Chapter 23
Meng Yuansheng only found out about the incident after the livestream ended.
During the height of the controversy, he’d been dancing, and by the time his routine was over, the matter had been thoroughly handled. Although a few stray comments lingered, his fans quickly drowned them out.
After reading Gossip System #10086’s post, Meng was stunned.
In truth, he’d always had a vague feeling that something was off. When he was initially rescued, though he was dazed from choking on water, he’d vaguely sensed that the hand pulling him to safety wasn’t very large.
But when he woke up in the hospital, Jiang Mo was the one by his side. The nurses mentioned that Jiang had stayed with him the entire time he was in the ER, watching over him until he regained consciousness.
Gradually, he’d accepted Jiang’s story—that it was he who had saved him.
Later, with Jiang’s constant care and support, Meng had forgotten about that nagging inconsistency.
Only today, after seeing the post, did he realize he’d misidentified his savior all these years.
Cheng Xin quickly noticed his friend’s change in mood and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You okay?”
Meng Yuansheng pressed his lips together. “I’m fine…”
Just then, Gu Xingshi walked in, and seeing Meng’s expression, he could guess what was on his mind.
Meng was a deeply loyal person; his devotion to Jiang Mo over the years had shown that. Realizing he’d misattributed his gratitude for so long, mixing up his feelings of obligation and remorse, would weigh heavily on him.
Gu Xingshi had originally planned to tell him only after finding his real savior, but Ji Yiwei’s meddling had forced his hand.
“We’ll find him,” Gu Xingshi reassured him, “after the competition.”
Meng could see the concern in their eyes.
He smiled. “Really, I’m okay.”
He had come a long way, and the trials he’d faced had tempered his resolve. Rather than letting himself be consumed by negative emotions, he felt an even greater sense of determination.
As Meng and Cheng returned to their dorm, they crossed paths with Ji Yiwei hurrying out.
Ji no longer had his usual smug air. His face was ashen, and as he passed them, he shot Meng a venomous glare—only to jump in fear when Meng looked back at him, scurrying off like a rat fleeing a cat.
Yuan Ye explained that rumors were flying that Ji Yiwei had slandered Meng and Cheng out of jealousy, only to enrage the powerful #10086, who had struck back by toppling Ji’s biggest supporter.
“Not surprised,” Yuan said admiringly. “#10086 never bothers with small fry!”
Then, with a smirk, he added, “I heard Ji might have to quit the show. And all those others who used to complain about you? They’re keeping their heads down now, afraid #10086 might ‘educate’ them, too…”
Meng and Cheng exchanged a look. “…”
“Oh, and speaking of that,” Yuan continued, crossing his arms with a look of mock irritation, “this is all your fault.”
Meng and Cheng blinked. “What did we do?”
“All the competition!” Yuan groaned. “It’s bad enough that you guys are setting insane standards for training, songwriting, and fitness. But now even your fans are setting impossible standards! Our fans are complaining now that I don’t measure up and keep asking me how to attract a ‘legendary fan’ like #10086! They’re tired of doing all the work and want to be ‘carried to the top’ just like you two!”
Meng and Cheng could only laugh and shake their heads. After assuring Yuan they had no special connection to #10086, they finally managed to usher him out.
With a long sigh, Cheng muttered, “How’d Yuan go from the most level-headed guy here to the nosiest?”
But Meng was lost in thought.
No one wanted to know the identity of #10086 more than he did. He still remembered their first broadcast, when only a handful of people tuned in. Normally, they’d have been sidelined and eliminated before they had a chance to show their talent.
But then, like a miracle, #10086 had appeared, showering them with traffic and attention that changed everything.
It was almost like… being saved from drowning.
To be honest, Gu Xingshi always struck him as a bit of an enigma—a kind of all-knowing figure. It wouldn’t even be surprising if he turned out to be #10086.
With this thought lingering, they returned to their dorm, where Gu Xingshi was waiting with takeout.
