Chapter 41: Neither Initiating, Nor Refusing, Nor Taking Responsibility

The one thing Zhou Wan could never tolerate was being threatened. Years ago, it was the suffocating threats from her family that drove her to Nanzhou to start anew, beginning her career as a livestream host. Three years ago, unable to bear the coercion from a man she’d liked since childhood—who pressured her to spend the night with him—she got drunk in a fit of anger and ended up in Shen Xian’s hotel room instead.

In short, Zhou Wan was the type to yield only to kindness, never to force. Rebellion ran in her veins; the more someone threatened her, the more she did the opposite, never pausing to consider the consequences.

She fully understood Qi Zhengqing's intent: “I’ll come tomorrow night, and you’ll sleep with me. Refuse, and you can forget about performing at the Voice of Huaxia concert—or getting the song Lin Daoan wrote for you.”

Zhou Wan asked, “So you mean if I refuse, I’m off the show, and Lin Daoan won’t write me a song either?”

Qi Zhengqing’s voice remained gentle as ever: “I’ll let you be on the show, but you won’t get the song. Take a guess what consequences that might bring.”

She had already registered, and the show had approved her participation. Qi Zhengqing could revoke her spot if he wished, but he wouldn’t. He’d let her go onstage, but without a song for her. That was even more damaging and humiliating than being forced to withdraw. Appearing on the show without a decent song would shatter her public image and devastate her popularity. With a little manipulation, her entire career could be ruined.

Zhou Wan sneered, “I’ve already paid Lin Daoan in full and signed a contract.”

Qi Zhengqing sounded almost amused. “Oh, you’ve been in this industry three or four years now—how are you still so naive? Contracts are for ordinary people. Since when do contracts bind people at my level?”

Fury surged through Zhou Wan. “Qi Zhengqing, even if I make a fool of myself onstage, I will never agree to your demand.”

Qi Zhengqing’s tone remained calm. “Don’t rush to reject me, and don’t get angry. Anger clouds judgment and leads to poor decisions. After we hang up, take your time and think it over. And let me remind you: there are only five days left before the show starts. Other than Lin Daoan, no one can custom-write a song for you now.

“I’ve watched your livestreams; I know you’re in contact with Courier. You might ask him for help, but his style is all about sad love songs or pop ballads—he can’t do what you need.”

Zhou Wan fell silent. She knew he spoke the truth. Not even a hall-of-fame songwriter could master every genre. Take Lin Daoan, for example: love songs weren’t his strength. He excelled at grand narratives and inspirational anthems.

“Think it over. I’ll be in Nanzhou tomorrow. Goodnight,” Qi Zhengqing said, gentle as ever, never seeming to lose his temper.

Zhou Wan’s face was cold as she blocked all of Qi Zhengqing’s contacts, then drafted a message to Shen Xian: “Courier, after the show, can I commission a song from you?” She hesitated for a long time, but in the end, she didn’t send it.

With a heavy sigh, she turned to the Original Music Base to search for songs. She found a few, but lost interest as soon as she heard the demos. Finding the right song there was like searching for a needle in the ocean.

She called her manager next and explained the situation. The manager quickly reported to the company, and the response came back: “Zhou, you know how the entertainment world works. The cleanest water has no fish. Young Master Qi has resources we can’t provide or compete with. Just take the loss—it’s nothing, think of it as a bad dream.”

Zhou Wan almost laughed in anger. “If that’s how it is, I’ll terminate my contract.”

The company replied without hesitation: “Of course, as long as the breach penalty is paid, you can leave tomorrow. After you refuse Young Master Qi again, he’ll make things difficult for you, and we’re not going to risk offending him for a single artist. We can always make another diva out of someone else, but if we lose his favor, there’s no recovering from that.”

Zhou Wan’s teeth ground together in fury. How shameless—the company would rather grovel to Young Master Qi than keep her. But the implication was clear: the benefits Qi Zhengqing brought to the company far surpassed anything she could offer, even as a top star. So they’d rather let her go than lose his support.

“Terminate it—right now. Tell me the penalty, and I’ll transfer the money immediately!” Zhou Wan snapped.

The company hadn’t expected her to be so resolute, so they confirmed again: “Miss Diva, are you sure you want to give up Young Master Qi’s backing and turn against him?”

Zhou Wan replied at once, “Stop with the nonsense. Get the termination agreement ready—I don’t want to see any of you even for a second longer!”

She had always been decisive; if she said she’d terminate, she would. Of course, the penalty was astronomical—eighty million, three times over.

As for the fallout and public opinion that would ensue, she didn’t care at all.

She called Lin Daoan next, but he simply said, “I’ve refunded your payment. I won’t write you a song. Find someone else. Goodbye forever.”

“Cai Cai, I’m unemployed now—boo hoo, take me in!” Zhou Wan messaged Ning Cai.

Ning Cai was dining with Shen Xian and others. Upon reading the message, she called back immediately, “What happened? Why the sudden termination?”

Zhou Wan never hid anything from Ning Cai, and told her everything in detail.

Ning Cai sighed, “The company’s decision is disgusting, but it’s also the smartest move. From a business standpoint, any company would do the same. Once they learned what Qi Zhengqing wanted, they wouldn’t help you at all—in fact, they were probably hoping you’d quit. His family practically controls half the entertainment industry; even the four biggest entertainment conglomerates cater to him.

“Remember Liu Sheng? Years ago, he was sidelined for more than a decade just for refusing to toast Qi Zhengqing’s uncle at a banquet.”

“But it doesn’t matter. Others may fear Qi Zhengqing, but I don’t. You can start work with me tomorrow—I happen to need someone,” Ning Cai said calmly.

After hanging up, Shen Xian asked, “What happened?”

Ning Cai told him everything, including Zhou Wan’s predicament and her lack of a song.

She sighed, “Zhou Wan is friends with Courier, but unfortunately, Courier only excels at pop ballads and love songs. Otherwise, we could ask him for help.”

Shen Xian listened quietly, neither offering help nor saying much. His personality was peculiar: if you came to him, he wouldn’t refuse you, but he’d never reach out on his own. As for responsibility, he’d only provide the song—how it was sung was none of his concern, nor did he want to hear comments about the quality of his work.

That was another trait of a scoundrel: don’t initiate, don’t refuse, don’t take responsibility. That was his way—never proactive, never rejecting, never responsible.