Chapter 21#

Xu Yongzhou#

The two of them found a somewhat upscale restaurant nearby and settled into a private room.

Since it was close to Starlight, the restaurants in the area were often frequented by celebrities and entertainers, and most placed a high value on customer privacy, with well-trained staff. So even though these two—one a hot new acting star and the other the male lead of a popular idol drama—were recognized the moment they entered, it didn’t cause much of a stir. The excited waitstaff simply led them to the private room, pulled out autograph paper and pens, and politely asked for their signatures.

After the waiter closed the door and left, Xu Yongzhou took off his disguise sunglasses, winked at Lu Yan with a smile, and said, “This feeling isn’t so bad, is it?”

Lu Yan smiled but didn’t say anything.

Xu Yongzhou then lightly complained, “Speaking of which, Lu Yan, you’re really unreliable. You changed your phone number without telling me.”

Lu Yan casually explained, “I was too busy right after changing numbers to inform anyone. By the time I tried to get in touch, you had already changed yours too.”

“Ah, what a coincidence,” Xu Yongzhou replied, without delving deeper into why neither of them had tried to contact the other through mutual classmates. Some things had already changed, and neither was willing to lay them bare. Better to leave it vague and tacitly understood.

In truth, Lu Yan had deliberately avoided telling Xu Yongzhou his new number.

Lu Yan had no intention of seeking revenge; his life had more important goals, and he had no time or energy to waste on pointless hatred or retaliation.

But Lu Yan was no saint either. He could never let go of the hurt from the past—even if, for the other person, that “past” hadn’t yet happened.

On the other hand, Lu Yan still harbored a grudge. While he wasn’t planning revenge, he certainly wouldn’t let himself be pushed around. The threat Xu Yongzhou had posed still weighed heavily on his mind. He didn’t know why Xu Yongzhou had treated him that way, and more importantly, he didn’t know if he could still obstruct him in the future. The best course was to stand high—so high that the other could never reach him.

As he buried himself in striving toward that goal, Lu Yan had inevitably neglected to gather information on his opponent. He hadn’t expected Xu Yongzhou to appear before him so soon, and it made him silently cautious.

They chatted idly. Xu Yongzhou talked about his experiences over the past half year, just as Lu Yan had heard from Chen Yiming. Originally, Xu Yongzhou had only gone to audition for a minor role in a drama—not even an audition, more like an application. He hadn’t taken it seriously, thinking it was just another chance to gain experience. But luck was on his side. The original male lead, dissatisfied with the cast, had jumped ship to a higher-profile drama. With filming about to start, he’d abruptly backed out, his agent casually claiming scheduling conflicts and walking away. The furious director, unable to find a well-known actor with free time, decided to take a chance on a newcomer. That’s when Xu Yongzhou came in for a bit part. His image and temperament fit perfectly, and upon questioning, he turned out to be a professionally trained top student. The director immediately cast him as the male lead.

What no one expected was that this ordinary idol drama—whose leads weren’t even popular—would strike a chord with viewers. The first few episodes got lukewarm responses, but then ratings soared. Naturally, the cast became famous, especially Xu Yongzhou’s gentle, devoted male lead who silently watched over the heroine, winning him massive popularity. Ironically, the original male lead, who’d abandoned this drama for a big-budget production, saw his new show flop. The regret nearly killed him, but he had no one to blame but himself.

In short, Xu Yongzhou shot to fame thanks to that idol drama, smoothly signed with Starlight, and was now filming another idol drama—this time as the lead, not the second lead.

Lu Yan listened quietly, occasionally chiming in. As for his own experiences, he didn’t need to say a word. The relentless publicity over the past few months made it impossible to ignore, especially for Xu Yongzhou, who was now in the same agency.

After finishing his story, Xu Yongzhou smiled, half-seriously, half-jokingly. “I thought I was lucky enough—stumbling into an idol drama, getting famous, and joining Starlight. But you, Lu Yan, always manage to outdo me. Two blockbuster movies in a row—probably very few people in China don’t know your name by now.”

Lu Yan chuckled. “Come on, it’s not that exaggerated.”

Xu Yongzhou laughed along, then said gossipily, “But seriously, what I envy most isn’t that. It’s that your agent is Qin Feng. Qin Feng—the dream agent for every artist. Lu Yan, what kind of luck did you have to get a big shot like him to take you on personally?”

