The Seductive Beauty Breaks the Insecure Bottom Script [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 24

On the slip of paper was written the address of a presidential suite in a downtown hotel.

When He Wang saw this, his breath hitched. Seeming to understand the implication of the note, he snapped his head up, but Song Mingjiao’s figure was already nowhere to be seen.

However, just as He Wang cherishly attempted to tuck the note away like a dragon coiling around a treasure in its cave a sea breeze swept across the beach. The paper accidentally flipped over, and only then did He Wang see that there was writing on the back as well.

Did someone really think this was for a hotel room? I was teasing you. But I can give you this instead here, my home address. Cat-paw-stamp.jpg

He Wang let out a laugh, feeling somewhat helpless. This was indeed Song Mingjiao’s style: always giving someone hope first, then jumping out with a mischievous grin.

The cat paw print at the end looked like it had been hand-drawn.

At the thought of Song Mingjiao biting the end of a pen on some sunny afternoon, hair falling over his forehead as he personally drew these patterns on the paper, He Wang couldn’t help but mentally place this note into his “collection box.”

The production team proceeded methodically for a few more days. Filming was now halfway through; without Mo Qinan acting as a thorn in their side, the guests were noticeably more relaxed. In the following episodes, they contributed plenty of laughs and talking points.

Due to Mo Qinan’s departure, the scope of speculation regarding the “invitation relationships” narrowed significantly. The audience was almost certain, casting their votes overwhelmingly for the pairing of Song Mingjiao and He Wang.

Filming continuously was exhausting for the guests, so Heartbeat Signal ushered in a mid-game break, which also allowed the post-production editors a chance to breathe.

While the live broadcast was temporarily suspended, the audience’s enthusiasm didn’t dissipate at all. In fact, they now had more time to watch the official edited replays, scrutinizing them frame by frame.

The small entertainment company under Song Mingjiao’s name naturally took full advantage of this period to gain momentum. As the saying goes, the entertainment industry is the premier choice for making “fast money.”

The person feeling this most directly was Song Mingjiao’s chief secretary, Zhang Xuanzhan. Every day, he had to keep an eye on online public opinion for his boss, watch Young Master Song chat and laugh with various men, and handle an increasing influx of resumes and visit requests.

It was sheer misery!

Especially today, Zhang Xuanzhan had received instructions from Song Mingjiao to specifically curate a massive stack of films including every movie He Wang had starred in since his debut, down to the most ignored walk-on roles.

Personally selecting films featuring a “love rival” (though this “rivalry” was purely Zhang Xuanzhan’s unilateral perception) was a unique kind of torture. He didn’t know how others would feel, but he personally wanted to smash those discs to pieces.

Meanwhile, Song Mingjiao had already returned to his vast, nature-integrated, and exquisitely decorated villa.

The villa, which had been closed to guests for a long time, finally welcomed an “uninvited guest.”

He Wang had specifically picked out his clothes today. If he was too formal, he would seem stiff and unnatural that wouldn’t do. But if he was too casual, would it seem like he wasn’t taking the visit seriously enough?

His manager was nearly driven insane by He Wang’s agonizing.

“Big brother, please stop treating a simple invitation like a marriage proposal, okay?” “I only know how to break up couples, not play matchmaker. Don’t ask me!” “I beg of you, when he went to your house for the first time, was he dressed that formally?”

He Wang recalled Song Mingjiao’s outfit from that time. Back then, he had been kept in the dark by Song Mingjiao’s appearance and didn’t understand, but now He Wang was certain: Song Mingjiao had definitely dressed that way on purpose.

“He was, indeed, very particular about it.” “……”

Finally, after pacing back and forth in front of the villa in trepidation for half the day, He Wang straightened the casual button-down shirt he had specially chosen and pressed the doorbell.

He Wang cleared his throat, intending to greet Song Mingjiao through the screen, but what he saw instead was the bodyguard’s annoying face. He Wang’s expression instantly shifted, the corners of his mouth sinking.

Song Mingjiao’s voice came through the monitor; his voice was heard but he was not seen, sounding as if he were quite far away: “He Wang is here? Let him in.”

The bodyguard, wearing a deadpan expression, reluctantly told the gatekeeper: “Open the gate.”

He Wang gave a fake smile: “Heh, thanks.”

He Wang entered the villa. Regardless of how the world outside changed, this villa remained tranquil, as if time stood still here exactly as He Wang had first seen it on the television screen.

He Wang had missed the live debut that day because he was filming his own show, but he had watched the replay countless times. The scenes inside the villa and Song Mingjiao’s descriptions were deeply etched into He Wang’s mind.

“Where is Mingjiao?” The person He Wang longed for was not in the living room.

The bodyguard kept a cold face and only pointed the way after a long pause: “The young master is in the back garden.”

