Lu Zhuonian hadn’t given many details over the phone about how he got sick.
A few minutes later, they met behind a Roman column, and Chen Zemian finally heard the full story.
The medicine had first been marketed as a health supplement called Yuanqi Drink, advertised to strengthen the body, replenish qi, and nourish the kidneys.
Though promoted as a traditional Chinese tonic, it was actually a chemical compound with aphrodisiac properties. It became popular in nightclubs. After a brief wave of popularity, it was classified as a banned substance due to severe side effects and a high risk of addiction.
Before authorities could finish their investigation, someone attempted to cash in on leftover stock by kidnapping attractive children, drugging them, and selling them for a high price.
The first to be taken was Master Lu.
The Lu family nearly overturned Beijing in their search. Within 18 hours, they located the kidnappers, dismantled the entire operation, and traced the distribution chain both upstream and down. The case later became a benchmark in the city’s crackdown on organized crime.
Lu Zhuonian smiled. “My body reacted badly to the drug. I spiked a 41-degree fever. The kidnappers panicked—afraid I’d die and ruin everything—so they treated me more gently than their own son. When the police broke in, they were coaxing me to eat.”
Chen Zemian: “…”
He’d expected a tragedy.
But of course, a protagonist remains a protagonist. Even kidnapped, the prince still gets royal treatment.
“But you still got sick from it,” Chen Zemian pressed, trying to find a more serious note. “Was it a side effect of the drug?”
“Most people don’t react this way,” Lu Zhuonian said. “Could be genetic.”
Cheng Ziyi was a distant relative. Blood ties might explain the similarity. When Chen Zemian mentioned her symptoms, Lu Zhuonian had immediately thought of Yuanqi Drink.
Chen Zemian stood behind the column, watching Cheng Ziyi inside the beverage shop. He was curious: how did she come into contact with that drug?
Was it accidental? Or was she drugged?
The original book had hinted at unspoken rules in the industry. That thought worried him more.
His phone buzzed with a boarding reminder. Lu Zhuonian ignored it and turned off the screen.
“You’re boarding soon?” Chen Zemian took the phone. “Everyone’s messaging you. Go, I’ll stay here.”
Lu Zhuonian hesitated. He didn’t trust Chen Zemian not to blow up the entertainment industry the moment he boarded the plane.
“I won’t do anything,” Chen Zemian promised. “We don’t even know what’s going on. Whether to act depends on Cheng Ziyi. If I rush in now and punch her agent and boss, she’ll be blacklisted for life.”
Lu Zhuonian gave him a skeptical look.
Chen Zemian raised his hand. “I’ll just watch her leave with her friends. That’s it. I won’t punch her agent or burn down the industry.”
The airport broadcast called again.
Chen Zemian nudged him. “Go.”
Lu Zhuonian brushed his fingertips over Chen Zemian’s cheek. “I’ll look into this. Nothing’s more important than your safety. Got it?”
Chen Zemian nodded, waving him off. “I know, I know. I barely know her, and she’s a girl. Even if I wanted to ask, how would I do it? ‘Hey, why are you taking paroxetine?’ That’d go over well.”
It was true. No matter how brash he was, even Chen Zemian wouldn’t ask that directly.
Shortly after Lu Zhuonian left, a bodyguard brought Cheng Ziyi’s friends to meet Chen Zemian. To his surprise, they were familiar faces.
Shen Qingwan ran up. The airport air conditioning was freezing, but her bangs were soaked. She was breathless and anxious.
“Where’s Cheng Ziyi?” she asked immediately.
Chen pointed across the way. “In the shop.”
Shen Qingwan sighed in relief and hurried over. “I thought that bodyguard looked familiar—Lu’s guy, right? Didn’t Yan Luo say you were abroad?”
“I came back for something,” Chen said, falling in step beside her. “Happened to be on the same flight as Miss Cheng. She said a friend would pick her up. Didn’t expect it to be you.”
“She and I went to middle school together,” Shen said with a glance. “Known her since forever. And you—you don’t even have my number?”
“She gave it directly to the bodyguard. I wasn’t there.”
Shen gave him a look. “Even if you didn’t save my number, the sound should’ve been familiar.”
Cheng Ziyi hadn’t noticed them yet. She still lay slumped over the table. It wasn’t until Shen called out, “Yi Yi,” that she looked up.
The moment she saw Shen, her eyes welled up. “What took you so long?”
Shen crouched and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m here now. Let’s go home.”
“They’ll look for me at the company apartment,” Ziyi whispered.
“Then we’ll go to my place.”
Ziyi nodded, rising unsteadily. “Thank you so much, Mr. Chen. I really don’t feel well today. If there’s a chance, I’ll treat you another time.”
