Chapter 89

Chapter 89

He looked up, and saw the person was holding nothing—no milk tea, no coffee.

Jiang Tiyan noticed the red antiseptic stains on the back of his hand and thought, *Wasn’t I the one who got it worse?*

"I'm in a hurry," the guy said, delivering his rehearsed line.

"In a hurry to get your ass kicked?"

The big star couldn’t get through two sentences without mocking him. Perhaps thanks to skilled makeup, the injuries from the afternoon were miraculously concealed.

Making a living off his looks, not a single blemish or wound was visible. Instead, his foul mood only added a cold, brooding edge to his demeanor.

Qi Yanyu mused, *No wonder there are so many ugly people becoming celebrities on TV these days—they think makeup works like magic.*

"Over there..." The distant director’s team hesitated, eyeing the random nobody standing next to Jiang Tiyan.

"Are you stupid? Don’t block the long-range shots for the crew."

"Then I’ll leave."

"At this hour, is Qi Muyao asleep?" Jiang Tiyan asked expressionlessly.

Standing frozen for nearly a minute, the guy seemed like he’d just experienced some grand romantic encounter—his mind still in a hazy daze—yet his tone attempted rationality:

"I don’t have much money."

"What’s your money problem got to do with me?"

"You looking for trouble? Not beaten enough?"

This person was so easy to provoke—just one sentence and his emotions flared.

Jiang Tiyan tilted his head slightly, sitting in the contestants’ section, his lips curling faintly as he watched the guy standing there, red-faced and furious.

At the same time, Jiang Tiyan noticed the red light blinking on a camera in the distance. He yanked Qi Yanyu down into the seat, forcing him into position as the lens zoomed in on his perfectly sculpted face—capturing and magnifying it, with over a dozen cameras snapping away.

Qi Yanyu, dragged down into the aisle of the audience seats, thought Jiang Tiyan was about to fight him again.

His hands were pinned—one twisted back, the other pressed against his chest—leaving him unable to get up.

Only when the cameras moved away did Jiang Tiyan glance down at him. "If you weren’t such a mess, I’d have beaten you senseless by now."

*Wasn’t that my line?* He stole it.

"If it weren’t for you making a living off your looks, I wouldn’t be pulling my punches either."

As the guy struggled to get up and retaliate, Jiang Tiyan simply left his seat, knee pressing against his shoulder and hand. The sickly complexion on his face turned slightly pink from exertion and agitation.

If it weren’t for the entire production crew and directors being present, he would’ve taught Qi Yanyu a lesson he wouldn’t forget.

After holding him down for a full three minutes, Jiang Tiyan finally released him and said, "I’m thirsty."

"?"

Qi Yanyu glared. Just as he was about to drag Jiang Tiyan off his "pedestal," the other man suddenly said coolly, "Here’s your chance. Go get me coffee."

"You motherf—"

"You claim you're broke—can't even lift a finger?"

He’d already forgotten how he’d even gotten in here, let alone the maze of turns it took to get there.

Qi Yanyu had barely stepped outside for a moment but was already struggling to remember the way out—he still had to go pick up Jiang Tiyan’s takeout.

The lanyard around his neck had a *101* talent show badge. Qi Yanyu itched to tear it off and ditch it, then hail a cab back to school.

But a suspicion nagged at him: maybe it was because the original story described him offending Jiang Tiyan somehow, and now Jiang Tiyan was seizing the chance to get revenge.

Had to be. Why else would Jiang Tiyan be riding him like this?

If he could just get on Jiang Tiyan’s good side, maybe this hidden plot point—one he wasn’t even fully aware of—would just “clear” itself.

Not everything could go your way. Smooth sailing ain’t living.

Life’s a bitch—that’s what keeps it real.

Fiction’s no different.

This pep talk took the edge off his anger.

He checked his phone for missed texts, thinking that Gu Jinglan was probably still in another dorm and hadn’t returned to Room 413 yet.

His life still had direction. None of this really mattered in the long run.

A solid forty minutes later, Qi Yanyu finally came walking back—Jiang Tiyan had almost thought he’d taken a cab and left.

When he handed over the coffee, Jiang Tiyan cocked his head with a smirk: "Ever seen a celebrity insert their own straw?"

Qi Yanyu rammed the straw through the lid—*pop*—half-hoping the scalding liquid would splash into Jiang Tiyan’s face.

The superstar didn’t even blink, scrolling through the script for another film in his hand. "Bring it here."

*Bring it over? How ‘bout I dump it on your face instead,* Qi Yanyu thought.

His hands moved as fast as his thoughts—except his quick reflexes ended up jamming the straw straight into Jiang Tiyan’s throat, making him roll his eyes back and nearly gag.

Jiang Tiyan sipped twice and dumped it aside, expression unreadable.

His gaze seemed fixed on the stage, but in reality, it was distant and unfocused—until he glanced sideways at that guy.

Of course the guy had dragged along a med textbook. Later, he simply draped it over his face to block the light, curled up like a shrimp with arms crossed, and fell asleep in the audience seats.

The shoot dragged ass 'til sunrise.

Jiang Tiyan had pulled all-nighters before, long accustomed to reversed sleep schedules. But what he wasn’t used to was burning the midnight oil while the person beside him snored away.

