“Knock knock.”

“Come in.” Hearing the knock, Qin Mingyuan didn’t lift his eyes from the screen, his fingers with well-defined joints tapping on the keyboard.

Zhou Yang entered with several stacks of scripts in hand, gently closed the door behind him, and placed them on the desk, “President Qin, here’s what you asked for earlier.”

Qin Mingyuan glanced over and noticed the scripts. His typing paused; he remembered not having assigned this task, likely a leftover from his predecessor, undoubtedly for someone in particular.

Since the birthday party, it had been nearly half a month since he last contacted Yun Yuexian, who had mentioned being in the final stages of filming a drama.

Timing it just right, Qin Mingyuan reached for the scripts.

Setting aside his love-struck mind, he acknowledged the original’s work capabilities, including his serious approach even in unfamiliar fields.

For instance, in handling Yun Yuexian, he didn’t just throw massive resources his way or place him in lead roles right off the bat to skyrocket his popularity. This wouldn’t have been beneficial for his long-term development.

Instead, he chose a more prudent approach—overseeing all scripts and endorsements himself before passing them on to Yun Yuexian’s manager, ensuring each project would positively impact his career trajectory.

Qin Corporation owned an entertainment company, so picking out a few good scripts was no issue.

Qin Mingyuan flipped through them, pausing on one titled [Winter’s Sun]. He pulled it out to examine separately, recalling that this drama was the catalyst for the main characters meeting.

A literary film, Yun Yuexian played the fourth male lead—a seemingly minor role. However, the director was highly acclaimed in the industry, an award magnet whom many top stars sought out for a credibility boost.

Though the role was small, it was crucially linked to the protagonist played by the Film Emperor, making it a pivotal “soul” character.

The director had high standards, finding most actors too artificial, which left this role as the last vacant slot in the cast.

Yun Yuexian caught his eye just in time, almost immediately convincing the director that he was perfect for the role.

Qin Mingyuan figured this was probably the protagonist’s aura at work, including the original’s inexplicable affection for him.

But these details didn’t concern him. He just wanted the two main characters to get together quickly, so he could confirm whether they were his ticket out of this scenario. If not, it would make it easier for him to distance himself from the drama.

Passing the chosen script forward, he instructed, “Send this to Yun Yuexian’s manager, return the rest.”

“Alright,” Zhou Yang took the script, hesitated, then spoke up, “President Qin, Mr. Yun has been trying to call me about you…”

“Tell him the company is busy with a project; we have no time or funds to spare,” Qin Mingyuan replied without a hint of hesitation, his gaze fixed on his computer screen.

Recently, Yun Haowei had called several times; Qin Mingyuan hadn’t bothered to respond, deeming it normal to be too busy for phone calls, but he hadn’t expected the man to reach out to his assistant.

In the original story, Yun Haowei never contacted the assistant directly, always preferring to deal with Qin Mingyuan himself, likely due to the latter’s supposed affection for his son. Pressured, Yun Haowei must be getting desperate.

Qin Mingyuan’s cold demeanor made Zhou Yang pause, then nod and quickly exit. It seemed to Zhou that since that set visit, the boss had cooled towards Mr. Yun, showing minimal interest in his affairs, bordering on dismissive.

Confused, Zhou Yang shook his head as he left; understanding his boss was beyond him.

Back in the office, Qin Mingyuan’s phone vibrated. He glanced at it, saw Yun Yuexian’s name, and continued typing, ignoring the call.

The phone rang again immediately. This time, he stopped and answered, “Hello?”

“Brother Mingyuan.”

The voice sounded relieved, pausing before adding, “I hope I’m not interrupting your work?”

“You are,” Qin Mingyuan replied bluntly, adding before Yun Yuexian could react, “What is it?”

“Ah, right…” Yun Yuexian sounded startled, then quickly brightened, “The drama I’m working on wraps up tomorrow. I’ve got a few days off, and since you’ve helped me a lot, I wanted to invite you out to eat. Are you free?”

Qin Mingyuan, leaning back in his chair, didn’t answer directly, instead stating, “I’ve picked out a script for you. It should reach your manager by this afternoon if all goes well.”

“Oh?” Yun Yuexian sounded confused by the sudden change in topic.

