Chapter 24#
Chi Gui’s original black tie was unfastened and casually set aside.
Perhaps because the distance between them was too close, Jing Shun found that the tea fragrance on the other’s clothes seemed stronger today, now teasing his nerves aggressively.
He met the face so near to his, subtly controlling his breathing rate, before slipping the new tie around Chi Gui’s shirt collar.
“Th-then, shall I try tying it?”
“Mm.”
Chi Gui lowered his gaze.
Jing Shun’s hands were beautiful—slender and fair, with nails trimmed neatly, only the rounded fingertips tinged with a pale pink.
But upon closer inspection, one would notice a small, light brown mole on the side of his right middle finger, somewhat adorable.
Having learned the skill long ago, Jing Shun didn’t rush to act. Instead, he held the tie, turning it over in his hands as he silently pondered the correct steps.
Chi Gui watched him with this earnest expression, asking knowingly, “Who did you learn from? It feels like you don’t usually wear formal attire.”
“When I was young, I went to a red carpet with a film crew and learned a few knots from a costume designer.” Jing Shun felt the faint, warm breath brushing against his forehead and dared not look up. “Don’t ask; I’ll get distracted and tie it poorly.”
A hint of a smile lurked in Chi Gui’s eyes. “Alright.”
Despite claiming he might tie it poorly, Jing Shun’s movements were not clumsy but rather nimble.
In less than half a minute, he had tied an exquisite, standard Kelvin knot and withdrew his hands.
Chi Gui pressed further, “That’s it? Need any adjustments?”
“Let me see.”
Jing Shun examined it carefully, adjusting the folds beneath the knot before flipping down the shirt collar.
In that instant, his cool, slender fingertips inadvertently grazed Chi Gui’s throat, a strange, tingling sensation fleeting.
“…”
“…”
Though it was an utterly incidental action, they both froze in unison.
Chi Gui’s back stiffened instantly, and his voice dropped a pitch when he spoke again. “Is it done?”
Jing Shun, thinking the other disliked such accidental, almost teasing contact, quickly withdrew his hand. “It’s done. See if it fits?”
“Mm.”
Chi Gui stepped back, stood up, and adjusted himself.
Jing Shun subtly rubbed his fingertips together, feeling as if a nameless flame clung to them, impossible to extinguish.
Chi Gui composed himself, turned around, and said, “It fits well. I’ll keep it on.”
Jing Shun rolled up the tie Chi Gui had swapped out and placed it in a gift box. Remembering the group waiting outside for Chi Gui, he asked, “If it’s inconvenient for you to take it out, should I bring it home for you later?”
“Mm, sounds fine.”
Chi Gui fastened his suit jacket’s outer button with one hand. “I have a business association meeting and a banquet later, so I won’t be able to pick you up. I’ll have Old Zhang come early?”
Jing Shun shook his head. “We’re recording two episodes back-to-back today, so I’m not sure when I’ll finish. I’ll head back with Brother Yu when we’re done.”
After their recent interactions, Chi Gui felt at ease with Jing Shun’s agent, Yu Xiuzhu. “Alright, I’ll head out first. Record well.”
Jing Shun nodded and watched Chi Gui stride away.
Only when the restroom door shut did he quickly open his wristwatch to check the physiological data recorded moments ago: 102pbm.
“…”
That was close.
Thank goodness he tied it fast.
If he’d delayed another two minutes, Chi Gui would have likely received an alert notification.
Knock, knock.
A knock sounded.
Yu Xiuzhu entered with a makeup artist. “Xiao Jing, it’s about time. Shall we start on your styling?”
Jing Shun turned off his watch interface and nodded calmly. “Alright.”
…
Chi Gui’s visit to Seaside Television was merely a formality. Aside from proactively suggesting a visit to the recording studio, he had no interest in other department plans or venues.
After his “chance encounter” with Jing Shun, he quickly lost interest and made an excuse to leave early.
The luxury black car, worth over a million, sped down the road.
Chi Gui looked down at the data on his tablet and made a decisive call. “Wei Di, have headquarters prepare the contract signing. Find an appropriate time to formally sign with Seaside.”
Driver Old Zhang was at the wheel, while Wei Di sat in the passenger seat. “Understood, sir.”
Chen Yiming, seated beside him, seized the chance to brief the afternoon schedule. “Sir, from 3 to 5 PM is the Entrepreneur Club’s quarterly business meeting, and from 5:30 to 8:30 PM, there’s a banquet.”
“Mm, noted.”
Chi Gui turned off the tablet. Catching a glimpse of his tie’s reflection on the black screen, he asked casually, “Is there official photography scheduled for today’s meeting and banquet?”
Chen Yiming replied, “Yes, it’s official, but I coordinated with Chairman Chen’s secretary early on. No videos or photos of you will be released today.”
Chi Gui disliked public appearances and detested being photographed—this was well-known in the industry.
Because of this, his whereabouts and achievements over the past two years had become increasingly mysterious to outsiders. After all, the more invisible a significant figure, the broader the imagination.
