Xie Shenci was taken aback by her words. Forcing himself to stay calm, he tensed up his face. His Adam’s apple bobbled slightly as he uttered, “Like coaxing a child.”
No matter who commented on his appearance or age, none of the adjectives they used had anything to do with the ones she chose.
But since it was her saying it, his composure was naturally thrown into disarray.
“No.” Chu Duxiu denied flatly. In her heart, she thought that it was more like coaxing a kitten and had nothing to do with a child.
Flanked by lush trees, the path was delightful by day with its thick foliage and refreshing atmosphere, but at night, the shadows deepened, turning it into a labyrinth of barriers.
Chu Duxiu, worried that Xie Shenci might get scratched again, suggested, “How about we take the main road and loop around through the garden?”
For anyone else, without his particular woes, stray branches wouldn’t be a concern.
Xie Shenci pondered for a moment, blinked, and said, “It’s fine. Let’s stick to this path – just need to be careful.”
She looked concerned. “Are you sure? Are you still thinking clearly?”
“Not drunk, just a bit dizzy.”
Chu Duxiu was skeptical, especially as she watched him stride ahead, brushing past branches several times and nearly repeating the earlier scene. She grew increasingly convinced that he was swaying from dizziness, weaving in an S-shaped path as he walked.
Fortunately, the remaining branches in the garden had been trimmed, and Xie Shenci made it through the neighborhood unscathed – though for some reason, he seemed faintly disappointed.
Upon exiting the neighborhood, the streets were ablaze with lights, and storefronts along the road still glowed brightly. While it lacked the bustling nightscape of Haicheng, the small town offered its own serene and luminous tranquility.
The hotel was just ahead at the intersection. Unconsciously, the two slowed their pace, savoring a leisurely stroll after their meal.
Chu Duxiu stole a glance at him and suddenly said, “Thank you, Mr. Xie.”
Xie Shenci looked at her, puzzled.
She continued, “For making the trip all the way to Wencheng. Honestly, it’s not really something to blame you or the team for.”
Although netizens were outraged and criticized the production team harshly, she held no grudges against Shanle. Whether it was Xie Shenci, Shang Xiaomei, and the other production staff, or Bei He, Lu Fan, and the signed performers – they were all comrades who had fought alongside her for months, real people with joys and sorrows.
More than who ultimately won the championship, she cherished the bonds forged on the journey toward that goal. Those accumulated moments could never be erased by rankings or outcomes.
Everyone faces unfairness in life, but to constantly vent on others only allows resentment to consume one’s true self.
“No need to thank me,” Xie Shenci replied. “I’m not here on behalf of Shanle. As for the company’s official apology, wait for Shang Liang to discuss that with you.”
Chu Duxiu was taken aback. “Huh?”
“What’s wrong?” he said calmly. “I didn’t expense my plane ticket to the company.”
“Oh…” Her voice softened slightly, and she cautiously probed, “You’re really not drunk, are you? Your words are perfectly clear.”
She had assumed he was out of it, but his logic was sharp – even down to the details like expensing his ticket.
Xie Shenci raised an eyebrow and countered, “So does that mean you’re taking back your thanks?”
“What?”
He emphasized, “I came here personally.”
“Yeah, so no need for thanks,” Chu Duxiu said breezily. “Between you and me, there’s no need for formalities – we’re good friends, after all!”
“…”
Xie Shenci fixed his dark eyes on her, silent for a long moment before asking, “No need for formalities between us?”
Chu Duxiu nodded confidently. “Right.”
With a deadpan expression, he nitpicked, “But every time you address me, you use ‘Xie’ (thanks).”
Chu Duxiu: “?”
She usually called him “Mr. Xie,” and even introduced him to her family that way. While Chu Lan referred to him as “Xiao Xie,” Chu Duxiu had only ever used that jokingly. The rest of the time, she stuck to the formal company titles, maintaining utmost politeness.
Faced with his unreasonable accusation, she was utterly baffled and at a loss for words.
Was it really her intention to express “thanks” (谢, xiè) by using his surname?
It was just his surname! If he had shared her surname, Chu, she certainly wouldn’t be calling him “Mr. Xie”!
If she didn’t use his surname, the only alternative would be to call him by his given name…
The two characters flickered through Chu Duxiu’s mind, like a pebble dropping into a mirror-still lake, instantly rippling the surface with shimmering waves. Flustered, she conceded awkwardly, “Fine, I’ll change how I address you from now on. I’ll just call you…”
Xie Shenci watched her, his eyes brimming with anticipation.
“…Mr..”
After a pause, she stammered, “Or maybe just ‘Boss?”
“???”
Xie Shenci was immediately displeased, but seeing the playful glint in her eyes and the way she gazed at him with amusement, he knew she was deliberately teasing him, toying with his expectations.
Under the warm glow of the streetlights, her brows lifted slightly. Her face, free of makeup, revealed faint, almost invisible fine hairs, as if brushed with a soft light – natural, vibrant, and radiant. Like an unpolished gem, she shone with her own inherent brilliance.
