Chapter 91: At the Peak of the Storm
“Dad, Mom.”
Wen Yan was hiding in a hotel. He couldn’t go home, nor was he willing to continue staying at Pei Zhouye’s company.
The address of his rental apartment was spreading like wildfire online, and even the bodyguards Pei Zhouye had arranged for him had now become “evidence” for netizens to attack.
The two in the video were full of fatigue; the white hair at the temples of Wen Father and Wen Mother seemed to have increased by a few strands. Now they had also been unearthed by netizens, especially Wen Mother, who was a high school teacher. She was being discussed most fiercely online, and some people even went to her school to ask about her.
“I’m sorry.” Just opening his mouth took a great deal of effort for Wen Yan.
His eyes flickered as he tried to avoid their gaze, forcibly holding back tears. His once relaxed, generous, and confident posture had changed, becoming somewhat timid and restrained.
He had failed his parents and dragged them down. Now, even people like them, who had been dignified their whole lives, had to accompany him in being slandered and insulted online, and even their work was affected.
It had been three days since the clarification, yet the heat online hadn’t dropped at all. Clearly, someone was deliberately keeping him at the peak of the storm, refusing to let him go.
Wen Mother let out a sigh, her voice sounding much more tired as she shook her head.
“Yanyan, if you’re unhappy there, come home. Your grandfather and maternal grandparents are all back in the old hometown; we can go back and live there as a family too. Come home. The osmanthus in the yard back home is about to bloom; your grandpa keeps talking about making honey for you.”
“We don’t blame you.” Wen Father also spoke, his tone solemn. “It’s not your fault. Pei Zhouye, is it? Do you like him?”
The two knew Wen Yan’s character all too well. If it weren’t for external reasons, or if he truly liked the person, Wen Yan wouldn’t have done such things.
“I can’t hide forever.” Wen Yan’s voice was very soft. He couldn’t let his parents, at their age, have to…
Shen Yao said that Pei Zhouye was trapped at home by President Pei, and he couldn’t get in touch with Pei Zhouye either. Shen Yao had also found a temporary residence for him to hide in, but he hadn’t agreed.
One mistake led to another. Now, he didn’t want to be involved with anyone.
“Yanyan, if you have any ideas, go ahead and do them. Your mother and I won’t affect you.” Wen Mother’s tone was a bit heavy. “We’re moving back to the old home this week for a while. Whatever you want to do, go do it. Don’t worry about me and your father.”
They didn’t need to say it; Wen Yan already knew. A former friend had told him that Wen Mother’s work had been affected once again.
Wen Yan took a deep breath, yet he still couldn’t suppress the tremble in his voice. “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry.”
“If you weren’t our child, would you have avoided so much trouble?”
The call disconnected, but Wen Mother’s question still echoed in Wen Yan’s ears.
Pain, self-reproach, and an intense sense of shame. They were supposed to be each other’s pride.
The lawyer sent Wen Yan a message, saying they wanted to terminate the representation. The meaning behind the words was clear: there was powerful pressure forcing the firm to stop pursuing his case. They said they were sorry and suggested Wen Yan look for a law firm outside the city. No firm in A City would take on Wen Yan’s case.
Who else but the Pei family could cover the sky with one hand in A City and silence every law firm? They were stepping on him like an ant, not even giving him a chance to breathe.
Wen Yan lowered his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he softly whispered that name: “Pei Zhouye.”
He had truly jumped from one pit of fire into another, never having escaped.
What should he do? It seemed every choice was wrong, yet it also seemed no one had ever given him a second choice.
After a period of silence, Wen Yan logged onto his Weibo account, prepared to watch the development of the situation once more. His name was still on the hot searches, but a few of the tags now featured another name.
#Cheng Shangshi Wen Yan #Cheng Shangshi Posts #Wen Yan is My Friend
After hesitating for a long time, Wen Yan’s expression went blank as he clicked into the tag.
The tag was related to a post by Cheng Shangshi—a very long passage of text with several photos.
[ Hello everyone, I am Cheng Shangshi. Regarding the recent false rumors online targeting Wen Yan, as a partner who has worked with him, I have a responsibility to clarify the following facts:
Wen Yan is my friend. We’ve known each other for a long time, and I have a clear understanding of what kind of person he is.
We first met when we were shooting at the same photography venue. The professional quality and character he displayed were evident to all.
We’ve stayed in touch off and on. The deepest impression I have was when Wen Yan came to Jing City to audit a lecture. He spoke to me about his major with great passion and a professional attitude.
