Chapter 92

Misunderstanding

The security team leader took his team through the upper floor, confirmed nothing suspicious, and looked back at the member trailing at the rear. "New recruit — just now, you were the one who told me you'd seen someone slip into the building where Mr. Chao is staying?"

"Team leader — I really did see someone." He quickly produced his phone. "If you don't believe me, I got a photo."

The team leader leaned in. The photo did show a blurry figure near the white building — but too blurry to determine even the gender.

"Team leader — better safe than sorry. Mr. Chao is a person of significant standing. If any incident were to occur—" He dropped his voice. "Every one of us would be in serious trouble."

The team leader said nothing, but his expression tightened. He led his team downstairs. Mr. Chao was on the sofa eating fruit; he looked up when they came down. "Did you find anything?"

"I apologize, Mr. Chao. We found no suspicious persons. We're sorry to have disturbed your rest." The team leader felt a strange, fuzzy pressure in his head — as though he'd forgotten something important.

"Team leader — I've seen this woman before." The security member at the back spoke up abruptly. "She was talking to one of the paparazzi we caught today. I think she might be from the same studio."

Curly Hair studied the player who had infiltrated the security team to eliminate a rival. So that's who he was gunning for.

In an instance, some players deliberately sold out others to earn NPC trust — a route to clearing. Now she had become this player's chosen sacrifice?

Ha.

Petty trick.

He had no idea about the power of the golden thigh she was holding onto.

The security member had assumed his accusation would immediately raise Mr. Chao's suspicions about Wang Xiaojuan. What he hadn't anticipated was that Mr. Chao would simply give a mild laugh.

"Gentlemen." The lead bodyguard folded his arms, his tone flat. "Are you here to protect Mr. Chao, or to disturb his rest?"

The team leader jolted — the foggy pressure in his head cleared instantly. "I apologize, Mr. Chao. We'll double our guard outside the building. Please rest."

What had come over him just now? After Mr. Chao's own bodyguards had already confirmed that nothing was wrong upstairs, he'd still insisted on bringing his team up to check. Was he out of his mind?

Did he seriously think his security team could outperform professionals at Mr. Chao's side?

Even their own boss showed deference in front of Mr. Chao. What had possessed him to do that?

The team leader could not explain his own strange behavior. There had to be something wrong with this compound — nothing else could account for acting this stupidly.

"Team lea—"

The security member tried again. The words died in his throat under the team leader's now-clear gaze.

He snapped out of the tool's influence that fast?

Alarm spread through him. The S-class consciousness-alteration tool — it only had three uses. He'd been in the instance two days and had already expended two charges. The NPCs in this instance had an unusually high level of alertness and logical capability; one wrong step and they noticed.

He had underestimated this instance.

The team leader, on his feet and heading for the door: "I don't care who recommended this person." He waited until they were somewhere quiet, then turned on the new recruit. "However he got in, he can—"

He paused. His eyes went briefly unfocused. He sighed. "Fine. I'll let it go this time. Don't let it happen again."

The other security members exchanged glances. The new recruit had apparently managed to change the team leader's mind. Impressive.

The player felt something inside him bleeding. An S-class tool — only three uses total. Two gone in two days. The NPCs in this instance were simply too sharp.

He had underestimated it.

*

Overnight, the security team turned up seven suspicious staff members — four of them were players.

Not wanting to generate bad publicity, the team didn't call the police and simply expelled them.

By the next morning, the players discovered that the compound's security headcount had nearly doubled. Forget taking covert photographs — any staff member who so much as pulled out their phone would have a security guard materializing beside them to watch.

More security meant a harder instance.

Players had a system-generated group chat on their phones. No headcount displayed, no names visible, no private messaging — anyone who spoke had only the system's default grey avatar.

[A player has infiltrated the security team and is targeting others. Everyone hide your identities carefully.]

[Players shouldn't be targeting each other.]

[Anyone willing to team up with me?]

[Does anyone know the exact identity of the young man all the industry figures are trying to impress?]

The chat went quiet. Nobody was foolish enough to share important intelligence for free in a group channel.

Old He had just finished emptying all the public bins on every floor of the VIP building before he had a moment to check the player chat.

What young man?

