LMMY chapter 125

“Xiao Min, I knew you’d make the right decision.”

Zhang Shan let out a long sigh of relief when she received his call, joy evident in her voice as she painted a bright future for him over the phone.

Then, eagerly, she asked, “Are you at home now? Or somewhere else? I’ll bring the lawyer over, and we’ll sign the contract as soon as possible.”

“Just the agency contract isn’t enough. I need to see the project contracts too,” Sheng Min said calmly. “One or two projects—film, TV, or variety, it doesn’t matter. But the payment has to satisfy me.”

“How much do you want?”

Sheng Min gave her a number.

Zhang Shan laughed. “You’ve got a big appetite.”

“Whether it’s reasonable or not, we all have our own judgments,” Sheng Min said softly. “And besides, President Zhang, you promised—the company won’t take a single cent from these projects.”

“I remember. I promised you, you’re definitely worth it.”

Zhang Shan agreed readily. “With your popularity, this amount is negotiable. It’s not unreasonable… The company’s commission was higher before, but that’s because we signed you early. We invested a lot in you back then, spent money upfront. But the new contract terms are much more generous—you’ve seen that yourself.”

She wasn’t lying. Sheng Min knew that. Many companies wanted to sign him, more than he could count on two hands. Dongyi might not have the best resources, but in terms of money, Zhang Shan was offering the most favorable deal.

Zhang Shan made sure to emphasize, “And as I said, before you get the agreed amount, the company won’t take a cent. You have my word, and we can write it into the contract. I’ll have the lawyer revise it right away.”

Sheng Min listened without much reaction. “Alright.”

“But getting the project contracts takes time. Plus, your contract is about to expire, and the industry knows it. If I go negotiate now, it’s like bringing an empty check—I’ll have less leverage, and it’ll take longer. Let’s at least sign the agency contract first—”

“President Zhang.” Sheng Min interrupted her. “I trust in your ability to solve these problems. You know why I agreed to renew my contract.”

“You need money? The company can advance you the payment.”

“If there’s no legitimate reason, I wouldn’t dare accept any money the company wires me,” Sheng Min said flatly, leaving little room for discussion. “Bring me the project contracts, and I’ll sign everything together.”

Zhang Shan paused, her voice tinged with a surprising disappointment. “Xiao Min, do you not trust me anymore?”

“Jie.” Sheng Min naturally switched to a more familiar tone. “Trust or not, does it really matter now? I’ve been grateful to you before, and I still am. That hasn’t changed—but it doesn’t mean anything in business.”

She fell silent for a moment. “You’ve really changed.”

“You taught me well.”

“Me?” Zhang Shan laughed. “I couldn’t have taught you this—it must be your boyfriend’s influence… Alright. You want to see the project contracts? Fine, I’ll get them for you as soon as possible.”

She hung up.

Less than two hours later, she called again.

“I’ve set up meetings with a few companies. Tomorrow, I’ll personally discuss the terms with them one by one. Since you’re only interested in the payment, I’ll handle the production teams, cast rankings, and broadcasting platforms for you.” Zhang Shan, though she had stepped back from the company in recent years, still had the skills that had built her success. Even her persuasion was smooth and calculated. “Here’s what I’m thinking—next Monday is our company’s annual project launch event. We’ll add a segment, and you’ll sign your contract there. That way, I’ll have two more days to finalize your project deals.”

Through the faint electric buzz of the call, Sheng Min could almost hear the gears of her calculations turning.

When he didn’t respond, Zhang Shan coaxed, “You were supposed to attend the project launch anyway. Announcing your contract renewal in front of so many reporters will probably generate more buzz than any of our upcoming projects. It’ll also boost the company’s stock price. After all, you’re the most profitable artist we have right now. And of course, it shows how much the company values you.”

“Oh,” Sheng Min said indifferently. He heard the wind rustling against the window. Turning his head, he realized it was already late at night.

The winter in N City was always gloomy, without stars or moon, making the boundary between day and night indistinct.

