After Transmigrated as a Black-Hearted Entertainment Boss [Transmigration] - Chapter 23

Again?

This was the second damn time!

If he didn’t already know that everyone poached by Xincan was Gu Nan’s rival, he would have pinned Su Jiqiu’s rejection from Criminal Litigation on their heads too!

Tao Zui cursed up a storm internally, but his mind quickly cooled down and analyzed the situation.

It wasn’t surprising that Xincan had caught wind of this project. Since they were doing everything in their power to suppress Gu Nan, they were bound to be thoroughly prepared. Snakes have their holes, and rats have their tunnels—living out in the open, it was impossible to completely block those who pried from the shadows.

What mattered now wasn’t how Xincan found out, but how to defuse the immediate crisis.

With his mind racing, Tao Zui let out a soft laugh. “Oh? Then… what are your thoughts, Director Zhou?”

Silences stretched over the line. After a long pause, Zhou Fanghong’s somewhat irritated voice came through. “I won’t beat around the bush with you. I’m just not the type of person who can handle the whole back-and-forth negotiating thing. I’ve already turned Xincan down. Their one-hundred-million-yuan investment was incredibly tempting, I admit. But our contracts are already fully processed. If I switch the male lead, you will definitely retract your fifty-million-yuan investment, plus I’d have to pay the breach-of-contract fee for the performance contract. After all that hassle, I’d only end up with an extra forty-nine million yuan. On top of that, I know what You Hui is like—young, short-tempered, and his asking price is sky-high. Deducting his salary leaves me with twenty-nine million yuan. Why on earth would I put myself through all that trouble for nothing?!”

The heavy stone in Tao Zui’s heart finally thudded to the ground, and he let out a subtle sigh of relief. “I’m glad we can be completely honest with each other. Director Zhou, let me give you a bottom line too. If fifty million isn’t enough, depending on how the filming progresses, I will consider injecting additional investment.”

Hearing this, Zhou Fanghong was instantly overjoyed. “Great! Having that promise from you is more than enough, CEO Tao. See you in Qing City!”

“See you in Qing City.” Hanging up the phone with a dark expression, Tao Zui paced back and forth in his office, carefully deliberating over where the leak could have come from.

The most direct method would be bribing someone inside the company. But right now, apart from a tiny handful of administrative staff and the artists waiting out their contracts, there were absolutely no idle hands at Taoli Entertainment.

The departing artists rarely stepped foot in the building. Aside from Zhang Ling and the legal department, the administrative staff knew nothing about the trainee department. The legal team had all signed strict non-disclosure agreements, so they wouldn’t knowingly break the law. As for Zhang Ling, it was even more impossible—Tao Zui had absolute confidence in his ability to read people.

Since the information hadn’t leaked from his side, could it have come from The Afterlife crew? But why would anyone dig into the progress of a production crew that had been buried in development for two years without a peep, had no avenue for securing investment, and was completely dismissed by the industry?

Furthermore, they had spent over a week just negotiating the contract terms. If Xincan had known about this project early on, given Zhou Fanghong’s temperament, he wouldn’t have waited until now to call him.

But if it wasn’t his side, and it wasn’t the crew, where else could the leak have occurred?

It wasn’t until the next day, when he led Gu Nan into the airport, that Tao Zui finally put the pieces together.

After printing the boarding passes at the self-service kiosk, Tao Zui handed Gu Nan’s over to him. “Keep a firm hold on it. You’ll need it for security in a bit.”

Gu Nan took the boarding pass, examining it with curiosity. This was his first time taking a plane, and everything felt completely novel. His eyes hadn’t rested once along the way, blinking like dual hazard lights.

Seeing this, Tao Zui laughed. “I told you to keep a hold on it, but you don’t need to stare at it the entire time, do you?”

Gu Nan gave a light cough and lifted his head, turning to look elsewhere with a feigned air of nonchalance.

He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt, deep blue jeans, and black canvas shoes, carrying a black athletic crossbody bag. The entire outfit cost less than two hundred yuan, yet he effortlessly made it look like a high-end designer brand worth tens of thousands. His exceptional looks and build drew continuous side-glances from passersby. Tao Zui even faintly caught someone whispering:

“Is he a star? He must be a star, right?”

