Money 5%

“What condition, Li Xuan?”

Jiang Tangmian looked up at him, her gaze filled with a hope that Li Xuan hadn’t seen in nearly half a year.

He paused, frowning. “Who’s Li Xuan?”

“You? Aren’t you… called… Li… Xuan?”

Jiang Tangmian’s voice trembled, her eyes darting away, thoroughly embarrassed. So it was just a misunderstanding caused by the C City accent—but that didn’t matter now.

She cleared her throat and confidently handed over a gold-embossed business card, formally introducing herself: “My name is Jiang Tangmian. Don’t be fooled by my youth or my height—I’m the owner of a major film and television company.”

Her expression was perfectly poised; she could already picture Jiang Entertainment ringing the bell at its IPO.

The boy, whose name she’d gotten wrong, smiled gently and spoke, “My name is Li Yanxun.”

Li Yanxun…

A flash of white light shot through Jiang Tangmian’s mind, connecting everything at once.

Li Yanxun seemed to reach a decision. “I want to use my mother’s surname and start over. Can I go by Gu Yanxun?”

Gu Yanxun.

No wonder, she thought, despite all the resources of Jiang Group, she’d found nothing. The original novel’s male lead had debuted under a new name—clearly a plot twist the author had buried for hundreds of chapters, waiting to be revealed.

Jiang Tangmian looked him over once more—he truly had the legendary looks of a male lead.

She had once blamed the system for not giving her a single hint, when in fact, even with all the wrong inputs, she’d still managed to get the right answer. She could almost see the system running to the palace gates at midnight, beating the drum to accuse its host, crying out, “Heaven, distinguish the loyal from the traitor!”

A few days later.

Several gossip accounts on Weibo simultaneously broke the news: the *Solemn Oath* project’s male lead would be a complete unknown.

The news sent shockwaves through the industry.

The sharp-tongued, genius director Zhou Xicun heard the rumors at home and was so anxious he paced the floor, calling Susan multiple times to resign as director.

Susan spent ages persuading him on the phone, but Jiang Tangmian, who was in the meeting with her, finally snatched the phone away. “Director Zhou! I can guarantee with a million percent certainty that our male lead’s acting skills are up to par. Come see for yourself!”

“I’ll be right there.”

Zhou Xicun hung up and rushed to Jiang Entertainment, terrified that his Golden Calyx Award-winning reputation would be ruined by this unknown actor and that his own genius name would be dragged down.

“!”

The unknown male lead, Gu Yanxun, was sitting off to the side, signing his contract. At the news, his hand trembled, his signature trailing off the page.

Gu Yanxun’s contract was nearly complete, each clause explained by Susan and all in line with industry standards.

His mother had already been transferred from C City to a major metropolis, receiving timely medical assistance and is now much more stable.

Everything else, he could ignore.

For his mother, he was willing to work himself to the bone.

With the final signature, he solemnly wrote the name “Li Yanxun.”

Though he couldn’t completely escape his past, from now on, he would have a brand-new future.

Susan’s gaze was sharp. Once Gu Yanxun finished signing, she said, “Welcome again to Jiang Entertainment. However…”

She smiled slightly, as if there was more to say.

Jiang Tangmian, intrigued, looked up.

“We hope you won’t date for the next five years. We can’t put this in the contract, but we do hope you’ll abide by it…”

Jiang Tangmian raised her brows—she’d never even considered the issue of a male idol’s “virtue,” but for a rising star, it was crucial.

The older, the wiser—Susan had thought of everything.

Gu Yanxun glanced at his boss, his eyes lowered. “No problem.”

A twenty-year contract, with just five years of no dating. He could do that. Gu Yanxun’s almond eyes held a hint of a smile.

The male lead had boarded the pirate ship.

Jiang Tangmian, deeply satisfied, organized the contracts. This wasn’t just a cash cow for Jiang Entertainment—it was a powerhouse for her life-extension system.

She could already see her favorability fish tank expanding into a boundless Pacific Ocean.

“I absolutely object!”

A harsh voice rang out, as if someone had shattered the ocean in Jiang Tangmian’s dream.

Everyone turned. It was Zhou Xicun, drenched in sweat.

He appeared at the conference room door in a flash, dressed in light gray sportswear, a headband around his forehead, and a water bottle in hand—he looked like he’d come straight from the gym after a call.

As soon as he finished speaking, he spotted Gu Yanxun. His gaze swept over and landed on the rumored unknown male lead.

Zhou Xicun had to admit, this young man had the aura of a xianxia protagonist.

“Yanxun, this is our new drama’s director, Zhou Xicun.”

Susan quickly stood to introduce them.

Gu Yanxun smiled gently, stood, and reached out his hand. “Hello, Director Zhou. I’m Gu Yanxun.”

But Zhou Xicun barely acknowledged him, shaking hands perfunctorily. The two men were like towering mountains, casting petite Jiang Tangmian between them in shadow.

Though outwardly polite, they seemed like two volcanoes on the verge of eruption, their silent rivalry clear to Jiang Tangmian in the middle.

