Chapter 35 (2/2)
Her brows knitted immediately. Fearing something had gone wrong with the role she had just secured, she took her phone and stepped out onto the bedroom balcony to answer.
“Hello, boss. Did something happen with Thousand Threads of Snow?”
Li Nan clearly had not expected that to be her opening line. But given everything that had happened to her this week, it was not surprising she would worry that way.
He laughed.
“No. I’m calling to ask if there are any other productions you’ve been wanting to do lately. The company can go talk to them.”
Since signing with the company, Mu Wan had never been treated like this before. Partly because she did not have the status for it, and partly because she had never been picky. As long as the role was decent enough, she would take it.
After this week—and likely the next as well—being hollowed out of work, the company had finally started to take things seriously.
Mu Wan stood barefoot on the balcony, the evening air pressing warm against her skin.
“I’ll just follow the company’s arrangements,” she said.
Li Nan sounded dissatisfied.
“Even if you play supporting roles, you still need your own path. Before this, you took roles too randomly. That’s why once those productions cut your scenes, there was no clear line for what to pursue next.”
On the surface, he was talking about the company’s strategy.
But, on closer inspection, he was also taking her preferences into account.
It was a win-win arrangement.
Mu Wan did not pretend to be shy about it any longer. She named several projects she had once wanted to audition for.
“All right. I’ll go talk tomorrow,” Li Nan said.
Mu Wan smiled.
“Thank you, boss.”
“I’m only doing my job as your agent,” Li Nan replied coolly.
Then, as though reflecting on himself, he added, “I have too many artists under me. There are bound to be times I can’t look after everyone properly. Don’t take it personally. Honestly, with your conditions, you could be playing lead roles.”
The earlier part of the conversation had been normal enough.
That last sentence, however, left Mu Wan a little confused.
She did not quite understand and asked, “What conditions?”
Li Nan did not answer.
He hung up.
The call had lasted nearly fifteen minutes. Mu Wan listened to the busy tone for a moment, still puzzled, but she did not dwell on it.
The bedroom lights were off. Light from the living room spilled across the doorway and reflected in the glass of the balcony doors.
A figure became clear there.
Mu Wan’s fingers tightened.
Liu Qianxiu had come over.
He leaned against her from behind, bringing with him a trace of coolness. It seemed he had gone to rinse off again.
Mu Wan’s shoulders softened under the contact. Feeling the solid warmth of his body close to hers, she said, “You told me it wasn’t good for my stomach to skip dinner, but you just ate and already took another shower, and that’s not—”
Her voice cut off.
His lips had come down against her ear.
His breath touched her skin, warm and dangerous. Mu Wan’s eyes widened slightly, her heartbeat pausing and then surging.
“That doesn’t matter for me,” he said.
The next second, her body lifted.
He picked her up in his arms. Her arms instinctively went around his neck, and he carried her to the bed.
Wind moved outside. Shadows shifted inside. The room turned quiet and tender and heavy with anticipation.
Afterward—much later—Mu Wan had no strength left to move. It felt as though he had taken her apart and put her back together piece by piece.
Her body lay limp in the circle of his arms. One forearm rested over her eyes, too tired even to raise them. Her voice was hoarse.
“Are you sure… this was really your first time?”
“Mm.”
A faint sound escaped through her nose. She rolled over in his arms like an indignant cat and mumbled sleepily,
“Doctors really do… know everything.”
That night, she slept without dreaming.
It had rained heavily during the night, but by morning the rain had stopped. The sky was still a dim grey haze.
At exactly six, Liu Qianxiu woke.
Mu Wan, exhausted from the night before, was still fast asleep.
He dressed quietly and got out of bed, moving into the living room.
Mu Wan’s living room did not have much furniture either, though it did have a sofa and a marble table. Even so, it still lacked the warmth of a regularly lived-in home.
He stood there a moment, then turned and went into the bathroom.
After rinsing off quickly and dressing again, he came out. One hand had just lifted toward the buttons of his shirt when his phone vibrated.
Lowering his eyes to the screen, Liu Qianxiu also heard a cat meowing outside the window.
He stepped to the bedroom window and answered the call.
It was from Liu Qingyuan.
A few days ago, Liu Qianxiu had abruptly arranged for the finance department to invest in a television drama. The Liu family business dealt in antique auctions and had nothing whatsoever to do with the entertainment industry. More than that, the project he had chosen had directly squeezed out an investment from Shen Entertainment.
That alone would have been enough.
But early that morning, Finance had sent another report: Liu Qianxiu had ordered investments into several more productions. Films. Television dramas. Even obscure web dramas no one had heard of.
There had been no planning, no discussion, no consultation with either Liu Qingyuan or his father.
And in practical terms, they were the ones who had been running Liu Corporation.
What Liu Qianxiu was doing was not just damaging the company’s interests and, by extension, theirs.
It was also a very clear form of disregard.
Liu Qingyuan kept his anger tightly contained. At first, he used the board of directors as a shield, but when he had said his piece, his tone sharpened.
“For all these years, it’s been Father and me keeping Liu Corporation where it is now. Weren’t you the one who said you didn’t care about it? Then why are you now—”
“I simply never wanted to manage it,” Liu Qianxiu cut in. “That doesn’t mean I can’t.”
One arm rested on the window ledge, drawing the lines of his waist and abdomen taut beneath the cloth. His voice was low, calm, and final.
“I am the head of the Liu family. Everything the Liu family has is mine. What I choose to do with it is not something you’re in any position to criticize.”