Chen offered a polite smile. “No need. You’re Lu’s cousin and Shen’s classmate. That makes us friends either way.”
Shen helped Ziyi sit again. “Rest a bit while I call a car.”
Ziyi sank into the seat. “Old Zhang knows my car. He’s probably stalking me. Better to call a different one.”
“Old Zhang?” Chen asked.
“My agent. Zhang Kun, from Huanyu Media.”
Shen checked her app. “He and the others are waiting at the east exit. We’ll go west—just a bit farther.”
“No need for a taxi.” Chen handed Shen his keys. “Take my car. I’ll ride with the bodyguard.”
Shen and Ziyi exchanged a glance, then took the keys. “Thanks—I won’t be polite about it.”
Chen led them through the VIP channel to the parking lot.
Zhang Kun had seen them go that way. He waited at the exit, ready to block Cheng Ziyi. When he saw the gate open, he stood alert.
The staff came first.
Then Ziyi. Then Shen Qingwan.
Zhang Kun’s expression flickered. He wasn’t sure if Shen had airport connections or something more. Either way, he swallowed his anger and smiled.
“Miss Cheng!” He reached for her bag. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Your assistant’s been worried sick.”
Ziyi’s stomach turned at his voice.
Zhang Kun was slick. In front of others, he played the perfect agent. Behind closed doors, he cursed his artists and used every form of manipulation. He was an expert in emotional control.
But he was too good at the act. To outsiders, he seemed devoted. Any artist who asked to switch agents would be branded ungrateful and greedy. Even if successful, they’d be quietly sidelined.
Ziyi hadn’t expected him to cling like this. Her face darkened. She yanked back her bag. “I told you—I have a fever. I’ll do tomorrow’s schedule.”
Zhang’s smile didn’t change. His eyes darted toward the VIP gate. Seeing no one else, he relaxed slightly.
Still, he kept his voice low. “There’s a dinner tonight. It’s about your next project. You need to go.”
Ziyi’s hands trembled. “Brother Kun, I really don’t feel well. If I go, I’ll just embarrass myself. Can I skip it, please?”
“You’re the lead. You can’t skip it.” His voice stayed even, but his gaze turned sharp. “If you don’t go, they’ll replace you.”
“Let them,” Ziyi said, walking faster. “Have the company terminate my contract.”
Zhang grabbed her arm and muttered, “Little bitch. Don’t be shameless.”
He kept it quiet.
But Chen Zemian heard it.
He stood behind the door, attuned to every sound that wasn’t Lu Zhuonian’s footsteps.
He pushed open the VIP door. “Don’t be shameless.”
Zhang Kun’s face dropped.
Chen Zemian walked toward Zhang Kun at a steady pace.
Two bodyguards left by Lu Zhuonian followed close behind. The three formed a silent triangle, radiating pressure.
Each time Chen Zemian stepped forward, Zhang Kun retreated.
Usually glib and overbearing, Zhang Kun now stood mute, eyes fixed on Chen Zemian, scrambling to recall which powerful family this young master might belong to.
Cheng Ziyi, watching from the side, suddenly understood why so many in the industry sought backers—because a sponsor’s status dictated how others treated you.
It felt good to have someone powerful behind you. She should’ve latched onto Lu Zhuonian sooner.
So this was why Chen Zemian hadn’t come out earlier. He’d been watching—testing her agent’s attitude.
Catch him in the act. How satisfying.
Cheng Ziyi grabbed Shen Qingwan’s hand and whispered, “Such a satisfying slap in the face. So satisfying.”
“They’re not really going to fight, are they?” Shen Qingwan looked worried and stepped forward. “He hits hard. He can kick someone a few meters.”
Cheng Ziyi blinked. “Kicking people… That sounds exactly like your crush.”
Shen Qingwan flushed. “He is.”
“You said your crush was named Chen Zhe, but they all call him Chen Zemian…” Cheng Ziyi paused, then quickly pieced it together. “Maybe that’s a stage name too.”
Shen Qingwan looked over at Chen Zemian, now confronting Zhang Kun. She cupped her face, tilted her head, and grinned like a lovestruck auntie. “Chen Zemian sounds better. Suits him more. Isn’t he handsome? And kind too.”
Cheng Ziyi raised an eyebrow. “Don’t fangirl. He’s gay. He has a boyfriend.”
“I know,” Shen Qingwan replied breezily. “His boyfriend was my last crush. The aloof iceberg and the little ball of sunshine—perfect couple.”
Cheng Ziyi: “…”
Meanwhile, Chen Zemian backed Zhang Kun into a corner. He lowered his gaze, voice cold, eyes sharp in a way that echoed Lu Zhuonian. “Anything else you want to say?”
