That afternoon, Qiao Jin brought a lawyer to Nanji Entertainment to sign the contract on behalf of Zheng. The company sent their business manager to handle the negotiations.
While the two lawyers hashed out the contract details, Qiao Jin and the manager sat nearby, observing quietly.
Qiao Jin looked young and striking, and his tailored designer suit and luxury watch gave off an aura that made the other man hesitate to speak first.
Eventually, Qiao Jin broke the silence. “Your office environment is really nice.”
“We just have a few extra plants here and there,” the manager replied modestly. Then he asked, “President Qiao Jin, do you watch much TV? Any of our artists you’re a fan of?”
Qiao Jin smiled politely. “Sorry, I’m not too familiar with the industry.”
“No worries, no worries,” the manager said with a laugh. “Someone as accomplished as you probably manages your time really tightly.”
Qiao Jin gave a small smile but didn’t respond.
With his polished appearance and calm demeanor, Qiao Jin seemed like someone well-acquainted with high society. Even though he wasn’t overly talkative, he still came off as respectful. The manager, on the other hand, kept trying to strike up small talk and was starting to seem overly eager.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the meeting room door.
A sharply dressed man with shoulder-length hair stepped inside, ignoring both the company’s manager and the lawyers at the table. He walked straight toward Qiao Jin and asked bluntly, “Sorry, are you President Zheng Rongguang from Ruiyi Group?”
Qiao Jin guessed at his identity and replied, “President Zheng Rongguang had an emergency today. I’m Qiao Jin from Ruiyi. Nice to meet you.”
The man remained standing, his tone slightly condescending. “Well, since you’re also from Ruiyi, I’ll be direct. I’m Bai Yuan’s agent. Last night, Miss Bai attended the banquet as President Lu’s guest. We were promised the female lead in your upcoming summer series. But now we can’t reach President Lu. Secretary Yin told us to speak with President Zheng. Zheng’s not here, so what’s going on?”
Qiao Jin wasn’t interested in getting into it. “I don’t really know the details.”
The man frowned. “Then can you give me President Lu’s contact info? I’ll reach out to him directly.”
Qiao Jin offered a polite but firm smile. “I don’t have his number. I go through Secretary Yin when there’s something that needs to be handled.”
Clearly hitting a wall, the agent paused for a full minute before saying, “If this keeps up, we’ll have no choice but to go public with the story.”
Qiao Jin stood up, calmly buttoning his jacket. “We came here in good faith. If this is how your company treats guests, then I’m afraid we’ll have to excuse ourselves.”
The lawyer, seeing Qiao Jin stand, closed the folder and rose as well.
The manager from Nanji Entertainment hadn’t expected Qiao Jin to be so unyielding. He’d only intended to probe a bit. Now, seeing Qiao Jin get up, he panicked. While trying to signal the agent to back off, he forced a smile and said, “This is all just a misunderstanding. Once we become partners, we’ll work everything out. As for Bai Yuan—yes, it’s true she was in talks with President Zheng, and that’s all documented in the contract.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Qiao Jin said as he waved off the man’s attempt to follow. “But Miss Bai’s constant flip-flopping doesn’t look great. It’s not a good look.”
“Just a misunderstanding!” the manager insisted. “Those damn paparazzi messed everything up. Bai Yuan’s public image is supposed to be pure and elegant. Once the hotel photos leaked, no one lost more than us—Nanji Entertainment.”
“You’re the ones who lost out?” Qiao Jin asked, as if he’d just heard the most absurd thing in the world. “Did you even read the headlines? Who’s going to compensate President Lu for the hit to his reputation?”
The business manager wiped the sweat from his forehead and reached out to stop Qiao Jin from leaving. “Let’s not escalate—come on, let’s sit down and sign the contract first. We can sort out the Bai Yuan stuff later.”
Qiao Jin shook him off, straightened his collar, and gave a cold laugh. “No need to say anything more. Goodbye.”
The meeting room door was wide open. The business manager and the agent just stared at each other, speechless.
The business manager watched Qiao Jin’s retreating figure and muttered in disbelief, “Reputation? President Lu? Are you kidding me? The guy used to binge drink at nightclubs, race cars in the suburbs, run underground poker tables, and trade favors like it was a full-time job. Since when did he care about reputation?”
“I don’t get it either,” the agent grumbled, pulling out his phone. “I’ll try Secretary Yin again.”
He dialed the number. Just as the call was about to time out, Secretary Yin finally picked up.
The agent immediately launched in, “Hi, it’s me again—Bai Yuan’s agent from Nanji Entertainment. President Zheng Rongguang didn’t show up, but someone from your branch office, a President Qiao Jin, came instead—”
“President Qiao Jin?” Secretary Yin suddenly cut him off, unusually sharp. “You mean Qiao Jin?”
“Yeah, I think that’s the name.” The agent was holding back his temper, and his tone wasn’t exactly pleasant. “We just asked him how to resolve the issue, and what does he do? Walks out without signing the contract. Look, your company’s really pushing it—everyone has a reputation to protect here.”
“Wait a minute,” Secretary Yin’s voice, normally as mechanical and cold as a robot’s, was now tinged with both irritation and disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? What the hell are you doing asking President Qiao Jin about this?”
“I—what the hell…” The agent was just about to snap when click—the call ended abruptly.
He stared at the dark phone screen, scowling. He exchanged a look with the business manager.
The business manager hesitated, then slowly pulled out his own phone. “I’d better call the boss and give him a heads-up. Let’s see if this contract’s still salvageable.”
