Chapter 75 n 55!w !

Chapter 75

Bai Yingchuan replied, "This friend has given me a lot of advice, including taking on the script for *The Boiling Years* and suggesting I learn more from Mr. Feng. He made me realize Lin Chengdong is unreliable and reminded me that collaborating with Xiaotian Fruit is the only way to forge a path. As for what to do next, I’d like to hear his opinion first."

This undoubtedly conveyed to Bai Yue that his friend was a million times more reliable than his own mother.

She glanced at Sister Yu, who also shook her head, indicating she had no hidden knowledge and genuinely didn’t know who this person was.

After Bai Yingchuan went into his room, Bai Yue instructed Sister Yu, "Keep an eye out. If such a person really exists, we older generation should still manage this relationship carefully for his sake."

Sister Yu nodded, but scoffed inwardly: *You just want to control your son’s connections to regain power over him.*

Though Bai Yingchuan was thriving, Bai Yue’s career was declining. Watching her son build new networks was a disparity she found hard to bear.

Not only were mother and son growing apart in their views, but Sister Yu also had to start planning for her own future.

Sitting at his desk, Bai Yingchuan found himself staring at the sketch on the wall again.

To understand Jiang Ruotang, Bai Yingchuan had, for the first time, read many books on painting and finally grasped the difference between sketches and studies.

But this sketch before him… was even looser and more spare than a quick sketch.

The play of light and shadow had a cold, harsh quality. Rather than depicting Bai Yingchuan, it seemed to reflect Jiang Ruotang’s own state of mind.

—*You are beautiful, but I will never look back.*

Bai Yingchuan closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He could now tell the other person his decision.

When his phone rang, Jiang Ruotang had just stepped out of the shower and was sipping fresh orange juice from the table.

"Hello? Bai Yingchuan?" Jiang Ruotang answered.

Jiang Ruotang’s voice, over the phone, sounded clearer and more childlike than usual.

The slightly rising tone at the end brushed against Bai Yingchuan’s heart like a feather.

"Sorry to bother you so late. I just convinced my mom, so I wanted to tell you right away."

A note of laughter in Jiang Ruotang’s voice: "That’s really good news. This time, do you want to handle it yourself, or let your agent handle the talks?"

Bai Yingchuan thought for a moment before answering, "I’d like to handle it myself."

"That way, Xiaotian Fruit becomes your own resource. Even if you change agents someday, no one can take this connection from you. Then I’ll give your number to Xiaotian Fruit’s side."

"Thank you."

Bai Yingchuan found it odd that he didn’t even ask Jiang Ruotang who he planned to give the number to.

"Should I hang up now?"

"Are you doing practice tests again?"

"Yeah, the mock exams are coming up."

Bai Yingchuan wanted to keep talking, but the words "mock exams are coming up" brought their conversation to a close.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ruotang sat expressionless at his desk, his laptop open to a webpage introducing Lin Chengdong’s new film project.

It was this very project that, in his past life, had smeared Jiang Huaiyuan’s reputation, bled the Jiang family’s shares dry, and allowed Lin Chengdong to play the good guy in front of Jiang Ruotang for nearly a decade—lamenting Jiang Huaiyuan’s suicide while hypocritically promising to look after Jiang Ruotang.

If hypocrites had to take the gaokao, Lin Chengdong could ace his way into a 985 university.

He still remembered that day when Jiang Ruotang accompanied Lin Lu to a social event. Lin Lu got drunk, and since Universe Pictures had a shareholders' meeting in the afternoon, Jiang Ruotang helped him to the office to sleep it off.

While Jiang Ruotang was using the restroom in Lin Lu’s office, Lin Chengdong came in and asked Lin Lu if Jiang Ruotang had handled that Director Fei situation.

Lin Lu, completely drunk, had no idea who had helped him into the office. He immediately started boasting to his father about how obedient Jiang Ruotang was—how he would plod ahead like a dumb mule as long as the bait was thrown, let alone a mere Director Fei.

