MCFEM C43

Chapter 43 – Five Million for You, From Now On Stay Away From Gu Yang…

Wine splattered across Qi Ming’s face, dripping down in rivulets. The smile frozen on his lips stiffened.

Cheng Zishi gave the man before him an embarrassed but still polite smile.

He had done what he had always wanted to do—and then some.

It was over. His acting career might well end here.

Would he be blacklisted?

But remembering the heart-voice he had just heard from Gu Yang, his hand shook as he held the glass.

No.

He didn’t want that old pervert—

Gu Yuhui watched the spectacle with a faintly amused look, motioning to a nearby server, who was enjoying the gossip, to bring a towel.

Qi Ming wiped his face. He was not someone who lost his temper easily, and this surely must have been accidental.

He looked to his lucky charm, planning to let the matter slide once the boy apologized.

But under his gaze, Cheng Zishi actually took several steps back.

Qi Ming: ?

Are you serious with that retreat?

The atmosphere grew even more awkward. Cheng Zishi had yet to process things when Gu Yang began again.

【Of course Cheng Zishi would never agree to something like that. When he was called to the room and saw Qi Ming wrapped only in a bath towel, in the struggle he grabbed a bottle of red wine and smashed it over his head, tearing things apart completely.】

【Cheng Zishi’s company was Tianchen Entertainment, under the Lu family. Actually, offending Qi Ming wasn’t unsalvageable, but Lu Ran disliked Cheng Zishi. He used the excuse to blacklist him, trading favors with Qi Ming to secure resources for other artists.】

Hearing this, Cheng Zishi let out a cold laugh.

That bastard Lu Ran.

He scanned the room. Tonight the Lu family was represented by Lu Zheng, with no sign of Lu Ran.

Even better.

There were only four classmates here tonight.

He Ming’an wouldn’t spread gossip. Qi Lecheng rarely spoke, and Qi Ming was his father…

Cheng Zishi’s face darkened.

Right—Qi Ming had a son his own age. How could he stoop so low?

Now he couldn’t even look at Qi Lecheng.

Seeing Cheng Zishi’s cold laugh and black expression, Qi Ming’s own face finally hardened.

So, it wasn’t an accident.

He asked for a toast and the boy threw a tantrum. Had he been too lenient lately?

At that moment, his agent, who had been waiting outside, rushed in. Bowing and scraping, he said anxiously, “We’re terribly sorry, Director Qi. Our Zishi just wrapped an all-night shoot. But he’s earnest—he hopped straight on a plane after filming, so his condition may be off.”

He shoved Cheng Zishi’s head down to force an apology.

This smooth sequence gave Qi Ming a way down. He snorted coldly, but his initial amusement was gone. “Since his condition’s so poor, no need for him to stay. Have him leave.”

Watching Qi Ming turn away without another glance, the agent could only sigh wearily. Forcing words out, he muttered, “Cheng Zishi, I take my eyes off you for a moment and you cause a disaster. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“You’ve offended Director Qi! He was already planning his next film, and a role was meant for you. Now that’s ruined.”

Seeing no hint of crisis on Cheng Zishi’s face, the agent kept pressing, trying to drive home the gravity. “Forget this one role. If he holds a grudge, your career could be over. He might blacklist you entirely, do you understand?”

“That would be perfect…” Cheng Zishi said slowly.

“Good that you—wait, what did you just say?” The agent had been about to nod in relief, urging him to humble himself.

“Yeah, maybe this is a good thing,” Gu Yang interjected coolly.

The agent turned in shock, ready to lash out—until he recognized the Gu family’s young master. He swallowed the words back down.

Behind him was a Gu-owned company’s executive. This was not someone he could afford to offend.

He muttered inwardly but still bristled.

What kind of cold comfort was this? Weren’t they classmates? Couldn’t he wish him well?

Cheng Zishi shoved aside his overly fretful agent and fixed Gu Yang with a complex look.

“You…”

He had a thousand questions but couldn’t voice even one. He knew that asking would expose him.

Usually blunt and outspoken, now he was choking on his silence.

Gu Yang lifted his eyes, calmly sweeping Cheng Zishi from head to toe.

Cheng Zishi’s brows furrowed. He hated being looked at that way, like merchandise.

