Public [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 04
**Chapter 4: Drunk-Roasted Little Lion**
The He Group was located in Shencheng’s Financial Tech Center, where land was worth its weight in gold. The headquarters, designed by a world-renowned architect, took years to perfect. Its futuristic half-arc structure and the bold « H » shape cutting through the building perfectly complemented the group’s focus on smart technology.
He Lingji hadn’t returned in three months, and a mountain of work awaited him.
The CEO’s office was sleek and minimalist, dominated by silver and white tones, with fully automated designs that exuded a cold, high-end vibe.
Secretary Cong seized the moment to hand him a glass of water.
“President He…”
Under the bright office lights, the man’s skin was a cool, porcelain white. His long fingers gripped the glass like carved jade, his expression icy and detached, as if carved from ancient, unmeltable frost. He took a small sip.
The water moistened his pale, thin lips as he uttered a single word:
“Speak.”
As the chief secretary, Cong Zhen knew exactly what to report and what to ignore when his boss was busy.
But—
This involved the madam. He wasn’t sure how to handle it.
After some hesitation, he said, “President Jiang called you several times this afternoon regarding the casting for *Dreams of the Capital*.”
He Lingji glanced at the stack of documents prepared for his review. The glass landed on the table with a dull thud.
Secretary Cong braced himself. “How should I respond?”
The man lazily pressed a finger to his temple, his indifferent gaze masking exhaustion. His words were merciless:
“If he can’t even handle casting for a two-billion-yuan production, replace him as producer.”
This was the He Group’s first foray into the film industry.
Not child’s play.
Cong Zhen snapped back to reality, instantly regretting his words.
President He was still President He. The idea of him losing his cool to charm someone was pure fantasy.
—
When Jiang Yulin received Secretary Cong’s reply, he was in a private meeting with Director Zhou.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Had Qin Man failed to satisfy President He on the yacht that night?
Spread before them were two sets of data analyses—one for Qin Man, the other for Shen Wanyin.
The results were identical:
Qin Man: 95%
Shen Wanyin: 95%
Director Zhou tapped the table. “Who do we pick? We need to decide soon—training can’t wait.”
Jiang Yulin, ever the businessman, skimmed Shen Wanyin’s data, noting her high “market appeal”—her fans were the most vocal.
It wouldn’t be wise to disappoint the audience.
—
Qin Man returned to the marital home she shared with He Lingji.
In their year of marriage, she’d visited fewer than ten times.
Now, the unfamiliarity was palpable.
The lakeside estate glittered at night, its grand entrance leading through a sprawling courtyard complete with a helipad discreetly tucked behind landscaped scenery. Every step was a postcard of luxury, an ode to hedonism.
But tonight, Qin Man had other things on her mind. She declined the maid’s offer of a massage and soaked in the bath instead.
Later, draped in a long, silky nightgown, she descended the stairs to wait for him.
“Did he say when he’d be back?” she asked the butler.
The butler served her a floral tea, replying respectfully, “The master has a private dinner tonight. He may return late.”
Expecting displeasure, he prepared to smooth things over.
To his surprise, Qin Man’s eyes lit up.
A dinner? Perfect.
Imagine—deep in the night, a virtuous and beautiful wife waiting by a single lamp for her drunken husband. How touching!
Qin Man was nearly moved by her own performance.
She dismissed the staff, leaving only a dim light on.
Bored, she hugged a cushion and opened the forum link her friend Wu Yuxi had sent her.
The “Exotic Glacier” topic was still trending.
Her earlier comment had 99+ replies—mostly insults.
“Tsk. He Lingji isn’t even in the entertainment industry, yet he has more fans than me.”
Qin Man was sour.
Two years in the industry, and she couldn’t compete with one interview.
Infuriating.
Then she saw one reply:
*[If that花瓶 (pretty but useless) has any real connection to the Glacier, I’ll give every one of the 3,588 users here 200 yuan.]*
Bored, Qin Man replied:
**Little Lion Roar-Meow:** *[What if they’re married?]*
The reply was instant:
*[If they’re married, not only will I pay up, I’ll livestream myself eating shit while doing a 360° Thomas flare and mid-air twist.]*
**Little Lion Roar-Meow:** *[What a hero. *claps*]*
Qin Man was unfazed.
The netizens, however, exploded:
*[Where did this delusional lion come from?]*
*[Shipping 花瓶 and the Glacier? Is she insane? 花瓶 would shatter against that ice!]*
*[Sure, they’ll get married right after they meet.]*
*[LOL, in all my years in the CP fandom, this is the first time I’ve seen a live 花瓶-Glacier shipper.]*
*[They’ve topped the ‘Most Impossible CP’ list for years.]*
If not for her last shred of sanity, Qin Man would’ve posted their marriage certificate right then.
How was she unworthy?!
Scrolling grew tedious—the same old arguments, nothing new.
The quiet lulled her into drowsiness. Her lashes fluttered as she fought to stay awake, but her body grew heavier, her wrist slipping off the sofa.
