AS Chapter 02

A week earlier.

When Zhuang Qin woke up, he found himself back in the year he was nineteen. He had fainted during the filming of an outdoor variety show.

The incident happened so suddenly that the production team, worried about the fallout, decided against calling an ambulance. Instead, they rushed him to the hospital in a car, where he underwent a thorough examination, which concluded that he was simply overworked.

Despite their efforts to keep things quiet, the incident blew up. Countless people condemned the show’s inhumane treatment. Fans, after learning from the studio that it was due to exhaustion, turned their anger toward the management company, even organizing groups to protest at their offices.

In the end, it was his manager, Wen Jie, who logged into his Weibo account to reassure everyone that he was fine and that the company had given him time off to rest. Only then did the uproar finally die down.

At first, Zhuang Qin thought he was dreaming. He often dreamt about those glorious times, filled with too many regrets. But when he realized it wasn’t a dream and that he had indeed returned to seven years ago, the first thing he did was call the director and turn down the major production that was scheduled to start filming in three months.

This led to a huge falling out with the higher-ups at Yue Dong Media. President Shen of the company even announced in a meeting that they would cut off all his resources, leaving him to fend for himself.

Lying in bed, Zhuang Qin glanced at the time back home; it was morning. In the dim light of the room, he dialed the number on the script.

Director Guo was probably just waking up, as he yawned and asked, “Who’s calling?”

“I’m looking for Guo Baozhen.”

Director Guo immediately became more alert, “That’s me. Who is this?”

“It’s Zhuang Qin. Do you remember last year…”

“What? Zhuang Qin?!” Guo Baozhen instantly recognized his voice, and his mind cleared in an instant, filled with shock. “Is it really you?”

Zhuang Qin, the rising star of the moment, was everywhere—on TV, online, you couldn’t escape his presence. His hit drama was playing nonstop on every channel, and just recently, he had even made the headlines because of that incident.

“Yes, it’s me. Director Guo, last year at the film academy, you gave me a script and said there was a role that only I could play. Do you remember?” Zhuang Qin’s tone was polite and humble.

“Ah… yes, yes, I remember!” Guo Baozhen could barely contain his excitement. He had spent a small fortune photocopying about thirty copies of the script and had spent a day at the film academy looking for students who fit the role. He had only managed to give out half of them. One of the students, who had no acting experience, had called him, and upon hearing the offer of 20,000 yuan, had angrily cursed and hung up.

But for Zhuang Qin, the hottest young star in the entertainment industry right now, to call him was beyond his wildest expectations!

“Are you interested in the role of An Ke?”

“Yes,” Zhuang Qin got straight to the point. “I remember we talked briefly about it back then. I was genuinely interested in the script and the character, and I trust your directorial skills. So, I’d like to take on the role.”

“Really?!” Guo Baozhen was overjoyed but quickly became anxious. His film had failed to attract sponsors. The only sponsor he had was a relative who owned a chain of travel agencies and had chipped in 200,000 yuan just to get a bit of product placement for his company.

Zhuang Qin reassured him, “Really.”

“But… Zhuang Laoshi, thank you for considering the script and me, but… do you have any requirements for the payment? I’m afraid I…”

Zhuang Qin quickly cut him off, understanding that Director Guo was in a tough spot. Given his current level of fame, even selling Guo Baozhen wouldn’t fetch enough to cover his usual fee.

Director Guo hesitated, thinking about scraping together 100,000 yuan for him, but it felt embarrassingly low. He didn’t know how to approach the topic, worried that Zhuang Qin might throw coffee in his face when he saw such a low offer.

Just as he was about to confess everything, Zhuang Qin spoke up, “I don’t have any specific demands for payment. I’ve seen your films and read the articles you wrote when you were a journalist. They’re very deep. I admire your work, so whatever payment you have in mind, I’m willing to use it as a contribution to the production. We can specify this in the contract. If the film makes a profit, then we can talk about a bonus.”

