Chapter 355: The Thirty-fourth Day in the Entertainment World

Chapter 355: The Thirty-Fourth Day of Entering the Entertainment Industry World

In a luxury van driving through the night.

Cang Xingjin had just finished a brand event and leaned back in his seat, looking slightly exhausted.

He didn't turn on the lights; only the passing neon lights of the city occasionally illuminated his profile through the windows.

He wore earphones, and on his screen played the music video for the title track of An Yi's new album, *Ruins of Light*.

In the barren, desolate scene, An Yi, dressed in simple white, stood before a colossal rusted mechanical wreck, looking up at the gray sky, singing in that clear voice of his, with its strange, unyielding strength:

"...Civilization slumbers in the cradle of rust, moonlight washes away the low whispers of yesterday's bones, gears embedded beneath moss form a star map, waiting for the wind, waiting for the ashes to..."

In the frame, An Yi looked almost inhumanly beautiful, yet his eyes were so calm they seemed to pierce through the screen, gazing into a distant time and space.

It didn't look like acting. Cang Xingjin could sense it was something that had settled deep within him after truly experiencing desolation and silence.

He pursed his lips.

After the show wrapped, he hadn't stopped paying attention to An Yi.

When he learned that Sparkle Star Entertainment had quietly completed a share transfer, making An Yi the absolute controlling shareholder, he was stunned for a long time.

He used his connections to investigate but found no evidence of any "sugar daddy" or "improper dealings" involving An Yi.

All the transfers were legal and compliant, so clean it was almost unbelievable.

Lu Wenshi and Deng Yingrui's attitude toward An Yi was reverent to the core—that was definitely not how one treats an ordinary artist or a kept pet clinging to a powerful patron.

Cang Xingjin wasn't stupid. Putting together An Yi's unnaturally calm demeanor on the show, the fervent pursuit of someone like Yu Ziyun, and the company's bizarre changes... he had to admit that his initial assumptions had been completely wrong.

An Yi hadn't taken any shortcuts, though he had no idea how An Yi had managed it.

But his own malicious speculations, born of prejudice and so-called "experience," now seemed ridiculous and contemptible.

He wrestled with himself for a long time, but eventually found a moment alone with An Yi backstage after a public event and sincerely apologized.

Not to win anything back, but because he felt he owed an explanation for his arrogance and malice.

He remembered An Yi's reaction.

The impossibly beautiful young man, after listening to his awkward apology, merely tilted his head slightly, still wearing that gentle smile, and said in a tone so calm it was almost hollow: "It's fine. I didn't mind."

Not "I forgive you"—but "I didn't mind."

Cang Xingjin felt like he'd been struck by lightning.

That was harder to take than outright disgust or mockery.

So all his intense inner turmoil, his dissatisfaction and suspicion, had been, to An Yi, as light as dust—not even worth a glance.

Because of his own ridiculous pride and prejudice, he'd missed the chance to know this person earlier and on better terms.

While he was still putting on airs, Yu Ziyun had already barged in recklessly and firmly planted himself at An Yi's side.

Pan Jie, his manager in the passenger seat, saw Cang Xingjin's gloomy expression in the rearview mirror, along with An Yi's image on his screen, and let out a silent sigh.

She'd advised him long ago—meeting colleagues from the same company before the show, getting to know each other, couldn't do any harm.

But what had the big movie star said back then?

"Not necessary~"

Now he knew how that felt, didn't he? Too late.

The song in his earphones drew to a close. Amid fading, seemingly ancient syllables, An Yi's final a cappella line came like a sigh, like a murmur.

The music stopped, and the van fell silent again, interrupted only by the faint sound of tires on the road.

Cang Xingjin slowly removed his earphones and gazed out at the lights streaming past.

Pan Jie's voice broke the silence: "You're going to set next week. The script's been tweaked again—want to review it tonight?"

Cang Xingjin looked away, his face returning to its usual cold composure, as if that moment of melancholy had never existed.

"Mhm," he murmured in response.

Time is the finest sieve, filtering away the glitz and the noise, leaving only what truly settles.

----------

An Yi's musical path, through such filtering, evolved from the initial shock of *Ruins of Light* toward wider and more lasting recognition.

His musical style was unique, as if carrying echoes from another dimension—distant at first listen, yet those melodies and images could quietly strike a chord in the deepest, untouched corners of one's heart late at night.

His fanbase was massive yet fiercely loyal. They called themselves "Light Chasers," finding their own connection within the music and starlight An Yi constructed.

Most of them were die-hard fans of his music.

Finally, amid the anticipation of countless "Light Chasers," An Yi's solo concert kicked off in a stadium that could hold tens of thousands.

This wasn't a show focused on dazzling visual spectacle. The stage design echoed the concept of his debut album—minimalist, vast, with a cold aesthetic blending futuristic and post-apocalyptic elements.

Giant circular screens flowed with abstract imagery, like streams of data or nebular dust, while geometric lighting installations jutted out from the stage like strange crystals growing from the earth, glowing dim blue and dark red.

Halfway through the concert, the energy had hit a peak.

An Yi had just finished "Fishing the Sinking Sun at the Edge of Eternal Night." Sweat plastered a few strands of hair to his forehead. Under the cold stage lights, his skin was almost translucent, but his eyes shone with startling brilliance, as if holding an entire galaxy.

He walked to the end of the catwalk, closer to the audience.

He didn't speak, just caught his breath, picked up a bottle of water, and took a small sip.

A simple action, yet because of that flawless profile in the light and the delicate line of his arched neck, it triggered another wave of uncontrollable screams from the crowd.

An Yi set down the bottle and let his gaze sweep across the surging, blurred sea of lights below.

Countless glow sticks and LED signs became a swaying river of stars; countless excited faces emerged and vanished in the shifting light and shadow.

His gaze crossed the barrier of noise and light, landing on a seat in the front row near the stage.

And there sat Yu Ziyun.

He wore a headband supporting An Yi, with An Yi's name next to a few sparkling hearts.

He waved his glow sticks with both hands, his eyes locked on the radiant figure at center stage.

All the lights, sound, and cheers seemed to blur into background noise—his world held only An Yi.

He saw An Yi's chest rise and fall with each note, saw sweat trickle down his delicate jawline, saw his brows furrow slightly as he held a certain note, and saw the timeless loneliness and tenderness in his eyes when he sang certain lyrics.

Yu Ziyun's heart beat with every line An Yi sang, every subtle expression he made.

It was a pure, burning, almost painful devotion and pride—look, that's the man he loves.

In the midst of ten thousand people, shining brighter than anyone.