Taking advantage of Gu Xingshi’s distraction as he handed out food, Meng casually asked, “President Gu, do you know about #10086?”
“Of course!” Gu Xingshi replied, nodding.
Meng continued, “It was a close call today. Without them, I don’t know what I would’ve done…”
“Yeah!” Cheng Xin chimed in. “They know so much—it’s amazing!”
“Right?!” Gu Xingshi’s eyes lit up. “Did you read today’s post? Not a single word wasted! Absolutely flawless writing, don’t you think?”
Meng: “…?”
Gu Xingshi was so effusive in his praise for #10086 that Meng was left at a loss.
He was way too casual about it.
Most people wouldn’t gush over their own work like that.
Maybe it wasn’t him after all.
Meng sighed quietly, feeling oddly both disappointed and relieved.
Unaware of Meng’s suspicion, Gu Xingshi was internally nudging the system. [Hey, wasn’t today’s post awesome? My writing is getting good, right?]
System: […Yes. Yes, it was.]
After basking in his own praises, Gu Xingshi didn’t forget the reason he was here. “Have any sponsors or advertisers been reaching out to you two?”
Both nodded.
After the latest performances, the two had gained wide recognition and caught the interest of several advertisers, eager to lock in deals before the competition ended.
Such things had happened in previous years, though sometimes it backfired when contestants ended up promoting sketchy brands, leading to scandals.
To be safe, Gu Xingshi had vetted the brands reaching out to them—and, surprisingly, every single one had skeletons in their closets. Some were even well-known international brands.
One brand had actually balked at his questions, shocked that any trainee would hesitate before jumping at their offer.
Gu Xingshi didn’t mind that, but he did worry that other trainees in the top ranks already had a sponsor or two. If Meng or Cheng got impatient, they might end up signing on with a brand they’d regret.
But after listening to his concerns, Meng laughed. “Don’t worry. We’re not signing anything without your okay.”
Gu Xingshi was caught off guard.
Cheng nodded, unconcerned. “Exactly. Why settle? With you, we’ll get something better!”
Seeing the trust in their eyes, Gu Xingshi felt a tug deep within.
If he was honest with himself, he’d always treated this venture as temporary—a stopgap to save the company from bankruptcy before selling everything off.
But watching their relentless practice, seeing their hopes for the stage, and hearing the cheers from their fans… it had started to change his mind.
Now he felt a weight of responsibility he hadn’t felt before.
Something he owed to that trust they’d placed in him.
Finally, Gu Xingshi made up his mind on a decision he’d been mulling over for a while.
“I’m going back to Beijing for a bit,” he told them.
*
Back in Beijing, Gu Xingshi rubbed his thinner wallet and let out a long sigh.
This trip was for a serious purpose—to secure resources for his artists.
Despite his self-assured front, he was venturing into uncharted territory.
But uncertainty didn’t deter him from pushing forward.
His main goal was to market Raging Sea.
Of course, profit was a factor; the company was running on fumes. But beyond that, he wanted Meng’s music to reach a wider audience, and the best way to do that was through an OST.
Before setting out, he had already identified a few companies where he could pitch the song.
But it turned out to be much harder than he’d anticipated.
The moment they heard the song was by a trainee, they rejected him without even a listen.
After repeated failures, even Gu Xingshi’s optimism wavered.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, crossed another company off his list, and looked at the few remaining options on his page—only one was left, and it was the least likely.
But Gu Xingshi had never been one to give up without trying.
After only a brief slump, he straightened up and entered Shanquing Pictures.
Based on all the information he’d gathered, Shanquing Pictures had recently started production on a film titled Over Mountains and Rivers, and they were struggling to find the right promotional track.
Just as Gu Xingshi had deduced, in Shanquing’s meeting room, the creative team was currently discussing that very problem.
Director Xu Cheng frowned. “These tracks just don’t fit. None of them convey that sense of rage and struggle we need.”
