MACRM Chapter 6

The last 2 updates for today~

“I’ll handle this.”

Zhong Yao didn’t know what the company had planned, so naturally he didn’t realize what the consequences of being interviewed now could be. But he still didn’t ask questions. Wearing the glasses Lin Zhu had poked onto his face, he simply nodded slightly and turned to head back inside the lobby.

Lin Zhu tugged him back. “It’s too late. Leave it to me.”

The young agent tilted his head up slightly. There was no sign of unease in his expression. Rather, he looked more composed and practiced than Zhong Yao had ever seen him.

Zhong Yao met his gaze.

Lin Zhu turned back to him with a grin. Those especially delicate features brightened into a smile, and his amber eyes — rarely visible without his glasses — reflected the color of the sun.

The reporters at the entrance had already swarmed over, flashes crackling nonstop, voices surging into a deafening din.

“Zhong-laoshi, does this mean you’re officially returning?”

“Do you have any plans for your future career? Are you going back to film and TV? What do you think about being called the ‘Little Zhong Yao’ or ‘the new generation’s period drama star’?”

“Do you have any plans or preparations to develop in other directions? How do you feel about the current state of the entertainment industry?”

“After all these years away, do you have any new insights or reflections on what happened back then?”

…

One question after another bombarded them point-blank. Lin Zhu slowly turned around, subtly shifting to shield Zhong Yao behind him, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of reporters.

Countless scattered fragments of thought flooded his mind at once, so much information he could almost feel it buzzing in his ears.

His brows knitted ever so slightly, but he still looked each of them in the eye, wearing a casual, almost lazy smile.

A strange sense of exposure slipped out from behind those sharp eyes, prying into every secret the reporters were hiding. And beneath the bright, blazing sunlight, it even carried a faint chill.

A few reporters suddenly snapped to their senses, glancing warily at the familiar young manager in front of them. Instinctively, they stepped back a few paces, even lowering their mics and cameras just a bit.

A new reporter, squeezed in the back and oblivious to the shift, noticed the sudden hush and excitedly tried to squeeze forward, only to be yanked back by an older colleague. “Hey, don’t. Stay away from him!”

The rookie looked puzzled and shot a glance at the clean-cut agent in front of them, who almost looked more like an idol than an agent . He accidentally made eye contact — only to feel a sudden chill pierce his chest, a creeping dread of being seen through and laid bare, enough to make him shiver on the spot.

The older reporter gave him another tug, subtly edging further back.

—This wasn’t the first time they’d run into Lin Zhu.

There were “unspoken rules” in this circle: certain people you just didn’t cross if you didn’t have to. Besides the huge stars with deep capital backing, there were some especially tricky agents , assistants, or bodyguards who should be avoided as much as possible. 

As for Lin Zhu, he’s in the “give him a wide berth” category. Better give him at least 10 meters apart. 

If they’d known Lin Zhu was now Zhong Yao’s new agent, more than half the reporters here wouldn’t have touched Canxing’s commission at all. But since they were already here, there was no way to just admit they’d messed up and turn tail with their gear.

Each with their own calculations, the reporters gradually fell quiet. An unusual hush settling over the company entrance that had just been buzzing like a beehive.

“Everyone, we’re on a tight schedule today, we’re a bit pressed for time,” Lin Zhu said politely, sweeping his eyes over them all. “Could I trouble everyone to please turn off your cameras and recorders first? Once we’ve agreed on a few ground rules, we’ll be happy to do the interview.”

It wasn’t uncommon for celebrities to ask to discuss terms before an interview and only allow filming afterward. But the moment he spoke, more than a few reporters still felt an instinctive headache come on.

Lin Zhu didn’t care. He confirmed every camera and recorder was off, a cold glint flashing through his eyes as he straightened his tie.

“I will lay three ground rules. First, Zhong-laoshi just returned to the country and isn’t familiar with the current state of the entertainment industry. He won’t comment on anyone or anything.”

