Wei Wei didn’t look back as he slung an arm around Jian Yang’s shoulder. “The audition’s over. Do you still have something to do?”

Jian Yang breathed carefully. “No.”

“Alright, I’m off to film now. Bye-bye!” Like the wind, Wei Wei dashed out. Jian Yang reached out to grab him but caught nothing.

“Hey, you—!”

Great. Just leave him here alone, huh?

Jian Yang stiffly turned around and gave Uncle Zhang a forced smile. “Uncle Zhang, we didn’t mean it that way.”

Uncle Zhang changed the topic. “Young Master, why don’t you change your clothes first?”

See? Uncle Zhang is always so considerate!

There were plenty of dressing rooms in the entertainment company’s building. Jian Yang found one and changed out of his ripped shirt. Looking in the mirror, he saw that the sportswear fit him well—mainly yellow and white, with graffiti-style patterns, a shiny metallic nylon shell with a crinkled texture, a short top, and long pants that made him look even taller.

Jian Yang ruffled his bangs and winked at himself in the mirror.

Not bad. With this figure, there’s no way he wouldn’t look good on camera.

After checking out his full outfit, Jian Yang leaned closer to the mirror and studied his features.

The original body’s facial features were nearly identical to his past life’s. He felt no discomfort looking at himself and could even see traces of his former self in his golden irises. Perhaps the original owner was just another version of him from a parallel world.

Only, without an older sister to protect him growing up, his personality had taken a different turn.

Maybe he was here to save another version of himself.

Jian Yang happily patted his own face. “So good-looking.”

“Young Master, are you done changing? There are shoes as well.” Uncle Zhang waited outside.

Even shoes? Jian Yang put them on—a pair of white sneakers with yellow trims. The entire outfit looked fresh and stylish, clearly chosen by a professional.

Why was Guan Ciyan suddenly being so generous? Had he stopped making things difficult for him?

Or… was he planning something new?

Jian Yang stepped out with mixed feelings. Uncle Zhang was waiting outside, his aged features marked by deep wrinkles, his smile causing his eyes to curve. He must have been quite the handsome man in his youth. “Young Master, you really have the perfect figure for clothes. I knew it would look good the moment I picked it.”

Jian Yang touched his clothes. “You picked them for me?”

“Not entirely. Sir’s company collaborates with various brands, so they send a lot of clothes for the artists every year. Sir told them to send some to you, and I just selected a few.” Uncle Zhang looked at him kindly. “Do you like them? If you do, I can arrange for new collections to be sent to the house each season.”

“Oh, no need. I won’t use that many clothes for now.” Jian Yang had a new understanding of the value of these clothes. They were probably meant for Fuyu Sheng Tang’s artists, but they ended up being sent to him instead. He had no status or title—would the brand expect him to pay for these later?

“Uncle Zhang, why is Sir suddenly giving me clothes?”

“You needed them, didn’t you? It’s nothing to Sir.” Uncle Zhang hesitated for a moment. “Young Master, the man I saw at the elevator earlier… He looked a lot like you.”

“Him?” Jian Yang didn’t hide it. “He’s my twin brother.”

Jian Yang huffed and leaned toward Uncle Zhang, blinking dramatically. “See my golden eyes? It’s because he stole my nutrients in the womb, causing liver issues at birth, which affected my iris color. He even tried to absorb me completely! But I was stronger. I survived and was born properly.”

“Sigh.” Uncle Zhang didn’t seem surprised. “That’s good to hear. Let’s go home.”

“Okay.” As they walked, Jian Yang asked, “Uncle Zhang, how did you find me?”

“The driver was waiting downstairs. I just made a call.” Uncle Zhang added, “Oh, and Sir has assigned Xiao Cui to be your personal driver. You should bring him along when you go out from now on.”

Jian Yang’s eyes widened into two perfect O’s. “T-Then the car…?”

“That’s yours too, Young Master. You’ve got good taste. That car is Sir’s go-to for outings, and you picked out a top-tier model right away. Seems like you were born for luxury.”

