He Zihuan’s assistant called the police at once. The officers arrived soon after and took Cen Xi away for questioning. With so many witnesses and both testimony and physical evidence, he was unlikely to escape the consequences. Most people lost interest in what happened to him next. The reporters, on the other hand, weren’t about to let such a story go.
Pan Zhihai was badly shaken when he heard Cen Xi had attacked He Zihuan with a knife. Thankfully, the man had been subdued. And to think it had been Wang Cheng who saved him! If Pan Zhihai hadn’t called Wang Cheng that morning, he wouldn’t have come to Yazhi, and He Zihuan might have been injured. A lengthy break for a star of his stature would have cost both the actor and the company dearly. Sometimes fate really did work in strange ways.
“We owe it all to Young Master Zhou this time.” He Zihuan looked at Wang Cheng gratefully, his eyes bright.
“I’ve known Young Master Zhou for ages, but I had no idea he knew martial arts,” Pan Zhihai said. He’d always taken Wang Cheng for a rich young man who happened to be more capable than most. Subduing Cen Xi in just a few moves suggested a completely different level of skill.
He Zihuan’s assistant Xiao Li pressed her lips together, her admiration plain. “I saw him take Cen Xi down! That kick was incredible, and he twisted the man’s arms behind his back so neatly. Every move was so clean. He looked amazing.”
The others hadn’t seen it firsthand, but it wasn’t hard to picture. Even the bodyguards had been too slow to react.
“I practiced a little when I was young. It’s nothing special. The important thing is that everyone’s safe,” Wang Cheng said.
Sure enough, the attack made the front page the following morning, complete with a photograph of Wang Cheng restraining Cen Xi. No one had captured the first kick. Everyone had been too startled to reach for a camera. The pictures were from Cen Xi’s second attack, when Wang Cheng subdued him again. Hidden behind his cap and sunglasses, however, Wang Cheng was impossible to identify as Yazhi’s chairman.
He Zihuan was already enormously popular. He had built a career across modeling, film, and television, with modeling still his greatest success. His work with Fashion Vanguard and his position as Master Paul’s exclusive model had made him a name in fashion in less than six months.
His film and television careers were catching up quickly. Yazhi was pouring money into promoting him, and his rising fame seemed assured. He wasn’t yet on the level of the industry’s biggest veterans, but he was already a leader of the younger generation. A few more successful screen roles could firmly establish him among the top stars. Little wonder the media followed him so closely. Reporters camping outside Yazhi’s offices said it all.
Now someone had tried to attack He Zihuan in broad daylight. The media couldn’t have asked for a more sensational story.
For all his high-profile appearances, He Zihuan had been involved in surprisingly few scandals. Reporters were hungry for precisely this kind of explosive news. Everyone rushed to cover it, competing to make their headlines as irresistible as possible.
The greatest mystery was the identity of the man who had subdued Cen Xi.
The internet was soon awash in ridiculous theories. Some thought he was an admirer of He Zihuan’s. Others suspected him of something sinister, reasoning that no honest man would hide his face in broad daylight. The wildest rumor claimed he was both a Yazhi artist and He Zihuan’s secret lover. Supposedly, the two had been planning a clandestine meeting when the attack occurred, prompting the lover to throw himself into danger to save him.
It was an absurd story, riddled with holes, yet the comments were full of people cheering it on and inventing ever wilder scenarios. They enjoyed stirring things up. Ironically, if a star actually came out, many of those same spectators would probably be first in line to jeer.
Wang Cheng wasn’t surprised by the headlines. What he hadn’t expected was for strangers to decide he and He Zihuan were a couple.
Before the papers even had time to follow up, someone online identified the man in sunglasses as Zhou Cheng, Yazhi’s chairman. The internet erupted again. The rumors of a relationship multiplied, and He Zihuan’s habitual detractors joined in, claiming he’d achieved his success only because Wang Cheng had used his position to give him special treatment in exchange for sexual favors.
“Special favors? A couple?”
A deep voice sounded above Wang Cheng’s head, its owner giving no hint of what he felt.
Wang Cheng quickly closed the webpage. He sometimes checked Weibo and other online chatter to keep up with the latest trends; he didn’t want to become hopelessly out of touch.