Then, Lin Chengdong uttered the words Jiang Ruotang would never forget for the rest of his life.

"Apples don’t fall far from the tree. Even if we dig them a huge pit, they’ll bury themselves in it."

Followed by Lin Chengdong’s mocking sneer, "Gotta thank Jiang Huaiyuan for playing scapegoat and mine-sweeper for me, and for raising such a good son to work his ass off for us!"

Jiang Ruotang’s hand gripped the bathroom doorknob. To this day, he still couldn’t describe how he felt at that moment—like free-falling, his insides shattered. His entire life, along with all the sacrifices and trust of his father Jiang Huaiyuan, had been rendered meaningless. It was all a goddamn joke—a clueless, groveling clown.

Jiang Ruotang waited there, silently. He had thought Lin Lu might need to use the restroom, but after dozing off a little longer, Lin Lu went straight to the meeting.

When Jiang Ruotang finally stepped out of the bathroom, he was so drained he was wobbly as a newborn deer.

He stumbled back to his apartment, ignoring the endless vibrations and rings of his phone.

His chest weighed a ton, like a boulder on his ribs, making it hard to breathe.

He developed a high fever, turbocharging his nagging cough.

Zhao Yunshu and Zhao Changfeng came to check on him and took him to the hospital.

It was during this visit that he was diagnosed with lung cancer.

The day he received the diagnosis, Jiang Ruotang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It felt like karma bitch-slapping him for being a dumbass—so cruel that even his hatred felt powerless.

At the time, Lin Chengdong was untouchable in the entertainment industry, and Jiang Ruotang had no way to challenge him.

But in this life, things were different.

Jiang Ruotang had already skinned Lin Chengdong alive, feather by feather—from his cash cow Huang Tengyue to all his shady business dealings—grinding him down to a twitchy, paranoid wreck, desperate enough to scheme and offend others.

Now, all that remained was the final, fatal blow.

Jiang Ruotang leaned back in his chair, arms comfortably folded behind his head, while Bai Yingchuan—his honed scalpel—grew ever more lethal.

—Uncle Lin, if you get even greedier and push Bai Yingchuan and Bai Yue a little harder, I guarantee the knife they twist in your gut will be that much deeper.

Jiang Ruotang wouldn’t let himself or his family get any closer to Lin Chengdong. That filthy cesspool could rot and fester on its own.

But because he didn’t want to dirty his hands, Jiang Ruotang couldn’t access Lin Chengdong’s dirty secrets directly. Bai Yue, however, must be sitting on a goldmine.

Now that Bai Yingchuan could see and appreciate the "bright future" Jiang Ruotang had pointed out, Bai Yue would also see hope.

Once they had a glimpse of escaping the quagmire, only to be dragged deeper into the abyss by Lin Chengdong—guess whether Bai Yue would sing like a canary?

Jiang Ruotang felt a surge of satisfaction. He couldn’t wait to see Lin Chengdong swiss-cheesed.

Just then, his phone on the desk buzzed—a message from Lu Guifan: [Have you finished the physics and chemistry problems? I’m going to sleep.]

One moment, Jiang Ruotang was playing judge, jury, and executioner, mentally sentencing Lin Chengdong, the execution blade ready to fall on this backstabbing, soulless waste of space. The next, Lu Guifan’s message jolted him back to his homework hell.

["Don't fall asleep! Just wait, sending it any second!"]

Jiang Ruotang immediately put on a serious expression and started working on the problems.

["How soon is 'right away'? You haven't even started, have you?"]

["Stop nagging! Keep this up and you'll die single!"]

Receiving Jiang Ruotang's "you'll die single" threat, Lu Guifan, holding his phone, was momentarily speechless.

Propping his chin on his hand, he lowered his eyes and tapped Jiang Ruotang's profile picture with his fingertip.

Then, Lu Guifan shook his head helplessly—it seemed he had completely lost his authority as class monitor when it came to Jiang Ruotang.