Jian Yang was dazed. A high-end Bentley?!

Xiao Cui used to drive military vehicles. His skills were insane, and Jian Yang never got carsick when riding with him.

But why was Guan Ciyan giving him all this? Jian Yang pinched his cheek. It hurt. This wasn’t a dream.

“Why, Uncle Zhang?” Jian Yang felt uneasy. “Sir doesn’t have… other intentions, does he?”

“Young Master, don’t worry. Since you’re living in the Guan family’s house, you’re Sir’s person now. And Sir never mistreats his people.”

“Oh…” Jian Yang barely managed to convince himself that it was just Guan Ciyan’s overbearing CEO style—anyone associated with him had to be glamorous, to reflect his wealth and status.

But when he got home, Jian Yang dismissed that idea.

He had been out for most of the day, and now his room had a 100-inch laser TV, a full surround sound system, Dolby Atmos, and a 7.7.4-channel home theater! A milk-white tiered sofa sat in front of the TV. Even in his most glorious days in his past life, Jian Yang had never experienced such luxury.

“Uncle Zhang, am I switching rooms?”

Uncle Zhang chuckled. “That would be too much work, Young Master. I spent half the day setting everything up for you. Besides, this is the biggest room in the villa. No other room could fit all these things.”

“Why?” Jian Yang frowned, his excitement fading into unease. “Why all this?”

“Sir ordered it. He said you’d need a better setup for studying,” Uncle Zhang replied.

Jian Yang frowned and walked over to the new bookshelf. It was already half-filled, with books of all kinds—including world-renowned acting books.

He would use them. Watching movies and reading were essential for actors—to analyze great works and internalize techniques.

Guan Ciyan had thought of everything.

Jian Yang hadn’t intentionally hidden his audition from him. Not that he could have—Fuyu Sheng Tang was an unavoidable hurdle in his career. In his past life, he would’ve fought tooth and nail to get into the company. In this life, even if he didn’t join, he’d still have to collaborate with them.

He just didn’t expect Guan Ciyan to find out so quickly—and even prepare so much for him.

“Eh.” Jian Yang noticed a book he had wanted to read in his past life but never found. He stood on tiptoe to take it out. It turned out to be the original English edition.

Oh my god. This was amazing! Translated versions just didn’t have the same feel.

If only his English weren’t so bad, it would be perfect.

Carefully, he placed the book back. He would definitely read it when he had time.

“Sir picked out the books himself. He said these are required readings for Fuyu Sheng Tang’s artists,” Uncle Zhang explained.

“Did he say… how long I have to finish them?” Jian Yang’s tone softened a little.

Uncle Zhang shook his head. “Sir didn’t set any deadlines. Just take your time, Young Master.”

Jian Yang had nothing to say to that.

“There are also new things in the wardrobe. Would you like to take a look, young master?”

Jian Yang walked into the dressing room. The wardrobe was packed full—business attire, formal wear, and casual clothes were all neatly arranged in categories. Ties were rolled up in the glass compartments, far more than he had ever owned in his previous life, some from brands he couldn’t even name.

With all these clothes, he wouldn’t have to beg brands for outfits when attending events in the future.

Uncle Zhang pulled open the accessories cabinet. “I wasn’t sure about your preferences, young master, so I prepared these first.”

A row of wristwatches gleamed under the cabinet lights, dazzling and weighty in hand. If nothing else, just this cabinet of watches alone was worth more than his entire lifetime earnings in his past life. In the center lay a blue sapphire brooch, next to which was a handwritten note from Guan Ciyan: “Gifts once given will not be taken back.”

Guan Ciyan’s handwriting was completely different from how he appeared in person. A man like him should have a sharp and commanding script, like silver hooks and iron strokes, bold and unrestrained. Yet, the characters on the note were reserved, elegant, with a literary grace—each stroke balanced with just the right force, not too much, not too little, exuding the spirit of a scholar.

Jian Yang pressed the note under the brooch.

