Chapter 30#

Mu Xiao#

Lu Yan followed Mu Xiao to a nearby bar. It wasn’t too crowded yet at this hour, so the two habitually found a corner seat to sit down.

The bartender quickly served their drinks. Lu Yan only ordered a regular beer, while Mu Xiao ordered a cocktail called “Blue Mood”—just from the name, it didn’t sound like it would have a low alcohol content.

Mu Xiao swirled the light blue liquid in her glass, taking sips one after another, her gaze gradually growing hazy.

Lu Yan watched coldly. He had only taken one sip at the start and hadn’t touched his drink since, saying nothing. After all, it wasn’t him who truly had something to say—he could wait.

Time passed bit by bit, and the bar gradually filled with more customers. Mu Xiao was already on her third drink. She still hadn’t spoken, and Lu Yan wasn’t in a hurry either, but his thoughts drifted back to the scene he had witnessed earlier in the silence.

It seemed those two had been together for a while now. He wondered how they had taken a liking to each other this time, and most importantly, who had made the first move…

Just as Lu Yan was pondering this, Mu Xiao suddenly spoke up. Her first words made Lu Yan raise an eyebrow involuntarily.

“Back then, I thought the person who would make me lose love would be you.” As she spoke, the haze in Mu Xiao’s eyes had faded. A smile lingered at the corners of her mouth, and her tone sounded like a joke, but Lu Yan knew she was absolutely not joking.

Lu Yan didn’t respond. He believed she didn’t need him to say anything either.

Mu Xiao continued, “The first time I met him after joining the crew, he asked me about you. He seemed very interested in you. I haven’t been with him the longest, but not the shortest either. Before that, there were others who threw themselves at him, but he never accepted them. That man, though flirtatious, had one virtue: when he was with someone, he was absolutely loyal. He always ended one relationship before starting another. Every woman facing a heartbreaker like him would fantasize about being his last—I was no exception. So when I sensed his interest in you, I felt both angry and terrified. I truly loved him.”

Who “him” referred to was naturally clear to Lu Yan.

At this point, Mu Xiao gave Lu Yan an apologetic smile. “So back then, I was very unfriendly toward you. I hope you won’t take it to heart. Please understand the irrationality of a woman trapped in an unstable romance.”

Lu Yan thought to himself that this woman was indeed not simple—she never missed an opportunity to make the most advantageous choice for herself. He didn’t doubt her sincerity in wanting to mend ties with him now. Someone like Mu Xiao wouldn’t easily make enemies, especially not with someone as promising and limitless as Lu Yan. Since she had taken the initiative to show weakness, even if Lu Yan wasn’t particularly magnanimous, he couldn’t hold a grudge against her.

However, Lu Yan wasn’t someone who could be easily led by the nose. It wasn’t as if she could decide to be hostile or friendly on a whim. So he just smiled without committing himself.

Mu Xiao clearly knew when to stop. She didn’t push further and carried on with the topic herself. “Actually, even when I was with him, I had already anticipated today’s ending. Honestly, I didn’t lose out. When we were together, he treated me well and helped me a lot. We can say we got what we needed from each other. I just… feel a bit unwilling. To be honest, I would rather the person who made me lose love be you.”

As she spoke, Mu Xiao’s sparkling eyes turned toward Lu Yan.

Lu Yan remained unmoved and said calmly, “Can I take that as an attempt to sow discord?”

Mu Xiao didn’t hide her intentions either. She knew Lu Yan was clever and not easily fooled. She withdrew the flirtation from her eyes and lightly brushed her hair back. “You could say that. But I did happen to overhear that kid mention you once. He didn’t seem too convinced about your current success.”

Lu Yan didn’t fully believe Mu Xiao’s words. He knew Xu Yongzhou wasn’t that shallow, nor would he publicly show discontent toward someone in a better position when he didn’t have absolute power himself.

Still, Lu Yan had something he wanted to ask Mu Xiao, so he didn’t call her out. “Then do you know how they… um… got together?”

Mu Xiao chuckled lightly. “You mean hooked up? That’s fine, I think the same way. I know a little, but not the specifics. It seems Xu Yongzhou approached him first. How shameless.”

Lu Yan sneered inwardly. This woman was really petty. Most of the people who ended up with Su Jue probably threw themselves at him—she herself was likely no exception—yet here she was calling others shameless.

Nevertheless, Lu Yan had gotten the answer he wanted. He had no patience to keep indulging her melancholy, so he glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. Need me to take you back?”

“No need,” Mu Xiao said with a smile. “You go ahead. My assistant will pick me up later.”

Lu Yan nodded, dropped the pretense of chivalry, and stood to leave.

“Anyway, thank you. I feel much better after talking to you,” Mu Xiao suddenly added.

Lu Yan turned to look at her. She was smiling, but her eyes were once again clouded with sorrow.

