Chapter 14: "Ghost Blows Out the Light"?

Shi Li’s demeanor now was a stark contrast to the one she’d displayed moments earlier when speaking with Lin Ruiliang on the phone—her face was alight with a radiant smile, her eyes brimming with alluring charm, and her still-damp hair was a clear sign she had just stepped out of the shower.

Wu Chaoyang, having met countless people in his life, immediately discerned that Shi Li had hurried over. A woman as meticulous about her appearance as she was would never have left home with her hair unstyled if she weren’t in a rush.

“Hello! I’m the investor of this bar, and also the chairwoman of Starstone Entertainment. My name is Shi Li!”

As she spoke, she extended her hand to Wu Chaoyang, nodding with a smile.

Before coming, she had already inquired about Wu Chaoyang and discovered that, years ago, he had managed the Four Heavenly Kings. Later, he established his own agency, producing a multitude of A-list celebrities under his banner. This knowledge made her regard Wu Chaoyang with newfound respect.

At the same time, an idea took root in her mind: if Starstone could recruit Wu Chaoyang, would they really have to wait to rise to the top?

“Hello, I’m Wu Chaoyang,” he replied, reaching out only to brush her hand lightly before withdrawing—polite, but distant.

Shi Li didn’t mind in the least, instead turning her smile to Galen. “I heard you’ve signed with a new company. Which one is it?”

“Oh! It’s Yida,” Galen replied with a smile, curious as to how Shi Li had found out. It seemed most likely that Lin Ruiliang had tipped her off.

“Yida?” Shi Li’s expression changed. “That’s Liu Xiahui’s sorry excuse for a company, isn’t it?”

Galen was momentarily stunned, and even Wu Chaoyang’s brows furrowed.

Yida was, after all, a well-known film and television company in the country—ten Starstones together could hardly rival Yida. Yet Shi Li’s careless remark immediately made everyone uncomfortable.

Galen, however, suspected something else. Shi Li and Liu Xiahui were both children of wealthy families—had some conflict flared between them in the past?

Wu Chaoyang quickly regained his composure, offering a mild smile. “Yida may be a humble temple, but it houses many great Buddhas. They’ve produced three Best Actors and four Best Actresses in film, and now that they’re branching into music, I have every confidence Galen won’t disappoint.”

There was little point in verbal sparring. Shi Li smiled insincerely, “Oh, I was only lamenting on Mr. Wu’s behalf! Who would have thought that such a respected figure in the entertainment industry would humble himself at Yida? I wonder, what position did they offer you, Mr. Wu? Vice president? President?”

“Just an agent,” Wu Chaoyang replied blandly.

Shi Li laughed. “How stingy of Liu Xiahui! That won’t do.”

She struck a pose of bold generosity. “Mr. Wu, if you come to Starstone, the position of president is yours. All company authority will be at your disposal. What do you say?”

Galen was taken aback—so this was a poaching attempt.

Wu Chaoyang, however, remained calm and unflappable, his smile unchanged. “I’m afraid I must decline your generous offer, Miss Shi. At my age, I really don’t have the energy for management. I still prefer being an agent.”

Shi Li had already guessed as much and smiled knowingly. “Then, if you’re willing to bring Galen with you to Starstone, we’ll cover all your contract buyouts in full, and offer you a ten-million annual salary. How about it?”

Both Lin Ruiliang and Wen Tao frowned at this. They knew full well the current state of Starstone—Shi Li’s father had little faith in the entertainment industry, so investments were meager. Spending so much to poach Wu Chaoyang and Galen would be a major hurdle, starting with Shi Li’s father’s approval.

Galen felt like laughing. He could tell that Shi Li’s actions weren’t really about Wu Chaoyang or himself, but about Liu Xiahui. Ever since she’d learned he’d signed with Yida, Shi Li had seemed to lose all reason—evidence enough of a rift between her and Liu Xiahui.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept,” Wu Chaoyang refused her outright, his tone now completely uncompromising.

Shi Li let out a cold laugh. “In that case, I’m afraid we can no longer cooperate—including Galen performing here.”

Galen was shocked, his gaze shifting from Shi Li to Wen Tao, but Wen Tao was powerless, his head bowed as if lost in thought.

Lin Ruiliang, too, hurried to mediate, rising from his seat. “Shi Li, why don’t you reconsider…”

“There’s nothing to reconsider!” Shi Li snapped. “I will not work with anyone associated with Liu Xiahui! You can all leave! Wen Tao, pay them what they’re owed. And don’t let them appear in this bar again!”

“Um…” Wen Tao hesitated awkwardly. “Shi Li, won’t you reconsider?”

“What’s there to consider?” she glared at him. “Are you on my side, or theirs?”

Wen Tao hesitated, then suggested, “How about we give Galen a farewell performance tonight? Plenty of guests came just for him these days…”

“No!” Shi Li refused sharply.