His identity in this instance was refuse collector. His supervisor worried that the smell from his work might bother the guests, so he was required to avoid all guests' sightlines during working hours.

Safe, but with one significant disadvantage: no access to anyone important in the instance, and no flow of information.

He knew the exploration instances were dangerous. But for a hundred times the reward, he had to try.

He shouldered a heavy black rubbish bag and headed for the service corridor.

A door opened. Out came a sharp, elegant woman in high heels, brilliant gemstone earrings at her ears, two assistants behind her — clearly one of the important figures in the instance.

"The person ahead — wait a moment."

Old He stopped. He knew she was calling to him.

"This is the fifth floor, and you're carrying all of that. Come take the elevator with me." The assistant called the elevator; the woman stood in the doorway and waited for Old He.

"Thank you." He looked at the normally lit elevator, pressed himself into the corner with his rubbish bag, careful not to let it touch any of the three NPCs.

Unexplained NPC kindness sometimes brought catastrophic consequences for players — but refusing an NPC's friendly gesture could also draw retaliation.

He made himself slightly smaller, looking harmless and pitiful. The moment the elevator arrived, he hoisted the bag and moved out quickly.

Crack.

Stepping down, the heavy bag split open. The small inner bags scattered across the floor.

"It's all right." The woman saw the cleaner freeze in panic. She stopped and pointed to a large refuse bin a short distance away. "The guests haven't gotten up yet. Pull that bin over and get everything in."

Old He did as she said.

"Heavy bags have weight limits. Remember to double-bag next time." She bent to help him collect the scattered bags — but a pair of hands reached past her, faster.

"Mom?" She looked at the young man who had appeared. "How did you get over here?"

"My assistant mentioned you worked late last night and are heading out again early this morning without breakfast." He picked up the bags from the floor and dropped them into the bin. "I got you some bread — eat in the car."

"Xiao Chao, you're so thoughtful to Xiao Jie." The female assistant took the breakfast a bodyguard held out. "Thank you — we get to benefit too."

"Of course — you've been working hard these days." Knowing they were in a hurry, he didn't linger. "Off you go, and a safe return."

After seeing his mother off, Chao Musheng found he had no sleepiness left. He glanced back at the cleaner wheeling the bin away and told his bodyguard: "I'm going to take a walk."

*

Old He, mask on, pushed the bin well out of range before daring to look back.

He hadn't been wrong. The young man just addressed as Xiao Chao — that was the patient from room four of the hospital instance.

When that patient had been in the hospital, every other patient and family member on the ninth floor had treated him with unusual deference. In this instance, he was again the person everyone with power was trying to impress.

That young man the player chat mentioned — the one all the industry figures are ingratiating themselves with. That must be him.

He also remembered that when the patient's family member had tried to have him killed, it had been Mr. Chao's appearance that defused the killing intent.

And just now, when the bags had scattered everywhere, the woman they called Xiao Jie hadn't mocked or made trouble for him. She'd simply offered a practical solution.

Chao.

She and Mr. Chao shared the same surname. Mr. Chao had come to bring her breakfast. Could they be relatives — or even closer than relatives, like mother and son?

Both of them had something in common — an ease with people of lower social standing. Not politeness put on for show, but a genuine, bone-deep lack of contempt.

Wait.

The instance Starlight Shining had a total runtime of seven days — but the fashion charity event would wrap up tomorrow evening. Once all the NPCs had left after the event, what purpose did the extra three days the system had given the players serve?

Was something going to happen midway?

*

Chao Musheng hadn't expected that an early morning walk could produce an incident.

"Luo Yixuan — you haven't been on set in three months. Please think carefully about what actually matters." A manager pulled a script out of the young man's hands. "Going through these scripts every day does nothing. Real parts with real resources are handed to people long before any audition. They'll never reach you through a casting call."

"I know." Luo Yixuan kept his head down. "Brother Yang — give me a little more time. I really don't want to—"

Seeing his expression, the manager softened slightly. "Male celebrities rise fast and fall fast. You've managed to break through — if the resources don't follow, you'll be left behind quickly."

Luo Yixuan's face was pale. He took back the script and hugged it, staring at nothing.