The producer sighed, covering his face with his hand. “Xu, we’re about to start promoting. Let’s just pick a track already, alright? We need to get a move on the promo strategy.”
“What do you mean, ‘just a detail’?!” Xu Cheng slammed his fist on the table. “The promo track sets the tone for the trailer. It’s the film’s first impression on the audience. If it feels wrong, it’ll ruin the film’s impact—that’s unacceptable!”
“Director Xu, that’s not what I meant,” the producer protested, close to tears. He glanced toward Yuan Qingqing, the executive producer, for help. “Sister Qing, please help me explain to Director Xu.”
Yuan Qingqing also felt cornered.
She had specifically chosen Xu Cheng for this project because of his meticulous and exacting standards. The filming had indeed turned out to be extraordinary, but Xu had become even more exacting since then. They had been stuck on the promotional song for more than two weeks, and any further delays would seriously impact the film’s marketing.
But she knew Xu’s pride. If she openly sided with the producer, Xu would likely refuse to work with her in the future.
As she weighed her options, her assistant walked in and whispered, “Sister Qing, there’s a manager named Gu Xingshi here to see you.”
The name felt vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place it. “A manager? What’s he here for?”
“He said it’s regarding Over Mountains and Rivers promotional song.”
Yuan Qing Qing froze in surprise.
The issue of the film’s promotional track was known only to the core team. How did this manager know?
Then it occurred to her that perhaps either Xu Cheng or the producer had reached out to him.
Noticing that Xu Cheng and the producer were on the verge of another argument, she decided to skip verifying and told the assistant, “Fine, bring him in.”
A few moments later, a young, handsome man entered the room.
Xu Cheng was still simmering from the argument, ignoring the newcomer entirely as he busied himself with his tea. The producer, however, looked up and asked Yuan, “Is this one of your new signings? He’s got a great look.”
Surprised herself at the man’s appearance, Yuan Qingqing responded offhandedly, “No, he’s actually a manager.”
The producer’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Even Xu Cheng, who’d been feigning indifference, looked up.
As a director, he had an eye for potential and could tell at once that the young man had a natural presence, the kind that audiences could easily connect with.
And he was wasting this talent by working as a manager?
Both Xu Cheng and the producer cast looks at Yuan Qingqing that seemed to ask why she’d let such a treasure be sidelined.
Yuan Qingqing: “???”
Before she could explain, Gu Xingshi introduced himself, and once he explained his purpose, Xu and the producer’s curiosity eclipsed their shock.
“You’re saying your artist composed a song that would be perfect for Over Mountains and Rivers?” the producer asked. “What’s his name? Has he released anything before?”
“His name is Meng Yuansheng, but he doesn’t have any previous releases,” Gu replied.
Yuan Qingqing felt a jolt upon hearing the name.
Of course, she remembered Meng Yuansheng.
That night, if not for the blogger known as “Gossip System #10086” publishing that fateful post, she might never have seen her daughter again.
Her gratitude toward that blogger ran deep. But after that night, the blogger had completely ignored her messages, showing no interest in receiving thanks or rewards.
Despite her efforts to uncover the person’s identity, she’d been unable to find any trace.
The only clue left was that livestream she’d seen.
The livestream belonged to two contestants, Meng Yuansheng and Cheng Xin—one who had been mistreated for years, the other who’d been working odd jobs to survive. Both were with LeShi Entertainment, a struggling company on the brink of bankruptcy.
They hardly seemed like likely candidates for a figure as skilled and mysterious as “#10086.”
So Yuan Qingqing had accepted the prevailing theory—that “#10086” was a superfan of theirs and an extremely skilled hacker.
Still, she felt that helping Meng and Cheng was the least she could do in return for what #10086 had done.
If the song wasn’t too bad, she thought, why not give it a chance?
However, knowing Xu’s obsessive standards, if the song wasn’t up to par, even the strongest endorsement wouldn’t sway him.