He had intended to argue further, but meeting her bright, lively eyes, his heart softened inexplicably. The words died on his lips, and he found himself suddenly speechless.
Before they knew it, the hotel was right in front of them, and it was time to part ways.
“What a pity – this trip was so short, I didn’t get to show you around,” Chu Duxiu said. “I can’t stay for more than a couple of days either. I have to return to Yancheng soon to sort out university matters, so there’s no time for sightseeing nearby.”
After packing up her things in Wencheng, Chu Duxiu needed to handle affairs at her university in Yancheng, which meant she couldn’t stay long or spare time for leisurely trips to the outskirts.
Xie Shenci replied, “It’s alright. There’ll be other chances to visit Wencheng and explore.”
She couldn’t help but wonder, “Next time? Do you even have vacation days?”
Shanle did offer annual leave, but as the company’s boss, his situation was likely different.
He thought for a moment and tentatively suggested, “How about during the New Year?”
“Coming to Wencheng for the New Year…” There was a subtle change in Chu Duxiu’s facial expression. “Well, it’s not impossible.”
She didn’t mind – she’d definitely be in Wencheng – but shouldn’t he be in Yancheng with his family for the Spring Festival?
Xie Shenci lifted his gaze toward the direction of the neighborhood and offered kindly, “Do you want me to walk you back?”
“It’s just a few steps – no need,” Chu Duxiu teased. “Don’t think I don’t know you just want to stretch your legs.”
The hotel wasn’t far from the neighborhood. If they kept walking each other back and forth, they’d end up in an endless loop, a classic ploy of the “drunken crab” to extend the journey through round trips.
Xie Shenci, caught in his scheme, let out a soft, resigned “hmph.”
Amid the streetlights, Chu Duxiu waved goodbye with a smile. “Goodnight, Mr. Meow.”
For now, calling him by his given name still felt too difficult, something she couldn’t easily bring herself to do.
Or perhaps, while everyone else could address him casually, only a special nickname could conceal her secret – a hidden intimacy, tucked away just for her.
Her voice, carried by the evening breeze, was soft and cheerful, gentle and lingering, like a feather slowly drifting down.
“…Goodnight.”
Xie Shenci was taken aback. He responded almost instinctively, only fully processing her choice of address moments later. But before he could question it, she had already skipped away.
At home, Chu Duxiu unlocked the door with her key and was startled to see someone emerge from the balcony. “Dad, what are you doing out on the balcony?”
The balcony faced the neighborhood, offering a clear view of the garden path during the day. But at night, the lights grew dim, revealing only faint silhouettes.
Seeing her father stationed there as she entered, she felt an inexplicable twinge of guilt, unsure what he was thinking – why hadn’t he retreated to his room like her sister and mother?
Shi Qin didn’t answer directly. Instead, he looked his daughter over and smiled warmly. “You’re back quite quickly.”
“It wasn’t far,” she said, closing the door and slipping off her shoes. “Just that hotel at the intersection.”
“I thought you’d chat a while longer.” Shi Qin hesitated slightly before asking, “When will he be coming to Wencheng next?”
“We’ll see – hard to say.” She was somewhat puzzled by her father’s assumption that Xie Shenci would visit again.
Shi Qin acutely pressed, “It wouldn’t be during the New Year, would it?”
“…”
Why was everyone so fixated on the New Year?
The strange and awkward atmosphere grew thicker, feeling like an interrogation by a parent – as if she’d been caught in a schoolyard puppy love scandal.
Chu Duxiu forced a dry laugh and changed the subject. “Dad, I have one more large suitcase. Do you remember where you put it?”
Shi Qin turned back toward the balcony to search. “I think it’s out on the balcony.”
Relieved that he’d finally dropped the questioning, she quickly followed him and said, “Then I’ll take that one back to uni with me!”
The next day, after waking up, Xie Shenci regained his usual composure and stopped by the house for a short visit. He exchanged a few pleasantries with the elders before being subjected to Chu Shuangyou’s interrogation, forced to outline Shanle’s future plans and visions.
In the living room, Chu Duxiu listened in as the two discussed the company’s prospects, diving into analyses of performer treatment and market issues. It was enough to make her drowsy. Compared to macro-level strategies, she was more interested in how to create quality content – but these weren’t the focus of her sister’s concerns.
Chu Shuangyou wanted to ensure that her sister’s position and benefits were secure, aiming to maximize gains while the momentum was strong.
Chu Duxiu and Cheng Junhua were different from others. Their popularity far surpassed that of other performers, especially after the explosive finale. The debates surrounding them were endless, a far cry from the pre-show atmosphere.
The stand-up comedy scene had seen a surge in attention within just a few months. Though it had nearly been overturned by the storm, there were signs of taking off amid the chaos.
At such a critical juncture, Chu Duxiu’s willingness to choose Shanle undoubtedly bailed the production team out in an indirect way. Having already lost the championship under bizarre circumstances, failing to secure substantial returns in exchange would have been hard to justify.
