News that Yazhi had a new chairman quickly spread among the company’s employees and artists. Many refused to believe it at first, but when they heard that Fang Hui had actually been fired, they were stunned.
Those who had been shelved or deliberately held back because of Fang Hui and Zhao Chenlin couldn’t help feeling a flicker of hope. Did Fang Hui’s departure and the change of chairman mean they might finally get a chance to succeed? Yet when they learned that the new chairman was another young master of Zhou Group, their optimism faded.
Wealthy second-generation heirs, especially those who involved themselves in entertainment, often had rather unpleasant habits. Using their power to pressure artists into private arrangements was one of the industry’s common abuses. Zhao Chenlin might no longer be chairman, but nobody knew whether his replacement would be any different. If he was the same, the change would only mean another kind of disaster for them.
“Zihuan, are you listening to me at all?”
Tang Sai had called as soon as he heard the explosive news. But he might as well have been talking to himself. He Zihuan had only made a sound of acknowledgment at the beginning. Then running water came through the phone, and Tang Sai understood.
“You went out to work again last night?”
Tang Sai genuinely sympathized with He Zihuan. They had been classmates and had signed with Yazhi after graduation, full of confidence and determination. Back then, they’d believed that if they worked hard, they were bound to build successful careers in entertainment. Reality had slapped them in the face before long.
He Zihuan had been so outstanding in every respect that he’d practically been the pride of their school. At graduation, everyone had said he would surely make a name for himself in entertainment very quickly. Yet more than half a year after graduation, the company had shelved him completely. Five years was no short time. By the time his contract expired, both of them would be approaching thirty.
At the root of the problem was the fact that Yazhi was nowhere near as glamorous as they’d imagined.
The real reason Zhao Chenlin had signed them was that he’d taken an interest in He Zihuan and wanted to take advantage of him. He deliberately arranged a five-year contract with a breach penalty of over ten million yuan. For He Zihuan, newly out of school, that was more money than he could possibly pay, even if he sold a kidney.
He Zihuan wanted to succeed as an actor, but he refused to trade himself for fame. He turned Zhao Chenlin down repeatedly until Zhao lost his temper and had him shelved.
His ambitions crushed by a brutal reality, He Zihuan had been despondent for a while. Tang Sai, as his friend, could only encourage him. There was little else he could do. Although Tang Sai occasionally won roles in television dramas, they were always minor parts, either anonymous passersby or characters who existed only to be killed off. Even so, he was far better off than He Zihuan.
Last December, He Zihuan finally pulled himself together. He began taking odd jobs to support himself, although he rarely stayed with any one job for long and sometimes worked consecutive night shifts. Tang Sai suspected he was wearing himself out deliberately, trying to numb the pain.
“I heard everything you said.” He Zihuan sat at the dining table with a bowl of soy milk and four steamed buns in front of him, his usual breakfast. They were leftovers from yesterday.
“Good. I think this might be your chance to turn things around. Why don’t you find time to come to the company?” Tang Sai suggested.
He Zihuan paused, then gave a scornful laugh. “I suspect all the young masters of the Zhou family are much the same. Do you really think this is an opportunity? Sure, the new chairman fired Fang Hui, but maybe the two heirs already hated one another, and he’s just taking it out on his rival’s people.”
“That’s possible. I’ve only heard what the staff are saying. But I have a feeling this new chairman really might be different from Young Master Zhao. They say he’s pretty strict.” Tang Sai couldn’t be certain, but it was still something to hope for.
“Then pray he’s a decent person. I have to go to work at nine and earn a living. I’ll talk to you later.” He Zihuan hung up. After finishing his soy milk, he rubbed the corners of his eyes. Weariness showed on his face. He had worked until four in the morning yesterday and slept less than four hours.
The following day, just as he pulled on his coat to leave for work, his phone rang. He assumed it was Tang Sai. Since Yazhi had shelved him, Tang Sai was practically the only person who still called. Even the classmates who had promised to stay in touch before graduation had fallen silent.
He Zihuan took out his phone. The number on the screen was both familiar and strangely distant. He stared at it in a daze. Four months? Five? Had it been half a year already? He couldn’t remember how long it had been since the company had last called him. Tang Sai’s words from yesterday surfaced in his mind.