At that moment, Jiang Ruotang sent another message: ["n 55!w !"]

Lu Guifan tilted his head. ["Which question's answer is this?"]

["Just didn’t want you to get bored. See if you can crack this code. No searching online—cheating is shameful."]

This obscure internet meme was something Jiang Ruotang was certain Lu Guifan wouldn’t know.

Good luck cracking it, Academic God.

Jiang Ruotang got back to work, unfazed, and slowly worked through the problems.

After Lu Guifan finished checking the exercises, Jiang Ruotang yawned and asked with a grin: ["Class Monitor, figured out the code yet?"]

Lu Guifan was drawing a complete blank by the string of characters, but since he’d promised Jiang Ruotang not to search for the answer online, he had to rack his brain.

["You gave way too little information. I can’t figure it out."]

Jiang Ruotang couldn’t keep the grin off his face. ["Class Monitor, you’re the smartest person I know. You’ll definitely crack it. Night~!"]

Just the words "Night~!" were enough for Lu Guifan to picture Jiang Ruotang’s gloating expression.

Even though he knew Jiang Ruotang was teasing him—that the string might mean nothing at all—Lu Guifan couldn’t help but search for an answer.

He set his phone down, went to pour a glass of water, and sat back at his desk. By chance, his phone was now upside down, and suddenly, the seemingly random characters made sense. Covering his eyes, he laughed.

On the desk against the wall sat Jiang Ruotang’s water bottle. Since Lu Guifan couldn’t ruffle Jiang Ruotang’s hair, he settled for playing with the bottle’s pop-up straw in and out, over and over.

"You little..."

Judging by the carefree tone of Jiang Ruotang’s message, Lu Guifan guessed he hadn’t even considered the meaning behind the answer when sending it.

As if only he were the one affected, Lu Guifan pressed down on Jiang Ruotang’s water bottle a few more times, harder.

The next morning, just as Bai Yingchuan finished washing up, his phone buzzed unexpectedly.

"Hello, is this Mr. Bai Yingchuan?"

A rich baritone voice came through.

"Yes, speaking. May I ask who’s calling...?"

"I’m Gao Cheng, CEO of Sweetberry."

For a moment, Bai Yingchuan froze. He had expected someone like a copyright manager or PR representative to contact him.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think Jiang Ruotang could get his number directly to Gao Cheng—a level of influence even Bai Yue couldn’t manage.

"Hello, this is Bai Yingchuan." His voice caught unconsciously.

Due to time constraints, they didn’t delve deep, but Gao Cheng sketched out the broad strokes of working together.

First, he hoped Bai Yingchuan would join Sweetberry, where he’d have his own video channel and fan hub like other creators.

Bai Yingchuan could post updates, share his life, break down movies and shows, and—as a "close friend" of Sweetberry—push anime and manga.

While driving external traffic to Sweetberry, he could also attract its users to follow him—a true win-win.

According to Gao Cheng, Sweetberry wouldn’t remain solely an anime platform forever. Once operations stabilized, they’d produce original TV shows, animations, and even invest in films, becoming a full-service entertainment hub.

The more Bai Yingchuan listened, the more he realized Lin Chengdong was just a small-time hustler with no vision, blindly brown-nosing Cloud Maple Video.

They clicked immediately. After hanging up, Bai Yingchuan walked out, where Sister Yu had just showed up to get him.

"Sister Yu, I just spoke with Sweetberry’s CEO, Gao Cheng. They’re very sincere about collaborating. We’ve penciled in a meeting this Sunday at their office. Can you come with me?"

Sister Yu was stunned. "Which Gao...?"

"Their CEO, Gao Cheng."

Sister Yu’s jaw hit the floor.

"Gao Cheng... called you personally?"

"Yes. A friend of mine helped connect us."

Mentioning this, Bai Yingchuan couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

After all, until now, Sister Yu had always been the one arranging things for him. Now, for the first time, he was the one calling the shots.