He Wang followed the directions. The Song family’s garden was massive, with various flowers and plants meticulously tended to by professionals; they were clearly well-nourished, and there were even some rare species, making it comparable to a small botanical garden.

As He Wang walked through, there were a few gardeners at first, but the further he went, the fewer people there were. He could only hear his own footsteps and the occasional faint chirping of birds.

He Wang’s heart began to beat faster, and his palms started to sweat. No one had given him a map or clear directions, yet he had a metaphysical feeling that by following this path, he would see his

Finally, after turning corner after corner and pushing aside overhanging leaves, a figure entered He Wang’s sight.

It was Song Mingjiao. It was his “Moon.”

Song Mingjiao stood amidst the play of light and shadow under a wisteria trellis. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, splashing onto his hair and making the strands appear to glow with a silver brilliance.

Wisteria flowers hung down like waterfalls, framing Song Mingjiao’s side. Several clusters of flowers swayed gently in the breeze, occasionally brushing against his hair.

Surrounded by tiny, delicate petals, Song Mingjiao was looking down, observing the growth of the flowers. Hearing the movement behind him, he turned his head and looked back with a soft, downcast smile:

“You’re here.”

Later, He Wang’s memory of how Song Mingjiao led him inside was a complete blank.

By the time he came back to his senses, Song Mingjiao had already opened the door to the media room, where a movie was already playing. As for whether Zhang Xuanzhan had personally set it up, Song Mingjiao didn’t bother to investigate; as long as the tasks he assigned were done, it was fine.

On the screen, a bit-part role from when He Wang first entered the industry was playing.

It was a war movie. The character He Wang played was just an anonymous soldier with no lines. This kind of “archaeological” footage was something even He Wang’s most loyal fans might not have found.

Song Mingjiao was naturally very relaxed in his own home, holding a bag of potato chips and watching with great interest. He hadn’t expected the fictional war scenes in the movie to look so realistic.

He Wang, sitting beside him, was actually somewhat overwhelmed. He hadn’t expected Song Mingjiao to be so attentive to a “lover.” Had he watched every single one of his films? Otherwise, why would he find such an obscure movie? It must have taken a lot of effort.

But He Wang’s gaze soon darkened again. Had Mo Qinan received this kind of treatment before? Was this Song Mingjiao’s standard treatment for a lover, or was it for him alone?

He Wang sat down next to Song Mingjiao. Watching the way the other’s cheeks puffed out from eating chips, he felt as if his heart were being lightly scratched. His voice softened, tinged with emotion: “You’ve… watched all my films? It must have been hard to find them.”

Song Mingjiao, unaware of the other man’s train of thought, threw him a strange look and said, “Zhang Xuanzhan found them and sent them to me today. Why?”

He Wang: “……”

He should have known.

Song Mingjiao was reminded of something and reached for the wine nearby, personally opening the bottle and pouring it. “There’s also the wine I had him pick. My cellar has plenty more, and it’s much better than what they had on the show.”

Song Mingjiao looked a bit proud of himself, specifically handing the glass to He Wang, seemingly wanting him to taste it and offer words of praise.

He tilted his chin up: “Drink.”

He Wang remained silent for a moment, then took the glass and drained it in one gulp. The temperature in the room slowly rose. His voice turned slightly raspy: “Mingjiao, did you invite me to your house just to drink?”

Song Mingjiao blinked and smiled. Like a magic trick, he produced a stack of papers from behind him. “No. It’s to show you my financial power as a patron, so you don’t sign the agreement half-heartedly. Here, this is it.”

It was a “sponsorship” (sugar baby) agreement, though it didn’t use such a blunt title. It listed various obligations of the lover, such as how to serve the noble and fastidious Young Master, and so on.

Song Mingjiao watched as He Wang took it and flipped through it carefully, curious about the man’s reaction.

Mo Qinan had been psychologically unbalanced because of this very thing. What about He Wang? With He Wang’s status and seniority in the entertainment industry, did he even need a patron? And would he also feel unbalanced?

Song Mingjiao saw He Wang flip to the last page, where he hesitated to put pen to paper. The smile on Song Mingjiao’s face gradually faded: “What? Are you regretting it?”

He Wang gave him a look a gaze so dark and profound that Song Mingjiao couldn’t decipher the emotion within. Then, He Wang picked up the fountain pen and signed his name decisively, the force of the stroke pressing through the back of the paper.

The next second, He Wang took another large gulp of wine, stood up, and pressed Song Mingjiao down onto the sofa.

Song Mingjiao frowned: “You—”

Before he could finish his sentence, his lips were sealed, and that mouthful of wine was transferred into his mouth.

The man’s voice was hoarse: “Is this how I should serve you, Young Master?”

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