Zhou Xicun deliberately chose the seat furthest from Gu Yanxun—right next to Jiang Tangmian.

Jiang Tangmian cleared her throat and began to pitch her male lead.

“Director Zhou, this is our *Solemn Oath* male lead. Over the past few days, we’ve arranged for him to receive acting lessons…”

The acting coaches she’d hired were the best—one from the Beijing Film Academy, one from the Central Academy of Drama. Whether you favored method acting or the classical approach, her male lead had it all.

What’s more, Gu Yanxun’s protagonist buff was about to stack with his acting buff.

Zhou Xicun’s brow furrowed. He didn’t care about titles—he just didn’t want his reputation ruined.

“Let’s see a scene?” Zhou Xicun suggested.

“Let’s do it!” Jiang Tangmian’s big eyes sparkled with confidence.

Susan was a bit worried for Gu Yanxun. He was a complete newcomer with no acting experience; even with a few lessons, he’d only just started. Stage fright would be understandable—everyone needed time to adapt.

“I can.”

Gu Yanxun glanced at Jiang Tangmian, who was rooting for him, and spoke in a deep voice. He’d gained some insight from his recent lessons.

Those two words sounded especially pleasant to Jiang Tangmian.

Gu Yanxun’s voice was already magnetic, and after training with the dialogue coach, it had grown even more compelling.

Amid looks of anticipation and doubt, he continued, “Director Zhou, Sister Susan, which scene should I perform?”

“This one, this one!!”

Before either could answer, Jiang Tangmian eagerly swiped through her tablet and pulled up a page from the *Solemn Oath* script.

She’d chosen this scene for a reason—she’d studied the script closely.

[*Solemn Oath*, Scene 186-1, Night]

Dark blood dripped steadily from the sword, staining the snow in a shocking trail.

The wind was biting. By the dim moonlight, he fled desperately into the valley cursed by the world, wolf howls echoing from the distant hills.

The assassins sent in pursuit watched their bounty slip away, but dared not take another step, afraid they’d lose themselves in the deep forest.

…

In this scene, the male lead has been betrayed, cornered, gravely wounded, and forced to enter a forbidden land alone.

Here, he nearly splits in two—mistaking enemies for friends, doubting everything, questioning and answering himself in a string of intense monologues.

With everyone’s attention on him, Gu Yanxun took the tablet and familiarized himself with the lines.

Shen Tianchou was the male lead of *Solemn Oath*—the role he was to play.

Due to time constraints, his acting lessons had started with practical exercises; even character analysis had been done with the teacher’s help.

A few minutes later, Gu Yanxun looked up to indicate he was ready.

Under Jiang Tangmian’s expectant gaze, Gu Yanxun’s eyes grew colder, his expression sharpening into the madness of Shen Tianchou.

It began.

Yes, that was the look.

Jiang Tangmian smiled in satisfaction. Though she hadn’t discovered this treasure herself, the male lead’s acting talent was undeniable.

She’d once wondered if Gu Yanxun’s father being a con artist had somehow influenced him…

“Moo—moo—”

Suddenly, the quiet meeting room was filled with the cheerful sound of cows—Jiang Tangmian’s ringtone, abrupt and jarring.

“Sorry!”

She hurried to answer, seeing it was a call from an “international” number.

Definitely a scam.

Without a second thought, she hung up and blacklisted the number.

Gu Yanxun, immersed in the role of Shen Tianchou, was unfazed.

At that moment, he seemed wounded, blood seeping through his clothes, his brows arched in a mix of absurdity, betrayal, and a hint of release.

The ultimate brokenness of the male lead came pouring out, vivid and unrestrained.

“Shen Tianchou” coughed up blood, wiped his mouth with a smile, and said to “himself,” “There’s no one in this world more foolish than you.”

“Tianchou, even Heaven itself hates you! You shouldn’t have been born…”

“No, I can’t die. The one who should die is someone else.”

…

A five-minute monologue, steeped in melancholy—even without visuals, it was like listening to a radio drama feast.

Jiang Tangmian caught Susan dabbing her eyes several times, then glanced at Zhou Xicun beside her.

Sure enough, the sharp-tongued director was finally silent.

The original novel’s claim that the male lead was a natural actor was proving more and more true.

The new drama’s launch plans proceeded as scheduled.

Zhou Xicun’s dark face had softened considerably after watching Gu Yanxun’s performance, and only then did Jiang Tangmian remember—his skin was naturally tanned.

“Director Zhou, could you accept my WeChat request now?”

Jiang Tangmian smiled as she asked. Her male lead had made her proud today; she couldn’t wait to announce the new drama. Zhou Xicun had previously refused to accept her friend request out of pride.

Zhou Xicun grunted as he left, “And send me Yanxun’s contact, too. I’ll talk with him about the role when I have time.”

Oh ho—

Yanxun’s contact.

Jiang Tangmian shot Gu Yanxun a playful look.

Gu Yanxun, hearing this, finally relaxed. His fair cheeks flushed slightly, a smile with shallow dimples appearing—he looked stunning.

Just then, Susan glanced at her phone, and her smile slowly faded.