

His left knuckles were bloodied, suggesting he had been in a physical altercation.

The gossip writers in the entertainment industry were not to be underestimated.

As soon as this blurry, ghostly photo appeared online, various marketing accounts spun up several versions of the story. Some even speculated that Xie Jinghe had been propositioned for “hidden rules” (sexual favors) and that he had ended up in this state because he refused.

No matter the version, the conclusion was the same:

Signing with NO1 was a dead end.

Xie Jinghe’s fans hadn’t even had time to celebrate before they were doused with cold water. Not only did their rivals mock them acidly, but even the official account of Fu-Guang Entertainment “accidentally” liked a post singing the funeral dirge for their former artist.

It was infuriating.

Just then, another gossip account with millions of followers stepped in. Using a string of initials, they wrote a post in a cryptic tone, the title alone grabbing everyone’s attention:

《Does anyone still not know? This isn’t the first time he’s done this.》

Although the blogger used initials for the protagonist in the story, anyone with eyes knew he was talking about Xie Jinghe.

[As everyone knows, X debuted very early. Even after hitting it big, he didn’t deliberately try to cultivate a ‘noble prince’ persona; he was a very honest kid. Back then, he hadn’t signed with an agency and had no connections. A producer told him he would introduce him to an agency, but in reality, he took bribes from a big shot and lured the kid over.]

[It was exactly what you think: the ‘hidden rules.’]

[However, X refused. The big shot wouldn’t let him go, insisting on forcing him to drink a whole bottle of alcohol, threatening that he wouldn’t be able to leave the room if he didn’t finish it. X, being very fiery, directly opened the guy’s head with the bottle.]

[This matter was suppressed very tightly.]

[After all, X was still a minor at the time—it was against the law.]

[Many people thought X went silent for nearly a year after his debut work because he didn’t want to step fully into the circle. In fact, that wasn’t the case; it was mostly because he had offended someone, and no agency dared to sign him.]

[Fortunately, not long after, the big shot was imprisoned for other crimes.]

[Company F started contacting X at that time and successfully signed this naive ‘golden treasure,’ signing him for ten years.]

[I believe X’s fans know all about Company F’s style of management.]

[One thing is for sure: X has had the worst luck.]

[That was many years ago. They say fame and fortune change a person, but I believe the core of a person doesn’t change. So, when many malicious marketing accounts grasp at shadows, claiming X has a ‘sugar daddy’ or uses ‘hidden rules,’ I don’t believe it at all.]

[I think, if he encountered the same predicament today as he did in his youth…]

[He definitely wouldn’t yield.]

[…]

Once the post went out, Xie Jinghe’s fans were incensed, rushing to his Weibo to show support and condemn the unscrupulous Fu-Guang Entertainment.

As for NO1, under the management of their head fan-leaders, the vast majority of fans did not act rashly. It wasn’t certain whether the news was true or false, and it wouldn’t be good to cause any negative impact.

After all, the executive CEO of NO1 was no unknown figure; she was Pei Yue, a former star agent with a huge reputation in the industry whose reputation was vouched for by several senior artists.

Sure enough.

In mid-December, the lawsuit between Xie Jinghe and Fu-Guang Entertainment finally concluded. Turning around, NO1’s official account issued a formal statement.

This statement not only clarified the previous misunderstandings but also candidly stated that their legal team had the money and was not afraid of trouble, and would defend their artist in every aspect. They demanded that any false rumors be deleted immediately.

That same day, another topic exploded:

#Hello, Xie Jinghe#

It must be said that Pei Yue’s marketing tactics were truly impressive. By collaborating with several parties, she wiped away the past rumors of “hidden rules” surrounding her new artist, helped him rally his fans, and, most importantly, established a positive image for her company.

After all, in the entertainment industry, whether it’s an artist or a company, one needs a good image to achieve a virtuous cycle and maximize profits.

“Boss.”

“You’re praising me so much, I’m getting scared.”

They were still in the same office.

Still the same clear, sunny, and breezy weather.

But the time had already reached the end of December. Tongcheng had cooled down again, and the winter atmosphere was heavy. Even the sunlight seemed cold, pale, and white, inexplicably revealing a touch of loneliness.

Pei Yue was still sitting on the guest sofa in the office. Seeming to be quite chilled by the weather, she couldn’t help but let out a soft hiss and added, “If we’re talking about having ‘tricks,’ you’re even better at it, Boss. All those leads were provided by you. Besides, even if my connections are wide, they aren’t wide enough to reach Xie Jinghe’s fan leaders.”

After finishing, she smacked her lips meaningfully, raised an eyebrow, and asked curiously, “Speaking of which, how did you make Xie Jinghe’s fans…”

Click.

A coffee cup bumped against the tabletop, neither light nor heavy, cutting off the woman’s unfinished sentence.

Shi Linchuan sat upright in the boss’s chair, meeting the eyes of the woman on the sofa across the table. He said flatly, “Are you very idle? Do you have no work on hand?”

Hearing this, the expression on Pei Yue’s face stiffened instantly.