Ignoring the gazes fixed upon his artist, Tao Zui nodded fiercely in his mind with a profound sense of pride. Of course he’s a star! And one day, every single person who sees him will cry out his name in pure ecstasy: Gu Nan!

Kid, enjoy your current freedom while it lasts. Before long, you won’t be able to step out without being blocked, walk down the street without being swarmed, or catch a plane without fans… Wait!

A flash of inspiration struck Tao Zui’s brain, and he looked down at the boarding pass in his hand.

He had asked Zhang Ling to book the plane tickets for himself and Gu Nan three days ago. To make the booking, Zhang Ling had specifically called to ask Gu Nan for his national ID number. As long as someone possessed that ID information, tracking down flight details was a trivial task. And this piece of information wasn’t hard to acquire at all, because Gu Nan had previously registered as a delivery rider on a food delivery platform!

Information trafficking ran rampant domestically anyway; someone with an agenda could easily buy customer data for a nominal fee, let alone the ID number of a delivery guy.

Once they tracked down the flight details and discovered their destination, conducting a targeted investigation became easy. An agent taking his artist to Qing City—home to the world’s largest soundstages—made their objective glaringly obvious!

Having deduced the channel of the data breach, Tao Zui felt a wave of relief wash over his initial shock.

The fact that the mastermind relied on underhanded data theft rather than standard commercial espionage meant this person was far more cautious and defensive than he had imagined. They were likely operating under heavy constraints from others, or harbored some unspeakable predicament that forced them to operate strictly from the shadows.

As long as he figured out the source of their information, he might even be able to exploit this flaw to turn the tables on them…

As Tao Zui stared at his boarding pass, lost in thought, a cool voice suddenly rang out by his ear: “You don’t need to stare at it the entire time, do you?”

Tao Zui: “…” Kid, you really won’t wait a single second to get your petty revenge, will you!

Upon arriving in Qing City, Tao Zui and Gu Nan took a brief moment to unpack before heading straight to the Oriental Movie Metropolis without a moment’s delay. This time, armed with the passes prepared in advance by Zhou Fanghong, the dutiful security guard didn’t stop them, even helpfully calling over a golf cart for them.

Driving the little cart all the way to Soundstage 22, they could see two familiar figures from a long distance away. It was still the same chubby and lean duo, completely unkempt. In fact, because they hadn’t met for nearly half a month, Zhou Fanghong and Wang Dafa’s beards had grown even denser.

The moment Tao Zui stepped off the cart, Wang Dafa came forward to greet him, acting as warm and affectionate as long-lost brothers. “CEO Tao, thank you for making the long journey. Was the trip smooth? I heard from Old Zhou that you also have the intention to inject additional investment? My goodness, how can a person possess such impeccable vision…”

“Old Wang, look quick!” Zhou Fanghong interrupted Wang Dafa’s flattery with a heavy slap, his eyes glued to Gu Nan as he sized him up from top to bottom. From his expression, he looked as if he desperately wanted to rush forward and feel the boy’s frame.

“Holy mother of God…” Wang Dafa took just one glance before his eyes glazed over. He walked around Gu Nan twice. “He matches! He matches perfectly! It’s like he was peeled straight out of your design sketches!”

The intense scrutiny made Gu Nan’s skin crawl, and he cast a pleading look toward Tao Zui.

But far from having any intention of helping, Tao Zui crossed his arms to enjoy the show, even adding fuel to the fire: “Not only does his appearance perfectly meet the requirements, but his acting skills are beyond question too. Why don’t we do an on-the-spot test run?”

“A test run it is!” Director Zhou delivered another iron-palm slap to Wang Dafa’s back, the excitement on his face completely uncontainable. “You’ve read the script, right? That scene—the scene where the Underworld soldier Lei Ze makes his grand entrance, remember? Let’s go!”

