MCFEM C45

Chapter 45 – The Cat Will Eat Your Eyeballs

Inside a magazine photo studio, Cheng Zishi had just finished his shoot and gone into the dressing room to change back into his own clothes.

“Did you hear? About Cheng Zishi?”

From beyond the half-closed door came the sound of gossip. His hand, halfway up zipping his hoodie, paused.

“Of course I heard. He’s definitely done for this time. Daring to offend Director Qi, does he even remember who put him on the map in the first place?”

“Exactly, always acting like he’s so high and mighty. I’ve disliked him for ages.”

“What is he, anyway? Just some little model who climbed up the ladder. Who knows what Director Qi saw in him, having to drag him into every production.”

“Well, you never know. Maybe he has something special about him. Outsiders like us wouldn’t know. Only Director Qi behind closed doors would know…”

At that, they all burst into suggestive laughter.

With a bang, the dressing room door swung open.

The very person they’d been talking about now stood before them.

Faces that had moments before been bold with mockery turned pale as paper.

Talking behind his back was one thing; saying it to his face was another. Whatever else, Cheng Zishi was not someone small fry like them could afford to offend.

“Go on,” Cheng Zishi said icily, looking at them. “Why stop now? I was enjoying the show.”

The few exchanged awkward looks. One forced a laugh and said, “Misunderstanding, it’s all a misunderstanding, Brother Cheng.”

“Is it? Funny, I don’t recall hearing my own name wrong.” Cheng Zishi’s lips curled in mockery. “I’m not so finished that I can’t even recognize that much.”

The air froze solid. Heads bowed, they didn’t know how to salvage it.

Fortunately, at that moment, Cheng Zishi’s manager arrived.

“The car’s waiting outside. Are you changed?” The manager glanced subtly at the group, giving them a chance to slip away.

“I’ve told you before, stop fighting with staff.” His manager rubbed at his temples. “What if they leak it to the press that you’re acting like a diva? Then you’ll learn the hard way.”

Cheng Zishi folded his arms against the doorframe and let out a cold laugh. “They’re already saying I climbed up the ladder through casting couches. Between that and acting high and mighty, which sounds worse to you?”

The manager was speechless. His mind flashed back to that night at Director Qi’s dinner party, when the Gu family’s young master had warned his artist.

Back then, he’d scoffed—it was all baseless nonsense.

But now… Director Qi really did fancy men? What the hell was going on?

He found himself worrying for his artist’s chastity. But he still had to bring up the matter.

“The higher-ups already know you offended Director Qi. They’re planning to set up a dinner, so you can meet and apologize. What do you think?”

Luckily for Cheng Zishi, the company’s younger generation was in short supply. He was the only marketable one, so they still wanted to salvage him.

“I’m not going.” Cheng Zishi’s face darkened.

The manager panicked instantly, but he couldn’t scold him for holding onto his bottom line. He hesitated and said, “It’ll be hard to turn down. What do I tell them?”

He thought about pushing further—this was about his future, and Director Qi had never actually crossed the line with him before.

But Cheng Zishi, too young to hide his thoughts, said flatly, “Tell them I don’t want to screw some old man. That’s it.”

“Even if you say that… wait, what???”

By the time the manager realized what he’d just heard, it was too late. In that instant, it felt like a thousand alpacas thundered across his mind.

It was too absurd to be a lie, and Cheng Zishi would never joke about something like that.

To say such words meant he’d already been approached or hinted at behind the scenes.

Director Qi really was…

The manager shivered, forcing himself not to imagine worse.

Meanwhile, Cheng Zishi leaned against the frame as his manager’s worldview collapsed and rebuilt itself.

It did remind him of one thing.

His contract with Tianchen Entertainment had years left. The penalty was unaffordable. Until it expired, he was bound to follow company arrangements.

Which meant the possibility of being blacklisted was real.

Lu Ran.

Cheng Zishi let out a cold laugh.

So that’s how you want to play.

Fine. Then he’d play it to the end.

—

At that very moment, as Lu Ran ate, he was struck by an inexplicable chill.

His elbow knocked over the water glass, spilling it across the table, drawing the eyes of those nearby.

His jaw clenched tight.

