“Men can’t be described as cute.”
After his face was thoroughly pinched and rubbed, the man suddenly grew serious.
Jiang Fuyue: “Then what should I call you?”
“Handsome, good-looking, charming—all of those are fine.”
“But I just think you’re cute. What should I do then?”
What else could he do?
“…Then… cute it is.”
That was fine too.
Jiang Fuyue smiled all the way home. Even when the car stopped in front of the villa, the curve at her lips didn’t fade.
The man seemed to be infected, his own mood equally bright.
“I’m heading in.” Jiang Fuyue unfastened her seatbelt and reached for the door.
The next second, the man’s long arm shot across, holding the door shut, not letting her open it.
She turned, only to be caught off guard by the man’s deep eyes. His mask was already off, and with an aura of possession, he crushed his lips onto hers.
“Mm—”
This time, the man was clearly more practiced, even playing tricks.
Jiang Fuyue’s eyes widened in shock.
This guy actually dared to stick… that!
Tsk!
When the kiss ended, the man looked thoroughly satisfied. Jiang Fuyue leaned back against the seat, breathing a little fast, her gaze guilty as it drifted toward the second floor through the car window.
Luckily, her younger brother wasn’t home.
“Professor Xie, that was a sneak attack. No martial ethics at all.”
“Dating isn’t a fistfight. What martial ethics?”
“…I’m going in.”
This time, Xie Dingyuan didn’t stop her.
He watched her walk inside before finally driving back to the house next door.
…
That night, the moon was bright and the world still.
On the second floor master bedroom, after his shower, Xie Dingyuan leaned against the headboard and picked up his phone.
Opening Qiandu, he typed into the search bar—
【Who is Long Aotian】
Tens of thousands of entries popped up. He casually tapped one—
An internet term. English name Dragon Proud Sky… used to mock characters in novels, comics, and anime who appear extremely powerful right from the start, act without logic or reason, and yet can easily defeat strong opponents…
Professor Xie: “…”
…
The next morning, the blazing sun was dazzling.
After waking, washing, and dressing, the first thing Xie Dingyuan did was send Jiang Fuyue a message—
【Yueyue, come over.】
She replied five minutes later: 【What for?】
【I have a French first-edition of Ebbinghaus’s The World’s Essence of Physics.】
【On my way!】
Xie Dingyuan shook his head with a smile, set the phone down, and went to the full-length mirror to fix his appearance.
The collar wasn’t straight enough, the front had wrinkles, one button was misaligned…
He adjusted until everything was flawless, then went downstairs.
He waited on the sofa for two minutes. Still no knock on the door. After a thought, he decided to prepare a fruit plate in the kitchen.
Jiang Fuyue liked apples, oranges, strawberries…
He carefully cut everything, inserting toothpicks into each piece, all kept at the same height, before carrying it out proudly to the coffee table.
Just as he sat down, the door lock clicked.
Xie Dingyuan’s eyes lit up, and he strode toward the entryway. “Yue—”
The door opened.
Zhong Ziang burst in, full of energy.
“Uncle! I missed you so much!” He spread his arms wide for a bear hug. “Saw my mom’s message, right? Still, you coming all the way to the door to greet me—I’m already touched! Hey, what were you about to say just now?”
Xie Dingyuan was a bit dazed, even forgetting to push Zhong Ziang off.
“I heard something like ‘Yue’—Yue what? Don’t tell me it’s ‘you’re getting more and more out of hand.’ I already asked Mom to notify you before I came. I filed a report ahead of time!”
Saying this, Zhong Ziang had already changed into slippers and was walking straight to the living room. “Huh? Where’s Aunt Liu? Don’t see her around.”
Seeing Xie Dingyuan still standing frozen at the door, he turned back. “Uncle?”
“…Hm?” The man snapped out of it.
“What are you spacing out for? I asked about Aunt Liu. Usually, the moment I get home, she’s right there telling me what delicious food she’s made. How come I don’t see her today? Is she on the balcony? I’ll check—oh wow! Fruit plate!”