She had truly been in love, after all, so this hurt wouldn’t fade so easily, no matter how carefree she acted.

But Lu Yan had no more sympathy to spare for her. Without another word, he left first.

Though he now had an added layer of caution toward Xu Yongzhou, Lu Yan didn’t have time to dwell on it. The earlier project Sniper had completed its preparations and was about to start filming.

Lu Yan took this film very seriously, arriving early at the set to meet the director, Zhou Yingcai.

Zhou Yingcai wasn’t the easiest person to get along with—he had a bit of an arrogant streak, indifferent to almost everything outside of film. Nonetheless, he was genuinely talented, which was why he could produce a masterpiece like Sniper. People with talent and an artistic bent often had odd temperaments, so Lu Yan was used to it. As Su Mo had once remarked about Lu Yan, as long as he was willing, he could get along with anyone—another one of his abilities. All in all, things were going well.

Since most of the story took place in the jungle, the crew spent the three-month shooting period deep in the mountains and forests. It was also the hottest time of the year. By the time filming wrapped, Lu Yan had tanned considerably, lost weight, but also become sharper and more refined. Some even joked at the wrap party that Lu Yan hadn’t shaken off his character yet, still carrying a murderous aura.

Lu Yan admitted he had been too immersed in this film, making it harder than usual to detach. But the results were clear. If Zhou Yingcai’s direction could be described as stunning, then Lu Yan’s performance was nothing short of breathtaking.

During this time, a major incident occurred.

Halfway through filming, the original investor suddenly pulled out for unknown reasons, leaving the funds unavailable.

Without money, they couldn’t continue filming, and all previous efforts would go to waste. Zhou Yingcai was so anxious he developed mouth sores, and Lu Yan was deeply troubled too—he had high hopes for this film. But in his previous life, he hadn’t been involved in the production, so he didn’t know if this funding crisis had happened back then or how it was resolved. He had no idea what to expect.

Just as the crew was about to pack up and leave, and Lu Yan was seriously considering asking Su Mo for help, good news finally came. The producer had somehow found a new investor, covering all remaining funds in one go. With that worry out of the way, the film was completed smoothly, and Lu Yan breathed a sigh of relief. This time, if they didn’t win several awards at the Cannes Film Festival, it would be an insult to all the twists and turns they had endured.

After filming wrapped, the producer mentioned that the new investor wanted to have a gathering with the key crew members. No one objected, and Lu Yan was eager to meet this timely benefactor.

Once they returned, a date was quickly set, and the venue was chosen as the city’s most famous bar.

This investor was quite interesting—choosing that kind of place, he must be young.

Lu Yan and the others arrived on time. When he saw the new investor, he couldn’t help but marvel at how small the world was and how strange fate could be. The one who had stepped in with funding during their crisis was none other than He Ming, the third young master of the He family, whom Lu Yan had recently met.

He Ming sat sprawled on the sofa, one leg crossed, swirling a glass in his hand, looking as wild and untamed as ever. Seeing Lu Yan and the others enter, he casually gestured, “Sit, don’t be formal.”

Zhou Yingcai was visibly excited. After introducing himself, he grasped He Ming’s hand and expressed endless gratitude. For him, it was a rebirth from near death, so he was naturally extremely thankful for He Ming’s generous help.

Lu Yan, on the other hand, was much calmer. He nodded and simply said, “Young Master He.”

He Ming raised his glass to him and smiled. “We meet again. We agreed to have a drink last time, and now it’s finally happening.”

Lu Yan smiled back. “So Young Master He remembered.”

The producer, who had introduced them, looked surprised. “You already knew each other?”

He Ming laughed. “We just met recently, but we hit it off. To be honest, if I hadn’t known Lu Yan was the lead actor in this film, I might not have invested.”

Lu Yan hadn’t expected that. He raised his glass and said, “I’m honored by your regard, Young Master He. I’ll drink to you.” He downed his drink in one gulp.

He Ming also drained his glass and laughed. “I like your straightforwardness. A man should be like that—no hesitation.”

Sitting nearby, Zhou Yingcai’s face flushed red. He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words.

The producer quickly smoothed things over. “Come on, let’s all toast Young Master He together, thanking him for stepping in during our crisis and allowing our film to be completed successfully.”

He Ming, though born into a prestigious family, had a rough-and-tumble demeanor shaped by his personality and early experiences. He acted purely on whim. Those he liked could say anything; those he didn’t, he wouldn’t even bother acknowledging. Given his status, others had to please him—he had no need to accommodate them. Throughout the gathering, he mostly talked to Lu Yan, leaving everyone else as mere background.

Zhou Yingcai felt a bit uncomfortable but had no choice. The one paying called the shots, and even as proud as he was, he knew there were people he couldn’t afford to offend. He sat quietly drinking all night, but at least the producer was decent enough to chat with him occasionally.