After arranging an appointment for the next contract signing and audition, Xie Guan left Xihua Entertainment and couldn’t help but call Huo Mingjun.
He was so excited that he only realized the inappropriateness of his actions after dialing the number. Huo Mingjun was a busy and domineering CEO, how could he casually disturb him?
Strangely, every time Xie Guan saw Huo Mingjun before, his first instinct was to keep as far away as possible. But now, upon receiving good news, he immediately thought of telling him. Xie Guan wondered if he had taken the wrong medicine or something.
Perhaps it was because Huo Mingjun helped him so much that Xie Guan subconsciously regarded him as a good person despite his cold exterior. However, their relationship was peculiar: they called each other friends, but it seemed like Xie Guan was being overly presumptuous. He wanted to be cautious, but it made him appear not sincere enough, more like someone trying to cozy up to a benefactor – which was incredibly awkward.
Before Xie Guan could retract his impulsive decision, Huo Mingjun answered the call, “Xie Guan? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Xie Guan chuckled, trying to sound casual and cheerful, “Good news, I’ve settled things with Xihua, so I wanted to call and thank you.”
“…,” Huo Mingjun fell silent for a moment, and glanced at the people around the conference table. He then gestured to Lu Ming, who was taking notes, to pause the meeting and stepped out to continue the call.
“For such a big piece of good news,” he replied nonchalantly, “you’re just calling to say thanks?”
Xie Guan was dumbfounded, “What else should I do?”
Huo Mingjun gently prodded, “At the very least, you should show some sincerity.”
“…,” Xie Guan felt at a loss, running a hand through his hair and stammering, “Then, what do you think… constitutes sincerity?”
“You’re asking me?” Huo Mingjun leaned back, leisurely resting against the smooth glass wall. “You want me to make demands? Seems like you have money to burn, don’t you?”
“That’s not true,” Xie Guan denied vehemently, sincerely saying, “How could I play with fire in front of you? That would be asking for trouble, wouldn’t it?”
Huo Mingjun chuckled lowly, “Stop pretending to be well-behaved in front of me. I’m in a meeting right now. Let’s talk later after you’ve figured it out.”
The little devil inside Xie Guan surged, imagining himself pinning Huo Mingjun down and berating him while smacking his ears. “How the hell are you so difficult to please!” he roared, but only in his mind.
“By the way,” he suddenly remembered something, “the interviewer praised my resume for being well-done. You…”
Huo Mingjun glanced at the conference room and hastily interrupted him, “Just casually thank him when we talk about job hunting later. Lu Ming is urging me to come back, I have to hang up.”
The little demon inside Xie Guan halted in his tracks.
Although President Huo seemed a little cold, and a bit distant, he was still a really good person, wasn’t he?
Huo Mingjun returned to the meeting room calmly and continued the meeting. Lu Ming keenly sensed that the boss seemed a bit different from just a moment ago, as if he had just bullied someone and felt refreshed. He didn’t even interrupt the deputy CEO’s speech, the most verbose person in the entire group, for a whole five minutes.
“Who on earth is so clueless, spiking the boss with an aphrodisiac at such a crucial moment!”
While the Vice President rambled on hopelessly, Lu Ming recorded his lengthy speech with a sense of despair, thinking, “Please, can you bring back that ruthless tyrant I used to know? Hurry up and interrupt him.”
As the meeting dispersed, Lu Ming printed out the meeting minutes and handed them to Huo Mingjun. He quickly excused himself to go to the restroom, took out his phone, and reported the situation to his two comrades in arms.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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Fang Hui: But wasn’t the big bro sent back home to farm by the boss just the day before yesterday? I don’t know the specifics, but I still feel sorry for him. 30s @Zhong Heguang.
Zhong Henguang: I’m here.
Zhong Henguang: What’s going on with Xie Guan?
Lu Ming: During the meeting today, the boss left a bunch of deputy directors in the conference room and went out to take a private call. I suspect it was Xie Guan who called.
Fang Hui: Betting a cucumber it was Xie Guan.
Zhong Henguang: Why are you two chatting on WeChat during work hours?