But before Xu could respond, the producer frowned and interjected, “I’m sorry, but we need something from a more experienced artist. We’re not looking at newcomers at the moment.”
Yuan immediately retorted, “What’s wrong with a newcomer? Everyone starts somewhere. Besides, an untethered artist can sometimes surprise you!”
The producer: “???”
What’s going on today? First Xu Cheng, now Yuan Qingqing. Did I leave the house on an unlucky day?
Oddly enough, Yuan’s words softened Xu’s stance. He turned to Gu Xingshi. “Fine. Tell me, what makes this song a good fit for Over Mountains and Rivers?”
At this point, Yuan Qingqing couldn’t help but feel nervous for Gu Xingshi.
But Gu Xingshi remained calm and composed. “Director Xu, I heard you took on Over Mountains and Rivers because of your experience of nearly drowning when you were a child, correct?”
Both Yuan Qingqing and the producer looked at Xu Cheng in surprise. They hadn’t known he’d had such an experience.
Xu Cheng himself was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected Gu Xingshi to know this. Clearly, Gu had done his homework.
His face softened, and he nodded. “Yes. The despair and fear I felt as I was pulled under the water left a profound impression. For years, I’ve wanted to make a film that captured that feeling. I accepted Over Mountains and Rivers because it resonated with that same essence.”
Gu Xingshi nodded. “This song is titled Raging Sea.”
Xu Cheng hadn’t heard the song before, but the producer had. He knew it was a piece Meng Yuansheng had improvised during a talent show and that it had recently gone viral on Tiktok.
But this was a film, not a talent show. Wouldn’t choosing such a song cheapen the film?
So he immediately cut Gu Xingshi off.
Xu Cheng listened to the producer’s objection, hesitant once more.
In the hierarchy of entertainment, the film industry was at the top. It was a “descent” for anyone from film to step into other fields, while breaking into the film industry from any other sector was akin to scaling a mountain.
Moreover, Over Mountains and Rivers was a film steeped in a rich, artistic tone.
The lively ambiance of Tiktok was worlds apart from what Gu Xingshi aimed to accomplish, but he remained unfazed.
First, he shared the story behind Raging Sea and meticulously dissected its emotional core, perfectly aligning his description with Director Xu’s tastes. With each point, Xu Cheng felt as though he were drinking ice-cold water on a scorching summer day, and by the end, he wanted to call Gu Xingshi his kindred spirit.
Then, he turned to the producer. “A song’s popularity on Tik Tok just shows its reach and relatability, right? Isn’t that exactly what we want to promote the film? And as for the song’s tone—whether it’s for a prince or a commoner, a good song will still be powerful. The real draw for the audience will always be the film itself.”
The producer, who’d been skeptical, was nearly swayed. Gu Xingshi was, after all, using the producer’s own words, but somehow, they sounded far more persuasive coming from Gu.
Fortunately, the producer clung to his last ounce of logic. “You’d better play the song. No matter how well you pitch it, if the song doesn’t match Director Xu’s vision, we’re still not going to use it.”
“Of course.” Gu Xingshi promptly took out a USB, and Yuan Qingqing’s assistant immediately brought over a laptop.
The room filled with the sound of waves crashing against rocks before the instruments began. A low, heavy melody emerged, evoking the feeling of being pulled under into the abyss. Then, a clear voice pierced through the darkness like a ray of light breaking through the depths.
This was a new recording of Raging Sea, with enhanced arrangements and a richer emotional pull, thanks to Shen Yu’s guidance.
Director Xu, midway through the song, found himself gripping his fists, his eyes welling with tears.
As the song ended, he slapped the table, face flushed with excitement. “This is it!”
Thrilled to have found the perfect track, Xu Cheng wasted no time formalizing the deal, and with Yuan Qingqing’s help, they quickly signed the contract.
Relieved, Gu Xingshi finally felt like he could breathe again. Though he’d believed in Meng Yuansheng’s song from the start, securing this deal was a real weight off his shoulders.