Chen Yiming, knowing his superior’s habits well, believed his arrangement was appropriate.
To his surprise, Chi Gui deviated from his norm. “It’s fine to take one or two photos occasionally at meetings and banquets, as long as they’re reviewed before public release.”
“…”
Chen Yiming was taken aback. “Sh-should I arrange that?”
Wei Di, in the front passenger seat, also looked up, barely suppressing his curiosity to turn around.
Chi Gui didn’t repeat himself. He simply adjusted his tie with a smooth motion.
As a personal assistant with sharp observation skills, Chen Yiming noticed the change immediately. “Sir, your tie—has it been changed?”
Hadn’t he been wearing a black-gray diagonal pattern this morning?
Chi Gui had been waiting for this very question, not showing off in the slightest. “Mm, a gift from Jing Shun.”
“…”
Chen Yiming understood instantly.
Right.
Tonight would definitely require some good photography.
Driver Old Zhang glanced in the rearview mirror and complimented, “Young Master Jing has excellent taste.”
Chi Gui was pleased. “Old Zhang, I hear from Uncle Lin that your son is getting married next weekend?”
Old Zhang replied, “Yes, sir. Next Saturday.”
Chi Gui instructed Chen Yiming, “Prepare some gifts for him then, and add a raise to Old Zhang’s wages.”
Old Zhang was overjoyed. “Oh, thank you, sir!”
“Understood.”
Chen Yiming nodded, as if he’d just found the perfect shortcut to a raise for himself.
…
Jing Shun’s medical report had spread widely online, evoking sympathy and compassion from all who saw it. As the final episodes were being recorded, many crew members came to check on him and offer encouragement.
While touched, Jing Shun also felt a pang of guilt and unease—
After all, the creation of a show was the result of many people’s collective effort.
Although the online turmoil concerning him had subsided, many netizens had been swayed by the discourse, “righteously” giving the show one-star ratings on Douban, indirectly dragging down its overall score.
Before filming began, Jing Shun spent his own money to buy over a hundred cups of coffee and milk tea. Entrusting Yu Xiuzhu, he had them delivered to the set as a small gesture of apology.
During a half-hour break in the middle of recording, Jing Shun, holding a bag of coffee, hesitated before knocking on Fu Changting’s dressing room door.
“Who is it?”
The door soon opened; it was his agent, Chen Jiang.
Seeing Jing Shun in his wheelchair, Chen Jiang’s earlier wariness was replaced by polite courtesy. “Mr. Jing.”
Fu Changting, who was touching up his makeup, turned and looked over. “Is that Jing Shun? Come in.”
Jing Shun, holding the coffee bag, entered and greeted, “Brother Ting, sorry to bother you. I had some coffee bought. See if there’s a flavor you like.”
Fu Changting smiled, accepting the gesture. “Thanks. I’ve been running on back-to-back schedules and lacking sleep. I was just thinking about getting some coffee to perk up.”
He took out an oat milk latte, then handed the rest to Chen Jiang and the makeup artist. “You all take these out and share them. I’ll have a private chat with Jing Shun.”
Chen Jiang didn’t object, signaling the staff to leave with him.
The dressing room door was left ajar, giving them a private space to talk.
Jing Shun relaxed considerably, broaching the main topic. “Brother Ting, thank you for speaking up for me on Weibo earlier.”
Fu Changting guessed that’s what he was here about. “Don’t mention it. I don’t usually pay much attention to Weibo, but my assistant mentioned it, so I found out.”
He had seen the insults and doubts under Jing Shun’s original post, and found it all repulsive.
Fu Changting offered comfort. “These days, netizens have all kinds of standards. It’s easy for them to be swayed by paid trolls. Don’t take any harsh words to heart.”
“I hope my belated support was at least some help.”
Jing Shun said, “Brother Ting, your fans are wonderful. I received many encouraging messages from them in my inbox.”
Fu Changting responded with a smile. “I saw quite a few comments too. Some even want to see us truly collaborate for a third time.”
He followed up smoothly. “Xiao Jing, since this show is wrapping up, what are your plans next? Do you still want to return to acting?”
“Of course I do, but given my current situation, I probably won’t be getting any scripts in the short term.”
Jing Shun was realistic but not discouraged. “I still have a second surgery coming up. If all goes well, I might start rehabilitation afterward.”
In short, step by step.
Fu Changting agreed. “Mm, health is the foundation. You’re still young; there’s plenty of time ahead.”
Jing Shun nodded, speaking from the heart. “Brother Ting, I’m really glad I met you again and reconnected through this show. I wish you all the best in the future.”
Fu Changting met his sincere gaze, his thoughts drifting back ten years.
Back then, he was a rookie actor, his skills still raw. During the first week of a new drama shoot, there was a scene he botched seventeen times in a row, driving the director to yell through a megaphone on set.
It was the most crushing day of Fu Changting’s early career, so much so that he contemplated quitting.
That day, a young child actor—Jing Shun—ran up to him, acting like a little adult, offering encouragement and comfort.
