Chapter 439: You Call This Being Kept? |
Spark Media, President’s Office.
Nine in the morning, the sunlight was just right, perfect for discussing a multi-hundred-million-yuan project.
“Pfft—!!!”
A mouthful of brown liquid sprayed out in a fine mist.
Sun Zhou didn’t bother wiping his mouth, his eyes—already not very big—bulging wide.
“How much?! Bro, say that again?!”
Sun Zhou’s voice cracked.
Sitting across from him was Jiang Ci.
“Ten million.”
“To be precise, half of the first dividend payout from *Icebreaker*.”
Beside him, Lin Wan’s pen tip tore through the paper with a sharp “rip.”
“Jiang Ci, are you running a fever?” Lin Wan reached out to feel his forehead. “That money hasn’t even had time to warm your pocket yet.”
Jiang Ci tilted his head to dodge her hand and found a comfortable position to slouch into.
“No fever. I’m wide awake.”
He pulled out his phone from his pocket, brought up a photo, and turned the screen toward them.
The photo wasn’t high resolution, a bit blurry.
It was from the filming of *Icebreaker*—that little girl.
“Last night, I contacted the school over there.”
Jiang Ci looked at the photo, his gaze softening.
“The kids there only have boiled cabbage with salt for lunch. The classroom windows are drafty. In winter, their hands freeze stiff during class—they can barely hold a pen.”
The office fell silent.
Sun Zhou stopped shouting.
“I want to set up a foundation,” Jiang Ci said, putting his phone away. “I’ve already thought of a name: ‘Sunflower.’”
“Sunflower?” Lin Wan mulled over the three words.
“Yeah.” Jiang Ci smiled, a light in his eyes.
“I want them to have books to read, food to eat, and light to chase. Like sunflowers, always facing the sun.”
Lin Wan looked at the young man before her.
On a normal day, he was lazy, goofy, and sharp-tongued in a way that could drive people crazy.
But at this moment, the pure, youthful energy radiating from him was even more blinding than the sunlight streaming through the window.
“You’ve thought this through?” Lin Wan sighed. “Ten million could buy a really nice large flat in The Capital.”
“A house is just a place to sleep,” Jiang Ci shrugged. “But if I don’t do this, I won’t be able to sleep at all.”
Lin Wan was silent for three seconds.
Then she picked up the desk phone and dialed the legal department.
“Old Wang, come up here. Bring the best trust contract template.”
Hanging up, Lin Wan looked at Jiang Ci and gave a confident smile.
“Fine. If you want to go crazy, I’ll go crazy with you. I’ll handle the paperwork and find the connections. But one thing—”
Lin Wan pointed at Jiang Ci’s mask. “This needs to stay low-key. The foundation’s legal representative can’t be you, and we can’t put the company’s name on it, or people will say it’s just a publicity stunt for tax dodging.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Jiang Ci snapped his fingers.
…
For the next three days, Jiang Ci disappeared.
To be precise, he vanished from the entertainment industry’s line of sight.
But in the Capital’s financial street CBD, a hurried figure appeared instead.
In the scorching heat of May, Jiang Ci bundled himself up like a rice dumpling.
A black cap pulled low, oversized sunglasses covering half his face, and a mask welded onto his mouth.
He frequented the law offices in a certain upscale office building and the VIP lounges of a certain state-owned bank.
“Mr. Jiang, these are the last batch of documents that need your signature.”
In the law firm’s conference room, Lawyer Wang—a sharp, capable woman in her forties wearing gold-rimmed glasses—pushed a thick stack of papers toward Jiang Ci.
Jiang Ci felt like his wrist wasn’t his own anymore.
In these three days, he had signed more names than in the last twenty years combined.
“Sunflower Education Foundation…” Jiang Ci looked at the red text at the top of the documents, shook out his sore wrist, and solemnly signed “Jiang Ci” once more.
“Thank you for your hard work, Lawyer Wang.” Jiang Ci let out a long breath after signing the last page. “When will the funds be in place?”
“Fastest by tonight.” Lawyer Wang adjusted her glasses and gave a professional smile.
“Mr. Jiang, I’ve handled many trust funds for the wealthy, mostly for tax avoidance or family inheritance.”
“This is the first time I’ve seen someone do it just to give kids in the mountains a new desk.”
“You’ll get used to it after a few more times.” Jiang Ci unscrewed his thermos cup and took a sip.
“Then I’ll leave this in your hands. I want the first batch of supplies to arrive before Children’s Day on June 1st.”
“No problem.” Lawyer Wang stood up and extended her hand. “Pleasure working with you.”
The two shook hands.
This scene, through the gap in the floor-to-ceiling window, was perfectly captured by a long-lens camera on the rooftop of the building across the way.
*Click! Click!*
The shutter sounds were like machine-gun fire.
Behind the lens, a man with two thin mustache stripes licked his lips excitedly as he looked at the playback on the camera screen.
He was a notorious paparazzo in the industry—Big Mouth Song.
“Hehehe… Jiang Ci, Jiang Ci, this time you’ve fallen right into my hands.”
Big Mouth Song zoomed in on the photo.