Normally, it wouldn’t have mattered. As the family’s youngest son, he had the privilege and power to act as he pleased.

But now, every probing glance felt unbearable.

He couldn’t stop himself from imagining what they were thinking behind their eyes.

Ordinarily, no one would have stared so long, but Lu Ran’s expression was too rich. Conversation around the table fell silent, drawn to him.

Lu Zheng, seated beside him, frowned faintly but said nothing.

Such a small matter—if family had to intervene, it would only look petty.

Cornered, Lu Ran glared furiously at one of them.

A ripple of derisive chuckles went around. Lu Zheng closed his eyes in resignation.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived with a dish.

On a white porcelain plate lay lotus-like cuts fanned out in clear broth, the base steaming with dry ice.

The young man at the head seat smiled and introduced it: “This ‘Step-by-Step Snow Lotus’ is the restaurant’s specialty. Knife skills are crucial. Made from bean curd, but it tastes like fish—a clever bit of artistry.”

The speaker was Nie Siyu, Nie Ying’s cousin.

He was host tonight and had no intention of letting trivialities sour the gathering.

With his words, the others obligingly tried the dish, praising it.

“Eh, it’s just okay. Still tastes like beans. That’s why I hate vegetarian food pretending to be meat. No matter how much effort you put in, it is what it is. Anyone can see through it.”

The speaker was the one Lu Ran had glared at. The words were loaded, and the mood froze again.

“Second Young Master Huo,” Gu Qingxu remarked from the sidelines, amused. His voice was low, only for those near him. “Years abroad, and still just as crude.”

Finally, Gu Yang looked up at the battlefield.

Lu Ran’s face darkened further. “No matter the effort, it’s futile”—wasn’t that aimed at him?

Lu Zheng sighed inwardly.

He hadn’t wanted to bring Lu Ran tonight. Everyone already knew the story. Why let him make a fool of himself again?

But his mother had begged. She feared if he stayed hidden, he’d be slowly edged out of their circle.

“So, Brother Lu, why didn’t you bring along that new little brother today? Can’t play favorites.”

“Exactly. He’s been back so long, and I still haven’t seen what he looks like.”

With Huo as the instigator, others piled on.

Lu Ran’s past arrogance had made him countless enemies. Now the crowd delighted in kicking him while he was down.

At the mention of Lu Ji, Lu Zheng’s head throbbed.

To show respect, he hadn’t sent an assistant but had personally gone to the Guanli dorms to fetch him.

Lu Ji, however, refused outright, saying he was comfortable there.

What did it look like? The child who wasn’t theirs raised at home, the biological son dumped in a dorm. If word got out, wouldn’t they be laughed at?

Having been stonewalled, he hadn’t the face to push further. He’d explained to their mother and left her to handle it.

Annoyed or not, in public he kept the right attitude. “He’s just returned, not yet adjusted. Next time I’ll host, and introduce my brother to you all.”

The remark was loaded, and the others caught it. They looked at Lu Ran’s incredulous expression and exchanged amused glances, letting the matter drop.

Humiliated, but Nie Siyu’s expression didn’t shift.

After Nie Yunhua’s spectacular scandal, his grandfather’s attitude had cooled. His father now had a greater role in the company, closer to its center of power.

And he himself was no Nie Ying—wasting time on nothing but trouble. These days, he had been diligently working business and building connections.

Lu Ran, meanwhile, reeled from Lu Zheng’s favoring of Lu Ji. He felt abandoned by the entire world, itching to storm out and cry to his mother.

But he knew that would only cement him as a joke. Swallowing his emotions, he stole glances at Gu Yang. Normally he dreaded Gu Yang’s mind-voice. But now, just the two of them, he longed for some tidbit that could help him.

But nothing came.

He couldn’t stand it. Pretending to take a call, he escaped.

Gu Yang hadn’t spared the table drama a glance. He already knew the plot many versions ahead. Their scuffles were just leftovers from classroom gossip.

He reached for the soup, but it was too far. Standing to reach would look awkward.

Gu Qingxu noticed. For once, he took the bowl, stood, and ladled soup for him, placing it before him.

From the earlier small talk to this, he hadn’t bothered to hide his good mood tonight.