Winter had always been the hardest season for Sheng Min to endure. His mood would remain low for long periods, only improving with the arrival of spring. This year’s winter seemed even harder, yet somehow completely different. At the very least, as he looked out the window, he no longer had the impulse to jump. Instead, he simply wondered—what was Li Xuan doing now? Had he eaten?

Yesterday, after learning about his “rejection” from the play, Li Xuan had likely feared he would be upset. Despite Sheng Min repeatedly assuring him it was fine, Li Xuan still canceled his remaining meeting and went home with him.

As a result, his phone hadn’t stopped ringing since early morning—calls from subordinates, business partners, and an overwhelming number of decisions waiting for him. Li Xuan had originally planned to stay with him a little longer, but how could Sheng Min bear to keep him? After breakfast, he urged him to go to the company.

Still, Li Xuan had sent a message saying he would come home that night, though possibly late, and told Sheng Min to go to bed first. Sheng Min knew that Li Xuan was squeezing out time just to be with him. But how much additional workload had that created for him during the day? That was something impossible to measure.

“Sheng Min.”

Hearing no response from him for a long time, Zhang Shan spoke again, skillfully guiding the conversation. “You also know how badly the company’s stock has dropped. This new project launch is crucial for the entire company. Technically, I should be preparing for it these two days, but now I’m negotiating film contracts for you instead. I’m handing off the launch preparations to someone else—because I don’t feel at ease leaving your matters to others.”

“I’m truly honored,” Sheng Min snapped back to reality.

“So, you’re still coming, right?” Zhang Shan continued. “Didn’t you teach me before? Always leave some room to maneuver.”

“What time on Monday?”

The new project launch had already been widely promoted, and anyone paying attention could easily find out. Hearing his question, Zhang Shan seemed slightly displeased, perhaps thinking he didn’t care enough. But she still answered, “It starts at 3 PM. Your contract signing will be after the project presentations, around 4:30, as the closing highlight. We want to keep the media hooked. If we announce it at the beginning, they’ll all rush to write their articles and won’t pay attention to the rest of the event. Plus, we’ll also be introducing a few newly signed artists.”

Sheng Min pressed his lips together, recalling the schedule he saw on Li Xuan’s computer screen yesterday. He remembered that Li Xuan had an investor meeting on Monday afternoon.

“Alright,” Sheng Min said. “But the news can’t be leaked in advance. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee I’ll make it to the event.”

Zhang Shan scoffed, seeming to weigh the pros and cons for a few seconds. “Fine, two more days won’t make a difference. Looking forward to working together.”

Sheng Min wasn’t even sure how he ended the call. He stared into space for a long time before realizing he was already sitting in his study, with the script of ‘Not Just A Mountain’ in front of him.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall the exact moment Yin Qianpin had handed him the full script.

What he did remember was the warm lighting in the restaurant that day and the way Li Xuan had smiled at him, saying, “I already signed you up.”

Sheng Min didn’t want to look any further. He closed the script and shut his eyes.

……

“Mr. Sheng.”

The makeup artist called him softly. Sheng Min opened his eyes. “Is it done?”

“Yes.” The makeup artist packed up the brushes. “It’s finished.”

“Thank you.” Sheng Min looked at himself in the mirror. When was the last time he wore makeup? Two months ago? Three? It felt like forever. Somehow, looking at his own reflection, he felt an inexplicable sense of unfamiliarity.

“Something wrong? Need any adjustments?” The makeup artist studied his expression. “Your skin is great, so I kept it light.”

Sheng Min shook his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“Then I’ll head out first.”

“Alright.”

The dressing room door closed softly.

He checked the time. Less than thirty minutes until the launch event.

Sheng Min reached out and touched his reflection in the mirror. Then, he curled his lips into a flawless smile.

The decision was made, and he was prepared to bear all the consequences. There was no room for hesitation or weakness. He had to smile—just as he had always been so good at doing.

Just then, his phone rang abruptly, making him flinch slightly. Thankfully, the caller ID wasn’t the name he feared the most. But it still caused a small crack in his carefully constructed mask.

“Hello?”

“Hello!” Deng Jing’s voice was full of frustration. “Sheng Min, what the hell are you doing? Are you really renewing your contract? Someone just posted pictures of you arriving at your company’s launch event in your forum!”

