The Scum Gong Refuses the Crematorium [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 18.1

The matters regarding Gu Yiheng and Wu Cheng were Lu Mingyue’s doing.

He had noticed early on that Gu Yiheng was quite protective of Song Liguang. With a little more observation, he understood the nature of Gu’s feelings for the man. It was a pity—a case of “the falling flowers have intent, but the flowing water has none.”

However, feelings are feelings, and work is work. Bringing personal emotions into professional matters was where Gu Yiheng had gone wrong.

After a brief investigation, Lu Mingyue discovered that Gu Yiheng, as the CFO, had indeed used his position to open many backdoors for Song Liguang. Most notably, the financial compensations provided were always of the highest tier. Every year, the endorsement fees Shengshi paid to Song Liguang constituted a massive expenditure.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been a huge issue—which executive doesn’t have a few perks? However, after Sheng Yan terminated the partnership between Shengshi and Song Liguang, the entire company was filled with grievances against the fallen star.

When reporting his work, Lu Mingyue happened to mention it to the Board of Directors. Before he even had to take further action, Gu Yiheng resigned on his own.

As for Wu Cheng? Lu Mingyue hadn’t noticed him at first.

But Wu Cheng was too foolish and couldn’t hide his tracks. Whenever there was the slightest movement regarding Song Liguang, he was the first to act; his desktop wallpaper was even a celebrity photo of Song Liguang.

With Gu Yiheng as a precedent, Lu Mingyue figured there must be other spies in the company. His scrutiny quickly landed on Wu Cheng. Coincidentally, Wu Cheng was in his very own project team.

Wu was typically lazy and did a sloppy job on assigned tasks. If he hadn’t been sent over by the CEO’s office, Lu Mingyue would never have kept such a person. This time, after singling him out, Lu Mingyue assigned him a slightly more difficult task. As expected, Wu failed miserably and nearly caused a major error.

Using this as grounds, Lu Mingyue simply had the Human Resources department fire him.

Sheng Yan, having dealt with Song Liguang online, turned back intending to purge the two “Song faction” members from the company, only to find someone had beaten him to it.

He was momentarily stunned.

In his missions, he always worked alone. Even when he had subordinates, they could rarely keep up with his frequency; sometimes, their attempts to help only made things worse. One should never underestimate a protagonist; they possess the innate ability to catch you off guard.

This was the first time someone had coordinated with him so perfectly.

The execution was logical and grounded, leaving the protagonist’s camp no room for resistance. Lu Mingyue had essentially finished the rest of his work for him.

Aside from a brief initial adjustment, Sheng Yan quickly accepted the situation. The feeling of someone else handling the legwork was actually quite pleasant. Without the annoying flies buzzing around, Sheng Yan could finally enjoy his vacation in peace.

Under the influence of “money power,” Guo Hang’s micro-movie soon hit all the major short-drama websites.

At first, seeing the title Drunken Dream Jianghu, people thought it was a Wuxia (martial arts) drama. These days, televised Wuxia dramas were often a mess—the fight scenes were like child’s play and the sets were clearly green-screened. They weren’t worth watching.

Not to mention web dramas. A crowd of Wuxia fans rushed in, ready to tear it apart.

The result? It was a modern piece.

The protagonist was a bar waiter who witnessed all sorts of interesting bar occurrences every day. For example:

• A naive socialite coming to the bar to “order” a handsome host.
• Someone hunting for a hookup, only to discover their own spouse was also cheating.
• A gang attempting to talk business at the bar, only to be rounded up by the police in one fell swoop.

Though the episodes were only five minutes long, the humor and plot twists were abundant. There was even a twist where the waiter, after a drunken “one-night stand,” discovered the person was actually the bar owner.

The combination of hilarity and “explosive” plot points instantly grabbed the audience’s attention. Just as they were getting hooked and wanting to see the next episode, they suddenly realized—there were no more!

“Where’s the update? Where’s the update?!”

“Hurry up and post! I really want to see the scene where Xiao Qiao realizes his ONS was actually the boss!”

“So funny! The boss hired a companion, got slept with, and then got stuffed with cash by the companion. I laughed like a duck the moment I saw the boss questioning his life while holding that money!”

“And that gang with the dragon and tiger tattoos! They were talking business so grandly, I thought it was some illegal trade. Xiao Qiao was so scared he sneaked to the back door to call the police. Turns out, it was just a box of condoms! Hilarious!”

The positive reviews continued to ferment in the comments section, aided by word-of-mouth recommendations. Drunken Dream Jianghu soon went viral. It also caught the attention of industry insiders who initially expected a simple comedy. Upon watching, they were met with high-quality visuals, expert cinematography, and shot compositions that felt like an international blockbuster.

They exited and checked again. After confirming it was indeed a short web drama and not a feature film, they wondered: “Has the web drama industry developed to this level already?!”