He still remembered the day Guan Ciyan had pinned the brooch onto his collar in the car. The evening sunlight bathed everything in gold, his gaze focused, gentle yet careful. His delicate features, softened by the glow, made Jian Yang momentarily dazed.

Feeling stifled, Jian Yang muttered, “What else did Mr. Guan say?”

Guan Ciyan had given him so much—he had to have an ulterior motive.

He had no money, no background, no resources. If it was just about looks, Guan Ciyan was the owner of Fuyu Sanctuary and had seen countless beautiful faces. If appearance was all that mattered, these gifts should have gone to Jian Buqing instead—that was his true beloved.

Uncle Zhang hesitated before answering, “Sir said… the past will not repeat itself. Young master doesn’t have to live like before. Be bold—sir will not blame you.”

Jian Yang’s emotions grew complicated. He told Uncle Zhang, “Uncle Zhang, there’s no way he would say that. You don’t have to translate for him.”

Uncle Zhang coughed twice and changed the topic. “Young master, would you like to turn off the lights and take a look?”

Jian Yang: ?

The sun had not yet set, and the view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was beautiful. The automatic curtains slowly closed, shutting out the daylight. A faint glow emerged from the ceiling—tiny star-like shapes twinkled softly. A blue luminescence gradually illuminated the surroundings, warm and gentle. The standby screen of the large television flickered with the shape of a galaxy.

In the dim light, Jian Yang felt an unexpected sense of warmth and happiness.

“I don’t understand much about the young master’s career, but consider this starry sky lamp my gift to you.”

Jian Yang couldn’t bring himself to smile, nor did he dare to cry. His voice was muffled. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“My grandson is about your age—he just graduated high school this summer,” Uncle Zhang said.

Jian Yang sat on the beanbag chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

When he first returned to the Jian family, he had been hopeful.

He had no parents and had wanted to experience what it was like to have a complete family.

“Uncle Zhang, you’re making it… really hard for me to leave this room,” Jian Yang murmured, his voice soft, tinged with grievance—like a spoiled child on the verge of tears.

“Then don’t leave. Stay here, young master. I’ll go downstairs to check on dinner. Sir might be coming home to eat tonight. Have fun on your own for a while.”

“…Mm.”

Jian Yang didn’t turn the lights back on. He simply stared at the starry lights in a daze.

He still had no idea who Guan Ciyan really was.

This was the same man who had once scared him, toyed with him, threatened him, and deliberately sent Guan Jingyu to test him.

Always keeping him on edge.

Yet now, he gave him gifts at just the right moment, each one hitting his heart perfectly. It was impossible to believe he hadn’t put thought into it.

Jian Yang slumped deeper into the beanbag.

No wonder Guan Ciyan could make money—he had him completely in his grasp, and he still had no clue about the man’s true intentions.

Whatever.

No matter what Guan Ciyan’s goal was, it wasn’t like he had anything to lose. He had nothing to begin with—there was no room for loss.

Since things had come to this, he might as well take the opportunity to learn something. If he could get into Fuyu Sanctuary and take some professional courses, that would be even better.

Jian Yang quickly adjusted his mindset and picked up the difficult English book he had been struggling with.

“Young master, dinner is ready.” Uncle Zhang called to him from outside the door.

Jian Yang peeked out the window. There was no sound of a car, and no one had returned.

A moment later, Uncle Zhang came up again.

Jian Yang responded, “I’m coming—just let me finish this section.”

Uncle Zhang chuckled and left.

Jian Yang glanced at his phone. It was almost eight—long past dinnertime.

The book in his hands no longer held any appeal. He pulled open the curtains and sat on the balcony, his thoughts rising and falling. The autumn wind tousled his bangs. His yellow-and-white sportswear, set against the deep blue sky, lost its vibrancy from the day, merging into a chaotic mix of melancholy.

Resting his chin on his knees, Jian Yang felt uneasy about everything he had received. But at the same time, he couldn’t hide his delight.

A car engine rumbled outside. Another Bentley pulled into the driveway.

Jian Yang shot to his feet and dashed downstairs. “Uncle Zhang, I’m hungry! I want to eat!”