The girl’s calm voice landed like a thunderclap, leaving Liang Cai, Feng Yueyang, and Chong Ming all stunned.
Liang Cai fumed, "How dare you curse my dad? I’ll kill you."
Feng Yueyang smacked his lips, "Boss, what do you mean... ’his days are numbered’?"
Shen You’an raised an eyebrow, his gaze cold and mocking as it landed on Liang Cai, "Your very existence is the greatest curse to your father. But what can a waste like you, who doesn’t even know how to read a financial report, actually influence? The acquisition is a done deal."
Feng Yueyang swallowed nervously. So the boss knew everything all along.
At this moment, in his eyes, the boss was like a god.
Liang Cai collapsed to the ground, terror written all over his face.
The car stopped at the back entrance of the photo shoot site.
After thanking the driver, Rong Xianning got out of the car with Feng Cheng and walked briskly into the site.
Neither of them spoke a word on the way.
Back at the dormitory, Feng Cheng finally felt like he had escaped death, patting his chest with a face full of relief.
Rong Xianning sat in a chair, staring blankly at the desk.
Since they got in the car, he had been in a trance-like state, his soul seemingly out of his body.
Feng Cheng approached him and softly asked, "Aning, do you know that girl?"
Rong Xianning didn’t respond, completely immersed in his thoughts, oblivious to the world around him.
Feng Cheng pulled over a chair and sat beside him, gently nudging him, "Aning?" Thɪs chapter is updated by novｅlfire.net
Rong Xianning lowered his gaze, his expression indifferent, "What is it?"
"Do you know that girl? I saw her hanging out with Young Master Huang. She must be a wealthy beauty, right? Since when do you know someone like her? I’m guessing she has something to do with Mr. Feng too; maybe it’s because of her that he stepped in to save us. If you think about it that way, she’s basically our savior. Otherwise, we’d be in deep trouble today."
At this point, Feng Cheng was still shaken.
Rong Xianning pressed his lips together, then lowered his gaze to his phone.
The profile picture was a casually taken photo of a sunset, and the WeChat name was simple—Ann. Beyond that, her Moments had no further information.
It was exactly like her—simple, mysterious.
He tapped into her profile and changed her contact name to An’an.
An’an. He mouthed the name silently, and an indescribable warmth seeped into his icy heart.
Seeing that Rong Xianning wasn’t speaking, Feng Cheng didn’t dare disturb him further. Taking his change of clothes, he headed to the bathroom to shower.
Rong Xianning opened their chat window, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he began to type.
He typed the word "thank you" over and over, only to delete it again and again. Finally, he let out a helpless laugh.
He had imagined their reunion countless times, but never —never so humiliating, so abrupt.
His most pathetic, cowardly, and wretched state had been laid bare before her.
It felt like a cruel joke the heavens had played on him.
He looked down at his open palm.
The baby fat was gone now, his finger joints growing longer, his hands taking the graceful shape of a young man’s.
The producer from the show once marveled at his hands, claiming they should be insured—perfect works of art meant to be admired.
But they were too pale, too frail. When danger struck, they held no semblance of strength to fight back.
Slowly, he curled his fingers, forming a fist.
He clenched it tightly, feeling the sting of his nails digging into his palm. His mind had never been clearer.
After the "scandal" involving his parents, he was filled with disgust and wanted to flee this world.
He had stayed in that empty house by himself for a few days.
Whether due to feng shui or some other reason, he slept soundly on a simple cot, free of his usual insomnia, enjoying restful nights for the first time in a long time.
Three days later, he made a decision.
Even if he left, he owed it to his fans to leave responsibly; he couldn’t let their love and support go to waste.
So he returned to the production team. The rumors had been cleared up, and the team helped suppress most of the negative publicity for him.
He calmly resumed training, working as hard as ever, showing no signs of weakness to anyone.
The glittering debut night would also be his farewell performance.
He had reached the end of this road; he couldn’t find any reason to keep going.
So why not leave it all behind?
To the freedom of mountains and rivers, to live as an ordinary person.
But... tonight’s ordeal was like a blow to the head, awakening him.
If he left now, no matter where he ran, demons and monsters would follow.
The mindset of a perpetual victim would always leave him at the mercy of others.
If this fate was inevitable, then he refused to accept it.
He wanted to take control of his destiny. The road ahead was long—how would he know what was possible unless he tried?
Most importantly, he didn’t want to become someone she thought of as weak and cowardly, merely running away from everything.