In another corner of Jingzhou.
A brand-new office had just been adorned with a nameplate that read "Xia Yin Era."
This was Lu Chenyan's entertainment company.
Under Ren Qian's efficient management, the company's framework had been established in record time.
The decor was modern and minimalist, with top-tier recording and office equipment from the industry.
Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, Lu Chenyan gazed down at the ceaseless flow of the city below, yet felt no joy.
His brows were tightly knit, his mind preoccupied with the biggest setback he had faced in recent times.
The company was ready. The money was secured. The resources provided by his elder brother, Lu Chenyuan, were impeccable.
Yet the cornerstone he desired most remained stubbornly out of reach.
Ji Yichen.
That name barely existed in mainstream music circles.
But in the indie scene, he was revered like a deity by countless fans.
His music was filled with sharp empathy for the marginalized and raw anger against social injustice.
The melodies were rough, the lyrics cut like knives—each song a bloody social report from the fringes.
Lu Chenyan knew that if "Xia Yin Era" was to be more than just an assembly line churning out profitable idols, but a cultural label with soul and conviction, Ji Yichen was the perfect choice.
To that end, he had personally visited Ji Yichen three times.
The first time, he was outright turned away.
The second time, Ji Yichen made him wait two hours before coldly stating he wasn’t interested.
The third time, Ji Yichen finally met him—in a shabby rehearsal room.
"Lu Chenyan," Ji Yichen said, wearing a threadbare old T-shirt, his gaze aloof. "I've heard your music. Sweet. Pop. Safe."
He paused, his disdain unmistakable.
"Your company is probably the same. Just another factory for neatly packaged candy."
"I don’t need safe. And my music sure as hell doesn’t need to be wrapped up like candy."
"Your world, I don’t get. Mine? You’d do best to stay out of it."
With that, Ji Yichen picked up his guitar and began playing, ignoring Lu Chenyan completely.
Lu Chenyan felt as if all his passion and grand visions had been doused in ice water.
Everything he took pride in was worthless in the other man’s eyes.
"Third Brother, why the long face? What’s on your mind?"
A bright voice snapped Lu Chenyan out of his thoughts as Lu Qianqian pushed the door open.
She was dressed in a sleek athletic outfit, her long hair tied into a high ponytail, exuding vigor.
In her hand was a fruit basket.
"I had some free time today, so I came to see your new company. And to congratulate the new boss."
"Don’t bother. It’s just an empty shell," Lu Chenyan turned around, smiling self-deprecatingly.
Then, he recounted the entire ordeal with Ji Yichen.
"...He called me candy," Lu Chenyan admitted, his tone laced with defeat.
"Ji Yichen?" A glimmer flashed in Lu Qianqian’s eyes. "I know of him."
Lu Chenyan stared at her in surprise. "How do you know him?"
"I heard his songs in a peacekeeping camp in the Middle East. A communications engineer from Xia played them on his battered phone. He said whenever he missed home, or when the injustices he saw kept him awake at night, listening to Ji Yichen’s music reminded him that the fire inside him still burned."
Lu Chenyan fell even deeper into silence.
So that man’s music had already reached places he couldn’t even imagine.
"Third Brother, you’ve been approaching this wrong from the start," Lu Qianqian set the fruit basket on the coffee table and looked at him earnestly.
"You went to him as a capitalist, trying to buy his talent."
"But people like him despise capital. You were using the very thing he hates to try and win him over."
Lu Chenyan frowned. "Then what should I do? Show up empty-handed and talk about ideals?"
"You shouldn’t go at all," Lu Qianqian’s reasoning was razor-sharp. "I should."
Lu Chenyan was stunned. "You?"
"Yes," she nodded confidently. "Not as an envoy for 'Xia Yin Era,' but as the founder of the 'Horizon' Foundation."
"I won’t talk contracts or money with him. I’ll talk collaboration."
"The kind that takes his music where it truly belongs."
Lu Chenyan studied his younger sister, realizing he might never have truly known her.
She was younger, yet at this moment, her gaze and clarity of thought far surpassed his.
Suddenly, his past doting felt embarrassingly shallow.
"Alright," he took a deep breath and nodded. "Give it a try."
The next afternoon.
An indie bookstore in the old city—the meeting place Ji Yichen and Lu Qianqian had agreed upon.
Ji Yichen deliberately arrived ten minutes late.
He wanted to put the supposedly spoiled rich girl in her place.
He’d even prepared a speech for her expected pearl-clad arrogance.
But when he pushed open the bookstore door, he saw a girl in a plain white shirt and jeans, bare-faced.
She sat by the window, quietly flipping through a photobook on war photography, her profile serene and focused in the afternoon light.
No designer labels. No heavy makeup. No impatience.
Ji Yichen’s rehearsed disdain faltered.
"You’re Lu Qianqian?" He approached the table, his tone still deliberately cold.
"Mr. Ji, please have a seat," Lu Qianqian closed the book, gestured to the chair opposite, and met his gaze.
Her eyes were clear, calm—no trace of unease or ingratiation.
"If this is about Lu Chenyan again, save your breath," Ji Yichen cut straight to the point as he sat.
"It’s not," she shook her head. "Today, I’m here as a listener, to ask you a question."
"A question?" Ji Yichen’s brow arched slightly, caught off guard.
"In one of your songs, you sang, 'Beneath high walls, human dignity is worthless,'" Lu Qianqian held his gaze, her eyes carrying a stillness beyond her years. "I want to know—what does dignity mean to you?"
The question stunned Ji Yichen.
He hadn’t expected her to use his own lyrics to begin this conversation.
It made him drop some of his guard.
"Dignity is freedom from control, from being bought. It’s the liberty of thought and soul," he answered instinctively, voicing his lifelong creed.
"Well said," Lu Qianqian nodded in agreement.
Then she pivoted.
"But if a person doesn’t know where their next meal is coming from, do they still have the right to speak of dignity?"
"If a mother must sell her body to get clean water for her feverish child, where does her dignity lie?"
"If a nation's culture is being slowly erased by war and poverty, where then can the dignity of its people find refuge?"
ng to die together with you." Lin Xuan is dead, his body thrown into the river by his scumbag lover and her accomplice. She, the president of the Su Group, is decisive, ruthless, and ice-cold. For three days and three nights, she had his body fished out of the river, and without hesitation, she kissed the bloated corpse of Lin Xuan. She laid down beside him in a cold coffin, their fingers intertwined, a smile lingering on her lips as she closed her eyes. The noble and cold-hearted woman, only bending for one man—Lin Xuan. Lin Xuan, with his golden finger, is reborn and returns to the day of his wedding to the treacherous woman. Su Qiang comes to steal the bride. Lin Xuan's eyes light up, eager to pledge his loyalty on the spot, but instead, her kiss transfers a glass of drugged wine into his mouth, causing him to pass out... 【Male Protagonist with Single Female Lead】【Yandere Tycoon】【Action-Packed】【True vs. Fake Heir】
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
ions, keeping it grounded and realistic】 After quitting his job, office worker Su Yang accidentally binds with the "Enjoy Life System." As the name suggests, simply by indulging in life's pleasures, he can earn random rewards from the system—no need to spend money on beautiful women or grovel before anyone. Just enjoy, and the money follows, making it all about effortless fun. The system comes with a scanning feature, allowing him to establish a favorability bond with women rated 85 points or above. Every 20-point increase in favorability unlocks additional rewards. After suffering through over twenty years of hardship, Su Yang trembles with excitement, his dull eyes suddenly gleaming with newfound hope. "Enjoy life? How hard could that be?"
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