As the series blew up, fans swarmed Guo Hang’s real-life bar, Drunken Dream. They were thrilled to find there really was a waiter named Xiao Meng who looked just like the one in the drama! This overlap of fiction and reality kept the bar packed.

Guo Hang was riding high on success. Glowing with pride, he announced a victory banquet.

Sheng Yan reminded him: “Don’t get carried away. Our goal is much further than this.”

“I know,” Guo Hang nodded, grinning as he showed Sheng Yan the revenue on his phone. “Big Boss Sheng, is this profit worth a victory banquet or not?”

Sheng Yan glanced at the earnings which were several times the original investment and said no more.

Guo Hang, now flush with cash, was not stingy. He booked the most luxurious hotel in Yanjing for a full day and night. He invited the entire crew, the sponsors, and even some regulars who had played extras. This was his first dream come true, and he wanted it to be grand.

Sheng Yan expected a large, diverse crowd. But he never expected to see Jiang Huaisu.

The moment he saw her, Sheng Yan went over to greet her: “Sister Jiang, how did you get here?”

Jiang Huaisu was chatting animatedly with a group of young girls who appeared to be thirty years younger than her. Hearing Sheng Yan call her “Sister Jiang,” she immediately bristled like a startled Persian cat. She hurriedly dragged Sheng Yan to a corner, looked around, and said sternly: “Don’t call me Sister Jiang anymore!”

Sheng Yan was confused by her secretive behavior. “Then what should I call you? Mom?”

“!!!” Jiang Huaisu’s face instantly flushed with anger. “That title is even more forbidden!”

She straightened her back, adjusted her particularly youthful outfit, smoothed her hair, and cast a glance at Sheng Yan. “In the future, please call me Miss Jiang. Thank you,” she said formally.

“Huh?” Sheng Yan raised an eyebrow. What kind of act was this now?

“Don’t worry about me.” Seeing Sheng Yan’s confusion, Jiang Huaisu adopted her maternal authority and said brookingly, “In short, call me Miss Jiang from now on. Remember, it’s Miss Jiang—not ‘Sister Jiang,’ and definitely not that other title.”

After speaking, she gave Sheng Yan a particularly imposing look. “Understood?”

Though he had no idea what she was playing at, Sheng Yan had always been one to respect his elders (especially when the elder was his mother). He nodded obediently. “Understood, Miss Jiang.”

“Good boy,” Jiang Huaisu rewarded him with a sudden flash of maternal kindness.

The moment the words left her mouth, she seemed to realize that the gesture didn’t fit her current persona. She immediately stiffened her back again and gave Sheng Yan a dignified, smiling nod.

“Right then, I won’t chat with you further. I’m busy.”

Without another word, she scurried back to the group of young girls from earlier.

The girls seemed to be waiting for her. As soon as she returned, they crowded around her, asking, “Sister Jiang, why did that handsome guy call you Sister Jiang just now? Exactly how old are you?”

Without blushing or a stutter, Jiang Huaisu replied, “Twenty-five.”

Sheng Yan, who hadn’t walked far yet, paused in his tracks.

She really had some nerve. He was already twenty-eight. Was she literally trying to pull off a scam?

But Jiang Huaisu didn’t feel a hint of guilt. Under the scrutiny of a group of seventeen and eighteen-year-olds asking “Really?” and “You don’t look it,” she said solemnly, “Truly, truer than pearls. I just happen to look a bit mature for my age. If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you my ID.”

Sheng Yan’s brow twitched. Did she get a fake ID made, too?

Fortunately, the young girls weren’t quite so obsessive as to actually demand a look at her ID. They simply asked, “Then why did that handsome guy call you Sister Jiang?”

“Oh, my rank at the company is higher than his,” Jiang Huaisu fabricated casually, quickly changing the subject. “Anyway, let’s not talk about that. Tell me, which couple are you guys shipping the most?”

“Xiao Qiao and the Boss, obviously!”

“The ‘white-cut-black’ waiter as the Top and the tsundere Boss as the Bottom—so cute!”

Jiang Huaisu chimed in, “But I think the two gang leaders are a great ship, too. Think about it—why would two tough guys be trading a box of condoms? There must be a deep, hidden story there!”

“Wait, now that you mention it, that makes sense!”

Sheng Yan listened for a moment longer. Once he was certain Jiang Huaisu wasn’t doing anything illegal, he walked away. Otherwise, with a mountain of family wealth sitting idle, it would be a real tragedy if she ended up in a detention center over a small lie.

Aside from the uninvited Jiang Huaisu, Lu Mingyue and James were also present.

The two hadn’t seen each other in a while, and once they met, they chatted endlessly. However, Lu Mingyue’s mood was clearly low; he frequently scanned the crowded venue with an absent-minded gaze.

James, a sharp observer, noticed this but didn’t tease him. He wanted to see for himself who exactly was the person haunting “Moon’s” dreams.

As they were making idle conversation, Sheng Yan appeared before them. Before James could even greet him, Lu Mingyue had already raised his glass toward Sheng Yan. “Sheng Yan.”