Sheng Min pressed his lips together.

“You’re not actually renewing, right?” Deng Jing’s tone softened, still hopeful. “You’re just doing them a favor, giving them some last-minute hype, right?”

“Deng Jing.” Sheng Min had to say it. “I already told Director Yin.”

He had sent a long message—before agreeing to Zhang Shan, he had first informed Yin Qianpin. But the director hadn’t replied with a single word. Deng Jing had already suspected, but before, he had still hoped things could be salvaged. That’s why he hadn’t been this agitated before.

Hearing this, Deng Jing immediately exploded. “You’re killing him! What does telling him change? Just take it back! If you come back, he’ll still let you act… Why, Sheng Min? You love theater—I’m not blind, I can see it! Why did you change your mind? Even Yin Qianpin said your relationship with your boyfriend won’t affect the casting!”

“I’m sorry,” Sheng Min could only say.

“Who are you apologizing to? Yourself?” Deng Jing snapped. “Just get back here! I’m not dealing with this mess! Yin Qianpin is all over me every day, saying this feels off, that doesn’t feel right—who doesn’t know what he really means? I refuse to take this crap! You better come back… Wait, don’t tell me you already signed the contract?”

“I…”

“Sheng Min?”

The door opened. Zhang Shan walked in, looking triumphant, her makeup perfectly done. “Still on the phone?”

“I still have something to handle,” Sheng Min told Deng Jing. “I’ll call you back later.”

He took a deep breath and hung up the phone. But the ringtone immediately started again, relentless.

“Maybe turn it off for now?” Zhang Shan leaned against the door, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Sheng Min remained expressionless, lowered his gaze, and switched to silent mode. Zhang Shan walked over and cheerfully linked her arm through his, like a pair of handcuffs. “Let’s go.”

At the top floor of the company, in the meticulously arranged 500-square-meter hall, reporters with cameras and microphones were already waiting.

Sheng Min entered through the side door. He was still in the shadows when some sharp-eyed reporters noticed him, and the crowd immediately buzzed with excitement.

“He’s here! Sheng Min is here!”

“He really came? Oh my god, is he actually renewing his contract? Wasn’t the rumor that he wouldn’t?”

“Knew it. Otherwise, why make such a big event out of it? Dongyi must be doing everything to keep him. Without Sheng Min, they don’t have any artists with enough weight. Just look at the stock prices lately—that says it all…”

“Old company, there’s always some sentiment there.”

“Good thing he came. This trip wasn’t wasted; now we have something to write about…”

All kinds of voices poured into Sheng Min’s ears. The closer he got to the podium, the clearer they became.

It wasn’t just the scene here—online was the same. The product launch was being live-streamed in real time, and with Sheng Min’s appearance, it was like dropping bait into a pool of fish.

“No way, is he really renewing? Don’t do it!”

“Ahhh! Why make such a bad decision…”

“I have just two words: RUN. FAST.”

…

But Sheng Min couldn’t run. He walked straight into what fans called a fire pit without hesitation.

On stage, several Dongyi board members and a few of the company’s more well-known artists were already seated. Only the two seats beside the chairman remained empty.

Zhang Shan, still holding his arm, only let go when they reached her husband. She sat down elegantly, the picture of a loving wife, and left the center seat open—for Sheng Min.

Sheng Min gave a small smile, unbuttoned his suit, and sat down.

“Sheng Min!” The reporters below couldn’t hold back any longer. Flashbulbs snapped continuously. “Since you’re here today, does that mean you’ve already renewed your contract?”

“We’ve heard multiple companies have approached you with offers, but you still chose Dongyi. Was that because of your long-standing working relationship, or were there other considerations?”

“Everyone’s very curious, can you answer?”

“Yes, say something!”

…

The spotlights kept flashing, the noise rising. Seeing the situation getting out of hand, the host hurriedly stepped in, following the usual script—reflecting on the past, looking toward the future—before saying, “Now, let’s invite Mr. Zeng An, chairman of Dongyi Culture, to give a speech.”

“So, has Sheng Min renewed or not?”