“Hello?” He Zihuan put the phone to his ear.
“Am I speaking to He Zihuan?” A sweet female voice came through the line. It sounded vaguely familiar, perhaps one of Yazhi’s employees.
“Yes. What is it?”
“President Pan has asked me to inform you that you must report to Yazhi before nine.”
When the call ended, He Zihuan remained dazed. After a while, he finally came to his senses and immediately dialed Tang Sai.
Similar calls reached other artists who had been shelved, denied opportunities, or pushed aside. They all knew Yazhi had changed chairmen. Hearing that President Pan wanted to see them stirred at least a little hope. Several quickly changed clothes and hurried straight to the company.
Meanwhile, the office itself was anything but peaceful.
Cen Xi, who had been shooting an advertisement out of town, rushed back that morning with several assistants. He must have heard something, because he arrived in a foul mood and marched straight to Pan Zhihai’s office. The two had a furious argument, loud enough for the staff outside to hear.
“Young Master Zhao assigned all my assistants to me! What gives you the right to cut their number?” Cen Xi exploded. Fang Hui and Zhao Chenlin had indulged his temper for so long that he had grown thoroughly spoiled. With Zhao Chenlin behind him, he had never taken Pan Zhihai seriously.
Pan Zhihai had long since had enough. He was Yazhi’s president, while Cen Xi was merely an actor with a little name recognition, still some way short of being a major star. Yet Cen Xi was forever ordering him around.
“If you have objections, take them to the new chairman. This is his order. The chairman says you have too many assistants and don’t need them all. Under company policy, an artist may have no more than two. The others will be reassigned to artists who need them.”
Cen Xi wasn’t intimidated by the mention of Wang Cheng. He sneered contemptuously. “Those people have no talent. Why do they need assistants? Giving them any would be a waste.”
“The chairman is in the office next door. You’re welcome to ask him yourself. But here’s a word of advice before you go: Young Master Zhou is nothing like Young Master Zhao.” Pan Zhihai smiled. He knew perfectly well Cen Xi wouldn’t listen.
Sure enough, Cen Xi turned and headed straight for the chairman’s office.
Two assistants hurried after him, but when they reached the doorway, neither dared go inside. One of them, Xiao Li, peered in and saw a man seated behind the desk with sunlight at his back. The composition was almost cinematic, full of quiet gravity. Light and shadow seemed to sculpt his features, making him look far more handsome than Cen Xi. Could this really be the chairman of Yazhi? For a moment, the sight felt unreal.
Cen Xi was equally taken aback.
He froze the instant he saw Wang Cheng, and didn’t recover until the other man met his gaze. That serious expression was quite unlike those of the people he usually encountered.
“What do you want?” Wang Cheng had seen Cen Xi’s photographs and had vaguely heard his name outside. Few people other than Cen Xi would dare stand before him with such an arrogant expression.
Cen Xi steadied himself. “President Pan says you’re reducing the number of my assistants. I don’t agree. I’m used to having several people around to help. There are plenty of things I need them for, and losing even one would be inconvenient.”
“Do you need someone to serve you while you eat, bathe, and use the bathroom too?” Cen Xi stared in disbelief. The man’s expression was plainly displeased.
Wang Cheng continued, “I should remind you that I’m not Zhao Chenlin. He may have allowed the entire company to revolve around you, but I won’t. Everyone follows the rules. If you refuse, fine. I can reduce some of your film roles, television work, and endorsement contracts. Once you aren’t so busy, you won’t need so many assistants.”
Cen Xi’s face turned ugly. He had debuted only a year ago, but that year had gone so smoothly that he’d never truly suffered a setback. Now someone was threatening to take away his work. Naturally, his temper couldn’t tolerate it. But the man before him was Yazhi’s chairman, so Cen Xi forced himself to endure the humiliation for now.
“Since you have no objections, choose two of your six assistants to keep. If there’s nothing else, you may leave.” With that, Wang Cheng dismissed him.
Cen Xi stormed out, barely containing his anger.
His two assistants hurried after him. Just as he neared the doorway, someone entered from outside, and they almost collided. “Watch where you’re going, you blind idiot!” Cen Xi snapped. His temper was blazing, but this time the surrounding employees didn’t scatter as they usually did when he lost his temper.