During the filming of the documentary last winter, I ran into Wen Yan. He was very interested in promoting his hometown and volunteered to participate in the filming. This is the period during which he is alleged to have been “kept.” In fact, he was participating in our location shoot the entire time, performing important assistance work.
The accusing photos show obvious signs of editing.
…
Cyberbullying is enough to destroy a person’s life. Please stop spreading unverified rumors. ]
The photos were shots of the two working together on the documentary in Nanshi, professional appraisal reports, and chat logs of staff praising Wen Yan. In the timeline, the period when Wen Yan was alleged to be kept almost completely overlapped with the time he was filming the documentary with Cheng Shangshi.
The “water army” was quick to control the comments, but some rational bystanders and Cheng Shangshi’s fans began to speak up for Wen Yan.
Wen Yan watched for a long time, seriously reading every single word. Whether it was gratitude or surprise, he could no longer tell. He found Cheng Shangshi’s contact card in WeChat. Upon opening it, he discovered that Cheng Shangshi had sent him several messages yesterday.
It was just that he received too many messages, and these had sunk to the bottom. The last message from Cheng Shangshi was from two hours ago:
[ Cheng Shangshi: Wen Yan, I haven’t been able to get in touch with you, and the public opinion online is still fermenting. Without your permission, I’ve sent these out first. I hope you won’t blame me when you see this. ]
Wen Yan felt his fingers go stiff. He bent his fingers and typed out a reply on the screen.
[ Wen Yan: Thank you. I’ve received too many messages, I’m sorry I didn’t see yours. ]
[ Wen Yan: Thank you for standing up for me at a time like this. ]
Cheng Shangshi called him. Before Wen Yan could react, he had already pressed answer. The other party was considerate; it was a voice call rather than a video call, otherwise Wen Yan’s currently pathetic state would have been seen clearly.
Cheng Shangshi’s voice on the other end was calm. “Wen Yan, are you okay now?”
Wen Yan tried hard to make a sound, but the word “okay” wouldn’t come out. In the end, he could only remain silent.
Cheng Shangshi continued, “I don’t check social media often. Someone else told me about this, otherwise I should have been able to help you sooner.”
“You clearly know that what they’re saying isn’t entirely wrong,” Wen Yan finally spoke.
The two had met at Lin Seran’s birthday banquet, and Cheng Shangshi knew of his relationship with Pei Zhouye. For someone like Cheng Shangshi, who disdained lying, to clarify these half-true rumors for him made Wen Yan feel incredibly ashamed.
“Weren’t you two in a relationship?” Cheng Shangshi’s tone was candid and sincere, without a hint of jest—just a serious question. “How much money did he spend on you?”
“A lot.” Wen Yan didn’t react in time and blurted it out. “Several million. He handled many things for me and gave me many gifts.”
He didn’t know exactly how much Pei Zhouye had spent on him. Just the matter of handling Wen Father’s debt was already beyond calculation. As for the gifts, Wen Yan couldn’t guess the prices, but each one was clearly valuable.
Hearing Wen Yan’s answer, Cheng Shangshi frowned on the other end of the line with a hint of disdain.
“Only a few million.”
“If he’s sincere toward you, providing for you is only natural.”
“A few million is nothing to him. That amount doesn’t even count as pocket money.”
Cheng Shangshi hadn’t met Pei Zhouye many times, but he had heard of his exploits from friends. Publicly announcing his relationship, wishing he could take the person everywhere. Regardless of whether Pei Zhouye was worthy of Wen Yan, Pei Zhouye was the one who took the initiative in their relationship.
Cheng Shangshi instinctively felt that if he was pursuing Wen Yan and only brought out a few million, it was too lacking in sincerity.
Wen Yan was stunned by this theory and instinctively wanted to refute it. It was different. It was entirely different. Pei Zhouye wasn’t spending money while pursuing him, but in a “keeping” arrangement. Between them was a transaction, not a normal relationship.
“How are you adjusting now?” Wen Yan’s subject change was extremely stiff.
“It’s alright, not as difficult as I imagined. I lived here for a while before, so I have the language foundation. There are basically no issues in daily life,” Cheng Shangshi said naturally.
He finally remembered the main point of the call. “Wen Yan, Professor Ming hasn’t been able to get in touch with you either. He said there’s an exchange student spot and asked if you want to go.”
Wen Yan was stunned.
Exchange programs were something he had never considered before. His parents always doted on him and were reluctant to let him go too far. When he came to A City for university, it was already the longest they had ever been apart. Furthermore, he had spent this entire year focused on the postgraduate recommendation; his schedule was packed, and he had no energy to consider a far-off journey.