The agent’s heart leapt into his throat. He knew his artist’s temper too well—he’d mouth off even to bosses. If he was rubbed the wrong way here, he might curse out the boss’s son on the spot.

But before Cheng Zishi could explode, Gu Yang spoke again. “Be careful of Qi Ming. He goes for men too.”

The agent gaped at Gu Yang.

Cheng Zishi’s eyes flickered with surprise.

He had always thought Gu Yang was just an unruly young master, indifferent to everyone. Even He Ming’an, who had known him for years, never seemed to draw much concern.

Yet here he was, warning him.

Oddly, Cheng Zishi felt a strange thrill, almost flattered.

“Mm, I know…” he blurted. Then, realizing what he’d said, he thought it wasn’t much of a giveaway anyway.

The agent’s shocked eyes fell on Cheng Zishi again.

He’d always thought his artist, though talented, had no sense of the industry. He’d mouth off even to reporters, earning waves of smear pieces.

But this—this was foresight.

Gu Yang cast him a strange glance.

【Knowing and still not leaving—could he be okay with it?】

【Then why did it all blow up?】

【Did the wrong account get mixed in?】

Gu Yang’s inner muttering came clear as day to Cheng Zishi, and his face darkened again.

This was not going to blow over.

Why couldn’t he just be straight?

Not far away, Qi Ming, irritation clear on his face, glanced their way.

He had already dismissed them, yet they lingered. Did this brat really not take him seriously?

But remembering the company around him, he adjusted his expression and turned back to Gu Yuhui.

“These young actors don’t know better. Sorry to give you a laugh.”

Then he shifted the topic to Gu Yang. “I haven’t seen this child in years. Last time, wasn’t he still in middle school?”

“With my professional eye, I can guarantee this face will shine on screen. I’ve mentioned it before—why not let him try filming with me? Whether he likes it is another matter, but it would be a life experience.”

Gu Yuhui only smiled, saying nothing.

Qi Ming had proposed this several times. Clearly, it wasn’t mere courtesy—it was genuine.

But Gu Yuhui disapproved entirely.

Qi Ming might be an artist by profession, but he was more of a businessman than most businessmen. His private life was chaotic, and he often meddled with the actors in his crews.

For others, fine.

But not Gu Yang. That boy had been sheltered since childhood, pure as white paper. If stained, who knew how he’d be ruined.

So he never mentioned it.

Yet Qi Ming kept going.

He praised Gu Yang’s beauty, those gray eyes, his rebellious and shadowed temperament.

He even had a script in mind.

A boy from a broken home, repressing his own personality, who, upon escaping, meets many people and is reshaped again and again—until he self-destructs.

Gu Yuhui’s smile faded. His dark gaze turned to Gu Yang, chatting with that young actor.

So alike. Uncannily alike.

From brows to lips, especially when he raised his eyes to smile—upright, delicate, overlapping more and more with a memory.

But Gu Yang’s high nose bridge, sharp bone structure, gave strength to his features, cutting away any ambiguity.

That much was clearly inherited from his father’s side.

The voices around him blurred as Gu Yuhui’s mind drifted far away.

He remembered the first time he saw her.

His elder brother, barely half a year back from studying abroad, had suddenly returned with a woman, declaring her his fiancée. They were to marry.

At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it. He’d even felt relieved.

For people like them, marriage was business—binding interests, adding weight. Especially when more than one heir was in play.

Unlike his artistic, feckless brother, he was steady. After graduation he entered the company immediately. The elders expected more of him.

Succession was practically his, though not formally decided—after all, his brother was still the eldest son.

So this was convenient.

He was perhaps the only one in that chaotic household to wholeheartedly approve.

His brother had only laughed, saying he wasn’t asking—just notifying.

If he married and returned with a child, the old-timers might keel over on the spot.

It was during those early days that he met her—the woman who bewitched his brother, and upended the Gu family.

He had always been restrained, tamping down desires for ambition’s sake.

But feelings are irrational.

He could never, and had no right, to interfere. It would destroy his years of effort.

Yet one drunken night at a private club, he saw a woman whose features faintly resembled hers. For once, he acted on impulse, trading numbers.

Before the wedding, his brother died in an accident. He was the first to know.

Without hesitation, he called that woman to end it.