In the frame, Jiang Ci was wrapped up tight, but those trademark eyes of his gave him away.
And the woman opposite him, in a designer business suit with a mature air, wearing a large diamond ring—looked exactly like a rich lady in charge of the family finances.
They were shaking hands, leaning forward, in a “close” posture.
Most critically, the location was a law firm, and bank document pouches were lying beside them.
In Big Mouth Song’s head, a million-word high-society ethical drama played out.
“Top star? Drug-fighting ambassador? Pfft!”
Big Mouth Song spat viciously. “After all that, he’s just a kept man! Just watch me peel off that skin of yours!”
…
That night at 8 PM.
It was prime time for exhausted office workers to lie in bed and scroll through their phones.
An explosive hashtag crash-landed at the top of Weibo’s trending list, followed by a pitch-black “EXPLOSIVE” character.
#Jiang Ci Meets Rich Woman at Night, Suspected of Being Kept#
Clicking into it led to a livestream replay from the marketing account “Big Mouth Song.”
In the stream, Big Mouth Song was frothing at the mouth, holding up a few printed photos, his expression as exaggerated as if he were telling a ghost story.
“Folks! The house has collapsed! This time, it’s really collapsed!”
“Take a look at who this is! That build—everyone would recognize it even if they were ashes! Our ‘Domestic Entertainment God of War,’ Jiang Ci!”
“Where’s he been these past few days? No filming, no schedule. Turns out he’s been busy keeping a rich woman company!”
Big Mouth Song pointed at the photo of Lawyer Wang, his tone sleazy. “This lady, look at her vibe—at least in her forties, right? What are they doing?”
“What ‘drug-fighting ambassador’? What ‘positive-energy artist’? Behind the scenes, they’re up to this kind of shady business! Using fans’ money for nothing, running off to be a rich woman’s little toy boy?”
“Jiang Ci, do you deserve the fans who support you?”
A single stone stirred a thousand ripples.
Internet mob mentality never cared about reason.
With “pictures for proof,” the anti-fans were in a frenzy, and neutral viewers started wavering.
[Whoa?! Really? Jiang Ci seemed so upright.]
[You never know someone’s heart! I knew he rose too fast—turns out he had a sugar mommy!]
[Disgusting! He was in *Icebreaker*, honoring heroes, but privately he’s a gold digger!]
Jiang Ci’s Weibo comments section was instantly overrun.
Comments that had been shouting “Hubby” and “Baby Boy” just days ago were now buried under a flood of vile abuse.
At Spark Media, the Public Relations Department was in chaos.
“This is your monitoring system?!”
Lin Wan held a tablet, her hands shaking with rage. With a “smack,” she slammed it onto the conference table.
“That bastard Big Mouth Song! This is slander! This is libel!”
Lin Wan’s gaze was as sharp as a knife. “Send a lawyer’s letter! Immediately! Right now! I’ll sue him until he’s bankrupt!”
“Director Lin, calm down!”
The Public Relations Director wiped his sweat. “Sending a lawyer’s letter now won’t help. The netizens are on a warpath; they’ll just think we’re trying to shut them up. We need evidence—proof of who that woman is.”
“Proof my ass!” Lin Wan cursed. “That’s Lawyer Wang! She’s setting up a foundation for kids in the mountains! Are these people’s brains filled with crap?!”
Just as the whole company was in a frenzy.
The man at the center of it all, Jiang Ci, was curled up on the balcony of his apartment.
He was in his pajamas, a small shovel beside him, holding a spray bottle in his hand.
In front of him was a flowerpot that had just been filled with soil.
His phone buzzed nonstop in his pocket.
Jiang Ci ignored it.
Carefully, he buried a few black sunflower seeds—scraped from a sunflower head—into the soil.
“Shhh—”
He pressed the spray bottle.
“Drink up. Drink enough so you can sprout soon.”
Jiang Ci muttered to himself, his gaze as gentle as if he were looking at his own child.
After planting, he leisurely pulled out his phone.
He glanced at the trending list.
Hah, the insults were pretty filthy.
He opened Weibo’s editor box.
Took a photo of the flowerpot in front of him.
Dark soil, damp and quiet.
The caption was just one sentence:
[The sun is really nice today. Perfect for planting flowers.]
Sent.
[Provocation! This is blatant provocation!]
[Planting flowers? Is that a flowerpot bought with the rich woman’s money?]
[Jiang Ci, do you have no shame? The whole internet is waiting for you to explain, and you’re here pretending everything’s fine?]
Just as the tide of online malice was about to drown Jiang Ci—
*Ding.*
His phone vibrated.
It wasn’t a Weibo notification.
It was a WeChat message.
Sender: Lawyer Wang.
[Mr. Jiang, all the approval procedures for the Sunflower Education Foundation have been completed.]
[The initial start-up fund of ten million yuan has been successfully transferred to the foundation’s public account.]
[Can be publicly disclosed at any time.]
Jiang Ci looked at the message and smiled.
He put down his phone and picked up the spray bottle again.
Aiming at the pot of sunflower seeds that hadn’t sprouted yet, he sprayed another fine mist.