Chapter 56: Framed
“Brother Yu, are you okay?” Only after Han Cheng stormed out of the company like a demon king did Wang Huan dare rush in, anxiously checking Jiang Yu from head to toe for injuries.
“I’m fine. Do you know what happened? Why was Han Cheng so angry?”
“I listened for a bit outside. It seems some confidential stuff got leaked, and they think you leaked it. Brother Yu, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Jiang Yu felt utterly wronged. He had only printed two copies of a script in Han Cheng’s office, then chatted with Qian Changjiang and the others for over two hours. What could he possibly have leaked?
This whole day was just bizarre.
“Let’s go. Back to the villa first.” Completely confused, Jiang Yu left the lounge.
Along the way, everyone looked at him differently—disgusted, gloating, mocking. Not a single look was friendly.
Jiang Yu frowned slightly. He had to get to the bottom of this.
Wang Huan was just as clueless as he was. On the way home, Jiang Yu called Sister Bai.
“What do you want with me? I’m in a hurry to draw a clear line between us—don’t drag me down with you,” Sister Bai opened with her usual snark.
But Jiang Yu was pleased. He’d called the right person. “You know what happened, don’t you?”
Sister Bai was surprised. “You still don’t know what happened?”
“Han Cheng yelled at me for no reason and then left. What could I possibly know?”
“Wasn’t it you?”
“Of course not.”
“You don’t even know what happened—how do you know it wasn’t you?”
“I didn’t do anything, so of course it wasn’t me.”
“…”
“President Han really loves you. For something this big, he only scolded you.”
“Forget whether he loves me or not. Tell me what actually happened.”
“There’s a computer in President Han’s office that stores company resources that haven’t been produced yet. That computer is usually kept off, and only President Han knows the password.”
But today, Wei Entertainment preemptively registered part of those resources. When everyone checked the surveillance footage, the only person who had touched that computer today was you—and you even printed two copies of documents.
So naturally, everyone suspected you. This is a leak of commercial secrets. If President Han decides to pursue it, you could go to jail.”
“Is Wei Entertainment the company Wei Rang opened?”
“You even know who owns Wei Entertainment! So it really was you who leaked it?”
“No! I’ve only met Wei Rang once. Enough—I know what’s going on now. I’m hanging up.”
“Hey, burning bridges already, are you?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to distance yourself from me? Don’t delay—cut it off right now.”
Jiang Yu hung up and went over everything that had happened at the company today.
As soon as he started replaying it, he noticed something was off.
Downstairs, Han Cheng had clearly told Secretary Zhao to take him to the lounge, but Secretary Zhao had taken him to Han Cheng’s office instead.
Sister Bai had said that the computer was usually turned off and that only Han Cheng knew the password. But when Jiang Yu went in, the computer was on, and he got in without using any password at all.
Han Cheng wasn’t in the company—such a confidential computer would definitely have been shut down. And when Jiang Yu used it, there clearly was no password.
None of this made sense. Could it be Secretary Zhao?
And that little girl who had rushed over to find Secretary Zhao had shown up at a very convenient time as well. Messing up the revenue split in a contract—such a low-level mistake—the more Jiang Yu thought about it, the more absurd it seemed.
Jiang Yu wasn’t stupid. With a bit of thought, he realized he had probably been set up.
But who would frame him? And why? He wasn’t someone who caused trouble. The only person who had a grudge against him and a motive to frame him should be Ji Xu.
But Ji Xu was now by Wei Rang’s side—could Secretary Zhao be Ji Xu’s person?
The more he thought about it, the more complicated it became. Jiang Yu felt his brain wasn’t quite enough to handle it. No matter who was framing him, that Secretary Zhao definitely had a problem.
He took out his phone and called Han Cheng. He wanted to explain—he didn’t want to take the fall for such a huge mess.
“Sorry, the number you dialed cannot be connected at the moment. Please try again later…” The automated message made Jiang Yu frown even more. Had Han Cheng blocked his number?
Heh. That bastard—he trusted him so little.
If the call wouldn’t go through, there was still WeChat.
Seeing the message that they were no longer friends made Jiang Yu’s face darken further.
His QQ messages also sank without a trace.
He tried every possible way to contact him. Han Cheng had done it thoroughly—blocking and deleting all of Jiang Yu’s contact information.
Jiang Yu was so angry he held it in again and again, but couldn’t help unleashing a thousand words of beautifully foul international language at his phone.