“This… this…” Guo Baozhen hadn’t expected such a generous offer, especially from someone who knew so much about his background.

“What do you think?”

“N-no problem!” Guo Baozhen stammered in his excitement. “When can we sign the contract?”

“I’m still abroad. Once I’m back after the New Year, we can arrange to sign it.”

Despite his enthusiasm, Director Guo was anxious. What if Zhuang Qin changed his mind? What if his management company intervened? Was this some kind of joke?

But no matter what concerns he had, he couldn’t voice them. He had already invested everything he had into this film, scrimping and saving with the help of friends to gather just over a million yuan. If he budgeted carefully, it might just be enough to make the movie.

——Zhuang Qin wasn’t making a loss. No one remembers those who help you when things are going well, but those who support you in your darkest hour stay in your memory forever.

He had seen interviews from the future, where Guo Baozhen, by then a famous director, recounted the many difficulties he had faced while making “Cang Xin.” Due to financial issues, the production had come to a halt halfway through. He told the reporter that when he was at his wits’ end, it was Li Mu who stepped in, investing a sum of money to allow him to complete the film.

Guo Baozhen had said, “I couldn’t let his help go to waste. The actors were serious about their roles, and I directed with all my heart. After that, every film I made, Li Mu was the first person I thought of. Of course, by then, I made sure he was properly compensated—I couldn’t let him keep paying out of pocket.”

Li Mu’s body of work was small—only three films over seven years—but each one remained a classic, worth rewatching even decades later.

Rumor had it that acting was just a side job for him, with his main role being the heir to a family business. Zhuang Qin had read some speculative reports suggesting that Li Mu came from an extraordinary background, but the details were vague because the paparazzi were too scared to dig deeper.

Zhuang Qin had even heard a story about a famous actress who tried to create a scandal with him during filming. She harassed him privately, only to have her role swiftly taken away and her career destroyed. She never resurfaced after that.

In his past life, when his Xiao Dao Shidi tried to invest in him, he took Zhuang Qin to a banquet where, by chance, he saw Li Mu in the center of the crowd, surrounded by admirers.

Li Mu was like a snow-capped mountain, towering, distant, and pure. The people around him were fawning over him, but it seemed to have nothing to do with him. He watched with cold detachment, leaving the event early.

This man was too strange, too out of place. It was as if he didn’t belong in this world, showing no interest in blending in. Unlike the other powerful figures who reveled in the decadence of the entertainment industry, Li Mu seemed to come from an entirely different world—this was the impression Zhuang Qin remembered most vividly.

The next morning, Zhuang Qin took his shifu and shiniang to the hospital for a check-up. The results wouldn’t be available for a week. Worried about Shiniang’s health, Zhuang Qin didn’t want her to keep working, but she wouldn’t listen. “There’s nowhere for me to perform, and no audience to listen. I need something to do.”

Zhuang Qin wanted her to return to China, but he knew that the medical care in the U.S. was better. If something was detected, treatment could begin immediately without the need to travel, so he dropped the idea.

He insisted on accompanying Shiniang to the ski resort where she worked, to check if the environment was suitable and if the job was too taxing. Shiniang cheerfully replied, “The ski resort isn’t very big or well-known, and it’s expensive, but it’s luxurious. Since I’m taking you inside, you won’t have to pay. Have fun!”

Xiao Lian tagged along too, worried that Zhuang Qin might have an accident while skiing.

Zhuang Qin bought a ticket instead of letting Shiniang sneak him in. He and Xiao Lian used their passports to get ski passes, which turned out to be quite expensive.

Xiao Lian glanced at the bill, feeling a pinch in his wallet.

This place was ridiculously expensive. The entrance fee alone was three to four times that of other ski resorts, and the deposit was outrageous!

The resort was indeed luxurious, with a secluded wilderness resort hotel nearby, next to a narrow, deep blue river that had frozen over. Xiao Lian looked up the hotel prices. Though he considered himself well-traveled, even he couldn’t help but marvel at the rates. No wonder the place was so empty.

