SY - 36

It wasn’t impossible.

After all, Jiang Yan Zhou’s typical male aesthetic favored the more innocent-looking girls.

Xia Wanyue hesitated before speaking: “If it really is Shenhuan promoting her, we don’t have the ability to fight back.”

The entertainment industry was indeed a goldmine, but in the eyes of those capitalists, this was just pocket change, not worth mentioning.

Even the most powerful directors had to bow and scrape to those investors.

This world was about survival of the fittest.

Having been by Jiang Yan Zhou’s side for so many years, Song Zhi naturally understood this principle.

With Jiang Yan Zhou’s status and identity, making someone famous was incredibly easy.

Though it might not be appropriate to bring this up now, Xia Wanyue was still quite curious.

Especially after learning that Song Zhi hadn’t just been with Jiang Yan Zhou for a while but for a full three years.

She tried to phrase her question gently: “Did Jiang Yan Zhou forbid you from entering the entertainment industry?”

Song Zhi didn’t know why she suddenly asked this: “Not really. He rarely restricted my decisions; he just hoped I would finish my studies first.”

“That’s strange.” Xia Wanyue sat beside her, “Look, he’s so rich. The money he spends on one watch could fund several films for you.”

So this was the roundabout way she wanted to ask this.

Song Zhi held her health-preserving thermos cup, watching the goji berries floating on the surface.

A young woman, drinking health tea at such a tender age.

Was this the exploitation of capital or the distortion of human nature?

Song Zhi said: “I didn’t let him interfere.”

Xia Wanyue: “Eh?”

Song Zhi declared with great ambition: “An independent woman of the new era should stand on her own without relying on men.”

Xia Wanyue glanced at the Vacheron Constantin on her wrist, feeling that her statement lacked conviction.

Noticing her gaze, Song Zhi explained: “This was bought by me. Those things tainted with the stench of evil capitalist money he gave me, I’ve already donated to charity.”

Although donated for charity, Song Zhi still felt a bit of pain.

Not for the money, but for those already out-of-print, irreplaceable jewelry pieces.

In this light, it made sense.

Before entering the industry, Song Zhi kept her background tightly under wraps. No one

knew about her relationship with Jiang Yan Zhou.

Everyone just assumed she was a newcomer without background, as beautiful as a celestial being.

Xia Wanyue knew how dark this circle could be.

Pretty entertainers were often coveted, and casting couch practices were not uncommon.

Yet Song Zhi had never encountered such issues. Though no one promoted her, no one dared to touch her.

Xia Wanyue used to be puzzled, even thinking it might be because those big shots were scared off by her extravagant spending habits.

Now, upon reflection, it seemed plausible.

With Jiang Yan Zhou clearing obstacles for her beforehand, even if she couldn’t debut with top-tier resources, she lived in a carefully woven fairy tale.

Those dark corners were cleaned up long before she even knew.

Xia Wanyue glanced at Song Zhi, who was sipping her goji berry tea with a frown. The little princess thought she successfully broke free from the castle’s constraints without realizing that someone inside had been silently protecting her.

Thinking about it, that Jiang Yan Zhou was quite devoted.

Just unclear how they ended up like this now.

________________________________________

The collision between Lin Shanshan and Song Zhi grew bigger. On Weibo, some people dug up Lin Shanshan’s background.

From an unknown stunt actress to today’s lead in a big-budget movie, her ordinary working-class family background couldn’t achieve this alone.

It was rumored that the biggest investor in this film was Shenhuan. Earlier, marketing accounts also released some gossip news about Lin Shanshan and Shenhuan’s president.

As the top of Beicheng’s high society pyramid, the Jiang surname was enough to pique many people’s interest.

Compared to entertainment celebrities, they didn’t need this exposure to grab attention.

True aristocracy wouldn’t allow media to leak even a word of their private lives.

Even if media had painstakingly obtained secretly taken photos, they wouldn’t dare publish them due to pressure from above.

The more mysterious, the more curious people became.

That blog post was reposted over a hundred thousand times.

It was rumored that Lin Shanshan was the new favorite of the Jiang family’s eldest grandson and heir. This film was his birthday gift to her for her 25th birthday.

Comments were filled with envy.

[Though I haven’t seen any photos of this heir, I’ve already imagined him as the handsome male lead from idol dramas.]

[Such a powerful background should correspond to extremely high standards. Would such a person really keep Lin Shanshan? This entire blog post reeks of Mary Sue romance novels. Even if he did keep Song Zhi, it’d be slightly believable.]

[I’m not curious why he likes Lin Shanshan. I’m just curious if he minds finding another. Wuuu, Brother, I can do it. I’m obedient, skilled, and non-clingy.]

...

This blog post’s views were enough to send Lin Shanshan and Shenhuan’s president trending for a day, yet not a single hint appeared.

Clearly, someone deliberately suppressed it, not daring to let it trend.

