After I Started Dating the Scum Gong Substitute, the White Moonlight Returned - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Last night, after Jiang Yan left, he didn’t return. For once, Cheng Jianyu didn’t have to take a second shower; he slept peacefully and had a good night’s rest. Early the next morning, he bid farewell to the production crew, and A-Sheng drove him to the airport.

The journey from the hotel to the airport was long. The weather was clear, the temperature pleasant, and layers of lush green palm trees lined both sides of the road. A-Sheng held the steering wheel, frequently glancing at Cheng Jianyu through the rearview mirror, appearing hesitant as if debating whether to speak.

In the early hours of yesterday morning, a phone call from Jiang Yan had jolted him awake from his bed. A-Sheng had pulled strings overnight to buy a first-class ticket and sent a cold, brooding Jiang Yan onto a plane just as dawn was breaking.

A-Sheng had followed Jiang Yan for many years and understood his boss’s personality to some extent. Born into a wealthy and noble family, Jiang Yan was accustomed to being the center of attention. He possessed a natural arrogance and talent, always holding the power of life and death in his hands, acting decisively and unilaterally. While he sounded difficult to get along with, in reality, as long as one followed orders and kept to their place, Jiang Yan wouldn’t make things difficult for his subordinates.

Consequently, it had been a long time since A-Sheng had seen Jiang Yan lose his temper. Yesterday, just looking at Jiang Yan’s cold, ruthless face told him something major was wrong. As a boss, a powerful man like Jiang Yan wasn’t bad—the pay was high and the benefits were good; at most, he was just a bit high-maintenance, which wasn’t a big deal.

But as a boyfriend, this personality was hard to endure.

Cheng Jianyu turned his head to look at the scenery outside the window, not saying a word, embodying the principle that silence is golden.

After hesitating for a while, A-Sheng finally spoke. “Sister-in-law, Brother Jiang had some business and went back first. We’ll take his plane back.”

In the rearview mirror, Cheng Jianyu smiled briefly and gave a lukewarm “Mm.”

“Did you and Brother Jiang have a falling out?”

Cheng Jianyu seemed unwilling to answer this question. A-Sheng stole a glance at his expression; seeing no resentment, he advised: “Sister-in-law, you know Brother Jiang never bows his head. Maybe you could endure a little and admit you were wrong to him…”

He was halfway through when Cheng Jianyu turned his head and looked at him through the rearview mirror. The sunlight filtering through the glass made his eyes appear clear, bright, quiet, and gentle.

The topic came to an abrupt halt.

A-Sheng had seen the life Cheng Jianyu had lived these past years with his own eyes. Even if the two had a conflict, it was most likely his boss’s fault. He decided to act like a decent human being for once.

…

It was already afternoon by the time they returned to Shanghai. The renovation of the studio had officially been handed over yesterday. Since the space had previously been used for offices, the basic infrastructure was complete and didn’t require much extra work. The renovation company had provided a set of ready-made furniture—a fresh, clean log-cabin style complemented by various green plants, looking concise and tidy.

Cheng Jianyu was very satisfied. To borrow a phrase from Chen Kai: “From now on, the sea is wide enough for the fish to leap, and the sky is high enough for the birds to fly.”

He drove back home. At the entrance of the villa area stood a large European-style circular fountain. Standing on the granite ledge of the pool was an old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in a while: Bei Xinhong.

Bei Xinhong’s face looked sallow, one of his shirt buttons was fastened incorrectly, and there were remnants of stubble on his sideburns. It was clear he had tried to tidy himself up, but the result was unsatisfactory. Seeing the familiar license plate, he hurried over, nearly tripping on the fountain steps, and stood directly in front of the car, ignoring his disheveled appearance.

Helpless, Cheng Jianyu leaned back against the driver’s seat and rolled down the window. Bei Xinhong approached him, looking as though he wanted to tear him to pieces, but since he needed a favor, he tried to keep his tone calm. “Director Liang Qiu suddenly said he won’t work with me anymore. Did you contact him privately?”

Cheng Jianyu’s expression was flat as he shook his head gently.

