Chapter 16

Qi Linyuan’s rented place was a small apartment.

There was a kitchen, but it wasn’t spacious; a sofa, but it could hardly be called a living room.

He never imagined he’d ever have to host the top boss from his previous life’s company in such a place.

“I thought this sort of thing wouldn’t warrant your personal attention.” From the moment he received the call, Qi Linyuan had felt a sense of unreality, and that feeling only grew stronger once his guest arrived.

Qiao Shi raised an eyebrow. “You know me?”

That question made Qi Linyuan realize that the other man had only introduced himself as being from Fengqi, without mentioning his position. His own words sounded rather suspicious.

He couldn’t very well say he’d met him in his previous life at the company. Although one had been the executive director and the other a contracted artist, their paths hadn’t crossed much, but as the first of the later wave of contracted artists, they weren’t total strangers either.

Moreover, Qiao Shi was firmly on Ji Yuchen’s side. It was only through Qiao Shi’s tireless investigation after Ji Yuchen’s untimely death that the truth finally came to light. Even when Fengqi descended into chaos, the film and entertainment company under Qiao Shi’s control remained unscathed, sticking to its founding principles.

Qi Linyuan had always admired this company and had long planned to join it as soon as it was established. Yet before he’d even heard of Fengqi Film and Entertainment’s founding, the company’s boss had already sought him out. What kind of incredible good fortune was this?

The moment he received the call, he nearly blurted out, “Yes, I do!” on the spot.

But one had to maintain some composure, especially to avoid appearing too disloyal to his current company. Thus, Qi Linyuan kept his expression calm and began to answer from the question Qiao Shi had already asked: “I’ve heard of it. I have a friend whose dream is to become a journalist.”

As Qi Linyuan spoke, he silently made the sign of the cross for Zhou Siqi in his heart.

Qiao Shi, no stranger to interviews himself, didn’t question the explanation. He explained his reason for coming in person: “Your future development is closely tied to the company’s, so I need to conduct a personal assessment.”

Qi Linyuan nodded, clearly agreeing with the sentiment.

Qiao Shi was genuinely pleased with his poise and signaled his subordinate to hand over the draft contract. “Your current company isn’t a particularly good fit. If you were like your colleague Lu Xiang, perhaps it would be a decent choice—it would let you earn more while you’re young. But for you, it’s absolutely not suitable. We think your career could have far more possibilities.”

Qi Linyuan was tempted to ask who exactly “we” referred to, but held his curiosity in check, only responding with a quiet “Mm.”

He leafed through the contract. The terms were much the same as in his previous life: same revenue split, but considering his current age, the contract stipulated that, for now, company decisions would take precedence—yet he retained the absolute right of refusal, with increasing power over his choice of roles each year.

Qi Linyuan had no objections whatsoever to the terms. If possible, he would have signed on the spot, but that would have been too suspicious and would only make it harder to get close to Ji Yuchen later. So he did his best to appear interested but not overly excited. “May I have some time to consider? I’d also like to consult a lawyer about the contract…”

Qiao Shi appreciated his composure. “Of course. Once you make a decision, you can call back on the same number you received yesterday.”

With that, Qiao Shi didn’t linger for pleasantries but stood and took his leave.

Qi Linyuan walked him to the elevator. Qiao Shi looked at the young man before him—delicate features, calm and harmless in appearance—and found it hard to reconcile him with the “determination and boldness beyond the ordinary” he’d just described.

Yet… as the elevator doors closed, Qiao Shi glanced back one last time.

It was exactly this contrast that convinced Qiao Shi even more that this young man would succeed—and that the surprises he would bring the company would far exceed their expectations.

—

Qi Linyuan managed to maintain a calm expression while his guest was present, but the moment the elevator doors closed and began to descend, he nearly jumped for joy.

He was clear-headed and rational enough to know that Fengqi establishing this subsidiary two years early might not have that much to do with him, but the world itself hadn’t changed—he was the only variable. What did that mean? It meant he’d had an effect after all.

And the chairman of Fengqi was Ji Yuchen; time and again, it was Ji Yuchen who’d met him and witnessed his actions. This meant that, even in this new life, his connection with his benefactor was a two-way journey!

President Ji truly was his patron! Qi Linyuan thought with delight. No matter what, he would save him! Dying young was not the fate for such a righteous and kind-hearted man.

Qi Linyuan gave himself a window of half a month to a month to reply, but before then, he needed to join the crew of his first drama.

It was a crime investigation series, and as the second male lead, his main counterpart was the female protagonist.

She was a valiant, strikingly beautiful policewoman, highly competent and popular at the precinct.