Lu Ming: Awkward silence.jpg
Fang Hui: There’s another piece of intel. Yesterday, I accidentally saw the boss’s screen when I was in his office. Can you guess what he was doing?
Fang Hui: He was editing a resume!!!
Fang Hui: Sweet and spicy! Devilishly spicy! Can you believe it? Who has the audacity to let the boss edit their resume for them? Who??
Lu Ming: I was so scared, I hugged my little goldfish.jpg
Zhong Henguang: Are you two afraid I’ll be lonely farming at home, so you want to come keep me company?
Fang Hui: Big bro, if I may ask so boldly, did you directly advise the boss not to indulge in relationships, and that’s why you were exiled back home by that misguided ruler?
Zhong Henguang: Don’t talk nonsense.
Lu Ming: Could it be that you mentioned that person who must not be named…?
Fang Hui: Who? Voldemort? Voldy is confused.jpg
Lu Ming: Boss?
Lu Ming: You’re not saying anything, so I’ll take that as a yes.
Fang Hui: What are you guys talking about? Whose name can’t be mentioned? Hey hey, what’s going on?
Lu Ming: youknowwho
Fang Hui: Huh? Who?
Fang Hui: Big bro! Second bro! Hey, where are you?!
Huo Mingjun’s heart is like a needle in the sea. Xie Guan thought it over and finally barely understood his implied meaning: he wanted Xie Guan’s “sincerity,” but it couldn’t be something that could be measured with money.
Huo Mingjun lacked for nothing, and if there was anything on Xie Guan worth his attention, it was probably the concept of “personal favor.”
After work, Xie Guan called Huo Mingjun again.
Huo Mingjun was in his study dealing with documents. Lazily, he asked, “You’ve figured it out so quickly?”
Xie Guan felt embarrassed, “Uh… somewhat, but it’s very basic. I hope you won’t mind its simplicity.”
Huo Mingjun frowned, “I did you a big favor, and you make it so shabby. Are you not ashamed?”
“…” Xie Guan hesitated, “Well, I was just being polite.”
“No need for false politeness,” Huo Mingjun said displeasedly, and then asked, “So how do you plan to thank me?”
Xie Guan stuttered, “Um… how about I treat you to a meal?”
Huo Mingjun was slightly taken aback.
He repeated as if uncertain, “Dinner?”
“Yes,” Xie Guan said cautiously, “Come to my place. What do you want to eat? I can cook it for you… Is that okay?”
He dropped the formal language, opting for a more familiar tone, and the last sentence carried a sudden sense of warmth and intimacy.
Sharing a meal is a significant event in life. With the exception of chefs, people would personally prepare a meal for someone only if they have a very close emotional connection. In a deeper sense, “cooking for the one you love” is a sentiment reserved for couples.
Someone remembering your tastes, accommodating your pickiness, and all your preferences is a special thing. While the desires of the palate are easy to resist, few can reject the profound affection hidden in a few home-cooked dishes.
Huo Mingjun was no exception.
“You’ll cook for me?” His eyebrows suddenly relaxed, like the clear skies after dispersing clouds, “Sure.”
Xie Guan didn’t expect him to be this agreeable and breathed a sigh of relief, “Do you have any dietary restrictions or specific favorites?”
Huo Mingjun suddenly wanted to test him and said deliberately, “Spicy fish head.”
“Forget it,” Xie Guan replied without a second thought, “Your delicate bronchi can’t handle it. Even if I borrowed someone else’s courage, I wouldn’t dare to serve you something spicy. Any other preferences?”
Huo Mingjun couldn’t help but smile at his words, “Then go for something light, I’m not that picky.”
On the other end, Xie Guan sucked in a breath as if he had a toothache, muttering under his breath, “I didn’t notice that.”
Huo Mingjun supported his forehead with his hand, his smile seemed unstoppable, “I’ve noticed you’ve become bolder lately.”
“Oh, that’s just you misjudging me. I’ve always been straightforward,” Xie Guan said, “Did you just laugh?”
Huo Mingjun replied, “Yes. Why?”
Xie Guan exclaimed, “Oh! It’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh. It feels so unreal. Is some company going bankrupt tomorrow or something?”
