MACRM Chapter 3

Zhong Yao was tall and slender, even without standing up straight, he was still half a head taller than Lin Zhu.

Lin Zhu managed to stop himself just in time, standing at a distance that wouldn’t force him to crane his neck up. Behind his glasses, his amber eyes were clear and bright, meeting Zhong Yao’s assessing gaze head-on.

His expression was steady, but his mind was still in total chaos.

“I just recommended myself,” “Why is Zhong Yao so tall?” “What if I get rejected?” “Should I wear height insoles next time?” “But seriously, why is Zhong Yao so tall?” 

—all these thoughts swirled around wildly, making it nearly impossible to piece together any coherent logic.

Yet this state of chaos was thrilling in a way he couldn’t bear to let go of.

Lin Zhu fixed his eyes firmly on Zhong Yao, letting his jumbled thoughts gallop unchecked. He was just about to keep pressing his case when someone suddenly tugged his arm.

Lin Zhu turned his head. The executive’s hairline seemed to have receded another three centimeters. “Xiao Lin, the company knows you’re between artists right now. Zhong Yao’s situation is special, just calm down for a moment. Trust the company, we’ll definitely assign you a suitable artist to manage…”

The executive was trying hard to smooth things over with Zhong Yao, terrified that Lin Zhu would stir up more trouble right now, so he put on an especially warm and patient tone.

“Zhong Yao’s time is limited, he’s here to discuss important business. Qi Zhi switching agents was sudden and you were treated unfairly. The company will make it up to you—”

“Vice President Li.”

Zhong Yao suddenly spoke up on the side, looking at Lin Zhu — who had been interrupted after barely a word — and said, “It’s fine, let him finish.”

The executive froze for a second, then quickly forced a smile, trying to pull Lin Zhu back behind him. “This is our new agent, Lin Zhu. He’s quite capable, but he’s too inexperienced and still too young, not mature enough yet. He really can’t help you with anything…”

“I can help!”

Lin Zhu rose on his toes behind him, stubbornly raising his hand to get a word in.

The executive immediately shot Lin Zhu a warning glare. He was about to tell him not to speak recklessly when his eyes met Lin Zhu’s through the lenses — and his heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The baby-faced young agent looked all aggrieved and indignant, but his eyes were especially clear. For a moment — maybe it was an illusion — the executive thought he saw a sharp glint flash through those eyes.

Lin Zhu was looking right back at him, gaze unwavering, and stepped half a step forward.

Vice President Li’s body, awkward and heavy, felt that clumsy tension wash over him for just a moment, before a stronger rush of information flooded his mind.

“—With fame but no popularity, Zhong Yao’s value was basically drained dry. Might as well squeeze him one last time and use him to pave the way for the new traffic stars…”

“Zheng Yi has a similar style, so we can use this chance to overshadow Zhong Yao and run a crisis PR campaign. Qi Zhi’s a traffic idol, get him on a few variety shows, leech off Zhong Yao’s name for a bit…”

“Find loopholes in the contract, it’s almost up anyway. Hold it back and milk every last bit before letting him go…”

“Anyway, the whole industry thinks Canxing’s been good to Zhong Yao. As long as it doesn’t cross a line, even if Zhong Yao catches on, he’ll be powerless to do anything…”

A surge of anger almost flared in Lin Zhu’s eyes. When his gaze swept to Zhong Yao, he just barely stopped himself, silently counting in his mind: “One, two, three—”

At the count of three, his body felt lighter, the messy stream of information settled, and his mind cleared again.

Zhong Yao’s contract was still with Canxing.

There was still a year left, and Zhong Yao couldn’t afford to fall out with Canxing just yet.

For any artist, having a dispute with the company during an active contract — regardless of who was right or wrong — would damage their reputation and career.

Lin Zhu lifted his head, and the anger in his eyes was gone. Vice President Li however, was still frozen in place, staring at him in astonishment.

Lin Zhu flashed him a wide grin, nimbly dodged left and right, and easily broke through the crumbling human blockade.

He’d always been in the habit of looking people in the eyes — not just because eyes are the most honest part of a person, often betraying secrets without meaning to — but because to him, those secrets were almost completely transparent.

Lin Zhu can read minds.

As long as someone met his gaze, he could fully share that person’s thoughts and feelings for three seconds.

The guiltier someone was, the more secrets they hid; and the stronger the discomfort when Lin Zhu read their mind. Vice President Li was brimming with schemes to exploit Zhong Yao, so naturally he’d reacted so strongly.

Lin Zhu didn’t care about him, but he didn’t want to openly antagonize him either, in case it brought trouble down on Zhong Yao. After finally slipping past the exec, he strode quickly over. “Zhong-laoshi—”

He held that just-glimpsed secret tight in his chest, his heart burning with rage. But he didn’t want Zhong Yao to get dragged down because of it, nor did he want Zhong Yao to even know.

Being schemed against by others was painful enough.

What was worse was knowing exactly who was scheming and how, yet having no way to do anything about it.

Lin Zhu didn’t want Zhong Yao to be trapped in that mess,  yet he still had to warn him in time. That left him unusually torn.

“It’s alright. I’m not in a hurry.”

Zhong Yao lifted the corner of his lips, his eyes resting on Lin Zhu, standing there at ease: “And what can an agent do for me?”

Lin Zhu’s eyes lit up.

Zhong Yao’s tone was almost gentle, and that faint trace of a smile surfaced in his eyes again.

Lin Zhu liked seeing him smile. It settled something restless in his heart, and he couldn’t help but lift the corners of his own mouth in return.