Zhang Kun flinched and glanced at the bodyguards. “No, no. Since Ziyi’s not feeling well, we’ll reschedule dinner. Nothing matters more than her health.”
Chen Zemian lifted his chin slightly. “Do you even know who Cheng Ziyi is?”
Zhang Kun’s pupils shrank. He’d seen her file before—both parents were middle school teachers, no notable background.
Chen Zemian, voice clipped and precise, delivered each line like a scalpel. “Her background runs too deep to trace. Check who I am, and you’ll understand.”
Zhang Kun nearly muttered aloud, You don’t need to tell me—I’ll check! But outwardly, he nodded and bowed. “Of course. I wouldn’t dare.”
Chen Zemian flicked invisible lint from his coat. “Don’t worry. It won’t take me long.”
Cold sweat pooled on Zhang Kun’s brow.
“Won’t take long” meant “I already know.”
In Beijing, even a falling McDonald’s sign could land on three directors. Wealth didn’t guarantee recognition. But those who could utter “easy to check” without blinking—those stood at the top.
Chen Zemian said no more. He gave Zhang Kun one last glance—let him sit with the weight of it—then turned and left.
A bodyguard pulled the car up. Another opened the door.
Chen Zemian didn’t take the back seat. He walked around and slid into the driver’s seat, letting Shen Qingwan and Cheng Ziyi ride with him.
The remaining bodyguards got into a second car and followed them out of the airport.
Chen Zemian handed his phone to Shen Qingwan. “Put in the address.”
She entered it and handed the phone back. “So… are you and Mr. Lu together now? Did he confess? What did he say?”
Chen Zemian nearly choked. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about your best friend? How is she? Does she need a hospital?”
Cheng Ziyi leaned over the headrest. “I’m fine. I get dizzy fevers all the time. They go away in a day or two.”
Chen Zemian tightened his grip on the wheel. “I saw you taking paroxetine.”
Cheng Ziyi blinked. “You know that drug?”
He wanted to ask where she got involved with “Yuanqi Drink,” but couldn’t push too hard. He just nodded.
The whole drive, he remained quiet, struggling to figure out how to steer the conversation. They reached Shen Qingwan’s building in silence.
Then Shen Qingwan spoke.
“Fanlou isn’t clean these days. You, Xiao Shao, and Ye Shao should stay away.”
Chen Zemian perked up. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t work there anymore, so I don’t know details. But someone’s been pushing something called ‘Xiao Jin Pill’ in private.”
“Xiao Jin Pill?”
She nodded. “Makes people energetic, excitable. Hallucinations, violence. Addictive if you take too much.”
Chen Zemian frowned. “Sounds like a drug.”
“It’s not classified as one,” she said carefully. “More like… a pleasure enhancer.”
He stiffened.
An aphrodisiac?
Could this “Little Golden Pill” be the same as the “Yuanqi Drink” from years ago?
If it was circulating in Fanlou, even without the boss’s approval, the manager must know something.
He had to go.
After dropping them off, Chen Zemian turned the car and headed straight for Fanlou.
He’d promised Lu Zhuonian he wouldn’t touch Ziyi’s manager or clean up the entertainment world. But no one said he couldn’t visit a club to ask around.
At Fanlou, he booked the priciest private room and dropped 888,888 on drinks. He asked the manager to send people for a party.
No cocktails. Only sealed imports sat on the table.
The Little Golden Pill rumor wouldn’t stay hidden long. He’d wait until someone let something slip.
For now, he blended in, watching models dance and guests gamble. The room pulsed with noise and laughter.
By ten, Fanlou was packed.
Chen Zemian leaned back, bored. Still no leads. Not even close to what Shen Qingwan had told him.
He stepped out into the corridor and made a voice call to Lu Zhuonian.
Shutting the door behind him, he shut out the noise too.
The moment Lu Zhuonian answered, a strange calm settled over him.
The plane hadn’t even landed yet, but he already missed him.
They chatted—nothing meaningful, just silly things. Even airplane food became a hot topic.
Chen Zemian got animated. “Add more cheese and bacon to the mashed potatoes. Spread it on toast with eggs—it’s amazing.”
Lu Zhuonian chuckled. “Where are you now? I’ll send you some.”
Chen Zemian hesitated. “Out… playing.”
Lu Zhuonian tapped the location pin. A nightclub’s name flashed on his screen. He laughed. “Having fun?”
Chen Zemian, unaware he’d been caught, looked around, then whispered into the mic, “Not as fun as you.”
*****
If you enjoy what we do, consider supporting us on 
! Every little bit means the world!
Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