His eyes sparkled. Like a hungry wolf, he pounced, biting left and right. “Mmm! So sweet!”
Xie Dingyuan: “…”
Zhong Ziang: “And it looks way better than before! Aunt Liu’s fruit plate skills leveled up—thumbs up!”
Xie Dingyuan: “…”
The professor didn’t want to speak. He only wanted to kick his dear nephew out.
He went back to the sofa and picked up his phone. Two unread messages.
One from Xie Yunzhao: 【Angang is heading to your place. We tried persuading him, but he wouldn’t listen. Keep an eye on him, don’t let him cause trouble.】
One from Jiang Fuyue: 【Just remembered I have something to do. Won’t come over.】
He replied: 【Okay.】
But his mood sank—not quite disappointed, but still a bit stifled.
Suddenly—dingdong!
Jiang Fuyue: [kiss.jpg]
In an instant, the gloom cleared. A smile spread across his lips.
Looking at Zhong Ziang—who had already devoured most of the fruit plate—his gaze turned serious. “Aunt Liu’s on vacation. Went back to her hometown.”
“Oh.” Ziang nodded. “So you’ve been living alone these days? What about meals?”
Xie Dingyuan sat opposite him, suddenly solemn. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Ziang glanced at him, still chewing. “What is it, Uncle? Why so serious…”
“I’m with Jiang—”
“Hold up! My phone’s buzzing. Let me pick this up first. Hello? Yeah, I’m already here, where are you?”
Xie Dingyuan’s lips tightened.
Ziang: “What? Playing outdoor basketball under this sun? Are you nuts? Yeah, yeah, I said you’re nuts! Wouldn’t hitting the internet café be better? Okay, I’ll come now.”
He hung up. “Uncle, I’m heading out. Probably pulling an all-nighter, don’t save me dinner. Bye—”
Gone like the wind.
The words Xie Dingyuan hadn’t finished could only be swallowed back down.
He thought, Tomorrow. I’ll sit him down tomorrow. About me and Jiang Fuyue—this isn’t something to hide, nor is there any need to.
…
Meanwhile, Jiang Fuyue had already changed clothes and was about to head out when Wu Qian arrived.
That was when she remembered—she’d asked her younger brother two days ago to tell Uncle Wu to come over.
“Study. Let’s talk there.”
She went upstairs, sending Xie Dingyuan a quick message that she wouldn’t be coming for now.
Little Brother Jiang, hearing footsteps, cracked open his bedroom door, peeking at Uncle Wu and then at his sister.
In the study—
“Sit.” Jiang Fuyue pointed opposite.
Wu Qian sat, a bit stiff. Facing someone twenty years younger, he felt no superiority at all. Instead, he tensed up, as if preparing for battle.
“Tell me your thoughts on Xingyue.”
Wu Qian considered for a moment. “Currently Xingyue has three contracted streamers. Besides Chen Xing, there’s Zhuo Bufan and Yu Wenzhou. Our main business is short-video live streaming. Profits come mostly from traffic monetization. That’s enough for an individual studio, but too thin for a full company.”
“And as the saying goes, you can’t put all your eggs in one basket. Right now Xingyue relies entirely on two platforms—Tremor and Slowhand.
“Put it this way: the house we’ve built stands on their land. If one day they repossess it, no matter how beautiful our house is, it’ll still be knocked down.”
“So I think instead of just using videos to attract fans to the platform, we should focus on building up the streamers themselves. If successful, they won’t just be streamers—they could become stars.”
As he spoke, Wu Qian’s logic grew clearer, his words flowing faster.
“A star’s influence isn’t tied to a single platform. They themselves become the container for fans. Wherever they go, fans gather. That way, we break free of the platform’s control. In fact, platforms will invite us in for traffic.”
Even Jiang Fuyue had to nod in agreement.
“Go on.”