After thinking it over, Jiang Yu finally went to Han Cheng’s Weibo and left a comment under one of his posts:
[It was your Secretary Zhao who took me to your office. She told me to use that computer to print the script. When I went in, the computer was already on, with no password. There should still be print records—check them yourself.]
After posting it, Jiang Yu still felt upset. He hesitated for a long time before finally giving up on posting another comment that said [idiot].
Afraid Han Cheng might not see it, Jiang Yu used his main account to comment. He posted it at noon—and two hours later, the comment actually shot up onto the trending topics.
Han Cheng had never publicly disclosed his relationship with Jiang Yu, and Jiang Yu kept a low profile. Not many people in the industry knew about their relationship, and outsiders knew even less.
And no one would have known that Wei Entertainment’s registration of several film and TV copyrights had been stolen from Han Entertainment.
So Jiang Yu’s single comment instantly set everyone’s imagination running wild. People began speculating about the relationship between Jiang Yu and Han Cheng and what had happened between them.
People flooded Jiang Yu’s Weibo with questions. For the first time in six years, his Weibo was this lively—but Jiang Yu didn’t reply to a single one.
Seeing his comment trending, Jiang Yu felt it wasn’t entirely a bad thing. At least Han Cheng would see it.
He’d done everything he could. Whether Han Cheng believed him or not was beyond his control.
With all this fuss, the filming of Flirting Scholar was put on hold again, and Jiang Yu returned to his old life—eating and sleeping at the seaside villa.
It looked leisurely and undisturbed, but the matter weighed heavily on his mind. He couldn’t eat well or sleep well.
Late at night three days later, just as Jiang Yu was drifting off, he suddenly felt a weight on him and his clothes being roughly tugged.
He jolted awake and opened his eyes to see Han Cheng with a dark face, pulling at his clothes, a strong smell of alcohol coming off him.
“What are you going crazy about in the middle of the night?” Jiang Yu struggled to protect his pajamas. Han Cheng was obviously drunk, and with the misunderstanding unresolved, Jiang Yu was afraid he’d be tormented to death.
But the difference in their strength was too great. Jiang Yu was still put through half a night of it.
Before passing out, Jiang Yu kept reminding him, “Your Secretary Zhao has a problem. Be careful.”
When he woke up the next day, it was already noon. Jiang Yu’s waist was sore and aching, but his body was clean and refreshed—at least Han Cheng had a conscience and knew to help him bathe.
Han Cheng had looked terrifying last night, but he actually hadn’t gone too far. His stomach was aching with hunger. Supporting himself against the wall, Jiang Yu went downstairs to look for something to eat.
At the stairway, he saw Sister Bai sitting on the sofa on the phone, wearing a professional smile. One look told him she was talking to a business partner, not family or friends.
“Aunt Chen, I’m hungry. Is there anything to eat?” Jiang Yu called out loudly. Sister Bai, who was negotiating Sun Haoxuan’s appearance at a New Year’s Eve gala with a TV station, shot Jiang Yu a big eye-roll and clicked off in high heels to continue the call outside.
“There’s porridge—I’ve kept it warm—and your favorite pickles,” Aunt Chen said as she brought them out from the kitchen. Jiang Yu dug in eagerly; he was starving.
Halfway through eating, Sister Bai finished her call and came back in. Seeing Jiang Yu with a good appetite, she grabbed her bag and prepared to leave. “You’re fine, so I’ll be going.”
“Did you come for something?” Jiang Yu asked in confusion.
Every time Sister Bai came to see him, it was always for a reason. This profit-first woman would never have the conscience to visit him purely out of concern.
“I did originally. President Han asked me to bring over your contract—he wanted to terminate it with you. But just now, President Han called again. He doesn’t want to terminate your contract anymore.
Also, President Han saw that comment of yours. He’s currently engaged in a business war with Wei Entertainment, so don’t go bothering him again.
Stay at home and behave yourself. Don’t meet anyone suspicious. Right now, you’re still a suspect in a commercial–secrets leak. If President Han weren’t choosing not to pursue it, you’d already be in jail by now.
And also, don’t contact anyone in the industry for the time being. When two entertainment companies are in a business war, artists with scandals are the best targets. Don’t get dragged into it.
I’m leaving. I’m busy to death all day long, and I still have to deal with your damn mess.”
Sister Bai strode out in a hurry in her high heels, while Jiang Yu was left digesting what she had just said.
A business war? That was a new term. Had this gone from a domineering-CEO drama to a corporate warfare story? What kind of plot had he transmigrated into, exactly?