“It’s a role in Director Li Lin’s film. Though it’s only the fourth lead, it could significantly boost your profile if you land it,” Qin Mingyuan said, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“Director Li Lin? Is it [Winter’s Sun]?”

Yun Yuexian’s excitement was palpable; Qin Mingyuan frowned and moved the phone slightly away from his ear.

“Yes, so you probably won’t have time for a break after wrapping up your current project. You’ll need to audition, and if chosen, you’ll join the production immediately.”

The rest of the cast was already filming, with the fourth male lead’s scenes scheduled for later, leaving little prep time for the role.

Yun Yuexian was talented but still a newcomer. In the original story, this role catapulted him to fame partly because of his chemistry with the male lead and his natural fit for the character, as if tailor-made for him.

In a way, it was custom-made; as the protagonist of the novel, many opportunities naturally revolved around him.

“I understand, Brother Mingyuan. Let’s plan for that meal some other time. Sorry for the rush,” Yun Yuexian hurriedly ended the call, likely to contact his manager.

Listening to the dial tone, Qin Mingyuan raised an eyebrow, his expression indifferent as he set the phone down, figuring Yun Yuexian wouldn’t remember Yun Haowei’s request for a while.

He got up, walked to the window, and looked out at the clear blue sky. The Yun family had gained much from his predecessor; it was time they bled a little, not to assume others’ generosity was easily exploited.

After resting his eyes for ten minutes, Qin Mingyuan returned to his desk in a good mood, ready to tackle the paperwork.

However, as he was about to open a folder, his previously silenced phone lit up again, causing him slight annoyance. The screen showed “Mom,” making him pause.

Reluctantly, he picked it up and answered the video call. He couldn’t ignore the original’s family, regardless of the person on the other end.

“Baby~”

Before he could see her clearly, a sweet voice filled his ears, and he instinctively pulled the phone away.

The screen showed a woman with curly hair and meticulous makeup, appearing quite young but indeed his predecessor’s mother, already in her fifties.

“Yuan Yuan baby, it’s been so long since we last spoke, why such a cold face for Mommy? Come on, give Mommy a smile~” The woman poked at her phone screen as if poking his stoic face. Unsure how to handle such effusive affection, Qin Mingyuan remained silent, his expression cold.

The woman seemed used to his demeanor and didn’t mind, asking if he had been skipping meals due to work, noting he looked thinner.

“No,” he replied tersely.

“Really, you shouldn’t be so sparing with words with Mommy. How will you ever date being so icy!” she fussed with her hair, then her eyes brightened, “Oh, I heard you’ve taken a liking to someone, are you pursuing them?”

It’s your son, not me, Qin Mingyuan thought, flatly denying, “No.”

“Don’t lie to Mommy, I just spoke with Zhou Yang!”

Irritated, Qin Mingyuan tapped the desk, considering assigning Zhou Yang some overtime tonight, “He’s making things up.”

“I think you are!” his mother squinted suspiciously, then waved it off, “Never mind, if you don’t want to tell Mommy, I won’t pry. My baby has always been independent, I trust you can manage.”

“Mhm,” Qin Mingyuan responded noncommittally, keen to divert her from further probing, “Why are you alone?”

“Oh, your dad is managing the set, Mommy has a show tonight. I just wanted to check in, see if my baby has lost weight, whether you’re skipping meals again.”

“I’m eating,” Qin Mingyuan reassured, though conversation was never easy for him. Fortunately, she had plenty to say, and he listened quietly.

Interrupted by a voice in French on her end, asking for confirmation on something, she quickly added, “Baby, Mommy has to work now. We’ll talk later. Once I’m less busy, your dad and I will visit you. Take care, love you, mua~”

Without waiting for a response, she hung up, and Qin Mingyuan felt oddly relieved, rubbing his forehead. He’d rather deal with ten Yun Yuexians than face his predecessor’s mother again.

But as he looked at the now dark screen, he suddenly understood why his predecessor could fall for someone so easily.

Unlike him, the original, despite his cold exterior, deeply appreciated the beauty of emotions.

If it weren’t for Yun Yuexian, destined for someone else, perhaps he could have been happy.