“Yeah, can we get an answer first?”

But the reporters weren’t letting it go, making the host momentarily awkward, microphone in hand but unsure what to do.

“Let me.” Zhang Shan gestured and took the mic, looking at the reporters below. “We sincerely appreciate everyone coming today, and we completely understand your interest in Sheng Min. We’ll address all these questions in due time. Today is the launch of our new project, and we have our schedule. As for the question you’re most concerned about…”

She paused slightly, then smiled deliberately. “I can’t give an answer right now either. I hope we can all reveal the answer together in a bit, right, Xiao Min?”

Sheng Min gave a cooperative smile.

Zhang Shan had been in the industry for years, and many reporters were willing to give her face. Though some continued murmuring among themselves, the room quieted down enough for Zeng An to begin his prepared speech.

But the livestream audience wasn’t so polite. Comments flooded the screen.

“What does that mean? What is Zhang Shan implying? Is this Schrodinger’s contract signing?”

“What kind of nonsense is this? What are they playing at?”

“Don’t tell me he’s signing on the spot…”

“Wait, the comment above might actually be right…”

His phone screen lit up. Deng Jing, unable to reach him by call, had resorted to texting. He was probably watching the livestream too—his words carried unmistakable urgency, even through the screen.

“What the hell, Sheng Min?! This company is squeezing you dry, and you’re staying? Don’t be stupid!”

Sheng Min pressed his lips together and flipped his phone face-down.

Zeng An’s speech continued. The sound system was too good, making the noise overwhelming. The stage lights kept flashing, making Sheng Min’s head throb. He tried shifting his gaze toward a window—only to realize this grand hall had none. There was no sky to be seen.

……

By the time Li Xuan left the building, the rain had just stopped.

After the heavy snowfall a few days ago, there had been constant drizzle. A few lingering raindrops fell from the eaves onto his dark coat, blending in seamlessly.

Another wasted effort.

Again.

The investment manager he had been speaking with had been polite, even escorting him downstairs, expressing his regrets and promising to try persuading the higher-ups again. He repeatedly emphasized that the issue wasn’t with Li Xuan himself.

“Just the other day, they seemed quite interested in your company. Then suddenly, they changed their mind. Strange. I’ll try talking to them again.”

Li Xuan thanked him but already knew—this deal was unlikely to happen.

There was no time to be disappointed, though.

Funding wasn’t coming in, and there was still a mountain of work waiting. After over a week of effort, their game had finally been restored on certain app stores. But revenue had plummeted, and updates needed to roll out urgently…

Li Xuan pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked across the outdoor parking lot. He pulled out his phone, intending to call Chu Tianheng to prepare materials for an update meeting. Instead, he noticed several missed calls from Chu Tianheng—and multiple calls from an unknown number.

He instinctively called Chu Tianheng back.

As he waited for the call to connect, a familiar name caught his ear—Sheng Min.

He turned his head reflexively.

Not far away, near a flower bed, two young women in business attire—still carrying a hint of student-like innocence—were huddled together, watching something on their phone, whispering to each other.

“Why? Wouldn’t switching to another agency be better…?”

“Don’t be so quick to be pessimistic. It’s not that bad, right? I feel like the productions Xiao Min picks are decent.”

“That’s because he’s good. Look at what he had to go through before—his company especially liked using him to boost newcomers…”

As the voices faded into the wind, tree branches rustled noisily. Li Xuan could no longer hear clearly. Just as he was about to ask for more details, Chu Tianheng answered his call.

“What’s up?” Li Xuan asked. “I just got out. My phone was on silent.”

“Someone came to the company looking for you.”

“For me? Who?”

“I don’t know,” Chu Tianheng said. “He said it was urgent, but when I asked what it was about, he wouldn’t say. He really did seem anxious, though, so I gave him your number and location… Then I thought maybe that wasn’t a great idea, so—”

“It’s fine. Someone did call me—I’ll call them back and check. Get the update materials ready. I’ll be back in about forty minutes for the meeting.”

In that brief moment, the two people who had been talking earlier had already disappeared, likely having entered one of the nearby office buildings.