Indeed, he hadn’t. He rarely lied; it was simply that Bei Xinhong hadn’t asked the right question.

Bei Xinhong breathed a sigh of relief and gripped the car window with both hands. “What I said on the phone last time was out of line. Don’t be rash. I’ll handle Director Liang. Give me the rest of the script, and I’ll make this show a massive hit for you.”

Cheng Jianyu didn’t bother to look at him. He lowered his eyes to the steering wheel and remained silent.

The flash of rage on Bei Xinhong’s face was fleeting. The contract with Nanka Group was like a blade hanging over his neck, and the daily liquidated damages were the edge pressing closer by the inch. He didn’t want to pay a huge sum, nor did he want to lose the industry image he had painstakingly built over the years. He said in a coaxing tone: “What exactly do you want? Tell your teacher. I can’t give you fame, but I can give you fortune.”

Cheng Jianyu remained composed. He raised his eyes to glance at him, his voice very faint. “I want to take back what belongs to me.”

Bei Xinhong was stunned for a moment. During the contract period, Cheng Jianyu had never demanded this. It seemed Cheng Jianyu had been waiting for this day for a long time. His flattering smile faded, replaced by a sinister expression. “The legal statute of limitations is still active. I can still sue you right now for leaking trade secrets.”

Cheng Jianyu looked out through the windshield, nonchalant. “Fine, go ahead and sue. Do you need me to help you hire a lawyer?”

The fountain in the small plaza began its scheduled run, playing a lighthearted rendition of “Ode to Joy.” The light from the pale blue pillars swept across Bei Xinhong’s face, which looked terrifyingly dark. Cheng Jianyu suddenly turned his head and looked at him calmly. “Do you know why I call you ‘Teacher’?”

Bei Xinhong stared at him. Unfazed by his terrifying gaze, Cheng Jianyu said slowly: “Because you taught me a painful lesson: some people look like humans, but aren’t necessarily so.”

“You…” Bei Xinhong was tongue-tied, his face turning red with a mix of anger and anxiety. Five years ago, Cheng Jianyu had first shown his brilliance with Summer End Accident. He had taken a liking to this quiet, reserved young man and spent a great deal of effort—three whole months—persuading Cheng Jianyu to join his studio, promising him a portion of the shares.

At that time, he truly cherished the talent and wanted this promising seedling to grow under his care. That is, until Zhou Jueqing came knocking and easily persuaded him with massive benefits. Instead of cultivating a gold-medal screenwriter, it was better to become the gold-medal screenwriter himself. Even if the process was dishonorable, the crown would belong to him.

The scheme hadn’t been complex. During that period, Cheng Jianyu had been out of sorts, his mind wandering every day. His good friend Chen Kai had been staying by his side to look after him. Bei Xinhong used the pretext of sending over a share agreement to let Chen Kai use the company’s confidential computer to copy it. Chen Kai, being bold and carefree, didn’t pay attention to details and copied the “share agreement” exactly as Bei Xinhong directed.

That same night, a movie script was leaked online. Both the male and female leads were A-list stars, and Zhou Jueqing happened to be playing a supporting role in that movie. The film had a massive investment; to suffer such a calamity before its release caused nearly ten million in box office revenue to evaporate instantly. In a fit of rage, the producers ordered a thorough investigation. The only ones who had touched the script were those in Bei Xinhong’s studio, and only Chen Kai had accessed the confidential computer. The movie script currently causing a stir online was still sitting on his USB drive.

He was defenseless; the evidence was rock-solid.

Bei Xinhong suppressed the matter, his sole requirement being that Cheng Jianyu serve as his ghostwriter for five years. Otherwise, what awaited Chen Kai was a legal trial. Although the sentence for economic crimes isn’t long, it would certainly be three to five years. By the time he got out, times would have changed, and Chen Kai would disappear into the crowd with a criminal record.

Zhou Jueqing’s move was vicious. Either path was a dead end.

At the time, he didn’t believe Cheng Jianyu would be so loyal, but Zhou Jueqing had said he would.