“You’ve just returned and might not be fully used to the new state of the industry yet. An agent can help you gather resources, review scripts, negotiate pay and publicity, so you can focus on acting without worrying about all the little details.”

He recited the points he’d prepared smoothly, then, catching the executive’s still wary, guarded look, tacked on another line like reading off hidden notes. “They can also protect you from being overshadowed, exploited for hype, or used as someone’s stepping stone…”

The executive’s face changed dramatically, his gaze snapping to him. But Lin Zhu just turned his eyes away as if nothing had happened, looking sincerely at Zhong Yao instead.

“If you don’t want an assistant, your agent can handle your daily needs too. Drive you to and from shoots, deal with paparazzi and reporters for you, keep you company.”

Having finished his mental script, Lin Zhu made up the rest on the fly, worried it sounded too plain. Catching the executive off guard, he sneaked another glance, eyes brightening as he added all in one breath, “They can help organize your contracts too, to avoid accidental breaches that cause delays or penalties — so your last year with Canxing can go smoothly!”

Executive: “…”

A thin trail of steam practically rose from Vice President Li’s head.

Zhong Yao couldn’t hold it in, standing next to the fuming exec, he let out a quiet laugh.

The only reason he’d stepped in at all was because he’d heard that the young man in front of him had also been betrayed by the artist he managed, and felt an odd pang of empathy. On impulse, he’d insisted on letting him finish what he had to say.

He hadn’t expected things to unfold like this.

Any fleeting regret at finding out the other wasn’t a “little fresh meat” here to steal his throne had long vanished, replaced by a livelier curiosity. Like bamboo shoots sprouting after rain, one after another, turning a bleak winter scene into a vibrant green landscape. 

Zhong Yao hadn’t felt this lighthearted in a long time.

After the falling-out with his last agent, he really hadn’t planned on ever entrusting his fate to anyone else again.

He could land roles himself; life would go on even without someone to look after him. Three years had honed his acting and his resolve. He didn’t trust anyone who got too close anymore, nor did he take any promises at face value.

But if he had a little guy like this around as a companion…

Life might just be a lot more interesting than before.

He’d found fame young, been at the top and fallen to the bottom. He’d experienced all kinds of treatment — busy, dazzling, dull, bleak — but he’d never tasted what a truly interesting life could be like.

Zhong Yao looked up, finding Lin Zhu was still gazing at him earnestly, the light in his eyes like tiny shards of sugar, tumbling and sticking to him, sweet and impossible to shake off.

Zhong Yao didn’t plan to shake them off, either. 

His poised posture softened as he shifted a hand into his pocket, leaning slightly before standing up straight again. “Sounds like you’re all-powerful.”

“You can test me for three months first. If you sign with me, we’ll use the standard company contract terms, I only want the base salary.”

Lin Zhu stood a little taller on his toes, his bright eyes full of a stubborn, youthful earnestness that felt almost innocent. “If you don’t see progress in three months, I’ll quit.”

Zhong Yao fixed his gaze on him.

The terms Lin Zhu offered were extremely favorable, with no risk of being tricked — getting burned once by those closest to him had its upsides. The public had a long memory, once a trick had been used, it couldn’t be pulled again. The same smear campaign wouldn’t stick twice.

Having had that first reversal, if anything similar happened in the future, few would believe it a second time.

He was simply used to not keeping anyone around, but he hadn’t turned paranoid or bitter[mfn]OG: bitten once by a snake, afraid of rope for ten years. It means getting paranoid after a (similar) incident[/mfn].

Besides, looking into eyes like these, it was hard for anyone to say no.

Zhong Yao watched him, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“I haven’t actually been formally introduced to Mr. Lin yet.”

Zhong Yao accepted him as his new agent, deliberately addressing him with a slightly more mature title. Sure enough, when he saw those eyes brighten and curve with delight, Zhong Yao let the smile fade naturally, and extended his hand, “Can we start over?”

He wasn’t smiling anymore, but his expression stayed warm, and his attitude was sincere and respectful.

Lin Zhu’s eyes lit up instantly.

He’d agreed!

Lin Zhu technically could read Zhong Yao’s mind. But every time their eyes met, his own brain just flipped and spun through the air like a gymnast, leaving him no room to focus enough to do it. So all he could do was guess, his heart pounding with hope and worry.

“Worrying about gains and losses” was already a precious feeling in itself.

After mentally flipping through thirty-two midair somersaults, Lin Zhu fought off the urge to throw his arms out for a chest stretch right there, stayed calm and composed, switched the Coke can to his other hand, and grasped the offered hand with all the confidence he could muster.

Zhong Yao wasn’t going to bite him.

He’d just been a fan for too long. Meeting him in real life made him excited, that was all. Once they worked together day in and day out, he’d get used to it. It’d be fine.

Lin Zhu wasn’t going to chicken out. He lifted his head and beamed. “Hello, Zhong-laoshi, my name’s Lin Zhu. You can call me—”

Zhong Yao’s steady gaze met his.

Those sharp, striking features carried no familiar sense of oppression, only a poised elegance and a mature calm that radiated from within.

Lin Zhu: “…Call me…”

Zhong Yao raised an eyebrow.

Lin Zhu: “……”

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T/L: Just a note “laoshi” (老师) is very commonly translated as “teacher”. But in Chinese (and Japanese’s 先生/sensei), it can be used to refer many professionals, like actors, authors, artists, etc. 

Also, Zhong Yao called Lin Zhu as “Mr. Lin”, and in Chinese it’s “林先生“ (Lin-xiansheng). For easier reading, I’ll be translating some of these appellation suffixes that has a straightforward English equivalent, but keep them in Chinese that doesn’t have.