Chapter 29: The Economic Man

“Professor…” The kinder Lu Ming was to her, the more uneasy she felt, as if she couldn’t possibly accept such kindness.

After all, she had lost control under the influence of alcohol and forced herself upon him, only to pretend nothing had happened the next morning, deliberately avoiding him. He had waited for over two hours in the snow outside her dorm just for a chance to see her, catching a cold in the process. Yet she hadn’t even truly taken care of him—she’d managed to burn the porridge she made for him.

She was truly confused: was Lu Ming’s kindness meant for her daughter, or for her?

“Professor, please get some rest. I’ll take a taxi,” she finally said. She couldn’t bear to make a man with a high fever drive her anywhere—just the thought of sitting in his car made her feel uneasy, like sitting on pins and needles.

Lian Youyou hurried to put on her makeup, changed her clothes, and sprayed on perfume. Makeup took so much time—perhaps she should consider getting her eyebrows and inner eyeliner tattooed. Being a woman was truly troublesome.

…

“Aah—!”

A miserable cry escaped her lips the moment she stepped out of the taxi. Her left foot twisted outward, and she tumbled straight into a pile of snow.

The icy snow stung her face and clung to her clothes, soaking her through. There was no time to go back and change, so Lian Youyou could only brush off the snow and limp into the lobby of Xin Cheng Entertainment’s office building.

Along the way, she was the subject of mocking glances and whispered laughter. She had left the house so confidently, only to end up looking like a drowned rat—no wonder people laughed.

“Well, well, who do we have here?” came a sarcastic voice from ahead.

Lian Youyou looked up. It was Fan Xiaoyun.

Wasn’t Fan Xiaoyun under Yunyan Entertainment? What was she doing at Xin Cheng?

“Don’t tell me you’re here to talk about a contract with Xin Cheng? Keep dreaming,” Fan Xiaoyun scoffed, arms folded. “With the state you’re in, you think you can be a star? Don’t think you’re anything special just because you shot a commercial for a web game. Do you know how many ads I shoot in a year? You couldn’t count them all. Someone like you should just get some plastic surgery and be an internet celebrity.”

“So it’s you,” Lian Youyou said, gathering her damp, snow-flecked hair and standing tall to face Fan Xiaoyun. “Miss Fan, you must have a lot of time on your hands to be so concerned about my affairs. Shouldn’t you be more worried about your disgraced father right now?”

“You—” Fan Xiaoyun pointed at Lian Youyou, her hand trembling with rage. “Don’t gloat, you little brat who never learned any manners!”

Fan Xiaoyun raised her hand to slap her, but Lian Youyou was faster—her hand shot out and caught Fan Xiaoyun’s wrist.

“Let go! Let me go!”

“I don’t have time to play with you today. One day, I’ll settle scores with all of you,” Lian Youyou said, tightening her grip until Fan Xiaoyun cried out in pain.

Terry rushed over and quickly intervened before things escalated. “Let go, Xiaoyun! Don’t make a scene here—this isn’t our company!”

Fan Xiaoyun wrenched her reddened wrist free, gritting her teeth. “Lian Youyou, you’ll pay for your stupidity today—just wait and see! Look at you, thinking you can get into Xin Cheng. Keep dreaming. I’ll notify every agency; soon, not one of them will take you!”

An unlucky start indeed—first a fall, then running into the obnoxious Fan Xiaoyun.

Lian Youyou took a deep breath, steadied herself, and went to the front desk.

“Hello, do you have an appointment?” The receptionist didn’t look up, repeating the standard line.

“I’m here to see Mr. Richard.”

The receptionist looked up, startled by Lian Youyou’s appearance, then recognition dawned in her eyes. “You’re Miss Lian Youyou, the spokesperson for ‘Heroic Age,’ right? President Li is waiting for you in the top-floor office. You may go up directly.”

“Thank you,” Lian Youyou replied, heading toward the elevator.

Fan Xiaoyun, who hadn’t yet left the lobby, suddenly turned around.

Lian Youyou was being personally received by President Li!

It had to be because she’d slept her way in, no doubt about it! What was President Li thinking, taking an interest in someone like her?

Inwardly, Fan Xiaoyun cursed Lian Youyou up and down, but that was all she could do. In public, as a public figure herself, she had to maintain her image.

There was only one room on the top floor. The door bore no nameplate, but every detail in the décor exuded understated luxury. Even the deep brown door, unadorned by any pattern, must have cost a small fortune.

It seemed Richard’s taste had improved considerably. She used to tease him for being so tacky…

Lian Youyou raised her hand and knocked.

“Come in.” The voice from inside was exactly as she’d heard on the phone.

“Hello, Richard.”

The moment Lian Youyou entered, Richard stared at her, momentarily lost.

“Lian Meng… You’ve come back.” He gazed at her, almost in a daze.

To her surprise, Lian Youyou saw Richard’s eyes grow moist.

But it was understandable—after all, the bond between them was forged in the fires of shared struggles.

From the very start of her career, Richard had been her agent. She was a newcomer, and so was he. Together they stumbled and supported each other, ultimately making their era’s brilliance possible.

“Sorry, I mistook you for your mother for a moment—you two look so much alike.” Richard collected himself and came around the desk.

Lian Youyou took the initiative to extend her hand. “Hello, Uncle Richard.”

In reality, Richard was a year younger than she was back then.

“You make me sound so old,” Richard laughed. “Please, have a seat.”

“But what happened to your clothes?” Richard noticed the snowmelt on her coat and hair. “Did you fall in the snow?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t make a better first impression,” Lian Youyou replied, embarrassed.

“Haha, it’s all right. You really are just like your mother—always so impetuous.”

Though they looked alike, a closer look revealed distinctions—height, figure, face shape. Lian Meng had a classic oval face, stood 169 centimeters tall, with long legs, a curvy figure, a slender waist—a true goddess. Lian Youyou, on the other hand, had a rounder face, stood barely 160, and though she was slim, she was as flat as a washboard, her features as youthful as a middle-schooler—more like a cute character from a Japanese manga.

After she sat, Richard took the seat across from her.

He switched on the electric tea tray; the water soon began to bubble. Watching the steam, Richard said, “I’d been thinking about how to shape your public persona if you signed with us. Because you look so much like your mother, most people’s first instinct would be to cast you as the next Lian Meng. But since Fan Chi has already created a Quan Qing’er in your mother’s image, that idea is moot. Not that I ever intended to do that—you two are entirely different individuals.”