MG CH13

Yuan Mu? Trending news?

Yan Zishu really hadn’t known.

But right after hanging up, he saw that his own sources had also sent over related information.

Fu Jinchi sure was quick—like a canary who always knew where the wind was blowing.

A little internet celebrity like Yuan Mu, who had bought her way into traffic fame, was basically a has-been. Nine out of ten times she made it to the trending list, it was because she paid for it—whether it was “showing off her toned booty at the gym” or “looking gorgeous while shopping bare-faced”—all meaningless fluff.

When she didn’t buy the spot herself, it usually meant some scandal had broken.

And this time’s “Breaking! Popular starlet Yuan Mu spotted grocery shopping with baby bump—Father unknown, suspected outsider?” seemed like a scandal at first glance, but not completely.

One thing was certain: before she’d even cashed in on her fame, she’d dared to explode the bombshell of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Her career in the entertainment industry was now as good as over.

Yan Zishu flipped through the gossip accounts: blurry photos, long-winded analysis pretending to piece together the mystery, and a collage of every man remotely connected to Yuan Mu, guessing who the baby daddy might be—as if she were some kind of A-list celebrity.

The key photo among them was a low-resolution, inconspicuous phone shot: the silhouette of Fu Weishan with his arm around Yuan Mu, the two of them heading into a hotel.

The articles didn’t name him directly—only vaguely mentioning “a certain wealthy executive”—but the warning was crystal clear.

True, Fu Weishan wasn’t a celebrity. But as a regular on the country’s rich lists, he wasn’t exactly unknown either.

Even if the public hadn’t heard of him before, once this scandal got juicy enough, they’d surely recognize him.

Yuan Mu’s real leverage lay in the fact that for a listed company like Yinghan Group, the image of its top executives could sway stock prices.

Leaving moral concerns aside, any scandal about a major shareholder’s marriage or personal life could shake up the board of directors. Usually, as long as things didn’t get explosive, it was fine. But if a bombshell dropped out of nowhere, it would stir public speculation and shake market confidence.

Just like a few years ago when that top 500 tech company founder in East China got hit by sexual assault allegations—the verdict wasn’t even out, and the company’s stock had already tanked, suffering major losses.

Or that CEO whose frozen assets after a messy divorce caused their IPO to fail—or the infamous corporate takeover triggered by a costly breakup.

CEOs were still human—and humans were always at the mercy of capital. That was the harsh reality.

So, Fu Weishan could swap lovers like changing clothes, even indulge in whatever debauchery he wanted—no big deal for a rich man. But for someone to deliberately leak his private life to the media? That was an entirely different matter.

Fortunately, this trending topic was still just a small-time celebrity gossip piece—it hadn’t blown up into anything serious yet.

Yan Zishu immediately contacted Fu Weishan.

Fu Weishan wasn’t exactly worried—more disgusted, like he’d been bitten by a bug.

He was sure that Yuan Mu and her father wouldn’t dare go all out—only make these shady, roundabout threats to test the waters.

After letting off some steam, Fu Weishan gave the order to “shut this down”—so Yan Zishu headed to the PR department to handle it.

To be fair, a big company like Yinghan, dealing in the art and culture industry, usually maintained close ties with the media. But the fact that they’d been blindsided by this trending topic—with Fu Weishan’s silhouette right there—meant they’d definitely dropped the ball.

Whether it was the assistant or PR, seeing this after it had already gone viral counted as a serious lapse.

But unless you were someone like Yan Zishu, who knew the inside story, who could’ve predicted this particular bomb would go off?

The PR head hadn’t figured it out even after seeing that hotel photo showing Fu Weishan’s blurry back.

It was only when Yan Zishu closed the door and told him everything that he muttered to himself: “What the hell—our boss gets caught with a mistress, and now the mistress is turning against him? How the hell was I supposed to guard against this? It’s not like he ever told me when he was busy screwing around!”