Gu Xingshi had planned to head back to Dunhai City immediately after, but Yuan Qingqing extended an invitation to celebrate. “Xiao Gu, if it weren’t for you, we’d still be banging our heads over this song. Join us for a meal—it’s the least we can do to thank you for saving us from more stress!”
Seeing her sincerity, Gu Xingshi graciously accepted.
The group headed to a nearby restaurant Yuan Qingqing frequently visited. On the way, Gu Xingshi occasionally asked questions about the industry, and although they were sometimes a bit naive, Yuan and the others were more than willing to answer. Gu’s earnestness, combined with his genuine curiosity, was oddly endearing.
The producer, in particular, looked at Gu Xingshi with a mix of admiration and regret. “Xiao Gu, you’re sure you don’t want to try out other roles? You’d be amazing as a producer!”
Gu Xingshi shook his head resolutely.
The producer sighed. “It’s a shame. You’ve got that trustworthy look, that aura that convinces people—like, if you were to, let’s say, ‘persuade’ someone into a deal, you’d ace it! And as for team dynamics, don’t even get me started. Just look at Director Xu; you managed to charm him into spending on this song like he was a grandpa buying health supplements!”
Director Xu: “???”
Gu Xingshi: “???”
Yuan Qingqing promptly pulled the producer aside, her tone firm. “That’s enough.”
The producer, seeing Xu Cheng’s glare directed at him and then watching Xu’s softened expression towards Gu Xingshi, felt a pang of envy that sent him retreating under the table with a soft “whimper.”
Just then, a knock came at the door.
Yuan Qingqing assumed it was a waiter, so she called, “Come in,” but to her surprise, it was Liang Wenjun.
She had a business meeting in the same restaurant and, hearing that Yuan was nearby, dropped by to greet her.
Yuan quickly introduced Gu Xingshi to her.
Seeing Yuan’s close, almost familial attitude toward Gu Xingshi, Liang Wenjun assumed he was a young relative Yuan Qingqing was helping get into the entertainment industry. With his good looks and clear disposition, she figured he was bound for a career in front of the camera.
Assuming Yuan Qingqing wanted her to mentor the newcomer, and owing Yuan a favor, she planned to agree.
Then Yuan Qingqing casually added, “Oh, and he’s a manager.”
Liang Wenjun stared in disbelief. “A manager?!”
She looked at Gu Xingshi, amused but concerned. “Sister Qing, you’ve got to be kidding. I trust you, so let me say this as a friend—being a manager isn’t easy. It’s full of stress, endless networking, exhausting hours. Just look at him! With his face and demeanor, why put him through that?”
In her view, a top-notch manager needed a slew of skills—social savvy, sharp judgment, resilience, and sometimes even ruthlessness. Gu looked too young, too fresh-faced, like a lamb being sent into a den of wolves, where he’d surely be eaten alive.
Gu Xingshi was only half-listening, distracted by the continuous alerts from the system.
[After receiving the test results, Liang Wenjun filed for divorce and took her ex-husband, Cao Guangli, to court on attempted murder charges. Cao had prepared for this, erasing any evidence, so getting a conviction has been tough.]
[But Liang Wenjun isn’t one to back down. While undergoing treatment, she’s been fighting him for control of their company. Cao Guangli initially stacked the deck with his people, but Liang still holds a majority share. After years in Beijing’s business circles, she has allies, and many are sympathetic to her cause. She’s really putting the pressure on him…]
Gu Xingshi was all ears, his eyes gleaming. [Amazing!]
The system added, [But—]
Gu Xingshi’s heart sank. [But what?]
[Cao Guangli knows Liang Wenjun too well. He knew she wouldn’t take any of this lying down, so he prepared a fallback. Liang checked the company’s finances but missed the contracts. Cao has several hidden “shadow contracts” designed to make her the fall guy. Once he’s moved all his assets abroad, he plans to report her. Even with her connections, she’ll either go down with the ship or face serious trouble.]