“We’ll do it anyway!” Wen Tao suddenly raised his voice. “You said yourself—the bar’s operations are up to me!”

His shout drew the attention of the nearby servers and startled the guests, some of whom immediately got up to pay their bills and leave.

“Are you running it well, then? You’ve neglected your own singing career for this bar. I’ve been wondering lately if I made a mistake trusting you in the first place!” Shi Li pressed, relentless.

“You…” Wen Tao was furious and deeply humiliated this time.

Unable to bear it, Galen quickly stood and grasped Wen Tao’s arm. “Wen Tao, let it go—it’s fine if I leave. Let’s not ruin the atmosphere for the guests over this.”

“Galen!” Wen Tao looked at him, lips pressed tight to hold back his grief, and patted his shoulder heavily. “I’m sorry. I can’t even do right by you, who called me ‘brother’.”

“It’s alright. We’ll always be brothers,” Galen said with a wan smile, unable to hide his bitterness. In his darkest hour, Wen Tao had given him a lifeline in Beijing, but now, at this turning point, there was nothing to do but say goodbye.

He glanced at Shi Li once more, but felt no resentment—only a calm acceptance. Whatever past grudges might exist between her and Liu Xiahui, her temperament alone was reason enough for him to leave.

Manager Kang settled Galen’s remaining pay. To think—twice in one month, he’d been paid off. Yet this time, there was no confusion in his heart. With his notebook from another world, and with Yida, the future was full of hope.

Shi Li left first. When Galen departed, Wen Tao, Wu Yusheng, and others came out to see him off. Even Liu Qianqian, surprisingly, was there.

“Galen, perhaps we’ll meet again on an even bigger stage. I wish you luck!” Wu Yusheng gave him a big hug. Though he didn’t cry, Galen could feel him trembling.

“Thank you,” Galen managed, his throat tight with emotion, unable to say anything more.

“Hey, brother! Don’t forget us when you’re famous!” Zhao Liang pulled him into a hug as well. “It’s a shame we didn’t have time for a proper send-off.”

Galen laughed. “Don’t worry—we’re all in Beijing. There’ll be plenty of chances! I’ll come back to see you all perform when I can!”

Aiya came over, phone in hand. “Galen, let’s exchange WeChat. I’ll make a group so we can all keep in touch!”

“Sure!” Galen took out his phone, and they exchanged contacts.

Last to approach was Liu Qianqian, who extended her hand with a cool “Take care.”

“Mm…”

Wu Chaoyang pulled up in his car. Galen climbed into the passenger seat, waved to everyone from the window, and watched them disappear into the distance as the car pulled away.

…

That night, guests who’d come to the bar for Galen waited in vain—their idol never appeared.

The servers claimed ignorance, and Wen Tao gave no explanations. In truth, he had no idea how to break the news of Galen’s departure, so he simply kept silent.

Most patrons assumed Galen was on leave or at another gig; such things were common enough in the bar scene, and they were forgiving.

But listeners on Spicy Pepper Live were far less patient. After an hour without seeing Galen, a few began to vent their anger in the chat.

Their harsh words ignited a war of words—what began as complaints about Galen’s absence quickly split into supporters and detractors hurling insults back and forth.

Soon, it devolved into senseless personal attacks, with no one even sure who was being targeted—such is the anonymity of the internet, where the chat feed became a torrent of profanity.

In the end, the platform’s official moderators had no choice but to disable the chat.

This only inflamed the audience further—they flocked to the Spicy Pepper official forum to vent their outrage. The original subject—Galen—was soon forgotten, and the posts were all aimed at the platform’s censorship.

Moderators began frantically deleting posts, but the more they deleted, the angrier the users became. Eventually, the moderators gave up, leaving it for the platform’s staff to handle.

With no alternative, Spicy Pepper Live’s staff contacted Wen Tao.

When Wen Tao heard, his head throbbed. He had, after all, taken the platform’s money and could easily face legal trouble. He quickly explained that Galen had only taken leave and asked the official staff to make a statement on his behalf.

Unbeknownst to Galen, turmoil was raging online.

At his rented apartment…

As soon as he got home, Galen eagerly settled in front of the computer from the other world. This machine had changed his life—every spare moment at home, he spent glued to it.

The novelty and obsession never faded. On the internet of that parallel world, every moment brought something new and exciting.

“‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’?”

Galen was particularly fond of horror and suspense novels, especially those that played on psychological terror. He had no time for those crude tales where supernatural elements were used to patch poor logic.

At first glance, he assumed “Ghost Blows Out the Light” was a collection of ghost stories. But after a few chapters, he discovered it was actually a novel about tomb-robbing.

The story was utterly captivating, and once he started, he simply couldn’t stop.