"Qian is running out of patience. Tonight is your last chance." The manager said. "The word has come down — if you don't keep Qian happy tonight, don't bother with the red carpet tomorrow."

"Yixuan — I don't want to pressure you, but sometimes you have to bow your head." He put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Think about it. If you get blacklisted, not only can you never act again — the fans who care about you will be forced to watch fabricated scandals circulate forever, and get mocked by everyone."

Luo Yixuan's mouth trembled slightly. The script in his arms was nearly crushed.

The manager, seeing all color had drained from his face, didn't push further. "Sit here and think it over. You're a smart person."

Smart.

Luo Yixuan managed a grim angle at the corner of his mouth. If he were smart, he wouldn't be here.

Enormous penalty clauses. A string of short-term endorsement contracts designed to drain his credibility. Drinking parties and banquets, endless.

In front of these powerful figures, he didn't count as a person.

His hands were shaking beyond his control. He fumbled for the medicine he always carried, tipped out a tablet, put it in his mouth.

Everything in front of him was blurred — he couldn't even make out the text of the script.

Living is so exhausting.

The medicine bottle rolled off the table. Tablets scattered across the floor.

He bent to pick them up, tripped, went down on the ground. Reflex: control the expression, get up gracefully. Then he remembered — no cameras here. He didn't need to manage his face. He crouched on the ground and collected each tablet one by one, not minding that his fingertips were dusty.

"Xiao Luo." Qian Youfu stepped out from behind a flower cluster with a broad smile and settled himself beside the young man. "I heard from your manager that you wanted to invite me out to look at the sea together."

The pavilion was built on high ground, with an unobstructed view of the ocean in the distance. Fifteen meters ahead, a cliff edge.

Luo Yixuan looked at Qian Youfu's wandering hands and shot to his feet.

Qian Youfu's smile vanished. He stood. "I see I misunderstood your manager's meaning. But your rudeness, Xiao Luo, has put me in a poor mood."

He knocked the medicine bottle off the table, scattering the tablets again. "I'm sorry — my hand slipped. Pick those up."

Luo Yixuan bent to pick them up.

"On your knees." Qian Youfu's smile returned. "Kneeling is more thorough. And as a public figure, littering isn't a good look."

"Pick up what?" A curious voice sounded behind them. "Do you need any help?"

Qian Youfu stood immediately, his imperious smile replaced with eager warmth. "Mr. Chao — good morning."

"Good morning." Chao Musheng walked into the pavilion and gazed out at the ocean. "The view here is beautiful."

Qian Youfu followed his line of sight. Bare rock, and a sea without visible edges. What exactly was beautiful about it?

"Mr. Luo." Chao Musheng smiled at the figure in the corner. "A classmate of mine is a big fan of yours. Could I trouble you for a couple of signed photos?"

"Of course." Luo Yixuan came back to himself, flustered. "I'll have my assistant bring them to you straight away."

"Thank you. The sun is almost up." Chao Musheng watched the red sky at the horizon. "Would you be willing to take a photo with me?"

Luo Yixuan moved quickly to his side, wiped the dust off his fingertips on his trouser leg, and produced a perfectly composed smile for the camera.

He hoped Mr. Chao would stay a long time. As long as Mr. Chao was here, Qian would be constrained and couldn't come at him directly.

Chao Musheng unlocked his phone. Luo Yixuan saw what was on the screen.

His own profile page.

He understood immediately. There was no classmate who was a fan. Mr. Chao had deliberately stepped in to give him a way out.

"Mr. Luo — let's do a peace sign." Chao Musheng calmly exited the search page, adjusted the angle, and took the photo.

"A rising sun, bright and bold." He pointed at the background. "A good omen if ever I saw one."

A rising sun.

Luo Yixuan turned to look at the crumpled script on the table. Something small and tentative stirred in him.

"Mr. Qian — I hope I haven't interrupted your conversation by inviting myself over?" Chao Musheng said.

"Not at all, not at all." Qian Youfu kept smiling. "You and Luo Yixuan are both young — you must have much to talk about."

Chao Musheng nodded. "Between you and me, Mr. Qian — I'm very fond of the third prince Luo Yixuan played in his last drama. I wonder when he might do another period piece?"