He teased Huo Mingjun, who didn’t understand the reference, and laughed uncontrollably, rolling on the bed. Just then, on the other end of the phone, Huo Mingjun sighed slowly, “You’re playing with fire, you know.”
Xie Guan replied, “…”
The phone plummeted from above, hitting Xie Guan square in the face.
“Ouch!”
Clutching his nose, Xie Guan got up with tears in his eyes. On the other end of the line, Huo Mingjun couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer.
However, Xie Guan was busy preparing for the audition, and coincidentally, Huo Mingjun sent Zhong Heguang away. He was busier than usual, so the matter of inviting him for a meal was temporarily put on hold.
After signing the contract with Xihua Entertainment, Xie Guan’s career matters were officially handled by his agent, Lin Yao. Lin Yao took the opportunity of discussing the audition with Xie Guan to visit his rented house. She had seen many struggling artists at the beginning of their careers, so she didn’t comment much on Xie Guan’s narrow and old-fashioned house. She only said that she would quickly apply for the company’s artist dormitory for him.
Xie Guan was the kind of guy who could sleep anywhere, so he didn’t really mind, saying, “Sister Lin, there’s no need for trouble. I’ve paid rent for six months here. I’ll move to the company dormitory when the lease expires.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Lin Yao scolded him, giving him a stern look. “This is a residential area. Anyone can enter, and it’s too easy for paparazzi to stalk you. What if they catch you doing something inappropriate?”
Xie Guan innocently shrugged, “I don’t have anything inappropriate to hide.”
Lin Yao couldn’t be bothered with small talk. “I heard that Rising Tides of the Blue Sea has already obtained the broadcasting license and is scheduled to air on Hulu TV during the winter holiday slot. Although you’ve terminated your contract with Starlight, you still need to cooperate with the promotion. There will be exposure opportunities, so be prepared.”
Xie Guan nodded. “Sure, I’ll move after the New Year.” He picked up the script from the small table and flipped to the page describing the characters. “Which role am I auditioning for? Is there anything specific I need to pay attention to?”
“Chen Yi as the male lead and Tang Ou as the female lead. Both are youthful and energetic, you know,” Lin Yao flipped a few pages with his guidance and pointed to a supporting role on the cast list. “You should try for the role of He Qiao, the fourth male lead.”
The script Lin Yao showed him was for an inspirational idol drama titled Youth of Martial Arts, centered around Chinese martial arts competitions. It depicted young martial artists from different regions participating in national team selections, competing and helping each other during training. Eventually, they formed a close-knit team, showcasing their skills and honorably representing their country on the world stage. This genre was relatively fresh, morally upright, and incorporated several popular elements, making it seem promising for significant success.
The role Xie Guan was auditioning for was He Qiao, a young master from a prestigious family in the martial arts team. He was the textbook definition of a tsundere. He came from a reputable martial arts lineage, possessed impressive personal skills, was competitive, and initially found it hard to fit in with the group. However, under the influence of the protagonist’s halo, he learned to cooperate and eventually integrated into the team, finding happiness.
“The character is well-defined, and quite distinctive, but a bit cliché,” Xie Guan commented as he read through the script, “He Qiao is a teenage prodigy. Although he doesn’t have the protagonist’s halo, he’s still proud enough to look down on most people. Geniuses are naturally solitary; a good team should have the broad-mindedness to accommodate various types of members. The script tries too hard to make He Qiao fit in at the end, which feels forced and unnecessary.”
Lin Yao looked at him with surprise.
“A character like He Qiao would be portrayed best by a young and delicate actor, like a little swan,” Xie Guan chuckled. “I wonder if I’m a bit too old for this role?”
Lin Yao said, “Director Pang and Director He Guangping are old acquaintances. After watching the trailer for Rising Tides of the Blue Sea, they decided to let you audition for this role. Don’t be modest; I think you played the role of the adolescent quite well.”
Hopefully Xie Guan’s career will sky-rocket from now on. Thank you for the updates!
Jiayou xie guan!! And may that dinner date come quickly soon 🤭
💖💖💖💐