He toe-poked Qi Yanyu’s leg, but the guy didn’t react at all.

Jiang Tiyan’s mood had been shit earlier, but having someone like this to mess with made him feel oddly energized.

He mused: *Some people are just punchable. No wonder everyone past and present wants to mess with him.*

So, just to be a dick, he reached out again to tug at Qi Yanyu’s sleeve, trying to wake him up to keep him company.

No amount of shaking roused him.

Annoyed, Jiang Tiyan yanked Qi Yanyu’s shirt up a bit, exposing his waist—only to notice his clothes weren’t exactly clean. God knows where he’d crawled through—maybe wandered into some half-built, under-construction studio.

There were tiny red hives on his waist from an allergy, spreading in patches like slender red streaks.

Jiang Tiyan hadn’t seen him scratch—such common allergic reactions were everywhere; sometimes even tight pants could leave these nettle-like red marks.

He took out his phone, pushed Qi Yanyu’s clothes up a bit further to expose his back, and casually snapped a few photos, saving them as curiosities.

Later, during a break, he shook him awake.

Qi Yanyu thought it was dawn and time to leave, so he made a beeline for the door. Jiang Tiyan, who needed touch-ups and a break, snapped: “The makeup room is on the right!”

“…I’m not removing my makeup.”

“Then what are you here for?” If not to keep him company.

“Then why don’t you tell me, what the fuck am I here for?” The guy was getting angry again.

Jiang Tiyan curled his lips in a cold smile, eyes sharp and mocking. “Do you even know your role right now? Did I bring you here to sleep comfortably?”

Once inside Jiang Tiyan’s private makeup and rest room, Qi Yanyu hugged a pillow and dozed off again in the corner.

Glancing at his distant reflection in the mirror, Jiang Tiyan got his hair and makeup redone. Even though it was past midnight, he still had to go onstage later to perform a song.

Midway through styling, he walked over, bent down, and stared at his sleeping face for a while.

The guy didn’t stir. Jiang Tiyan noticed his head tilted back, nearly touching the ground as he sat on a low chair only about a foot off the floor.

“When are you transferring the 80 million to my account?”

The abrupt question in his ear made Qi Yanyu open his eyes. He blinked like he was still dreaming before finally focusing into the distance.

“Is the car here?”

“What car?” Jiang Tiyan was confused.

“The ride-hailing. I called one.” He wanted to take a ride back to school. But when he checked his phone, the ride had been canceled an hour ago—the driver couldn’t get through to him.

Add paragraph break here.

Later, they moved to another filming location. The three mentors were to visit the contestants’ dormitory cafeteria and lounge to congratulate those who had passed the first round of the competition.

Amid the crew, various well-known contestants’ assistants, and mentors’ assistants, Qi Yanyu tried to find a place to sleep—only to receive another frosty look from Jiang Tiyan across the room.

“Eat something. Don’t faint on me.”

He grabbed an exquisite dessert from the contestants’ table and handed it to the swaying man beside him.

“I have class tomorrow.”

“Cut the act. Didn’t Qi Muyao buy your admission? Bought your way in?”

“You were told to go to college, but no—you just had to play the uneducated fool.”

The two exchanged biting sarcasm.

Some contestants murmured when the cameras were off: “Is that Jiang Tiyan’s assistant? Pretty young. Jiang Tiyan seems pretty approachable, treating his assistant so well.”

“Isn’t Mentor Jiang famously strict?”—code for tyrannical and ill-tempered—“Didn’t expect him to be so soft on his own staff.”

Soft? Perhaps it was just the illusion created when Jiang Tiyan brought his comparatively ordinary-looking (by entertainment industry standards) assistant along as the mentors, a few high-profile contestants, and staff went out for a post-midnight meal at 6 a.m. His assistant was slumped against the chair at the table, dozing off.

Jiang Tiyan was cold and distant, except when occasionally serving food to his junior assistant.

They were having barbecue bright and early in the morning—loaded with oil, spice, and numbing heat.

Lettuce wraps filled with garlic, meat, and various chili powders; but Jiang Tiyan’s wrap for his assistant contained only lean beef, no cumin, and not overly charred.

Wrapping two tender slices of beef in lettuce, he used one hand to pinch shut the mouth of his nearly "zoned-out" "assistant," while using the other to shove the lettuce wrap into his mouth.

When his "assistant" had been stuffed until he was about to gag, it was again Jiang Tiyan who poured a small cup of baijiu and held it to his lips.

"Still cold? Bet you're on fire now."

Qi Yanyu had barely sipped it before his brows furrowed, nearly spitting it onto his lap. He grabbed a can of soda, but it was ice-cold straight from the freezer. After rubbing his hands twice, he put the drink down.

Jiang Tiyan feigned innocence as he watched—whether naturally antisocial or just twisted, he clearly enjoyed tormenting him. "Want anything else? How about a couple of lamb fries?"

Despite saying that, he didn’t go looking for them. Instead, he plucked some freshly grilled, steaming abalone from the grill and tucked it into his trademark "Jiang Special" super-wrap.

During the audition, none of the contestants had seen Mentor Jiang smile this much.

This wasn't an assistant—it was clearly the mentor's favorite chew toy.