The male lead was a rookie cop—reckless, impulsive, but passionate and sharp. The heroine, intent on mentoring him, was strict, assigning him many tasks he thought unnecessary, which caused his resentment. It wasn’t until the first case ended—when the male lead accidentally let the suspect escape and the villain charged at an innocent bystander—that the female lead, who had seemed to be doing the bare minimum, leapt forward, subdued the criminal with a spectacular shoulder throw, and won the male lead’s respect. From the second case on, he no longer resisted her authority.

Qi Linyuan’s character appeared at the conclusion of the first case—not as a criminal, nor the hidden boss in a crowd, but as the innocent bystander who narrowly avoided being stabbed.

He was deeply impressed by the heroine’s heroics, and thus began earnestly courting her—sending roses one day, concert tickets the next.

The heroine was somewhat exasperated, but not entirely averse to this sunny, privileged young man—especially since he seemed particularly unlucky: almost stabbed in the first case, had his car wrecked in the second after lending it to chase a suspect, and in the third, oh dear, ended up kidnapped…

The male lead could glare at his romantic rival, but the heroine didn’t have the luxury of such indifference.

To her, he was just an innocent civilian entangled in the case. Whether or not he was pursuing her or indifferent to his losses because of his affection, she couldn’t take his devotion and misfortunes for granted.

Because her duty was to protect every ordinary person.

It was precisely this sense of responsibility that moved both the male and second male leads; ultimately, the former won her heart, while the latter was inspired to give up his idle lifestyle, join his father’s business, and learn how to manage the company.

Qi Linyuan had dared to let the company take this script not only because of the strength of the director and writer, but also because he was betting on the female lead.

Unlike himself and He Ran Sheng, the actress playing the heroine was no newcomer—she was a popular star. Weakening his role or diminishing his character would ultimately detract from her appeal. After all, being pursued by a mostly competent, if a little green, rich kid was very different from being chased by a complete loser…

Indeed, when He Ran Sheng’s agent suggested reducing Qi Linyuan’s scenes and altering his characterization, not only did the director and writer refuse, but so did the lead actress’s agent.

Qi Linyuan listened as his own agent animatedly described how He Ran Sheng’s demands were shot down, but instead of sharing his agent’s amusement, he asked, “If they couldn’t change the script, did they want the crew to kick me out?”

“Yes! I was terrified at the time. But then I thought, wait, we have a contract. If they fire you without cause, they’ll have to pay a penalty. They gritted their teeth and said they’d pay, but Director Zhang wouldn’t have it. He said, ‘We’re about to start filming, everyone needs to behave, stop making trouble!’”

Here, the agent’s tone was tinged with regret.

Triple the penalty fee! It wouldn’t have mattered much if they’d been kicked out, there were other projects waiting anyway…

Qi Linyuan pretended not to notice what his agent was hinting at.

He glanced at the calendar on his phone, his gaze pausing on a marked date.

The opening ceremony… Variety shows were fine, but what he loved most was the immersive experience of being on set, living out a character’s entire life.

—

On the day “Requiem” started filming, the sun shone brightly.

From dawn, not a cloud could be seen above the filming location, and by the time the opening ceremony began, it was almost sweltering.

Though the glare made it difficult to keep their eyes open, it seemed a promising omen. Aside from He Ran Sheng, who muttered a complaint and was silenced by a glance from the lead actress Yao Yunshi, everyone else took the ceremony seriously.

Qi Linyuan, being a newcomer and the second male lead, wasn’t supposed to be in the front row for incense or group photos.

But perhaps because he’d maintained such good spirits throughout, and hadn’t reacted even when bumped by He Ran Sheng, Director Zhang instead pulled him forward, letting him stand beside Yao Yunshi for the group shot.

Yao Yunshi, seeing He Ran Sheng fuming and Qi Linyuan still smiling calmly, whether in the second or first row, found herself naturally warming to him.

Recalling what her agent had mentioned earlier, Yao Yunshi said, “We’ll be colleagues for the next few months. Do you have an assistant? If not, I can ask the director to have the crew look after you.”

“Thank you, Yunshi!” Qi Linyuan accepted her kindness without hesitation.

Yao Yunshi, seeing his sincere gratitude, was in a good mood. “I thought you’d call me Ms. Yao.”

Qi Linyuan shook his head with a smile. “You certainly deserve the title, but meeting you in person, ‘Yunshi’ feels much friendlier.”

Yao Yunshi’s relationship with her boyfriend was public knowledge both inside and outside the industry. Qi Linyuan was much younger—about the same age as her younger brother—so she spoke to him without reserve.

Qi Linyuan could sense that she was simply being kind, and played along, making for a pleasant conversation that nearly drove He Ran Sheng to storm off in frustration.

Well, no matter what, he was still only the second male lead. He Ran Sheng sulked inwardly.

Forever stuck as the runner-up—let him enjoy it now, because once filming began, the misery would only begin.