He spoke naturally, as though he genuinely followed the young man's career. Only Luo Yixuan himself knew that five minutes ago, Mr. Chao had been looking up his details online.

Qian Youfu felt a sudden unease. If Mr. Chao knows every role Luo Yixuan has played — does he have his eye on Luo Yixuan?

The thought turned: "Mr. Chao — please enjoy the view with Xiao Luo at your leisure. I won't intrude."

What kind of nerve would it take to compete with Mr. Chao for someone?

After Qian Youfu left, the pavilion grew quiet.

Luo Yixuan looked at the sunrise climbing above the clouds and lighting half the sky. "Thank you, Mr. Chao," he said softly.

Chao Musheng smiled and shook his head. "Think nothing of it."

The morning light fell across his face and left a gentle radiance there.

The uncontrollable trembling in Luo Yixuan's hands gradually stilled. He watched Chao Musheng's long shadow behind him and pressed down every negative thing inside. "Will you still need — my signed photos?"

"Of course." Chao Musheng laughed. "Someone as popular as you — I can't miss a signed photo."

A faint smile appeared on Luo Yixuan's pale face.

*

At the morning session, the company heads sent no assistants this time. They arrived on time and in person, and were in their seats when the meeting officially started — but Mr. Chao never appeared.

Yesterday, when they were absent, Mr. Chao had sat attentively listening and taking notes.

Today, when they came on time, he didn't show his face once.

Was he toying with them?

As soon as the session ended, they all tried to find out where he'd gone.

Watching the sunrise with Luo Yixuan. Taking photos.

The company heads were puzzled. Did Mr. Chao have his eye on Luo Yixuan?

A few who'd had their own designs on Luo Yixuan immediately abandoned them. Whether it was true or not, they weren't willing to gamble.

When Luo Yixuan's rival heard about this, he couldn't eat lunch. He shut his door and complained to his manager: "I told you Luo Yixuan's whole image is performed — and you told me to learn from him, to learn how to impress Mr. Chao."

He paused, sounding sour enough to curdle. "What's so great about Luo Yixuan performing all the time? Why does he get Mr. Chao's attention?"

The manager glanced at his surgically altered nose and said nothing.

*

The 时光 official account posted several photos from the event at midday.

In the pictures, the assembled artists all appeared to be listening attentively.

Fan accounts surged into the comments within seconds; tens of thousands of replies in under ten minutes.

Non-fans, impatient with the organized fan activity, clicked into the photos for the aesthetics.

[Who is the handsome man in the white shirt in the top left of photo nine, and why does he have no name placard in front of him?]

[I thought I was the only one who noticed him. Which company's new talent is this? The presence and the looks are both extraordinary.]

[Someone this striking couldn't have been unknown before this. He must be a civilian. Quietly — I think he's better-looking than any of the artists who were there.]

[Civilian outshining the artists?? Certain antis in the comments — rein it in. We're not having anyone try to ride our idol by stepping on a random newcomer. No thank you.]

[If this "civilian" is hoping to go viral on looks alone, don't bother — anyone who uses that tactic to denigrate those who came before will stay obscure forever.]

[Nobody argue. He's not industry. Out of goodwill — I'd suggest every fan account delete their unfriendly comments about the civilian, otherwise your artists will be the ones apologizing.]

[Industry person. Can't say much. Just want to remind the fan accounts talking about the civilian — this is someone every major figure at the event was carefully trying to impress. If you don't want to cause trouble for your artists, delete your comments now.]

*

The noise online made no impact on those who didn't follow entertainment news.

Xu Chenzhu finished the last of the papers on his desk and received a message from the head of the film and television division.

[Mr. Xu — a partner company has sent over Luo Yixuan's management contract. Should I forward a copy to Mr. Chao?]

Luo Yixuan. Who was that?

He called in a secretary. "A management contract for an artist arrived from a partner company. What's going on?"

The secretary investigated and returned. "Mr. Xu — the partner company's intention is that it's a gift for Mr. Chao."

Xu Chenzhu's brow furrowed. A gift?

What kind of gift sends an artist's contract to Zhaozhao?

Seeing his expression, the secretary said quickly: "Mr. Xu — it's most likely a misunderstanding of Mr. Chao's intentions. Mr. Chao is not that kind of person."