Hearing the commotion, Bai Yue stuck her head out.

She stared at Bai Yingchuan in disbelief. "You’re saying... Gao Cheng called you himself?"

"Mm." Bai Yingchuan nodded. "If there’s nothing else, I’ll head to class now. I’ll give you the details tomorrow."

With that, he threw on his backpack and left.

Sister Yu sighed in amazement. "Yingchuan’s friend... really has pull. Makes Lin Chengdong look amateur!"

Bai Yue listened, green with envy. She truly envied Bai Yingchuan’s luck—he knew people who could actually help, while she was stuck on Lin Chengdong’s leaky boat!

Meanwhile, at the Jiang residence, Zhao Yunshu and Jiang Huaiyuan were in the study—one going over a script, the other a project proposal.

"Huaiyuan, remember that rejected project? The xianxia one?" Zhao Yunshu asked.

"I do. *Drunken Immortal Terrace*, right? The original novel’s dialogue and lore was solid. Shame Lin Chengdong’s last two xianxia productions bombed. The genre’s toxic now."

Zhao Yunshu pressed, "But could we bankroll it privately, under our banner, without cutting out Universe?"

"Oh?" Jiang Huaiyuan took the script from her, intrigued. "What’s the play here? Share with me."

"I think with a tight script, we don’t need big-name actors. Lin Chengdong’s talent picks are too expensive, and the actors don’t even fit the roles."

Jiang Huaiyuan sighed. "Chengdong’s living in the past, approaching dramas like just vehicles for traffic. The stories can’t even put new wine in old bottles... Lately, half his slate gets killed in development."

Zhao Yunshu added, "I doubt he even read what *Drunken Immortal Terrace* is about. It’s such a shame for such a great story to go to waste at *Universe Pictures*."

"Why don't we buy the rights from *Universe* and start our own production company? We can assemble a team and film it ourselves. I’ve never directed an immortal fantasy series before—this would be a good chance to try," Jiang Huaiyuan said eagerly.

"I was hoping you'd say that, *Director Jiang*!"

Zhao Yunshu acted swiftly. Since Jiang Huaiyuan already owned a small production company, she used it to acquire the rights. Soon, Jiang Huaiyuan began recruiting students at film academies.

Lin Chengdong dismissed the idea. Without A-list stars, who would watch their show? Jiang Huaiyuan was naive, thinking he could single-handedly challenge the audience’s jaded tastes.

But when *Jiang Ruotang* heard the news, he broke into a wide grin.

Buying the rights and producing a drama meant costing a fortune.

Jiang Huaiyuan was kind-hearted. If Lin Chengdong ever came begging, he would undoubtedly lend a hand.

But now, this drama had tied up all of Jiang Huaiyuan’s liquid assets. Even if Lin Chengdong knelt and kowtowed until his head bled, Jiang Huaiyuan would be broke!

Then came the entertainment news that nearly made Lin Chengdong choke on his coffee—*Bai Yingchuan* had signed on as *Sweet Fruit*’s "Gen Z Ambassador"!

Bai Yingchuan’s detractors finally had ammunition.

[He used to collaborate with *Kirin Video*, a platform with tens of millions of users, and now he’s downgraded to *Sweet Fruit*, which only has a few million? Talk about a career downgrade!]

[His fandom is too problematic—probably pissed off *Kirin Video*! Honestly, I’d love to see him cross-dress for cosplay!]

[One’s a has-been idol dumped by *Kirin Video*, the other’s a small-time platform *Kirin* almost sued into bankruptcy. The Underdogs United—unity is strength!]

...

Sister Yu had been worried Bai Yingchuan would be upset by the comments and called between classes to console him. But he was far calmer than she expected.

"Today’s data shows the paid subscriber count has already hit 3.4 million. The growth rate is way faster than *Kirin* and *Cloud Maple* when they first launched VIP services."

Hearing the genuine composure in his voice, Sister Yu felt much more at ease.