Gu Nan stole another glance at Tao Zui. Knowing this man was utterly unreliable, his gaze this time held no plea for help, only pure helplessness. But he quickly collected his composure, gave a steady “I remember,” and stepped back a distance to clear a space away from the crowd. Then, he raised his right hand.

In the setting of The Afterlife, Underworld soldiers always carried an umbrella when traveling.

Generally speaking, ghost emissaries detained spirits who died of natural causes, guiding them back into the cycle of reincarnation. Underworld soldiers, on the other hand, dealt with souls that met unnatural deaths, harvesting them to dissolve back into the essence of heaven and earth. Because their tasks were urgent and heavy, requiring them to remain in the mortal realm for long stretches, the umbrella served as both a magical artifact to shield them from sunlight, moonlight, and starlight, and as their weapon. The primary distinction between natural and unnatural deaths lay in the presence of resentment—one could enter reincarnation, while the other could not.

The emergence of the drug called “Afterlife” caused a massive surge in unnatural deaths, cutting off those souls from reincarnation. Even if they were forced into the cycle, it resulted in the fetuses dying in the womb—even artificial wombs couldn’t escape the phenomenon. Over the past millennium, population growth and human destruction of the environment had led to the mass extinction of animals. The birth rates of many species were actually being forcibly patched using human spiritual essence just to maintain the fragile ecosystem.

Now, the deficit in spiritual essence was growing wider by the day. Once it dropped below the critical threshold, Earth’s already precarious ecology would collapse in an instant.

To halt the deterioration and uncover the truth behind “Afterlife,” Lei Ze was chosen. Half of his soul became an Underworld soldier, operating separately in the mortal realm and the Underworld alongside his oblivious physical body, tracing the investigation back to the failed physics experiment from three years ago.

All of the above formed the background lore of The Afterlife, woven into the script as a hidden narrative thread. Thus, when Gu Nan raised his right hand at this moment, it was to simulate the posture of holding an umbrella for the Underworld soldier Lei Ze’s entrance.

The moment he performed the motion of holding an umbrella, Gu Nan lowered his eyelids. The narrow double-eyelid fold slanted sharply toward his brows along the shape of his eyes, sharp and elegant like twin willow-leaf daggers. A single glance was enough to send a chill down a person’s spine.

Then, he took a step forward.

Gu Nan took a long stride, yet his pace wasn’t hurried. His lowered eyes remained fixed on the ground, as if the space before him weren’t a flat concrete floor, but high, narrow wooden stakes that demanded absolute caution to avoid overturning. Yet his steps fell lightly, as though the chasm didn’t exist at all, and he was merely taking a leisurely stroll.

Step after step, Gu Nan walked with a steady, calculated slowness. If one watched long enough, it even exuded a unique, rhythmic allure. He didn’t halt until he stood right in front of Zhou Fanghong, coming to a standstill and lifting his eyes.

That single look caused Zhou Fanghong’s heart to give a sudden jolt. Even though he knew a living person stood before him, he felt an uncanny sensation of being locked onto by a high-tech camera lens.

Those dark eyes, laced with hints of brown, stared at him with complete coldness. They bore no trace of human warmth or emotional color, freezing the observer with their absolute, rational calm.

“Great… Great!” Zhou Fanghong couldn’t bear the intensity and shifted his gaze away first, but he couldn’t suppress his surging excitement. He lifted his hand to pat Gu Nan on the shoulder, but catching sight of that face, his palm ultimately fell onto Wang Dafa instead, making the thick layer of fat bounce with a sharp smack. “It’s better than I imagined! No, far better!”

Seeing the director’s satisfaction, Gu Nan relaxed, immediately dropping out of character as the corners of his eyes and brows softened. “Thank you, Director.”

“Thank you for what? Come, let’s head inside to chat!” Seeing that Gu Nan’s gaze was no longer so chilling, Zhou Fanghong finally dared to touch him, slinging an arm around the boy’s shoulder to guide him into the soundstage.

Wang Dafa followed closely behind, giving a massive thumbs-up to Tao Zui. “CEO Tao, you have a brilliant eye for talent! Simply badass!”

Tao Zui offered a subtle smile, burying his contribution deep and letting his achievement speak for itself.