Hearing his name, Sheng Yan walked over. “You guys arrived quite early?”

Lu Mingyue took a glass of champagne from a nearby table and handed it to Sheng Yan. “Better to arrive early and get a good position.”

“True.” Sheng Yan took the champagne and nodded. The hotel entrance had been a sea of people; luckily, the hotel had a VIP passage he could use, otherwise, his outfit would have been ruined by the crowd.

Noticing Sheng Yan didn’t have his cat, Lu Mingyue asked, “Didn’t bring the ‘Boss Lady’?”

“Too many people. I was afraid she’d get lost.” Sheng Yan took a sip of wine. This wasn’t home; 666 could easily wander off, and he couldn’t keep an eye on it at all times. He looked at Lu Mingyue with a pointed gaze. “Asking about the ‘Boss Lady’ so directly… are you just greeting her, or are you trying to replace her?”

Lu Mingyue had confessed his feelings the other day, but Sheng Yan hadn’t given a response. Lu Mingyue still didn’t know where he stood. Hearing Sheng Yan put it that way, he smiled. “If I wanted to, Brother Sheng, would you give me the chance?”

Sheng Yan swirled his glass, his expression unreadable. “You guess.”

Lu Mingyue looked at Sheng Yan through the glass, truly unable to penetrate his thoughts. “I can’t guess.”

Sometimes interest can be shown, but other times it can be hidden. Feelings are like a deep sea; the one who falls in first is destined to be lost until the person causing the uncertainty finally shows mercy. Then, their world might finally brighten.

Sheng Yan smiled but said nothing. Just then, someone recognized him and came over to greet him warmly, so Sheng Yan turned to socialize.

James, whose Mandarin wasn’t quite proficient yet, was left in a daze by the verbal sparring. He hadn’t quite understood what they were saying, so he turned to Lu Mingyue. “Moon, that must be the muse you’ve been waiting for all day.”

Lu Mingyue didn’t hide it. “Yes. What do you think?”

“Perfect!” James marveled. “The first time I saw him, I wanted him for my movie. Sadly, he refused.”

Lu Mingyue laughed. “He isn’t short on money.”

“Ouch,” James nodded ruefully. He felt a twinge of guilt; the first thought that popped into his head when he heard Sheng Yan’s refusal was that he hoped Sheng Yan would go bankrupt as soon as possible. Unfortunately, God didn’t hear his prayer, and his wish remained unfulfilled.

However, he quickly teased Lu Mingyue: “Moon, looks like you’ll have to put in some extra effort.”

In his experience, people like this—rich, handsome, opinionated, and firm of will—were incredibly difficult to conquer.

Lu Mingyue did not back down. He drained his glass in one go and smiled, “That’s what makes it a challenge, doesn’t it?”

“That’s true,” James nodded. Thinking of Lu Mingyue’s competitive nature, he laughed, “He really is exactly to your taste.”

Lu Mingyue smiled: “Not just my taste, but my heart.”

There were only so many people in the hotel who knew Sheng Yan. They came in wave after wave, and after exchanging greetings, they eventually began to depart one by one.

Sheng Yan scanned the venue and noticed someone was missing. He asked Lu Mingyue and the others, “Where is the lead actor?”

Everyone else from the crew had already greeted him—even Guo Hang, the director who was running all over the hall busy as a bee, had checked in—but the most important protagonist of the day was nowhere to be seen.

He didn’t skip out, did he? If the star of the celebration banquet didn’t show up, that would be a massive joke.

Lu Mingyue looked toward the quietest corner of the hall and said to Sheng Yan, “He’s hiding in a private room in the back practicing his signature.”

When Lu Mingyue arrived, he happened to run into Meng Nanqiao. As the lead actor, if the micro-movie was a hit, he was the one destined for stardom. He had been cornered by a mob of fans asking for autographs.

But Meng Nanqiao had never expected to become famous certainly not “viral” famous. He didn’t dare sign for anyone; his handwriting was so crude and ugly that he found it embarrassing to look at himself, let alone show it to others.

While he was stuck in a stalemate, Lu Mingyue had stepped in to rescue him.

Sheng Yan recalled the three hideously ugly characters Meng Nanqiao had scrawled when signing the contract, and his smile stiffened. With handwriting like that, it’s a bit late to start practicing now. He thought to himself: When I hired academic tutors for him, I should have hired a calligraphy teacher too.

“I wrote a template for him,” Lu Mingyue said, noticing Sheng Yan’s frozen expression. He gave a thin smile—even Sheng Yan had moments where he overlooked details. “If he practices it a thousand times, it should be passable.”

Hearing this, Sheng Yan felt relieved. Lu Mingyue’s handwriting was quite pleasant to the eye.

Meanwhile, in a private box of his own, Meng Nanqiao was scribbling furiously with a pen, counting as he went: “978, 988, 989…”

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