The special assistant stood in the president’s office, not daring to breathe loudly.

Jiang Yan Zhou, having just finished a meeting, was looking at the blog post that countless netizens were discussing.

The special assistant carefully summarized for him: “Shenhuan invested in that drama, and because the lead is Lin Shanshan, netizens think...”

He carefully observed Jiang Yan Zhou’s emotions, noticing his indifferent expression, and temporarily relaxed, boldly finishing the latter half: “Netizens think you are promoting her.”

Jiang Yan Zhou paused momentarily, as if recalling when Shenhuan invested in films.

He remembered spending fifty million yuan on an award for Song Zhi over a month ago.

He didn’t read the contract in detail, just had the legal department review it briefly, and signed it when there were no issues.

“Who is Lin Shanshan?”

This part was handled by Manager Liu. The special assistant had seen her a few times before.

At department gatherings, she was intimate with Manager Liu, and her behavior wasn’t as pure as she pretended to be.

Jiang Yan Zhou clearly had no interest in these fabricated stories. His knuckles pressed against the edge of the tablet, not yet pressing the exit button.

His gaze fell on the accompanying picture below the Weibo post, his brow slightly raised in confusion.

The special assistant proactively clarified for him, acting as a thoughtful little helper: “This is Lin Shanshan.”

The photo was taken from a deliberately chosen angle. Her features originally bore some resemblance to Song Zhi, and with post-editing, she looked about sixty to seventy percent similar to Song Zhi.

Song Zhi always complained that Jiang Yan Zhou was old-fashioned. Apart from work needs, he rarely went online.

Let alone Weibo.

If the special assistant hadn’t brought the tablet to him today, he wouldn’t have known he inadvertently promoted an artist resembling Song Zhi.

The photo was too fake, not capturing even half of Song Zhi’s essence.

He murmured: “Call Liu Hui over.”

After the special assistant acknowledged and left the office, Liu Hui knocked and entered after about five minutes.

Jiang Yan Zhou was looking at the fifty-million-yuan contract, not lifting his head.

Liu Hui smiled: “You called me?”

Jiang Yan Zhou slightly lifted his chin, saying indifferently: “Sit.”

Liu Hui pulled out a chair and sat down.

Jiang Yan Zhou flipped the contract over and pushed it towards him. Curling his knuckles, he lightly tapped the desk: “Do you remember this contract?”

Liu Hui only glanced at it, his chest trembling violently: “Re... Remember.”

On the surface, he feigned calmness, but internally, cold sweat poured down.

Lin Shanshan was a girl he recently took a fancy to. She appeared obedient, but in bed, she was incredibly provocative.

Though Jiang Yan Zhou invested fifty million in that film, it seemed only to repay a favor.

He had no significant interest in its subsequent developments.

Liu Hui happened to be in charge of this section, so he used his position’s convenience to force Lin Shanshan into the role.

“Promoting a female star in my name.” Jiang Yan Zhou leaned back in his chair, his lips carrying a carefree smile, but his eyes showed no trace of amusement. “Who gave you the guts?”

Liu Hui had followed him for several years, but only grasped a bit of his character.

Jiang Yan Zhou was a man of deep thoughts, revealing only half of what he said and did.

Handling matters meticulously, he didn’t show any personal feelings.

Doing business this way suited a businessman’s style.

The more he smiled, the more terrified Liu Hui became.

If he weren’t sitting on a chair now, his legs would probably give way, unable to stand.

He quickly explained: “I just communicated with the director, letting him leave an extra role if possible. Rumors about Lin Shanshan and you, I don’t know anything about those. These matters have nothing to do with me. Considering our years of camaraderie, please give me another chance. I won’t dare do it again.”

Jiang Yan Zhou turned his chair slightly, a mocking laugh on his lips: “You work for me, I pay your salary. What camaraderie are you talking about?”

This single sentence was like a bucket of cold water, thoroughly chilling Liu Hui to the bone.

________________________________________

As a worker in the entertainment circle, Song Zhi was diligently memorizing her lines.

Xia Wanyue, having just obtained firsthand information, eagerly shared her new intelligence: “I heard that the 【Mist】 production team replaced the female lead.”

Song Zhi suddenly perked up, sitting up from the rattan chair: “What?”

Xia Wanyue was delighted: “I heard it was personally done by the president of Shenhuan. I have a friend in the 【Mist】 production team. This news hasn’t spread yet, only a few insiders know, making it exclusive.”

She acted as if she’d just won a battle: “Lin Shanshan deserved it. Why provoke trouble with you, the ex-queen?”

Song Zhi wasn’t particularly happy. Her fighting spirit had just ignited, only to be extinguished.

Winning without a fight was so dull.

She reached out: “Give me your phone.”

Xia Wanyue was puzzled: “What for?”

“To make a call. My phone is dead.”

After Xia Wanyue handed over her phone, Song Zhi dialed Jiang Yan Zhou’s number from memory.