Anyone else would have been curious, but Gu Yang only looked at the bowl, stirring it once, then asked, “Did you poison it?”

Gu Qingxu’s smile froze. Teeth gritted, he hissed, “Eat already. Can’t even shut you up?”

“You two cousins really are close,” Nie Siyu observed, amused. “Not brothers, but closer than brothers.”

Gu Qingxu’s smile turned faintly strange.

For a moment, he almost thought Nie Siyu was deliberately sarcastic.

But no—the purpose of tonight’s dinner was plainly to win favor.

Must just be tone-deaf.

Seizing the opening, Nie Siyu went on. “Unlike me and my cousin. Always been distant.”

“A ten-year gap—it’s normal. No need to force it,” Gu Qingxu replied coolly.

“I’m afraid it’s not just the age gap.” Nie Siyu’s voice grew pointed. “My cousin is headstrong, hard to get along with. Grandfather despairs of him.”

“Recently, it’s gotten worse. Either holed up in his room, or out partying wild. He doesn’t even go to school anymore. Disgraceful.”

Everyone knew what had happened. Family shame shouldn’t be aired, yet Nie Siyu spoke openly.

Gu Yang thought of his fate.

He’d been shipped off to Africa.

“Expanding markets,” they called it. As good as exile.

Gu Qingxu only smiled faintly, letting it pass.

But inwardly, he took his measure.

At this rate, Nie Siyu was worse than Nie Ying.

If forced to choose, better Nie Ying.

For all his arrogance and violence, Nie Ying at least acted decisively.

Still stung by earlier slights, Gu Qingxu leaned over and chuckled softly to Gu Yang, sharing his thought.

Indeed, quite decisive.

Gu Yang mused silently.

After all, he’d literally hired someone to run you down.

For the first time, Gu Yang found Gu Qingxu’s judgment questionable.

Whatever their relationship, he was tied to the dividends. If the group went bankrupt, then his own future…

Future.

At that word, Gu Yang faltered, lowering his head to sip soup, forcing down the stir of emotions.

—

Song Yinxing still remembered that funeral.

In his previous life, he had attended two.

The first, his mother’s.

Missing the college entrance exam, his life had unraveled into a long, grinding avalanche.

The second, a youth he’d met only once. This time, he’d insisted on attending.

The ceremony had been somber, sparse. Few attended.

After all, the Gu family was still in chaos.

“Isn’t it fitting? He never liked crowds anyway,” Nie Ying’s casual tone jarred with the solemnity.

Now, as the farewell began, the youth lay in his coffin, eyes closed. His face bloodless and lifelessly pale, long lashes fallen, a deep wound visible on his left wrist.

Even Song Yinxing couldn’t imagine the state of mind needed to cut so deep.

“What a pity.” Nie Ying stepped forward, looking down. “Such a face, about to vanish forever.”

The beautiful always passing away—Nie Ying, victor, did not begrudge a sigh of regret.

That face had always carried a shadow of gloom, eyes forever rejecting the world. Now, in parting, he seemed strangely calm, as if only sunk into a long sleep.

“After the farewell, he’ll be cremated?”

“No…” The blond-haired man paused. “We’re waiting a day. The class monitor’s abroad, flying back overnight. He asked to see him one last time.”

“Hah, wondered why he wasn’t here…”

Their voices blurred in Song Yinxing’s ears.

He closed his eyes.

Why had he come at all?

Only to bear powerless witness to the end.

When he surfaced from memory, he realized the servants had already led him into the Gu residence.

It was their agreed tutoring session tonight. But after their last conversation, he hardly knew how to face Gu Yang.

At this moment, Gu Yang sat at his desk, the cat in his lap, arms wrapped around its torso, holding it upright on its hind legs.

“They say after people die, cats will eat them bit by bit,” Gu Yang murmured, rubbing his cheek against the cat’s head with fondness. “Bulin, would you do that to me?”

“But maybe that’s not so bad. Sounds more interesting than cremation or burial. At least we met once in this life, right, Bulin?”

He pressed down on Bulin’s tiny paw. The cat mewed, confused.

Beside him, Xiao Huang opened his mouth, wanting to speak but hesitating.

At the door, just stepping in, Song Yinxing froze. “…”

What in the world are you saying to a cat?