Business is like putting on a show: if one sister plays the tough role, the other plays the gentle one. Someone has to step up and iron out all the details with a firm hand.
Facing this relentless interrogation while sitting in someone else’s home, Xie Shenci watched as Chu Lan and Shi Qin occasionally came to refill tea and water. He felt utterly isolated and vulnerable, certain that saying even a word too much would risk being cornered by the whole family.
After a lengthy discussion, he decided to shift the focus. Calmly, he said, “How about we continue this conversation back at the company? If you’re still concerned, you could come to Shanle with her, take a look at our theater, and hear directly from the responsible parties.”
“It’s easy for me to talk in theoretical terms, but that might not leave a strong impression and could affect your judgment.”
Noting how accommodating he was, Chu Shuangyou glanced at her sister beside her and asked, “Is it allowed to bring outsiders to contract discussions at your company?”
Some companies frown upon bringing lawyers or agents to signings, as contract terms often carry biases, and scrutinizing them can lead to endless debates. It’s similar to how entertainment companies deal with artists – often presenting take-it-or-leave-it contracts with non-negotiable terms.
“Family members certainly don’t count as outsiders,” Xie Shenci reasoned logically. “We’re a reputable company. As long as you don’t disclose the terms arbitrarily and adhere to confidentiality agreements, having someone review the contract during her signing process isn’t a violation.”
Chu Duxiu asked softly, “Shuangyou, do you have time?”
“Sure,” Chu Shuangyou nodded. “It works out – you head back to Yancheng first. I’ll wrap up things in Nancheng, then fly to Haicheng to meet you and see what their company is like on the inside.”
In the end, the three reached an agreement: they would reconvene in Haicheng to continue discussions.
Chu Duxiu returned to Yancheng for her thesis defense, Chu Shuangyou went back to Nancheng to handle her affairs, and only Xie Shenci went directly back to Haicheng.
At Shanle Culture, the eye-catching logo was displayed outside the conference room – a dazzling microphone and sunflower.
Time flew by, and the day for Chu Duxiu’s contract negotiation arrived as scheduled. Chu Shuangyou, experienced and resolute, represented her sister, facing off against Shang Liang, who oversaw the company’s artist management and finances.
At first, the group sat neatly arranged in the conference room. Chu Duxiu and Chu Shuangyou sat on the left side of the long table, while Xie Shenci and Shang Liang sat on the right. A few employees from the artist management department and Shang Liang’s usual assistants were also present, nearly filling the room.
Facing the crowd, Chu Shuangyou showed no sign of intimidation. She questioned the details with confidence and poise, skillfully pinpointing loopholes, a faint smile playing on her lips as she dismantled every argument with ruthless precision.
Before the meeting was even halfway through, Shang Liang sensed something was off. He hadn’t expected that Chu Duxiu, who seemed so easygoing, would bring such a formidable figure from home!
He immediately dismissed the non-essential staff, keeping only the decision-makers, and braced himself for a second round of negotiations.
The endless back-and-forth was not only a test of wits but also a grueling trial of physical endurance.
The contract meeting dragged on from morning until afternoon. The group hastily grabbed a simple lunch, during which Chu Shuangyou seized every opportunity to press her advantage, attempting to probe Shang Liang and Shanle’s bottom line. Fortunately, Shang Liang kept a clear head and didn’t easily reveal his hand.
In the end, both Chu Duxiu and Xie Shenci were ushered out of the conference room, leaving only the two locked in their tense, head-to-head standoff.
As dusk settled and the sky darkened, Chu Shuangyou and Shang Liang finally emerged from the room. Despite having spent the entire day in fierce debate, they parted with a veneer of civility, exchanging insincere smiles and a handshake.
Chu Shuangyou said, “Thank you, Mr. Shang. Looking forward to working together.”
Shang Liang replied, “Haha, not at all. I should be the one thanking you for choosing Shanle.”
Chu Shuangyou waved the paper bag in her hand and called out to her sister with a smile, clearly in good spirits. “Let’s go. We’ll sign over here.”
Chu Duxiu hurriedly followed, glancing back at Shang Liang but unable to read his expression. Clueless about the specifics, she quickly trailed after her sister.
Only Shang Liang and Xie Shenci remained at the conference room door, the former’s pent-up frustration erupting like molten lava.
“No wonder you didn’t negotiate with her yourself,” Shang Liang fumed. “You knew her contract would be tough to handle, so you dumped this mess on me!”
He should have known Xie Shenci was up to no good. No wonder he refused to negotiate in Wencheng – he must have run into local resistance there and couldn’t even stand his ground on their turf!
“Nothing I could do. You know my college GPA – I was never good at this stuff. She works at Liansheng Group and has seen much bigger companies. What could I possibly bring to the table against them?”
Xie Shenci declared with conviction, “Naturally, I had to send our company’s top performer.”
Shang Liang: “…”
