The meeting room was quiet when Liang Xin from the secretariat suddenly knocked and entered.
He hurried over to Bo Rui in just a few steps and leaned in to whisper, “President Bo, you have a private call—it’s Young Master Ren.”
Bo Rui nodded and quietly gave a few instructions before turning his attention back.
“Three days. I want a solution for this matter as soon as possible. You all know me—I hate empty talk.” Though he sat with a relaxed, almost casual posture, the aura he exuded made the whole room tense. That high-and-mighty, looking-down-on-everyone presence pressed so heavily that those in the room felt almost suffocated.
Liang Xin, standing behind Bo Rui, remained largely unfazed. He wasn’t sympathetic to these people—a mere plan, yet they had been sent back three times. Really? He had seen his boss’s temper enough times to know he wasn’t hard to please. If the direction was right and there were no major issues, his boss could smooth things over. So how did these planners manage to be rejected three times… were their brains made of tofu?
Liang Xin let his imagination wander, though his expression remained that of a strict, disciplined professional. Between Bo Rui standing and himself standing behind him, the double pressure nearly made the others want to cry.
“Dismissed. Meeting’s over.” Bo Rui waved them off. This year’s performance had clearly dropped compared to last year, mostly because these people had become lazy. A little show of authority was necessary; otherwise, they would forget how their year-end bonuses were earned.
Once out of the meeting room, Bo Rui waved, and Liang Xin stepped forward. “How’s the thing I asked you to watch?”
“No major changes so far, but originally there were three well-known media outlets staking out nearby. Now only one remains.” Liang Xin connected the dots—his boss was asking about the matter concerning that award-winning actor, which still remained a top-priority personal project.
“So the attention has dropped, huh.” Bo Rui nodded. He didn’t want to intervene directly for now; letting Yu Junqing handle it himself was ideal.
Back in his office, Bo Rui dialed a certain number.
“Young Master Ren.” He really didn’t want to make this call, but there was no choice. If he wanted to get that apartment for Yu Junqing, this was the person who owned it.
“Not seeing you for a day feels like three years! Bo Shao, you actually call me? Truly moving to my core!” The exaggerated tone and strange wording made the hair on anyone’s arms stand on end—exactly why Bo Rui didn’t want to make this call.
“Speak normally.” Bo Rui’s vein twitched on his forehead. He nearly bled.
“Tch~ what the hell do you want from me?” Ren Qingyun leaned back in his chair, legs wide on the desk, a steaming cup of instant noodles in front of him. He was clearly annoyed. Didn’t they know about the time difference? What a ridiculous call!
Apparently, he had already forgotten that this call was initiated by him earlier. Besides, it was just around lunchtime—perfect timing.
“I’ll give you some money—hand over the apartment.” Bo Rui got straight to the point. The property wasn’t being used anyway, and Ren Qingyun rarely returned to the country.
“Sure, just wire the money. I never bothered selling it anyway—just give me a decent amount!” Ren Qingyun laughed. It was like finding a pillow while napping. He had nearly forgotten he even had an apartment to sell!
“Wait… you’ve just been keeping that apartment for three years out of laziness?” Bo Rui was stunned. He had never understood why Ren left the apartment empty; turns out, it was just laziness. Classic Ren.
“Stop talking nonsense. Wire the money quickly; I’m low on cash anyway. Also, my noodles are getting soggy.” With a slurp, Ren Qingyun hung up and dug into his noodles. The texture was just right, neither hard nor soft—perfect.
His assistant, standing outside the door, was dumbstruck. Just now he’d witnessed his usually ethereal, graceful, almost immortal-looking boss, sitting with legs sprawled on a desk, eating instant noodles like a brute. His image completely shattered.
Ren Qingyun was oblivious to the assistant’s gaze, savoring the taste of domestic instant noodles he had carefully ordered online in various flavors. Truly a delicious experience.
The assistant quietly stepped away, heart racing. Could a single box of instant noodles really satisfy such a godlike boss? If he made dumplings, would he get a smile in return? Memories of the rare time Ren had smiled at him made his heart flutter.
Meanwhile, Bo Rui had successfully handled Ren Qingyun, transferring a sum of money from his own account to the lazy man—and even added a little extra for good measure.
Liang Xin, hiding behind Bo Rui the whole time, was in shock and silent fury. These wealthy villains! Buying an entire apartment just like that, yet withholding his precious Mi Huang’s food ration! Inhumane! Evil boss! I must complain!
Seeing Liang Xin’s expression, Bo Rui smirked. After eating scraps for several days, the kid still wasn’t fully alert—fine, he’d have a bowl of tofu pudding from Yushanfish delivered daily to plug that brain hole.
Liang Xin, unaware that his food ration had again been docked by the evil boss, went off to work. His new hobby? Watching updates from Bo Rui’s best friends. Indeed, the gossip squads were highly talented, their imaginations nearly out of this world—he couldn’t compete.
The gossip squads, busy on Weibo, had recently been covering Yu Junqing’s situation, but the attention quickly shifted to another rising young star, Zhu Wen.
A popular micro-influencer discovered shocking photos of Zhu Wen entering and leaving a well-known hotel. Not only did his clothes change to more provocative outfits, but traces on his body suggested a messy industry reality.
Three photos were posted: one showing him entering the hotel dressed plainly, wrist and neck clear; another showing him leaving in a revealing outfit, later identified by netizens as a high-end adult fashion brand; and a third, close-up, showing several bruises on his neck and wrists.
The post went viral, and Zhu Wen’s fans rushed to defend him, insisting the influencer had faked the images. Their idol might be a bit capricious, but he was always clean and proper—he could never be exploited!
Most of Zhu Wen’s fans were young girls, outspoken and direct. Their reactions quickly sparked backlash from other viewers and fans, and the photos were dissected and confirmed authentic by expert analysts.
Once verified, everyone immediately shifted focus from Yu Junqing’s situation to Zhu Wen, unleashing a torrent of criticism:
“Get out of the industry, we don’t want this kind of ‘fresh meat’!”
“This industry is a mess, huh, the casting couch is standard now.”
Yu Junqing scrolled through the heated comments, suppressing his discomfort. He knew the industry operated this way—praise some, crush others. He didn’t know who orchestrated Zhu Wen’s incident, but he wasn’t naive. If he didn’t act now to resolve his own matter, this production might never finish filming.
Blinking slowly, Yu Junqing reminded himself: he had been pushed to the brink before. Without Rui Ge, he could have faced total ruin.
He could no longer afford to be soft. Even relying only on himself, he would carve a path forward in this ruthless industry.
Beneath his long lashes, his dark eyes gleamed with determination and hope, replacing the usual confusion and faint despair. He would not allow himself to be humiliated this way again.
His phone vibrated, breaking his thoughts. Looking down, he saw Director Wang’s name flashing. His heart sank—just as Zhu Wen had gotten into trouble, Wang was calling. Could it be that this production was really doomed?