Chapter 62

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chi Tuo didn’t give Wang Shanshan any face at all. In front of so many people, he didn’t even greet her.

Wang Shanshan’s hands trembled as she clutched the documents, her lips shaking too. She hadn’t expected to see Chi Tuo here—much less that he would be An Ye’s designated guardian.

In her eyes, Chi Tuo had always been a stable, obedient child, completely unlike her daughter An Ye. He was always reliable, acted like a mature adult. She never would’ve thought Chi Tuo would show up in a place like this.

Never thought Chi Tuo would want to help An Ye terminate her contract—leave a big company like Huanzhou to run some kind of tiny workshop?

Her daughter actually went and appointed an outsider as her guardian? So that phone call the other day wasn’t just some nonsense she made up?!

The moment she raised her hand, she meant to slap Chi Tuo. But he was tall, and her hand missed slightly—and Chi Tuo took a step back—so Wang Shanshan struck nothing but air.

Wearing high heels, Wang Shanshan stumbled forward after missing.

Chi Tuo raised a hand to steady her slightly—but without really touching.

“Auntie,” he warned softly in her ear, “if you keep making a scene, there won’t be any goodwill left to spare.”

Wang Shanshan’s body visibly froze.

Chi Tuo let go and stepped back.

On the Huanzhou side, everyone was waiting for Yan Wan to play his big card. When they saw Wang Shanshan come in, a few people who knew the inside story had their eyes light up. Wang Shanshan, a textbook example of a loathsome star mom, was deeply committed to the role. Everything a parent shouldn’t do, she’d done. Having her come in to stop her daughter from terminating the contract—she was the perfect person for the job.

Who could’ve guessed Jinding had prepared ahead of time? Before anything could even escalate, they’d already neutralized the situation.

Yan Wan, this manager—what was he even doing? The level of preparation Jinding showed clearly wasn’t put together in just a month or two. His artist had already gone to a notary office to certify the guardian designation, and he was completely unaware?

Totally useless—worse than useless.

Standing to the side, Yan Wan’s face had turned extremely grim. He tried pulling Wang Shanshan aside to say something more.

But Guan Shengyu didn’t give him another chance. He whispered something to his secretary, and several security guards came in and escorted both Yan Wan and Wang Shanshan out of the conference room.

The whole time, An Ye kept her head down, playing with the candy Chi Tuo had given her.

He was getting more and more out of hand. This time the candy he gave her tasted like stinkbug.

With Yan Wan and Wang Shanshan gone, the meeting could finally proceed normally. But after that chaos, Jinding’s attitude had grown even more forceful.

They felt Huanzhou wasn’t genuinely here to negotiate. If they didn’t want this contract termination to end on good terms, Jinding had no problem making sure it didn’t.

“An Jiujiu will pay the full early termination penalty as specified in the management contract,” said Chi Tuo. “Likewise, the financial losses An Jiujiu suffered during the contract period—we will pursue legal action through the appropriate channels.”

Going to court—An Ye had nothing to fear.

The data provided by Jinding confirmed one thing: this young, overseas-educated lawyer was exactly as rumored—meticulous to the point of obsession, leaving no gaps, offering no alternative proposals beyond what they were presenting.

Total responsibility fell on the offending party.

And that was just what was on the surface.

Behind the scenes, An Ye’s PR team had already taken control of the narrative online. Everything Yan Wan had done—at best, could be pinned on him alone, a result of Huanzhou’s chaotic management. At worst, it might be linked to the company’s April financial report.

Qi Wei had told Zhang Shenggeng about Yan Wan’s attempt to spark a fake romance scandal, and used that favor to his advantage. Zhang Shenggeng had lent support in targeting Yan Wan. The materials he provided weren’t just about Yan Wan manipulating artists—some of them pointed directly to financial irregularities that could cause major problems in Huanzhou’s earnings report if they surfaced.

Whether or not that bomb went off depended on Huanzhou’s attitude now.Qi Wei even hinted to Guan Shengyu that, if needed, those leads were his for the taking.

Let An Ye go, and Qi Wei would cooperate with him—then Guan Shengyu could strike a blow against Lian Zhi, dealing real damage.

This was practically a textbook-level case of an artist terminating a contract.

The legendary actress An Ye—who supposedly only cared about acting and never involved herself in anything else—had quietly pulled off something that stunned everyone. A company as massive as Huanzhou had scrambled for five whole days, and yet failed to find a single clause that could make her stay.

After four hours of back-and-forth, Guan Shengyu finally gave up. Losing an award-winning actress was a loss, but gaining leverage to take down Lian Zhi was still a net win.

As for the penalty fee, under such circumstances, it suddenly seemed like a minor cost.

“Teacher An,” Guan Shengyu said toward the end of the meeting, looking at An Ye, “on behalf of the company, and also on behalf of myself, I still hope you’ll reconsider.”

“The film and television industry isn’t what it was a few years ago. Even a company as large as Huanzhou is declining. Right now, starting a personal studio really isn’t the wisest move.”

“We’ve already offered you the best possible plan—Huanzhou can help you go independent, but we’ll still share resources.”

“Really, I hope you think it over.”

“As for Yan Wan, the company will handle him. Whatever kind of manager you want, you can choose yourself—we won’t interfere.”

He spoke with genuine sincerity.

To be fair, Guan Shengyu was a decent second-generation heir—not shallow, not useless. After his father, Guan Li, lost control of the company, it was Guan Shengyu who negotiated with Lian Zhi over company resources and held up Huanzhou’s film production arm.

