Chapter 5 Shen Jixing: I Have No Parents

Shen Jixing was indeed older than him—by one year.

Despite always appearing aloof and indifferent, so cold and arrogant that he seemed to hold no one in his regard, there was hardly a word of truth in his mouth.

So when he failed—

Zhou Yili had always seen it coming.

“Serves you right.”

The night was shrouded in fragments of dim stars, the deep blue sky scattered with hints of pale light. The man pulled a thin velvet blanket over his eyes, his hoarse voice merging with the night breeze, “You truly deserve it.”

He deserved to fall from his own heavens.

He deserved to land back in Zhou Yili’s hands.

…

The next morning.

Shen Jixing received a threatening call from Pei Ming, demanding he appear at the company as quickly as possible—or else.

“…”

Sitting in the car, Shen Jixing pressed lightly on his stomach. A sleepless night had done nothing to ease his discomfort.

He replied softly to Pei Ming, “On my way, I’ll be there soon.”

At the headquarters’ top floor.

The young assistant, Xiongxiong, was peering out the window. “There are still so many people outside. Can Brother Shen get in by himself?”

“I’ve stationed someone for him at the back door. The car he’s driving today isn’t recognizable,” Pei Ming replied.

All of Shen Jixing’s cars had already been exposed.

Even his obsessive fans could recite his license plates by heart.

Who would have thought that yesterday, out of nowhere, he’d managed to get a new car and escape the event scene successfully.

None of the paparazzi in Blue Eucalyptus City had managed to track where he’d gone.

“You call this a lot of people?” Pei Ming took a drag of his cigarette and glanced down, “You didn’t see yesterday—looked like the six great sects besieging Bright Summit.”

“…”

Xiongxiong wanted to laugh, but also to cry.

He ended up with an awkward expression, half laughing, half on the verge of tears.

“That’s enough, stop moping. Go check if he’s here yet,” Pei Ming said irritably. Shen Jixing had never caused him such trouble before, yet that man remained unnervingly calm.

Something felt off.

“Brother Shen! Brother Shen, what’s wrong?!” the assistant’s shrill cry came from afar.

Pei Ming’s hand jerked. He stubbed out the cigarette and strode over.

Shen Jixing’s brows were slightly furrowed as he lifted a hand to stop the assistant. “Don’t panic. Drove too fast, just a bit nauseous.”

Xiongxiong’s big eyes were brimming with tears. “I’ll get you some hot water.”

“Alright.”

Pei Ming eyed him. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

The fractured morning light fell on Shen Jixing, his skin so pale it was almost translucent—like a porcelain figurine in a shop window, fragile enough to shatter at a touch.

“If you’re really not well, go home and rest,” Pei Ming relented, his tough words belying concern. “The higher-ups are here today, probably looking for trouble with you. I’ll just say you were blocked and couldn’t make it.”

Shen Jixing accepted the hot water from the assistant.

He took a sip. “Who is it?”

“The vice president,” Pei Ming replied—the most irritable one. As for the president, he was too mysterious; none of them had ever seen him.

Shen Jixing drank quietly, the rising steam veiling his cold, refined features, making him look as exquisite as an ink painting touched with mist.

Pei Ming resigned himself to whatever scolding he would get.

“No need,” Shen Jixing set the cup down, licking his lips. “You won’t be able to handle him.”

With that, he strode toward the conference room.

Pei Ming: “…”

Fine, ancestor.

As they approached the meeting room, a man’s cold, furious voice thundered from within.

“Does this company pay you all to sit around emitting carbon dioxide? It’s been twelve hours since the incident—still not a single decent contingency plan?”

The executives inside were trembling, silent as chickens.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to draft a response. They hadn’t even seen the star himself last night—just a group of them staring at each other blankly, like students at an exam who forgot their pens.

How were they supposed to write anything?

Not that they dared say so.

So, chickens they remained.

But soon, their savior arrived.

“I’m the one who told them to wait and see,” said a clear voice as the door opened. A tall, elegant figure entered, taking the seat at the end of the long table.

“Movie King Shen?”

In an instant, the whole conference room brightened, as if his presence alone gave them the courage to face the irate vice president.

Sure enough, Chu Wen’s expression eased a little.

He took a sip of tea, his sharp gaze sweeping over to the young man at the far end.

“What’s your plan going forward?”

Shen Jixing leaned back lazily, his demeanor noble and cool. “Continue to wait.”

“…”

Chu Wen nearly choked on his tea.

Pei Ming, standing behind, nudged his chair. “Impressive. Why not just say you’ll retire and go home? See if you can give the VP a heart attack.”

“I’d like that,” Shen Jixing replied unexpectedly.

Pei Ming froze.

Shen Jixing’s tone remained composed, but in his pale, sharp features, Pei Ming could sense a hint of almost open… mockery.

Chu Wen’s gaze deepened, but he said nothing. He set his cup down with a thud, his cold eyes scanning the PR department. “Well? Do I need to spell out the process for you?”

The PR chief’s forced smile vanished. He hurried over to Shen Jixing. “M-Movie King Shen, may I ask you a few questions?”

Unlike other entertainment companies, Shen Jixing wielded significant influence internally.

But he was usually easy to talk to.

“Go ahead.”

“First question. There are online rumors that your parents aren’t from some foreign aristocratic family, but rather that you… you’re…”

“An orphan,” Shen Jixing cut him off calmly. “They’re not wrong. I have no parents.”

The room erupted.

The PR chief’s hand shook as he wiped sweat from his brow, pressing on nervously, “Second question. It’s rumored you graduated from the world’s top music academy, but your name isn’t on the class of 2020 roster…”

“I didn’t graduate,” Shen Jixing replied.

Deathly silence.

The vast conference room fell utterly still.

Pei Ming stood behind him, uncertain what to think.

Even as a bystander, he felt the pain of falling from the heights.

The PR chief marked a cross next to the second point, then hesitated to continue, feeling a cold, sharp gaze land on him.

The vice president.

He was no fool; he shifted tack. “That should suffice. So far, only these two points have been confirmed on the trending searches.”

“We can use other rumors to deflect, respond selectively, and since you’ve never publicly acknowledged your background, we can slowly rebuild your image. I’m just afraid this incident will be quite damaging…”

“Will that work?”

Shen Jixing gave no answer.

“Let’s go with that,” Pei Ming spoke up. “For now, it’s all we can do…”

“To use refuted facts and shift focus as a crisis PR tactic is called sophistry,” Shen Jixing interjected, his gaze landing on Pei Ming. “Clinging to wishful thinking—isn’t that setting yourself up for a future trap?”

Pei Ming was shocked. “You—”

He just said it so bluntly?

The previously silent room erupted into whispers, the air thick with exclamations.

“What the hell???”

“So it’s all true? Movie King Shen really has a mysterious patron?”

“Who’s the male fan? Who is it?!”

“No idea, but it’s not me.”

“We’re all his fans, but he’s never given us special attention. That male fan must be something else…”

“Enough!”

A thunderous bang silenced the room.

Chu Wen’s cold, harsh gaze swept over everyone, making them shrink back in their seats.

He told the PR chief, “Do as you said. Go prepare.”

“Yes, yes,” the chief said, clutching his documents and eager to flee this death trap.

But as he passed Shen Jixing, he glanced at him and froze, unable to move.

Oh no, QAQ.

Shen Jixing seemed oblivious to it all, his voice calm as still water. “I said, wait and see.”

“Shen Jixing!”

Chu Wen suddenly stood from the head of the table, striding over and slamming his hands down in front of Shen Jixing—

“Must you be so stubborn?”