His gaze swept across a reporter from Entertainment Frontline, voice unhurried. “Second, regarding the false accusations back then — Zhong-laoshi already gave a full response at his last press conference. If you want to write about it, you can refer to that interview footage.”

The reporter he locked onto turned pale. Lin Zhu had already turned away, fixing his eyes on someone from Eastern Star News. “Third, Zhong-laoshi’s return is because his three-year study abroad ended. There is no hidden scheme to snatch up resources or steal anyone’s spotlight. Please keep that in mind when you run your pieces.”

…

He pointed them out one by one. Wherever his gaze landed, he pierced straight through any trap the outlet had prepared to twist the narrative.

The reporters grew more and more on edge. A few whose tricks had been exposed could barely stand there any longer — they quickly found excuses to slip away. The rest were sweating through their foreheads, a thin sheen of cold sweat clinging to their hairlines.

A chill rose from the pit of their stomachs, gnawing away at all the malicious thoughts that couldn’t stand the light of day.

Lin Zhu took his time finishing the round, then neatly pulled out his phone, opened the camera app, and tapped the record button, propping it up on the car roof beside him.

“Today’s interview will be fully recorded by us as well. Please, everyone, make sure your reports stick to the facts and minimize unnecessary editing or selective cuts.”

He shot the reporters a bright grin, flashing neat, white teeth, and stepped aside to reveal Zhong Yao behind him. “Alright, please feel free to ask your questions.”

The reporters: “……”

And so, under Agent Lin’s watchful eye, a textbook-perfect impromptu press conference unfolded in an orderly fashion.

Zhong Yao’s three years away had only sharpened his presence. It should have made him seem even colder and harder to approach. But that plain pair of glasses on his face unexpectedly softened the edge a little.

He stood tall and straight, features striking and inherently commanding, but the glasses added a rare touch of warmth to his image, which looked perfectly good even under the cameras.

With Lin Zhu supervising, the reporters only asked the safest, most basic questions. Most of them are about his reflections and experiences abroad. Back and forth, the atmosphere felt unexpectedly friendly, almost like it had been rehearsed.

“In these three years studying overseas, I gained a lot, and I hope I’ll have the chance to share that with the audience…”

Zhong Yao spoke slowly, but his eyes couldn’t help drifting to Lin Zhu.

Lin Zhu was leaning against the car with his arms folded, overseeing and quietly intimidating the reporters. When he sensed Zhong Yao’s gaze, he lifted his head and gave him a bright smile.

Like a little bandit.

Lin Zhu’s smile had always been infectious. Zhong Yao couldn’t help but curve his own lips too. But the faint, forming smile in his eyes faded again before it could fully bloom.

…

When he finished answering the last question, Zhong Yao lifted his hand in a polite gesture, voice apologetic. “I’m sorry, my time is limited—”

“We won’t keep you!”

The reporters were so moved they almost wept. They immediately shut their mouths, hoisted their gear, and chorused in relief, “We’ll let you get on with your day!”

Zhong Yao was caught off guard. Before he could react, the reporters had already scattered in a hasty retreat, scrambling away from Canxing Entertainment’s front door.

“Don’t worry, they won’t dare come back for at least half a month!” 

Lin Zhu had long grown used to this kind of treatment. Brimming with confidence, he patted his chest in assurance. Bracing himself on the car door to stand up, he was caught off guard when the sun-hot metal seared his hand. He sucked in a sharp breath and slipped, nearly losing his balance.

An arm caught him steadily, a warm palm resting against his forehead.

Lin Zhu froze for a moment. Cradled by that arm, he looked up and met Zhong Yao’s deep, pitch-black gaze. “Not feeling well?”

Sweat rolled down from his temple. Lin Zhu blinked instinctively. Zhong Yao gently brushed the sweat away, then pulled open the door and guided him into the back seat.