An inexplicable unease crept into Li Xuan’s heart. He was about to call Sheng Min when the unknown number rang again.

“Who’s this?”

“Li Xuan?! You finally picked up!” A man’s voice came through, and he seemed to be arguing with someone at the same time.

“No, listen, let me in!”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but without an appointment, you can’t enter.”

“I told you, it’s urgent—”

The voice was close. Li Xuan looked up and saw a young man being blocked by security near the guard station.

He hung up the phone and walked over. “Are you looking for me?”

The man stared at him for a second, as if confirming his identity. “Yes! I’m looking for you!”

Without hesitation, he grabbed Li Xuan and started pulling him outside. “Hurry, hurry, there’s no time—”

“What are you doing?” Li Xuan frowned, easily shaking off his grip. The man looked familiar, but he couldn’t place him. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about something huge!” The man suddenly remembered he hadn’t introduced himself. “I’m Deng Jing! Has Sheng Min ever mentioned me? Actually, it doesn’t matter—just come with me and stop him from signing the contract!”

Li Xuan froze. “What did you just say?”

“I’m not a scammer!” Deng Jing misunderstood his reaction and quickly explained, “I’ve seen you before—you probably haven’t seen me. The last time you picked up Sheng Min, I saw your car. Luckily, I remembered the license plate, and I have connections at the traffic bureau… It was such a pain to track you down—”

Li Xuan cut him off. “Signing? Right now?”

Deng Jing saw his expression and was equally shocked, nearly biting his tongue. “You seriously don’t know?”

He had thought Li Xuan simply didn’t understand the industry, which was why he hadn’t stopped Sheng Min. But judging by his reaction now, it seemed like he hadn’t even known that Sheng Min was renewing his contract that day.

“Sheng Min’s company treats him terribly! They’re even using your relationship to threaten him! You didn’t even know about the contract? Then I bet he didn’t tell you about this, either. Even Yin Qianpin said he doesn’t mind your relationship, but for some reason, Sheng Min still wants to sign… And that awful company is actually making him sign it live! They’re desperate for engagement!”

“What do you mean Yin Qianpin ‘doesn’t mind’?” Li Xuan asked with difficulty. “Didn’t they choose you for the role instead of him in the end?”

“That’s bullshit!” Deng Jing’s eyes widened. “It was always Sheng Min! He was the one who gave up the role! How did this get pinned on me—”

A flood of information crashed over him all at once, and Li Xuan felt like the cold wind was freezing his blood solid.

“Where is Sheng Min right now?” he interrupted.

“The Dongyi headquarters,” Deng Jing immediately answered, pulling out his phone. “It’s still being streamed live… Once they finish talking about their stupid project, they’ll probably make him sign at any moment. Who knows when—”

“Thanks.”

Li Xuan stiffly said the words before striding toward the parking lot.

He moved so fast that even Deng Jing, with his long limbs, struggled to keep up.

“I don’t get it. Why does Sheng Min insist on renewing—”

Before he could finish, Li Xuan had already reached his car. He yanked the door open, started the engine, and drove off at full speed.

“Hey!” Deng Jing shouted after him, stomping his foot in frustration. “You’re not even taking me with you?!”

On the road, Li Xuan called Sheng Min multiple times. Each call rang until it disconnected automatically, never being picked up.

Sheng Min’s name dominated the top ten trending searches. Live broadcast, contract renewal, Dongyi—various keywords painted a vivid picture of the situation. Clicking into the live-streaming platform, Li Xuan saw a barrage of frenzied comments filling the screen.

Beyond them, he saw Sheng Min’s pale, delicate face.

Sitting at the very center of attention, beneath the focus of every spotlight, his faint smile was a carefully crafted mask.

Li Xuan suddenly remembered the call from Sheng Min yesterday, when he had casually asked what time he would be home, then casually inquired if he would be meeting an investor in the afternoon.

At the time, Li Xuan had assumed he was just being considerate and had even reassured him not to worry…

Why? Why was he renewing the contract? Why did he lie to him…?

Deng Jing didn’t know the reason, and the fans in the comment section were also asking. But Li Xuan knew.