The terms he offered were genuinely attractive. If An Ye took this route, things would go much more smoothly than if she went out entirely on her own.

Qi Wei had advised her the same way.

It was clearly a much smoother road. The only risk was that once bound to Huanzhou again, she might find herself occasionally unable to make her own choices. But because of corporate separation, even in those moments, she would still retain agency.

Chi Tuo had also privately gone through all the pros and cons with her, and left the decision to her.

At the time, An Ye hadn’t given Chi Tuo a definite answer, and he didn’t press her.

So after Guan Shengyu finished his pitch, Chi Tuo, as her spokesperson, remained silent—he simply looked at An Ye.

An Ye pinched the bug-flavored candy and smiled at Guan Shengyu, shaking her head: “No need, President Guan. I’ve thought it through.”

“The rest, talk to Lawyer Chi after the meeting. I don’t have any more questions,” she said. “Thank you.”

She left Guan Shengyu not a sliver of room to persuade her further.

Guan Shengyu’s expression darkened for a moment, but he quickly smoothed it over, stood up, and extended his right hand. “Let’s part on good terms.”

An Ye swiftly shoved the stinkbug candy into Chi Tuo’s hand, stood up, shook hands with Guan Shengyu, and smiled. “Let’s part on good terms.”

Ten years. She had finally taken the first step toward breaking free.

She finally understood the meaning of the phrase: “Struggling is for survival.” Breaking free didn’t mean everything ahead would be smooth sailing. Wang Shanshan was surely still waiting outside Huanzhou. After her studio was set up, she’d have to support herself. The work pressure would only grow heavier.

But this time—she could live.

After the meeting adjourned, Guan Shengyu hadn’t even fully exited when he heard An Ye softly mutter to the lawyer beside her, “What kind of cursed candy was that? I almost ended up shaking hands with it in my palm!”

Guan Shengyu paused mid-step, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to look.The glamorous actress, having shed the perfectly angled smile she wore in the meeting, now had a vivid frown on her face. She leaned in close to the lawyer’s ear, practically gritting her teeth.

Guan Shengyu didn’t keep walking—he just stood there, watching An Ye.

He had once been attracted to this girl, but it was only during those glitzy banquets, while watching her calmly and skillfully handle all the grown-up messes, that he felt she was different from others.

Clearly talented, yet without much ambition—climbing step by step to the top of this chaotic fame game with integrity and pride, never willing to sink into the muck with others.

That was all.

But now, the expression she showed toward that lawyer was far too lively.

Like a teenager.

Was An Ye... really this kind of person?

After complaining, An Ye was about to get up and leave, but Chi Tuo stood up a beat faster than her and, for some reason, positioned himself between her and the door.

“What are you doing?” She stood up and nearly bumped her nose against him.

“None of your business,” Chi Tuo replied, blocking the door while he put on his coat.

An Ye: “……”

Forget it. Not worth arguing with him. With so many people around, it was normal for someone half-asleep to be grumpy.

She quietly lowered her head, wrapped her scarf, and put on her coat, not noticing the brief eye contact between Guan Shengyu, who had been standing by the door watching her, and Chi Tuo.

Nor did she notice the momentary shock on Guan Shengyu’s face.

“Go wait for me in the car,” Chi Tuo said once An Ye had finished putting on her coat. “I still have something to say to your mom.”

An Ye looked up at him and reminded him, “She might hit you.”

Wang Shanshan had just tried to earlier.

“It’s fine,” Chi Tuo replied. “I won’t hit back.”

An Ye: “……”

People were slowly filing out. It wasn’t convenient to speak openly, and An Ye figured Chi Tuo wouldn’t be able to read all the meaning just from a glance, so she pulled out her phone and started typing.

Little Goose:

Actually, I can go talk to her myself. I pretty much know what she’s going to say. If I go through with starting the studio, she’s definitely going to blow up. We’ll have to fight about it sooner or later.

Chi Tuo took out his phone, glanced at it, then typed a reply:

Chi Tuo:

The two of you fighting isn’t going to solve anything anymore. It’ll be better if I handle it.

Chi Tuo:

Trust me. It’s best if you two don’t have any contact for now.

Little Goose:

…You seriously typed out a multiple of three without even thinking!

Chi Tuo:

…

Little Goose:

How exactly are you going to handle it?

Chi Tuo:

I’ll explain the law to her. Let her know you’re not her personal property. And if this really ends up in court, the only legal obligation you’d have is paying monthly support. When she’s old, just help her find a decent nursing home.

An Ye didn’t respond right away this time.

Chi Tuo looked at her fingers tapping busily, counting something, and sighed, then said aloud, “Sixty characters.”An Ye: “...You...”

Goddamn, he was such a freak. Watching him type up close, she felt like he didn’t even pause or hesitate at all!

“You two...” Qi Wei, who had just finished packing up, stared at the phones in their hands in utter shock. “What kind of unbelievable childhood friends are you? You’re literally face to face and still texting on WeChat?”

“I’m going down to talk to Wang Shanshan,” Chi Tuo informed Qi Wei. “You guys go wait for me in Jiujiu’s nanny van.”

The main direction of the negotiation had already been finalized. From here on out, the contract termination would just be a matter of financial reconciliation and paperwork battles. It was a phase victory.

Chi Tuo had already arranged the follow-up work on Jin Ding’s side, but An Ye’s side still needed a coordination meeting—they planned to start the process of establishing her studio simultaneously.

And it called for a little celebration too.

They had finally taken the first step.