*Thud.*
Her phone fell onto the plush carpet.
Qin Man’s sleep was restless, filled with fragments of dreams.
Endless white fog. She walked and walked until she saw a beautiful woman in an exquisite gown, reaching for a golden Best Actress trophy behind a glass case.
She tried to help, but the glass kept them apart—so close, yet untouchable.
As Qin Man stepped closer, the woman suddenly turned and grabbed her hand—
Her fingertips burned.
Qin Man jolted awake.
A dream.
The floor lamp still cast its warm glow, her racing heart echoing in the silent room.
Qin Man’s body ran hot when she slept. Thankfully, she hadn’t sleepily stripped in the living room like usual.
Damp with sweat, her fair skin was flushed a delicate pink.
The room was silent. She checked the time—11:00 p.m.
He Lingji still wasn’t back.
She gave up waiting and stepped onto the terrace, letting the summer breeze cool her overheated skin and clear her mind.
The estate’s lights stretched into the distance.
Her earlier dream resurfaced—Meng Ting’s words from that afternoon: *“Don’t you want the Best Actress trophy?”*
Of course she did.
Qin Man might seem indifferent to her career, but since entering the industry, she’d never stopped chasing one goal:
To win that trophy.
To hold it before someone and say, *“See? I fulfilled her dream. What about you?”*
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the door open.
—
When He Lingji stepped inside, the house was dark—save for the terrace light.
The soft glow split the space into two worlds.
Qin Man stood by the railing, her loose curls cascading down, her long, blush-pink nightgown fluttering like a rose against the night.
A scene straight out of a vintage film.
Then she turned—
For a split second, He Lingji caught a glimpse of something fragile in her eyes before she brightened and threw herself into his arms.
“Husband~”
“Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Waiting for you, of course! Surprised?”
“Oh?”
He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, instantly noticing her unusual body heat.
His gaze darkened as he loosened his tie with deliberate slowness.
The faint scent of glacier-cool cologne mixed with alcohol wrapped around them, dangerously alluring in the dim light.
When He Lingji didn’t play along, Qin Man—oblivious to his state—cheerfully boasted, “With a wife as perfect as me, you must be the envy of everyone.”
“And you?”
“Look at the mess you’ve made!”
She finally got to her point.
He Lingji didn’t answer. The night’s strong liquor had left him mostly sober, but her proximity was undoing that.
Unaware, Qin Man poked his chest, ranting, “No sense of responsibility as a married man. ‘No interest in women’? Please. The gossip forums have you painted as a playboy by now—”
His gaze dropped to her moving lips.
Everything blurred.
“Ah—!”
Suddenly, she was lifted onto the railing.
Her protest died in her throat as the world tilted.
They rarely stood this close.
His cool, clean scent mixed with alcohol made her head spin.
Then his palm pressed against her arm—chill against her feverish skin.
Before she knew it, she was perched precariously on the railing, the void behind her like a whirlpool.
Realizing he’d been drinking, Qin Man panicked, arms locking around his neck. “No, no, too dangerous!”
“I refuse to headline tomorrow as ‘Couple Dies Mid-Air, Faces Unrecognizable.’”
She’d rather not die socially after actual death.
As she clung to him, her silky nightgown tangled with his tailored black slacks—a dangerously beautiful sight.
“Fine.”
Amused, He Lingji indulged her, carrying her to the bedroom.
Tonight, they had time.
—
The bedroom door shut with a soft click.
Under the dazzling lights, Qin Man lounged on the bed, watching as He Lingji emerged from the shower.
Memories of their yacht night resurfaced.
As he approached, she smirked and tugged off a lace garter, tossing it at him.
“Here. Use it.”
“You’re welcome.”
Payback.
If he liked it so much, he could have it.
What a generous wife she was.
He didn’t take it. His stormy blue eyes held hers, unreadable.
For a moment, Qin Man wondered if she had thalassophobia—why else would she tremble under that gaze?
“What?” she snapped.
After a beat, his low voice came, rough with want.
“This,” his fingers brushed her hair, “would be better.”
*!*
Face burning, she yanked her hair back. “So you *are* just after my body!”
“…”
How could someone so cold-looking be so shameless?
A wolf in gentleman’s clothing!
But soon, she lost the ability to retort.
Much later—
*?*
Dazed, Qin Man blinked up at the blinding chandelier.
Then a hand covered her eyes.
Without sight, every touch was magnified—his cool scent now laced with her own sweetness, intoxicating and overwhelming.
“I’m never coming here again!” she gasped.
Sleeping with He Lingji was torture.
Wu Yuxi’s words from the yacht echoed: *“Wrecked.”*
At the time, she’d thought it an exaggeration.
Now she knew—it was an understatement.
“I have no intention of separate bedrooms.”
He Lingji’s voice was calm, as if discussing business.
“After all…”
“Hm?”
“I’m *after your body.*”
Qin Man: “?”
*Damn.* (The plant.)
What kind of grudge-holding monster *was* he?