Sure enough, after a long silence, Cheng Jianyu chose the first path. Bei Xinhong still remembered his cold expression back then as he asked: “The one who does the deed should bear the consequences. Why involve someone else?”

To this day, Bei Xinhong never believed he signed the agreement purely for Chen Kai’s sake. He assumed that since Cheng Jianyu had offended Zhou Jueqing, any script with Cheng Jianyu’s name on it would be impossible to sell, so it was better to take the opportunity to earn some labor fees as a ghostwriter.

He still wanted to use the events of that year to manipulate Cheng Jianyu, but the situation had changed. He also had handles held by Cheng Jianyu. If they fought to the death, no one would benefit; he was merely throwing out harsh words to threaten Cheng Jianyu.

“Just consider it helping me one last time.” Bei Xinhong looked at him, gnashing his teeth.

Cheng Jianyu rolled up the window. Bei Xinhong was too slow to dodge and nearly had his hand caught. Through the glass, Cheng Jianyu looked at the red-faced man, curled his lips in mockery, nonchalantly turned his head, started the car, and drove into the prosperous villa district.

His mockery was at full strength.

Bei Xinhong’s face contorted with rage, looking like a greedy ghost under the faint blue light of the plaza.

…

The lights in the house were dark; Jiang Yan had not returned. Cheng Jianyu went inside, turned on all the lights in the rooms, and pulled a black suitcase out of the storage room to pack his clothes and belongings. His life was simple; his clothes for all four seasons barely filled the suitcase.

Druid panted and circled around his calves, his tail wagging happily.

Chen Kai had already found a house that met all his requirements—two stops away from the studio. He would only need to buy some daily necessities to move in.

After packing his luggage, Cheng Jianyu washed his hands and changed his clothes. He went to the kitchen and cooked a table of dishes that were perfect in color, aroma, and taste, most of which were Jiang Yan’s favorites.

He purposely made extra, portioning the surplus food into storage bowls, labeling them, and arranging them neatly in the refrigerator so Jiang Yan wouldn’t have to struggle to find a chef who suited his taste immediately.

There was still plenty of dog food for Druid, so Cheng Jianyu didn’t need to worry about that for now.

Once finished, he leaned lazily against a dining chair, resting his chin on his hand. He opened Weibo with one hand to admire the night sky of Ethiopia. The azure sky was brilliant and clean. Under such a firmament, what was Wen Yueming doing at this very moment?

As Cheng Jianyu slowly scrolled through the page, his finger paused for a second before he nonchalantly scrolled past.

It was a celebrity’s Weibo post that a blogger he followed had liked.

[Zhou Jueqing: Thanks to @Jiang Yan for coming to my birthday party. I’m silently playing the song you wrote for me on loop; I’m so surprised by this gift.]

The plates of warm food on the table gradually lost their heat and color as time passed, turning into leftovers.

It was nearly midnight when Jiang Yan returned home. He opened the door, loosely took off his sports jacket, and as he passed the dining room, he spared a cold glance at Cheng Jianyu before heading straight for the stairs.

“Wait, I want to talk to you,” Cheng Jianyu called out to stop him.

The corners of Jiang Yan’s mouth quirked up slightly. He walked over and sat down in a leisurely, wide-legged posture, his chin tilted up arrogantly. “Speak.”

Cheng Jianyu picked up a neat file folder from the table, pulled out the “Relationship Contract” he had once signed with Jiang Yan, and gently handed it to him. His voice was gentle. “Our contract expires today.”

“Even if we break up, I will abide by the terms of the contract and will not harass you. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Cheng Jianyu fished a black bank card out of his pocket and slowly placed it on the table. His expression remained unruffled, his voice clear and firm. “This is the money your legal team deposited for me every month. I have never touched it. Now, I am returning it to its original owner.”

“You’ve already seen the Breakup Contract. We should have a proper beginning and a proper end. If you have no objections to the terms, please sign on the last page.” Cheng Jianyu took out the snow-white Breakup Contract and arranged it neatly alongside the Relationship Contract and the bank card.

Straightforward, clean, and decisive.