“It’s all nonsense. I stop one man from hurting someone, and people dream up an entire romance. Have they got nothing better to do? Everyone wants a piece of the excitement. I’m not even a celebrity, yet they keep making me the story.”
“You’re Yazhi’s chairman,” Chu Yifeng replied, standing nearby with his arms folded.
Wang Cheng stretched lazily. “Know what Pan Zhihai told me when I went to Yazhi yesterday? Zhou Group’s opened a new entertainment company. They’re planning to invest in productions, train their own artists, and compete with us for talent. Someone’s spread the news that Grandpa removed me from my post, and now people are saying Yazhi has nothing to do with Zhou Group anymore.”
“Zhou Lin?” Chu Yifeng asked.
“Who else? She’s enjoying herself. As soon as she learned Grandpa had given Yazhi to me, she opened a rival company to bring me down. She’s been using Zhou Group’s name to poach promising artists. Just last week, she snatched a role that was supposed to go to one of ours.”
That was why Pan Zhihai had called. Zhou Lin’s new media company was growing quickly and aggressively pursuing the film roles and endorsements Yazhi had been offered. One or two such incidents might be overlooked, but they kept happening. Yazhi invested in some of its own productions, yet most of its artists’ opportunities came from outside investors, who were easier to pressure.
Some media outlets had gone further, claiming Wang Cheng had fallen out completely with Zhou Group. Zhou Lin’s quiet maneuvering made the rumors believable to certain investors. Unless Yazhi addressed the stories, its silence might be taken as confirmation. Before long, even He Zihuan’s career could be affected.
“I know a way to teach Zhou Lin a lesson,” Chu Yifeng said suddenly.
Wang Cheng looked up, saw the meaning in his expression, and understood at once. Whenever Chu Yifeng looked like that, someone was about to have a very bad day. Wang Cheng observed a solemn 0.0001 seconds of silence for Zhou Lin.
A film went through numerous stages before reaching theaters. Shooting and editing were only part of the process. A distributor had to be arranged, and, crucially, the completed film needed official review and permission to screen. Without the final permit, it couldn’t open in cinemas.
That last hurdle was vital. Failure could wipe out the investment. Films were generally reviewed at an earlier stage too, before shooting began, when producers applied for permission to make them. Ordinarily, the final screening approval caused little difficulty. Things were different, however, when someone deliberately put an obstacle in the way.
Zhou Group had money and influence, but much of its clout came from the Zheng family. Wang Cheng was a Zheng by blood, and although Zhou Shichang had removed him from his position, the Zhengs had not rejected him. If Wang Cheng intervened personally, people would still have reason to respect the family’s standing. To avoid complications, however, Chu Yifeng acted instead. The Chu family’s influence was greater still.
Old Li, the man running Tangren Media, phoned Zhou Lin with the news, but she was in a meeting.
Yang Jun, whom Zhou Lin and Zhao Jiansheng had placed in the overseas branch, had made a mistake at work and been reported to headquarters. It was a small error, but an employee of his experience should never have made it. The couple had worn themselves out trying to defend him.
When her assistant told her Old Li had called, Zhou Lin rang him back and asked how Tangren Media was doing. What she really wanted to know was whether its moves against Wang Cheng were succeeding.
The role Tangren had taken from Yazhi was small, but it had still been stolen from under Yazhi’s nose. Zhou Lin savored the thought of Wang Cheng’s frustration. She’d deliberately publicized the switch, and with the film’s premiere approaching, it was the perfect moment to humiliate him.
“President Zhou, something’s gone wrong.”
Old Li told her the film had been held up by the review authorities.
The premiere was scheduled for the next day. The publicity campaign was complete, and all that remained was the final permission to screen. Yet the film had suddenly been withheld, with no explanation. Every attempt to learn why had failed. The delay had come out of nowhere.
“President Zhou, the film passed the earlier review without any problem. Why would they stop it now? Could someone connected to the investors or the cast have offended somebody?”
It was the only explanation Old Li could think of. Zhou Group wasn’t one of the film’s investors. If someone was targeting this particular production, perhaps one of the people involved had recently angered an influential figure. Otherwise, the problem should have surfaced earlier.
Zhou Lin’s first thought was Wang Cheng. But he’d known about the stolen role for some time, so why act now? Had he deliberately waited until the eve of the premiere? Unable to be sure, she told Old Li to ask the investors whether they’d recently offended anyone.