He sighed, bracing for the blow, and had just unlocked his phone when it started ringing on its own.
The screen flashed: Boss.
The business manager sucked in a sharp breath and answered nervously. “Hello?”
“What the hell did you do?!” the CEO of Nanji Entertainment bellowed over the line. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked to lock down that investment? I lost almost seven figures at the damn poker table to secure that deal—and now you idiots just blew it?!”
The business manager started, “President Liu—”
But Liu Chengxu cut him off, furious. “President Lu just called me personally. Said you were giving one of his people a hard time. What the hell is going on over there? Are you letting just anyone wander in and out of the conference room? This was a done deal—you just blew it! Tell Bai Yuan’s agent to get the hell out of there. Now!”
The agent’s face turned an ugly shade. The business manager didn’t look much better.
And then Liu Chengxu added coldly, “If this deal really falls through, then you can pack your bags too.”
The two men exchanged a glance, and what they saw in each other’s eyes was pure panic.
Qiao Jin was supposedly just a department manager—so why had Secretary Yin contacted Lu Pingzhang the moment he heard what happened? And why had Lu Pingzhang, without even a second’s delay, called Liu Chengxu directly?
The answer was obvious.
The business manager had been right to suspect there was more to that young man. With that kind of poise and boldness, there was no way his identity was as simple as it seemed.
Later that day, before getting off work, Qiao Jin called Lu Pingzhang. Secretary Yin answered. His tone, unlike his usual robotic detachment, carried a hint of caution:
“Mr. Qiao Jin? You’re calling for President Lu? Just a moment, I’ll—”
“No need to get him,” Qiao Jin interrupted. After these past couple of days, he’d spoken to Lu more than enough to feel a bit more at ease. “Secretary Yin, is President Lu going home tonight?”
Secretary Yin didn’t catch it right away. “Sorry?”
Qiao Jin clarified, “President Lu said this morning that he’d be home tonight. But I feel like a lot’s happened today.”
He paused for a beat, putting emphasis on the word “a lot.”
“So I’m guessing he might have other plans tonight. What I mean is—if he’s not going home, I’m thinking of going to the hospital for a bit. Spend some time with my mom.”
Secretary Yin had been through his share of bizarre situations recently, but he was trained for emotional detachment. He didn’t take anything too personally.
“Would you like me to ask President Lu for you?”
“No,” Qiao Jin said. “Can you just tell me directly, Secretary Yin?”
Secretary Yin fell silent.
This wasn’t the kind of thing he was trained for—and it definitely wasn’t in his job description.
Qiao Jin sighed. “Alright, fine. Just… if you do ask him, try not to mention it’s from me, okay? Thanks.”
Secretary Yin had never passed on such a vague and roundabout message before. He was a master at condensing conversations to save Lu’s time, but this… this was a first.
He knocked on the office door and stepped in, phone in hand. After a brief hesitation, he said, “President Lu, after your meeting with President Liu from Nanji tonight… will you be going home?”
The one-second pause before he asked was rare for him—and Lu Pingzhang noticed right away. He stopped writing and asked, “Who told you to ask me that?”
Without the slightest hesitation, Secretary Yin sold him out:
“Mr. Qiao Jin did. You told him this morning you’d be home early to have dinner together.”
Of course, Lu remembered. But the half-reviewed contracts were still spread across his desk, and tonight he did need to meet with Nanji’s people to finalize some details.
Life as an adult was always busy. Lu thought—even if he didn’t go home, Qiao Jin would still eat, still sleep, and still go about his day. Just because he’d said he’d be home didn’t mean it would change anything.
More often than not, even Lu himself couldn’t say for sure what time he’d finish work—or what unexpected situations might come up.
Secretary Yin added, “Mr. Qiao Jin said if you’re not going home tonight, he’ll go visit his mother at the hospital.”
For a brief moment, Lu Pingzhang looked stunned. His brows furrowed slightly, as if trying to figure out the connection between ‘Lu Pingzhang not going home’ and ‘Qiao Jin visiting his mother’.
“Let him go.”
Lu Pingzhang’s fountain pen rested between his well-groomed fingers. He frowned slightly. “Whether I come home or not, he can still go to the hospital. No one’s stopping him.”
Secretary Yin stood quietly off to the side, saying nothing.
Lu gently rolled the pen in his fingers, gazing at the spacious office as if lost in thought. The pen’s tip tapped rhythmically against the desk—tap, tap, tap—steady and deliberate.
It was a pen he’d brought from home. Just a glance at it could bring back the memory of that night—when Qiao Jin held it, signing his name with a calm, practiced motion.
Qiao Jin’s handwriting was sharp and distinct, each character cleanly separated. Lu Pingzhang’s style, by contrast, was bold and sweeping, strokes often linking together.
But Qiao Jin had imitated his signature with uncanny accuracy—because Lu had taught him, stroke by stroke, over countless late nights.
Lu finally set the pen down and reached out his hand toward Secretary Yin.
Secretary Yin understood, dialing Qiao Jin’s number and placing the phone gently into Lu’s palm.
It connected just in time—Qiao Jin’s voice came through, cautious but clear:
“Secretary Yin?”
“It’s me,” Lu said. “Tonight, I’m not sure if—or when—I’ll be home.”
Qiao Jin didn’t respond. All Lu could hear was the faint sound of breathing on the other end of the line.
After a brief pause, Lu added, “If it matters to you, next time something like this comes up, I’ll let you know ahead of time.”