Wu Qian: “Most influencer companies don’t dare take this step for two reasons: one, their streamers lack quality. Two, they can’t access entertainment resources.
“Of course, these exist for us too, but they’re solvable.”
“How?”
“Take Chenxing. I had a drama professor evaluate him across twenty-plus categories: looks, height, IQ, talent, EQ, audience affinity… His comprehensive score: 95 out of 100. Even the professor said he’s a perfect seedling for the industry. If we train him early, his career could be longer than most. That means greater achievement potential.”
Wu Qian had mulled this over countless times, but never voiced it until now.
He could’ve coasted along comfortably, earning millions each year. But that wasn’t Jiang Fuyue’s original intent when she’d handed him that 500k startup check.
She herself was bold, daring to break convention—like enrolling at Ming University with a perfect score. Who else had such guts?
Wu Qian had made up his mind: no more waiting, only forward.
Today’s face-to-face with Jiang Fuyue was the first step.
Even if it failed, he wouldn’t regret trying.
Jiang Fuyue set down the report. Her expression was unreadable. “What else?”
Wu Qian’s eyes shone. “Yu Wenzhou’s mouth is sharp, and he’s got humor. With professional coaching, his delivery has improved a lot. His popularity from Roast Talk proves how strong variety shows and dramas are for building fanbases.
“As for Zhuo Bufan—he’s hardworking, looks good, tall, photogenic. The kind that can hold a death-camera shot. Teachers say he’s screen material. Several web dramas already want him.”
“Resources are in place. Our three anchors each have unique strengths. Timing and conditions are right. The question is whether we shift into entertainment management.”
Jiang Fuyue: “…That’s all?”
“More or less.”
“You’ve clearly thought this through. How long have you had the idea?”
“About half a year. When kids’ drama crews invited Chenxing for auditions, I began gathering info.”
He’d even connected with small-time screenwriters and directors, laying foundation.
But funding power lay with Jiang Fuyue. Today was his test.
Just then—knock knock.
“Sis, it’s me.”
“Come in.”
Little Brother Jiang entered with two glasses of water. “Brought you tea.”
Jiang Fuyue: “Mm, set it down.”
Wu Qian took one.
The boy shuffled, clearly unwilling to leave. “Then… I’ll go?”
“Weren’t you leaving?”
“Sis…” he asked shyly, “Can I stay?”
“…I’m in middle school now. I can understand your talk!”
Just as he braced for rejection, Jiang Fuyue spoke—
“Fine. After all, this concerns you.”
He beamed. “Thanks, Sis!”
She sipped tea. “So—how much?”
Wu Qian blinked. “Eh?”
“Budget.”
“For the first stage… roughly twenty million…” His heart thumped, fearing the number too high.
“Okay. Call this person—Liu Jinzhong. He’ll prepare a check.” She handed him a card.
For a moment, Wu Qian was frozen.
It took Little Brother Jiang pressing the card into his hand for him to recover.
Just like that… agreed?!
By the time he left the gated community with a 20M check, he felt like he was floating.
So much struggle, hesitation, yet in the end, one conversation—and it was done.
He swore then and there: he’d make Xingyue rise, become the new myth of star-making.
…
Back at the company, Wu Qian called a meeting.
Beforehand, his secretary hesitated: “That lady is here again… waiting in the small conference room.”
Wu Qian paused.
His ex-wife.
She begged for remarriage, citing their daughter.
But he cut her coldly: “You’ve already remarried. The child I’ll support. But you—have nothing to do with me.”
Dragged out by security, she shrieked accusations of him being bewitched by “younger, prettier women.”
Cleaning staff whispered on the side:
“Shameless woman, trying to use her daughter to tie Wu Zong down again.”
“As if he’d ever go back. He treats Jiang Chenxing better than his own son. The two are more like father and son.”
The ex-wife, dragged away, narrowed her eyes coldly and etched the name in her heart—
Jiang Chenxing.