After hanging up, Bai Yingchuan walked into the classroom and saw *Jiang Ruotang*, *Cai Ji*, and *Jian Sha* dividing a limited-edition bag of chips sent by *Zhao Zhangfeng* from the capital.

The last chip was snatched by Jiang Ruotang. Cai Ji and Jian Sha jokingly threatened to beat him up but couldn’t bring themselves to do it, instead cornering him against the back wall.

Other classmates were curious—what kind of chips could make such close friends go at each other?

Who knew Jiang Ruotang had such a mischievous side when goofing around with friends?

He teased, "Come and get it if you dare! I’ll feed it to you!"

With that, he held the chip between his lips, teasingly tilting it toward Jian Sha, then raising his head to provoke Cai Ji, his smug look asking to be punched.

"You... you’re shameless!" Jian Sha gave his arm a frustrated pinch.

Though Cai Ji usually seemed gentle, he was surprisingly strong. He pinched Jiang Ruotang’s cheeks, making him pucker his lips like a tiny octopus, making the chip slip free.

Truthfully, they didn’t care about eating the last chip—they just didn’t want Jiang Ruotang to have it.

"Mmm... mmmph!" Jiang Ruotang protested through muffled sounds.

Cai Ji smirked and said, "*Ruo Tang*, you look adorable like this—like Paul the Octopus!"

*You’re* the octopus. Your whole family’s octopuses.

With the first mock exams just days away, the class was tense. Watching their antics, the whole class burst into laughter.

Just as Jiang Ruotang was cornered, *Lu Guifan* returned from *Teacher Song*’s office. He paused at the back door, surveying the scene.

Jiang Ruotang immediately gave him puppy-dog eyes—helpless, innocent, like a bullied puppy.

Jian Sha exposed him. "You ate two-thirds of the chips yourself! How dare you play the victim? Just trying to trick the class monitor into saving you, huh?"

Cai Ji wasn’t actually strong enough to hold him down, but Jiang Ruotang *was* counting on Lu Guifan’s intervention.

Cai Ji grumbled, "Even if this last chip turns to dust, you’re not getting it."

Then, without warning, Lu Guifan stepped forward, bent down, and took the chip right from Jiang Ruotang’s lips.

Jiang Ruotang froze. The faint pressure of the crisp being pried loose, the brush against his upper lip as it slipped free—his brain shorted out.

Lu Guifan’s tongue flicked upward, taking the entire chip into his mouth, including the part Jiang Ruotang had held.

The crisp crunch made Jiang Ruotang’s shoulders jerk.

His eyes widened, his mind reeling, impossible to gather back.

The entire classroom collectively gasped.

The image of Lu Guifan’s lowered lashes, so near they made his pulse quicken, lingered in Jiang Ruotang’s mind. He wasn’t sure if Lu Guifan’s nose had touched his, but the sensation of the chip being tugged away sent electricity through him. His heartbeat roared like an oncoming train.

Lu Guifan tapped Jiang Ruotang’s forehead lightly. "Deskmate, wake up. Hand in your math paper."

The words broke the spell, replaced by Jian Sha and Cai Ji’s laughter.

"Hahaha, *Jiang Ruotang*—that's what you get!"

"Only the class monitor can keep you in line!"

"What goes around comes around!"

Time, which had seemed suspended, abruptly resumed.

Everyone returned to their tasks, though whispers circulated.

"Wow, the class monitor actually made a joke! Was that a prank or flirting?"

"Who cares? He only acts like this with *Jiang Ruotang*."

"My heart nearly leaped out of my throat!"

"You are the company you keep—the class monitor isn’t the same anymore!"

Jiang Ruotang kept his head down, digging through his desk before finally handing over his math mock exam.

Lu Guifan unfolded the paper like a newspaper, scanning it from top to bottom, a faint smile curling his lips. He carried Jiang Ruotang’s paper with him as he collected the rest.

*Who told you to text me "n 55!w !" in the middle of the night?*