He’d noticed during the interview.

They’d stayed in the shade for the most part, but it was still outdoors — everyone had a sheen of sweat on their foreheads. But Lin Zhu was sweating noticeably more than normal.

Those bright eyes of his usually shone like crystal, but when Zhong Yao caught an unguarded glimpse just now, Lin Zhu’s gaze seemed slightly glazed over, like he was lightheaded.

—But it was only for an instant. When Zhong Yao looked again, it was the same as always.

Zhong Yao’s car had its AC running in advance. The moment the door opened, a refreshing coolness washed over them. Lin Zhu melted into the back seat, tugging his perfectly straight tie loose, squinting a smile at Zhong Yao.

“Just overheated… Those reporters really know how to pick their moments! Lugging all that heavy gear and not afraid of the heat or exhaustion, huh…”

His voice was clear and crisp. Even while complaining in a steady stream, he somehow didn’t come off the least bit annoying.

Zhong Yao handed him a bottle of water to cool off, then watched him for a moment. A soft laugh flickered in his eyes again. He also gave him a can of soda, cold enough to soothe the hand that had gotten burned.

Lin Zhu let out a cheer. “My life was saved by Zhong-laoshi!”

“Nonsense.”

Zhong Yao chuckled, flicking his forehead with a bent finger. He shut the door, circled around, and got in the driver’s seat. “Where is your home? I’ll drop you off first.”

“Aren’t we going to go over the plan?” Lin Zhu snapped upright, face suddenly serious. “If they pulled this today, they’ll definitely have more moves ready. We need to react fast — put out a new press release in three days max, or line up a talk show or a new project—”

Zhong Yao cut him off gently. “I’ve already decided. [No Bridge] is a good fit. We’ll sit down tonight and go over the details.”

[No Bridge] was a Republican-era TV drama. Lin Zhu had reserved a role that would be killed in about ten episodes. It wasn’t a major lead on paper, but the character was so striking it could easily overshadow every other role in the show.

The production team was known for high quality and strict standards, and the director had a reputation for being picky and hard to please. Zhong Yao had no idea how Lin Zhu had managed to keep that role on hold for him until now.

But, that was a problem for later.

Zhong Yao’s thoughts flicked away and back. He braced an arm on the passenger seat, twisting around to look at Lin Zhu. “For now, you’re going home for a nap.”

Lin Zhu blinked, meeting his gaze.

“The body is the capital for revolution.” 

Zhong Yao smiled at him, then took off the glasses and gently perched them back on the young agent’s nose, his hand naturally brushing through Lin Zhu’s hair.

The soft strands brushed obediently against his palm. Zhong Yao couldn’t resist ruffling them a bit more, then pulled out a blanket and handed it over. “If you get sleepy, lie down. You’re still sweating, so cover up if the AC gets too cold. Don’t catch a chill.”

Lin Zhu couldn’t resist that look. Instinctively, he took the blanket, instinctively pulled up the map app, instinctively handed over his address.

Zhong Yao’s hand was big, long, with distinct joints. His palm was steady and warm. Their hands brushed together, heat seeping through the chill of the car’s AC.

The phone’s notification light blinked, and two new messages popped up.

Da-gegegegege: [Xiao Zhu, Da-ge is working late tonight, and Auntie is off today. Go pick up something delicious outside, okay?]

Da-gegegegege: [Money Transfer]

Lin Zhu: “……”

Zhong Yao looked down at the phone, then broke into quiet laughter and handed it back. “Forget it, let’s just come to my place.”

Lin Zhu really didn’t look too well. He’d at least need someone to keep an eye on him.

Zhong Yao didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but he could tell Lin Zhu didn’t want to explain, so he didn’t press. He buckled his seatbelt. “It’s a bit messy. Do you mind?”

---

T/L: In future chapters, there’s a lot of puns/jokes using the basis of Lin Zhu’s given name (Bamboo). So keep that in mind~