Only the wealthy would come here to vacation and ski.

“See? The job is easy and not tiring,” Shiniang said.

Zhuang Qin was satisfied with the working environment, but he still didn’t want Shiniang to continue working. She had her reasons, though. “What am I supposed to do at home? Staying at home will make me sick! Here, I get to meet people, learn English, and exercise. Xiao Lingdang, don’t you think so?”

Zhuang Qin couldn’t argue with her.

On the surface, Shiniang looked healthy, and no one could have predicted her sudden illness.

“Zhuang Ge, can you ski?” Xiao Lian asked.

“A little.”

They used their ski passes to rent equipment and change into ski gear. Xiao Lian looked worried, “I can’t ski at all.”

“I’m just a novice myself. I’ve only skied once before. Don’t worry, as long as you’re not afraid of falling, you’ll be fine. The snow’s so thick, you won’t get hurt.”

They each rented a pair of skis and made their way to the slopes. The resort wasn’t large, and there weren’t many slopes. It was connected to a mountain range, with a cable car to take them up and ski down.

There were also beginner slopes at the bottom.

With his limited experience, Zhuang Qin tried to teach his assistant, but Xiao Lian kept falling and eventually just sat down to rest.

When Xiao Lian went to buy a cup of coffee and let his guard down for just a moment, Zhuang Qin disappeared. Xiao Lian panicked and immediately called him.

Zhuang Qin took off his gloves, unzipped his ski jacket, and pulled out his phone to answer, “Hello? I’m on the cable car.”

“Cable car? Zhuang Ge, don’t just wander off!”

“I’m not wandering. Just wait for me at the bottom.” The cable car slowly made its way through the snowy mountain forest. Zhuang Qin put his phone back in his pocket and leaned against the window, watching the scenery below.

A few expert skiers effortlessly glided down the slopes on their snowboards. The cable car took him up the mountain, and Zhuang Qin, with his heavy skis, stepped onto the soft snow, heading toward a less crowded slope.

The staff near the magic carpet said this intermediate slope was suitable for those with some experience. Zhuang Qin decided not to try anything too advanced.

Perhaps it was the recent snowfall, but the snow on the slope had more friction than expected, making it harder for Zhuang Qin to control his skis. He had taken off his snow goggles earlier, so now his vision was foggy, and everything was a blur.

He tried to brake as he descended, but the speed was out of his control, growing faster and faster. His heart raced as the speed picked up until he crashed into someone. They both tumbled through the snow, rolling three times before coming to a stop. Snow from the surface of the slope sprayed into the air, and the cold seeped through the gaps in his scarf, chilling him to the bone.

Breathing heavily, Zhuang Qin felt dizzy for a few seconds. Still disoriented, the first thing he did was blurt out an apology in Chinese, quickly followed by an “So sorry.”

Struggling, he reached out to remove his fogged-up snow goggles, finally seeing that he had crashed into a man. He could tell the man was strong and muscular, wearing full gear, with a helmet, goggles, and a face mask, completely covering his face.

Zhuang Qin fumbled for words in his head and apologized again, “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to get up.” He reached for his pocket, “I’ll call my friend to come help.”

With both feet still strapped to the heavy skis, it was nearly impossible to stand up in the snow, especially when he was on top of someone else and couldn’t use any leverage, fearing he might step on them.

As he fumbled around, the man beneath him frowned.

“Are you Chinese?” The man’s clear black eyes met Zhuang Qin’s, then he reached down, unclasped his ski bindings, and pushed him aside. His voice was naturally cold, “No need.”

… Huh?

Chinese? What a coincidence!

Before Zhuang Qin could process this, he was already being pushed off. As his skis detached, he rolled over and stood up, still puzzling over the man’s voice. That deep, sexy voice—it sounded oddly familiar.

Why did it sound so much like… that person?

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