She considered herself an absolute workaholic, willing to give 100% for her job, but in front of this high-precision, top-tier work-addict Shi Linchuan, her ambition probably needed to be discounted.

Severely discounted.

Pei Yue’s gaze shifted downward, glancing at the dark, heavy desk.

Unlike the day the man first arrived, the originally empty desk was covered with many documents. The man had divided them into two piles on the left and right, labeled “Reviewed” and “Unreviewed.”

The “Reviewed” pile was significantly taller.

Apart from the documents, there was only the coffee cup and a small calendar placed at the corner of the desk.

She glanced at the sky outside the glass wall again, confirmed that the position of the sun wasn’t wrong, and sighed: “Boss, it’s only 9:00 AM. Don’t tell me you’re working without sleeping again? How come I didn’t know our company’s workload was this big? This urgent?”

After a dramatic pause, she continued: “The day you arrived, the company’s main group was curious about your appearance and background. Now, a month later, people underneath are secretly calling you the ‘Great Demon King,’ and there’s an anonymous petition in the group asking for you to return to wherever you came from…”

A file was spread out in front of the man.

He lowered his head to browse through it and responded calmly, “Aren’t you the group owner of that anonymous group?”

Swish, swish.

The fountain pen nib brushed across the paper, making a unique sound.

Shi Linchuan closed the reviewed file and looked up: “Also, I don’t just own this entertainment company. Besides NO1, I have other industries to manage. Otherwise, where do you think the initial capital I transferred to you came from?”

Pei Yue was left speechless by his flexing, but she didn’t feel envious or jealous.

She hadn’t lived enough yet; she didn’t want to drop dead from overwork.

Immediately after, she heard the man ask:

“The variety show is about to start filming. Is the promotion in place? How’s the heat?”

Pei Yue didn’t even think, opening her mouth to report: “Don’t worry, the news went out a long time ago. The official warm-up has been nearly a month, and the number of subscriptions for the live-streaming channel has been rising constantly. There are already quite a few small celebrities coming to piggyback on the traffic.”

Shi Linchuan nodded, signaling he understood.

The office was silent for a few seconds.

Pei Yue suddenly said: “The information about the actual participating guests is hidden very tightly. For the time being, no one has linked the show to him. However, based on the current public opinion trend, even if he appears in the show’s prologue, the fans’ emotions probably won’t be too volatile.”

“After all, it’s a divorce variety show.”

Shi Linchuan had a very obvious little habit.

He was exceptionally fond of spinning his pen.

Pei Yue guessed that this might be his usual habit while thinking.

Although she hadn’t mentioned a certain person’s name throughout the conversation, the very second she finished speaking, the fountain pen spinning in the man’s hand suddenly stopped. It got stuck between his long, bony fingers, neither falling nor turning, and only started spinning again after several seconds.

After a long while.

The man simply gave an “en.”

Pei Yue immediately felt a stomach ache and couldn’t help but bring up the old matter again: “Boss, what exactly is your plan? If I had known you would fall out so badly, I never would have helped you that day. I feel guilty. If there’s ever something like this again, please don’t come to me!”

Hearing this, Shi Linchuan smiled.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be such a need again.”

Pei Yue didn’t get to say much more gossip before the man pulled her back to work, making her head buzz. For the first time in her life, she realized she hated working. She stood up to walk out, and while pushing the door, she suddenly turned around and reminded him:

“Boss, your dark circles are a bit heavy. If it’s really too much, just go to the lounge and lie down for a while. I’m truly afraid that next time I walk into the office, I’ll find you… not breathing.”

Shi Linchuan heard her, but remained unmoved.

Until the sun moved west, and the pale daylight was covered with a layer of gilded gauze, baking half the sky into a burning red, he finally raised a hand to pinch the space between his brows. He then pushed aside the files on his desk and dozed off right there,趴 (slumped) on the desk for a while.

Shi Linchuan closed his eyes, and it was as if he could smell that faint, bloody scent again.

Like rust, it wouldn’t go away.

This scent was like a mark, making him think uncontrollably about the situation that day.

That day, the emotions Xie Jinghe had held in and hidden again and again were forced out by him in their entirety. It was as if they had reached a dead end; he grabbed his collar and roared questions, the veins on his forehead and neck bulging, his whole face flushed red.

He was furious, and in extreme pain.

Listening to his own unbridled, undisguised laughter, Xie Jinghe clenched his fists with red eyes, but then, as if remembering something, he shuddered, shoved him away violently, smashed the files on the table to pieces, and, still not satisfied, pounded the table several times.

The table was fine, but his hand was bleeding.

The two parted on bad terms.

Shi Linchuan did not go home that night; he stayed directly in the office. And that person never sent him another message.

Since then, nearly a month had passed.

Sleepiness arrived, and fatigue arrived.

Yet, Shi Linchuan inexplicably felt a sense of relief.

Soon, smelling the blood that shouldn’t have been there for a long time, he slowly drifted into a dream.

There was nothing in the dream; Xie Jinghe didn’t come.

That’s good.

Fortunately, he didn’t come.

At the corner of the desk, the calendar flipped to the page for December.

There was a date circled in red ink.