It rang several times before being answered.

“Hello?”

The familiar, cool tone.

Song Zhi spoke impatiently: “It’s me, Song Zhi.”

After a moment of silence, his voice softened considerably: “Did you change numbers?”

“My friend’s phone.” She didn’t want to waste words with him. “Did you replace Lin Shanshan?”

He didn’t deny it: “I only found out about this today.”

Referring to 【Mist】 casting Lin Shanshan as the female lead.

The director’s team considered Jiang Yan Zhou’s influence, so naturally, the public assumed he was promoting her.

Song Zhi got straight to the point: “If you replaced Lin Shanshan because of me, then there’s no need. I want her to see with her own eyes the difference between her and me.”

Since everyone kept comparing these two dramas, she would use reality to wake Lin Shanshan up.

She couldn’t match her in figure or appearance, and her acting skills were just that of a maid unworthy of tying her shoes.

Jiang Yan Zhou detected the full confidence in her words and could even imagine her expression at that moment.

Arrogant and self-assured.

He chuckled softly, his eyes filled with affection: “Alright, whatever you say.”

Song Zhi frowned: “Laugh at your mother.”

After cursing, she hurriedly hung up, fearing he would curse back.

________________________________________

The special assistant came in with the freshly drafted contract: “President Jiang, the contract is ready. Please take a look. If there’s no problem, I’ll take it to the legal department for stamping.”

Jiang Yan Zhou waved his hand: “Don’t replace her for now.”

The special assistant was stunned: “Ah?”

“After she finishes this film, find any excuse to shelve her.”

He hesitated: “What excuse should I use?”

Jiang Yan Zhou looked up at him, remaining silent.

The special assistant was frightened by his gaze, stuttering: “I... I’ll make something up when the time comes.”

Truly, serving a leader was like serving a tiger. Just moments ago, he sounded gentle on the phone, but now his face changed when speaking to him.

This president’s double standards were just too obvious.

--

Regardless, after this incident blew over, Lin Shanshan not only stopped causing trouble but also started frequently showing goodwill towards Song Zhi on Weibo, obviously having heard some rumors.

Song Zhi simply ignored her.

Hot face met cold butt. A new round of mockery began on Weibo.

[Lin Shanshan’s intention to ingratiate herself is way too obvious. Where’s the ugly face she showed when she provoked plmm?]

[I heard she was warned. Delightful to hear.]

[Why cling to anyone else’s fame when you can cling to the big shot from the Jiang family? Maybe she thinks she’s lived too long.]

...

The scenes in Quhe Street were over. The subsequent scenes were all in the city center, so there was no need to meet Lin Shanshan anymore.

Out of sight, out of mind.

When Qin He’s call came, she was desperately begging the director for half a day off, crying genuinely: “Wuwuwu, my brother and I have depended on each other. I haven’t seen him in a long time. Now that he’s finally free, if he finds out I didn’t come to pick him up, he’ll definitely be heartbroken.”

But Director Luo’s heart was made of stone, refusing to grant leave: “Today’s scene is very important. If you don’t stay to shoot, I’ll be heartbroken.”

Faced with Qin He’s inquiry, Song Zhi could only sigh: “Life is tough. The director won’t approve leave.”

Qin He laughed: “It’s fine. Focus on filming. I’m here.”

That was all she could do.

Hearing the disappointment in her voice, Qin He chuckled softly, shaking his head, his voice carrying a comforting tone: “A few days ago, I saw on Weibo that you mentioned wanting cake. There’s a famous dessert shop nearby. I’ll buy you some when I return.”

Song Zhi quickly said: “No need. I posted on Weibo to enrich my persona. I’m controlling my weight now. How dare I eat such high-calorie stuff?”

She pinched her slim waist, complaining discontentedly: “My agent wants me to switch to a foodie persona, saying it will bridge the gap. If I ate as much as I post on Weibo, I’d be obese by now.”

Song Zhi had always loved sweets the most since childhood.

Hearing her say this, Qin He felt a bit sorry for her: “Can’t you eat a little less?”

She muttered: “Eating less is worse than not eating at all.”

Qin He nodded compliantly, his voice gentle: “Then after I pick up Song Luo, I’ll take you to eat something low in calories.”

Song Zhi’s eyes lit up: “You promise?”

He smiled: “Yes, I promise.”

After hanging up, Qin He drove to the destination.

The prison was in a small town in Beicheng, located in a remote area.

The two-hour drive led to an exceptionally open area, vast green pastures, and poplar trees along the road.

A few cars were parked sporadically, likely there to pick someone up.

Qin He immediately noticed the black Maybach parked by the roadside. The man leaned against the car, lighting a cigarette.

When he looked up, his gaze met Qin He’s.

Qin He closed the car door and walked over, greeting him calmly: “How long have you been here?”

He said: “Just arrived.”