Lu Yan put on a mysterious air. “What do you think?”

Xu Yongzhou blinked, testing the waters. “I heard Director Li Ran thinks highly of you, and his connection with Starlight is said to be pretty deep.”

Lu Yan smiled noncommittally.

Actually, it wasn’t just Xu Yongzhou. Almost everyone believed that Lu Yan’s association with ace agent Qin Feng was due to Li Ran.

After all, during the promotion of Edge of the Blade, Li Ran had never hidden his admiration for Lu Yan—something quite rare before. And Li Ran’s relationship with Starlight made people assume he had influence over the agency’s top agent.

As for the real force behind the scenes, Su Mo, he was far too low-key. Even Starlight’s own artists rarely saw him, so naturally, few linked Lu Yan, a newcomer, with him. The front desk receptionist and two event staff who’d first encountered Lu Yan had merely gossiped idly. Besides, Su Mo had stopped coming to Starlight, and that episode was almost forgotten.

Lu Yan didn’t intend to explain.

Not because he thought being associated with Su Mo was bad—quite the opposite. If people in the industry knew Su Mo favored him, his treatment would only improve. As for the envy and mockery that would follow, he didn’t care. Only those in lower positions harbored such feelings. Lu Yan’s goals had always been high; he didn’t look down.

He refrained from explaining simply because it was unnecessary. First, even if he told, others might not believe him, thinking he was delusional. Second, while he wouldn’t reject the convenience Su Mo provided, he didn’t want to actively exploit it.

Besides, revealing his hand in front of someone he was wary of—that was something Lu Yan would never do.

So, to Xu Yongzhou’s guess, Lu Yan remained silent, neither confirming nor denying.

Xu Yongzhou naturally took it as confirmation.

They ate and chatted. Xu Yongzhou brought up one topic after another, and Lu Yan replied with a casual air that didn’t feel dismissive, just like the old days in school.

But something had changed. Lu Yan could clearly sense Xu Yongzhou’s transformation. And he knew he himself had changed too, even without the experience of another life.

For some reason, Lu Yan felt a faint melancholy. He could still picture them—close friends—sneaking beer to the rooftop of the school building at night, drinking, talking about the future, swearing they’d always be brothers no matter where life took them. Those words still echoed, but everything had changed.

What could last forever? Or, less ambitiously, what could stay the same for just one lifetime? Was there anything?

When they left the restaurant, the cold air hit them, and as he looked at Xu Yongzhou, who had put on his sunglasses again to disguise himself, Lu Yan cast those vague emotions aside.

In life, nothing was eternal. Those occasional moments of sentiment didn’t deserve to linger. Since he had chosen his goal, he would walk forward without looking back.

The next few days were indeed much calmer. Qin Feng had turned down some less important gigs and quickly sent over brand materials, past advertising concepts, and the features and promotional focus of the new season’s products.

Lu Yan still woke up early, as he had for years, jogged for half an hour, rested, and made his own breakfast. The few assignments he had sometimes fell in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, occasionally in the evening. In his free time, he read materials, searched for videos online, listened to music, and tried to find inspiration.

M Company’s men’s watches had always catered to the business elite, projecting an image of discipline, composure, and calm efficiency. Combined with its mid-range pricing, the brand was popular among white-collar workers.

But the new season’s watches were a business-casual series, emphasizing a relaxed, homey elegance suitable for leisure time.

That was why M Company wanted a new Asian spokesperson to embody this fusion.

The scheduled photo shoot was three days later, at M Company’s local office.

Lu Yan arrived half an hour early. The M Company director, Gavin, a cheerful middle-aged man with a big belly, smiled warmly and instantly put people at ease. He was a natural businessman and expressed great satisfaction with Lu Yan’s professionalism.

Europeans valued efficiency. After exchanging greetings, Gavin wasted no time and led Lu Yan and his team to the studio.

The studio lights and props were already set up. The photographer, a young man in his twenties with a neat buzz cut and sun-darkened skin, was adjusting his lens, searching for the best angle.

Surprisingly, he was Chinese—and Lu Yan knew him.

Seeing Lu Yan, the photographer flashed a hearty smile and greeted him. “Hello, Mr. Lu Yan. I’m today’s photographer.”

Lu Yan smiled back. “I know you, Ren Yanfei. Your work often appears in National Geographic. I really like your photos.”