Years had passed.
Perhaps due to the physical pain he endured, the Jing Shun before him now had less of that sunny, optimistic spark, becoming more reserved and withdrawn. Yet he still offered heartfelt wishes to him just as before.
Fu Changting’s emotions stirred with a mix of nostalgia and regret. Steadying himself, he replied, “Xiao Jing, you’ll get better. If there’s a chance in the future, let’s act together again.”
Jing Shun accepted this hopeful promise with a smile. “Alright.”
…
The recording ended at nearly 9 PM.
Yu Xiuzhu had prepared bouquets of flowers for the crew as a wrap-up. “Everyone, you’ve worked hard! Since it’s late and two guests have flights to catch, we’ll properly celebrate at the official wrap-up banquet another time!”
This invitation naturally received everyone’s acknowledgment.
After bidding farewell to everyone, Jing Shun followed Yu Xiuzhu back to the car. He held the still-vibrant bouquet close, a bit reluctant to let go.
“Time really flies. It’s over in the blink of an eye.”
This variety show was his first acting opportunity in years.
Although there had been bumps along the way, it was still the first step back into professional social work, and he was grateful.
Yu Xiuzhu started the engine. “You’ve worked hard over this period. The program fee should be settled in a few days. I’ll have it all transferred to you.”
The appearance fees from the entertainment industry, even for regular people, were still substantial.
Remembering this fee, Jing Shun seriously proposed, “Brother Yu, why don’t you take a cut for the company? Even close brothers need to settle accounts clearly. And I have a signed artist contract with the company.”
“If you favor me like this, other signed artists might have objections if they find out.”
Jing Shun didn’t want Yu Xiuzhu to be put in a difficult position.
His agreement with Chi Gui would expire next summer. Until then, he could still find other work avenues to save money diligently.
Yu Xiuzhu heard the sincerity and insistence in Jing Shun’s tone and reluctantly agreed. “Fine. Forget the previous amount. For this final installment, we’ll follow the contract’s 70-30 split. That okay?”
Seeing he relented, Jing Shun beamed. “Deal!”
Yu Xiuzhu recalled some gossip he’d heard from others and shared it with Jing Shun. “Meng Zhide didn’t show up today. Do you know why?”
“Huh?”
“Dong Qihao was the artist he recommended and invited. After all this online backlash, the deputy station head gave him a severe scolding.”
“He was criticized for not screening the artist’s risks beforehand and was publicly reprimanded at the meeting. He didn’t come today probably because he felt embarrassed.”
“…”
Jing Shun took in the gossip, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Oh.”
Seeing he wasn’t particularly interested, Yu Xiuzhu brought up another matter. “By the way, I’ll be reaching out to the Counterstrike crew soon to negotiate for your accident compensation.”
Jing Shun was surprised. “They’re willing to negotiate?”
In his past life, Jing Shun hadn’t signed with any agency. After the accident, no one stepped up to advocate for him.
He had endured the pain himself, repeatedly contacting and demanding compensation, only to be stalled by the investors who saw him as isolated and helpless.
In desperation, Jing Shun had taken the crew and investors to court!
That dragged-on case took nearly two years, and he only received 120,000 in compensation.
Jing Shun had thought the crew would be a tough nut to crack this time too. Why had they relented so quickly?
Yu Xiuzhu answered honestly. “My dad knows President Lai, one of the investors, so I had him put in a good word.”
Yu Chuan was a well-known director with considerable influence in film and investment circles. Sometimes, it helped to pull some strings.
Yu Xiuzhu continued, “They know you have a favorable public opinion advantage right now, so they probably want to avoid a lawsuit. As for the compensation amount, they’ll need to unify their stance first and then negotiate with you.”
Jing Shun understood the interpersonal intricacies and was grateful. “Please thank Director Yu for his trouble.”
Yu Xiuzhu smiled. “Family connections are best put to use.”
“But this will take time. I’ll find a lawyer to check the details, figure out a reasonable amount to claim, and then we can arrange a meeting.”
“Mm.”
…
By mid-April, warmth had already crept into the air.
“Woof!”
The dog chased a frisbee across the lawn, occasionally tripping and falling when unable to stop its momentum.
Jing Shun laughed multiple times at his little dog, snapping photos relentlessly despite his phone battery running low.
Suddenly, a call from Yu Xiuzhu came through.
Jing Shun answered. “Hello? Brother Yu.”
“Xiao Jing, I have something to tell you.” Yu Xiuzhu cut straight to the point. “I found out today that the accident compensation from the crew has been disbursed.”
“So fast?”
“Mm, a full 300,000. But it was claimed by someone last Friday.”
“…”
Before Jing Shun could even be surprised by the amount, the second half of the sentence hit him like a ton of bricks. “What do you mean? Who claimed it?”
Yu Xiuzhu, usually composed and gentle, could barely contain his anger over the phone.
“The head of the investment side said that a man named Jing Guanhai, using his ID card and household register, claimed the money in the capacity of your biological father!”