But aloud he only said seriously, “Actually, this isn’t too bad. Since they didn’t name him directly, whoever bought the trending spot must have reservations. They’re testing the waters, leaving room to negotiate. Probably fishing for some hush money.”

Yan Zishu replied, “Of course. I’ll handle the rest—but you can’t let your guard down with the media. Keep a close watch.”

“No problem, no problem. We’ll make sure they don’t write anything risky.”

But with the internet the way it was—so fast, so wild—shutting down rumors wasn’t easy. Honestly, the easiest way to avoid this was to not be a scumbag in the first place…

Grumbling inside, the PR head still sprang into action—calling media contacts and platform reps, warning them: if any dirt about Yinghan’s CEO came their way, they were to bury it.

After all, anything that could shake the company’s stock price wasn’t to be taken lightly.

Even though it was after hours, since Yan Zishu was personally sitting there, the PR head didn’t dare say, “Eh, this can wait till tomorrow.” Instead, he worked hard on calls, voice going hoarse.

The PR head, well aware of Yan Zishu’s reputation for intensity, couldn’t help thinking: Only this obsessive freak would care this much about Fu Weishan’s mess. Any sane person would be begging to get out of here—capitalist bootlicker!

While he was still grinding away, Yan Zishu’s phone buzzed again—Fu Weishan calling.

He stepped into a side meeting room to take it.

Fu Weishan said, “Keep an eye on Ji Chen. Don’t let him see the news.”

Yan Zishu replied, “Don’t worry. He shouldn’t know a thing.”

And sure enough, the next morning, Ji Chen came to the president’s office to hand in his self-reflection essay—completely unaware.

He kept sneaking glances at the inner office.

Yan Zishu said lightly, “President Fu isn’t here.”

Ji Chen jumped. “Ah—I… I wasn’t looking for him.”

Yan Zishu skimmed the essay, waved him away.

But privately, a dark thought crossed his mind: What if I showed this kid the news about Yuan Mu’s pregnancy right now? What would his reaction be? Could he handle it—or would it blow everything up ahead of schedule?

Bang bang bang—bang bang bang—bang bang bang bang—

Clang! Clang!

Golden lions roared and drums thundered.

On an auspicious day, Fu Jinchi’s new Chinese-style hotel officially opened.

The hotel shared its elegant name—Jinfengtai—with his suburban tea house. Same style, same vibe, same membership privileges—clearly meant to be a full-fledged brand.

As Fu Jinchi modestly put it, the tea house was his father’s legacy; but this city hotel was his own creation—blending urban luxury with tranquil charm. Securing a prime location like this was no small feat.

It had actually been in the works before he’d been sent to Hong Kong. Even while away, he’d never let go of this project.

No matter how classy the venue, a grand opening needed to be festive—an old Chinese tradition.

Colorful congratulatory flower stands lined the entrance. A lion dance team performed: one lion for blessing, one for prosperity, one for fortune.

The lobby manager held a bamboo pole high with a red envelope and cabbage, the lion climbing a human ladder to grab it—symbolizing abundance and growth. At the finale, the lions stilled and unfurled scrolls: “Prosperity and brilliance everlasting” and “Auspicious opening, great fortune begins.” Applause rang out.

The ceremony wasn’t huge—just some familiar faces—but a few important ones showed up.

Yan Zishu wore a slightly old-fashioned black suit, but among the older crowd, it fit perfectly.

Three or four elders surnamed Fu also came to support Fu Jinchi. They all knew Yan Zishu—he was like Fu Weishan’s shadow—and greeted him enthusiastically, casually fishing for gossip about Fu Weishan’s love life.

Like: “He’s about the right age now. Time to settle down, don’t you think? Heard he’s about to tie the knot?”

Or: “Doesn’t matter if he’s picky. Just say what kind he likes—we can help introduce someone.”

Yan Zishu kept smiling politely, lying without blinking: “President Fu’s busy with work. I really don’t know about his private matters.”

While he said this, Fu Jinchi stood nearby, wearing a polite smile—glancing over now and then.