‘I’ll find a way. No matter how much you need, I’ll give it to you.’

Just because Sheng Min loved him.

And then, suddenly, Li Xuan remembered that night—Sheng Min nestled in his arms, smiling with crescent-shaped eyes as he said, “Li Xuan, you’re so good to me.”

Good? Li Xuan clenched his fist and slammed it against the steering wheel in frustration. He was the worst boyfriend in the world.

He had let Sheng Min give up a golden opportunity—one he had waited for so long—just because of him. And yet, he had been completely oblivious.

As he exited the tunnel, the rain began to fall again without warning.

Winter stretched on endlessly, the rain, snow, and wind never seeming to stop.

Pedestrians hunched their shoulders, raising their umbrellas as they hurried past. The wind howled, shaking the umbrella frames, sending them tilting precariously like drifting leaves in the storm. Passing cars splashed murky water onto their shoes.

Traffic slowed due to the rain. The GPS estimated 23 kilometers to the destination, with an arrival time of 5:07 PM.

Anxious and burning with urgency, yet the red light had already turned green twice, and the traffic remained at a standstill.

“Why aren’t we moving? The cars in front! Why are you blocking the way?”

The scene was all too familiar, pulling Li Xuan back to that day when he went to the airport to find Sheng Min.

What would have happened if that day had never come? Would Sheng Min be freer than he was now? Happier?

He rolled down the window, trying to see where the traffic jam ended, but the honking outside was deafening. Meanwhile, on the screen, the introduction of the various new projects was nearing its conclusion…

Too noisy—so much so that Li Xuan couldn’t hear what was being said on the screen. He could only see the host stepping aside with a bright smile as someone carried a thick stack of documents onto the stage. Excited reporters stood on their chairs, trying to get a clearer shot, while Sheng Min slowly stood up…

“What the hell? Another deadlock? I’m in a hurry! What kind of godforsaken weather is this?”

A sharp curse rang out from outside the car. The navigation map showed a glaring red streak of congestion, stabbing into his vision like a blade. Time was running out. Everything was reminding Li Xuan—

He wasn’t going to make it. Not unless a miracle happened.

“Stop honking back there! There’s a traffic cop up front—it looks like an accident.”

An accident…

Yes.

Sheng Min had always been a miracle in his life.

Li Xuan swallowed. Raindrops drifting in through the window dampened his forehead.

He quickly grabbed his phone, logged into his bank account, and transferred all his money into Sheng Min’s card. Then, he opened the app and took one last look at Sheng Min’s face.

Night had fallen. The glaring headlights illuminated the endless rain and the green highway median barrier dividing the road.

….

Sheng Min was walking toward the front of the stage, step by step. Ten meters. Five meters…

He couldn’t wait any longer.

This was reckless, impulsive, wrong—a last resort. Anyone would know that. But in this critical moment, all emotions crushed reason, screaming at him to step onto the gambling table, to bet everything he had and risk it all against fate.

Sheng Min’s fingertips brushed against the signing pen.

Li Xuan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, and abruptly turned the steering wheel, slamming down on the gas.

The roar of the engine, the wind, and the rain surged together, screaming past him.

Then, in an instant, everything vanished into silence.

And he heard his own voice, saying to Sheng Min—I love you.

When had he said those words?

It didn’t matter.

—I will always love you.

“Bang!”

The black sedan crashed straight into the median barrier. With a thunderous boom, leaves scattered to the ground.

“Oh my god!”

Gasps erupted from the audience. Just as the pen’s tip was about to touch the paper, it slipped from Sheng Min’s fingers and fell to the floor.

A small sound—yet piercingly sharp.

How unlucky, Zhang Shan thought. But she maintained her smile, saying, “Good things take time! No rush, everyone.”

She bent down slightly, picked up the pen that had rolled to her feet, and handed it back to Sheng Min, all the while keeping an eye on the cameras, ensuring her expression remained flawless.

One second. Two seconds. No one took the pen.

Zhang Shan sensed something was wrong.

“Xiao Min?”

She turned her head—only to meet a pair of cold, indifferent eyes.