Gu Xingshi clenched his fists. [How despicable!]
He glanced over at Liang Wenjun, who was calmly chatting with Yuan Qingqing.
She’d endured betrayal, attempted poisoning, and yet here she was, poised and unbothered, having processed it all and moved forward with strength.
Such a capable, resilient woman didn’t deserve to be thwarted by someone as vile as Cao Guangli.
As Yuan and Liang discussed Cao’s wrongdoings openly, Gu Xingshi saw his chance to steer the conversation. “I was reminded of something similar that happened back in my hometown.”
“Oh?”
Seeing that he had their attention, Gu Xingshi began his tale. “It was a couple fighting over a company. The husband lost and had to leave with nothing. The wife thought she’d won, but right after she took over, the police arrested her.”
Liang Wenjun’s expression grew tense.
Gu Xingshi continued, “Turns out the husband knew this day would come, so he’d been sabotaging things from the start. He’d moved the assets abroad, leaving behind a shell company and a trail of incriminating contracts. When she took over, she found herself holding the bag…”
The color drained from Liang Wenjun’s face as realization dawned.
Yuan Qingqing glanced at her with concern. “You okay?”
Liang Wenjun nodded slowly, yet her mind was racing.
No wonder something had felt off. She had been shocked at how quickly she’d brought Cao Guangli to his knees. For a man who’d been so entrenched in the company, he’d barely put up a fight. It would make perfect sense if he’d been planning his escape all along.
She cast a long look at Gu Xingshi. “Thank you, Xiao Gu.”
Gu Xingshi responded with a slight smile, acknowledging her gratitude.
Determination flared in Liang Wenjun’s eyes as she stood up and left.
*
Meanwhile, Cao Guangli lay back on the couch, enjoying a massage from Ji Yurou.
He was pleased that, despite the setback with Liang Wenjun, he’d managed to cover his tracks thoroughly. Even if she eventually pieced things together, he’d be long gone by then.
Thanks to his foresight, he’d moved his assets offshore and pinned the blame on Liang Wenjun.
Outsiders might see him as a pathetic loser, but only he knew that everything was going exactly as planned. In a few days, he’d be out of China, free to enjoy his wealth abroad.
Ji Yurou leaned over, murmuring softly, “Enough time has passed. There’s no need to stay upset. Yiwei is your son—he’s family. Why keep holding a grudge?”
Cao Guangli frowned but didn’t object.
Taking advantage of his softened mood, Ji Yurou signaled to Ji Yiwei, who came over carrying a tray of fruit and called, “Dad, please forgive me…”
Cao, appeased, seemed more relaxed.
Emboldened, Ji Yiwei asked, “Dad, are we really just going to let Liang Wenjun take the company? It feels like a waste…”
Ji Yurou stopped her massage, listening intently.
She’d followed Cao for nearly twenty years, convinced that she was the true “Madame Cao” and that her son was the rightful heir. Now that she’d finally returned to China, she’d expected to see her son rightfully take over the family business, but here they were, on the brink of fleeing again.
As if sensing her frustration, Cao’s face darkened. “I told you both to stay out of it. If not for the mess you made, my plan would’ve been flawless. Once Liang Wenjun was out of the way, everything—company shares, assets, her connections—would have been ours!”
Ji Yiwei, though chastised, argued, “She’s just a manager, isn’t she? Why be afraid of her?”
Cao felt his blood pressure spike. He was truly cursed with an idiot for a son!
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
Cao Guangli glanced over, annoyed, but instructed, “Enough. Stay here and stay quiet. When the visas come through, we’ll leave…”
His words trailed off as he opened the door to find police officers flashing their badges and a warrant.
“Mr. Cao, you’re under suspicion of criminal activity. Please come with us.”
“Regrettably, it seems your plans to leave the country will be postponed indefinitely.”