He remained silent for a long while. Wen Yan lowered his head, his voice very low. “I’ll think about it. Thank you and Professor Ming.”
Cheng Shangshi sensed he didn’t want to continue talking. The two quickly said goodbye and hung up.
After Cheng Shangshi hung up on Wen Yan, the lock screen instantly popped up with over a dozen missed call notifications, all from his manager. He had been on the phone with Wen Yan just now, so it had always been a “busy” signal.
He called back.
“Are you crazy?!” the manager’s roar came through. “Do you know what the public opinion is like right now? You still dared to come out and speak for Wen Yan?”
Manager Wang was so angry his voice was shaking, roaring into the phone until his throat was hoarse. “Cheng Shangshi, you’re cutting off your own escape route!”
Cheng Shangshi had terminated his contract with the company. He didn’t know who had paid that massive several-million-yuan termination fee. He guessed it was paid by a company that wanted to poach him. This was very common in the entertainment industry; Cheng Shangshi was indeed a rising star with great potential.
He didn’t know if the company had a change of heart, as they even gave him a portion of the termination fee—over a million yuan, enough for him to go back home and relax for over a decade.
It was just because Cheng Shangshi hadn’t discussed the termination with him and had left quietly that Manager Wang was a bit angry and hadn’t contacted him until now. He was managing a newcomer and had gone out for drinks and networking last night, only waking up now. The newcomer was currently so obscure there wasn’t a single spark, so he hadn’t needed to check the hot searches for a long time.
He only found out about the earth-shattering thing Cheng Shangshi had done after seeing the WeChat message a colleague sent him.
“Brother. It’s not a big deal. Besides, I’m not going back to acting anyway,” Cheng Shangshi answered casually.
Manager Wang even forgot to be angry. He asked, “Did your new company plan a different route for you? Today’s stunt was to piggyback on the heat? What route—stand-up comedy or a variety show regular?”
The greater the risk, the higher the reward. Put this way, it seemed to make sense.
Cheng Shangshi didn’t know what Manager Wang was thinking. “I don’t have a new company.”
“Then who paid your termination fee? Don’t tell me you paid it yourself…” Manager Wang’s voice gradually weakened, becoming increasingly uncertain.
The company had a black-hearted commission structure. Out of a million-yuan fee, an actor would only get around two hundred thousand, and artists usually had to bear various expenses.
“That’s right, I paid it myself. It wasn’t particularly much; no need for others to pay,” Cheng Shangshi replied.
The voice seemed to grow further and further away.
Manager Wang suddenly thought back to when he first met Cheng Shangshi—he had an air of having no desires, like a monk who had just come down from ascetic training on a mountain, yet he was wearing all designer brands. If he had money, he would have gone to another company long ago. At the time, he thought Cheng Shangshi was driven by vanity and had bought a bunch of knock-offs.
What had he said back then?
He had said earnestly, “Shangshi, you’re going to be an artist in the future. You must be cautious in your words and actions; every detail will be magnified by the audience. Don’t wear these ‘branded goods’ anymore; it won’t be good for your future endorsements.”
Later, Cheng Shangshi wore clothes without obvious branding or the business attire arranged by the company.
So at that time, everything Cheng Shangshi wore was real?
Manager Wang was silent for a long time before finally letting out a bitter laugh. “When you signed with the company, was it really just to ‘experience life’?”
Cheng Shangshi didn’t speak, which was a tacit admission.
Pei Zhouye woke up to the scent of disinfectant. When he opened his eyes, the ceiling was blindingly white, and there was still an IV needle in the back of his hand.
“Let me out.”
Without any extra preamble, the voice rolled from his throat, still carrying a lingering hoarseness. The oversized hospital gown hung on him, making his shoulder line look even more sharp. Though his face still bore the pallor of having just woken up, his tone was filled with ruthlessness.
The bodyguard’s face was cold. “Sorry, Young Master Pei. President Pei instructed that until he agrees to your leaving, we cannot let you out.”
Pei Zhouye lifted his eyelids and scanned them. His gaze swept across the bodyguards standing in a tight formation at the door. He said nothing and turned toward the back of the ward.
The bodyguards secretly breathed a sigh of relief, thinking this ancestor was finally willing to be a bit more settled.
But in the next second, Pei Zhouye suddenly grabbed the vase on the cabinet. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he smashed it hard against the corner of the wall.
Porcelain shards flew everywhere. He bent over, picked up a sharp fragment, and pressed it against the side of his neck.
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