And then, step by step, he approached the bride-to-be, who was trying on her white wedding dress, blissfully unaware.

—

Gu Qingxu’s memories of his mother were faint.

He recalled a woman seldom at home, always dressed to the nines, carousing until late.

When he grew old enough to ask, he wondered why she never worked yet had money.

She would smile, stroking his hair. His father was generous, she said—lavish in both love and breakups.

He had thought it a lie, for he had never seen any sign of another in their lives.

Until one day, a man in a black suit came to visit.

He eavesdropped from behind the door, watching the severe man, his suit heavy, a white daisy pinned to his chest.

His mother held an unlit cigarette, laughing at something he said.

“Don’t laugh! You look nothing like her when you laugh!”

The man’s voice rose, startling even him.

Realizing his slip, the man turned away with a deep breath.

Catching his eye, his mother rolled hers, jerking her chin toward the man in disdain.

After the man left, she swept him up, kissing him hard.

Her laughter rang. Their good days were here, she said.

He would live as a rich young master. She would receive a fortune. Win-win.

On the day she sent him away, she hugged him, then turned and left without looking back.

He did not cry. He simply looked at his new home.

Perhaps their bond was shallow, or perhaps he was simply cold by nature.

The mansion was like those in dramas, full of servants who looked shocked to see him.

When the butler introduced him as the long-lost son of President Gu, they all bowed in unison.

“Good day, young master.”

The feeling was strange.

He had always been alone, with only toys for company, alien at school without parents to boast of.

But now, seeing them bow, it seemed not to matter.

He asked the butler how many children his father had.

“Only you, young master,” the man replied respectfully, though stiffly.

He exhaled softly, not noticing the tone.

He walked the marble path into the heart of the estate.

From now on, it was his.

Dinner was prepared.

The butler pulled out a chair.

Steak and cream soup were served.

The butler whispered to the maid, who said, “The young master hasn’t had much appetite. I thought a change of flavor might help.”

Young… master?

From that moment, every word etched itself into his memory.

He heard footsteps upstairs.

Facing the staircase, he stared.

A boy his age came down, led by a servant.

With gray eyes, eerily quiet, doll-like.

“Good day, young master,” the butler said with equal respect.

The boy sat opposite, staring at his steak before finally eating—slow, elegant, silent. His lashes dipped with each blink.

Yet, though he stared boldly, the boy never glanced at him once.

Later, the butler explained that the boy was the late elder master’s son—his cousin.

And suddenly, the shadows in his heart cleared.

From that meal onward, he lived in the Gu house.

There were two children. The gray-eyed boy was the eldest. He was the second.

Territorial by nature, he knew Gu Yuhui had only him. The Gu inheritance was his.

So he never hid his dominance, claiming the house piece by piece.

—

Someone passed word to Song Yinxing that someone sought him. Looking up, he saw Gu Qingxu.

His expression was cold.

He had expected this, but not so soon—only Monday.

Outside, their eyes met.

One hand in his pocket, the other resting lazily on the railing, Gu Qingxu’s posture was casual.

Though he had sought him, he did not speak first, simply scanning Song Yinxing from head to toe.

The rudeness was grating. Song Yinxing asked flatly, “What do you want with me?”

Gu Qingxu had been waiting for him to ask. His lips curved faintly. “What for? Why don’t you guess?”

Song Yinxing recalled something Nie Ying had once told him in his past life.

That bastard had sneered that Gu Qingxu was just a halfway addition, not even knowing his mother’s name. If he were respectable, why had he never been installed as Madam Gu, with the position vacant?

Still, he strutted like a young master.

Nie Ying had sneered, “But what does it matter? The Gu family is his now. Gu Yang may have grown up there, but he’s under his thumb.”

“Song Yinxing.” At last, Gu Qingxu spoke, magnanimous. “I looked into you. Top scorer in the city entrance exam. I’ll admit—you have ability.”

“But since you’ve worked so hard to come here, don’t harbor other schemes. It’s not worth it.”

“After all, the Gu family isn’t for just anyone to climb onto.”

His face was expressionless. Gu Qingxu knew words alone wouldn’t move him.

So he delivered his final line.

“Five million. From now on, stay away from Gu Yang. Don’t meet him again.”