Chapter Ninety-Three: Passing By

At dusk, Zhang Henge ignored his agent’s protests. After getting Liao Yuan’s home address, he immediately climbed into a deep-blue sports coupe and sped all the way to the residential compound where Liao Yuan lived.

At first he thought he had come to the wrong place. After looking at the utterly ordinary housing estate before him and checking the address again and again, he finally came to his senses, stunned beyond belief.

“Liao Yue-min’s son lives in a place like this?”

A district so plain it could not have been more ordinary—a run-down neighborhood in every sense of the word.

Not even an underground parking garage.

After Zhang Henge drove into the compound, he circled the surface lot for a full fifteen minutes, yet still could not find a single open parking space.

With no choice, he hit reverse and drove back out to the roadside.

Just as he was about to get out, he caught sight of three men inside a small home-style restaurant beside the compound. One had a briefcase slung over his shoulder, another a DSLR camera hanging from his neck. They were talking excitedly about something.

The reason they seemed suspicious was entirely because of their guilty, furtive manner.

They neither ordered food nor took a seat. They simply crouched at the restaurant entrance, glancing up now and then toward the courtyard inside the compound, as though waiting for something.

Ordinary people might have been puzzled, but to a popular celebrity, their profession was obvious at a glance.

Paparazzi.

The word referred to journalists who specialized in shadowing famous people.

Zhang Henge was a little surprised. Thinking it over, he put on a baseball cap and a mask, got out of the car, and walked into the restaurant.

“This is eye-opening!”

“So Zhao Ya and Jiang Chuhong showing up makes sense, since they’re both singers, but what is Zhong Jiancheng, an actor, doing here?”

“So Liao Yuan really has made a name for himself now!”

“Did you see microblog? Liao Yuan’s background has been dug up. The theme song for The Great Emperor Wu of Han, ‘Journey to the Western Regions,’ was composed by him. No wonder he could write a dance hit like ‘Nobody’!”

“Xie Yuxuan lost this time by a hundred votes. That’s a slap in Han Yu’s face!”

“Ha, that son of a bitch Han Yu finally has someone to put him in his place. I’ve hated him for a long time!”

“Exactly, exactly. Damn satisfying!”

“Who do you think will show up next?”

The three paparazzi journalists were chatting heatedly, completely unaware that someone had approached from behind. It was only when a cough sounded that all three turned around, and they immediately saw a man in a baseball cap and mask standing there, quietly watching them.

They all started violently and jumped to their feet.

Just as a celebrity can recognize a paparazzo at a glance, paparazzi can also recognize a celebrity instantly, even when the other party is fully disguised.

One of the male reporters, who had a camera hanging around his neck, looked carefully at the man in the cap. His pupils shrank sharply, and he blurted out in shock, “Y-you... Zhang, Zha...”

Zhang Henge raised a finger to his lips and said with a smile, “Reporter Zhao, long time no see.”

“Zhang what?”

The other two reporters were clearly slow on the uptake.

Reporter Zhao gripped Zhang Henge’s hand, trembling all over with excitement. A year ago, he had been fortunate enough to accompany his newspaper’s editor-in-chief to interview Zhang Henge about behind-the-scenes stories from the filming of a web drama. Back then, he had been nothing more than a minor assistant to the chief editor.

The scene of Zhang Henge ordering around a group of senior editors had been deeply burned into Zhao’s memory.

He had never expected to see Zhang Henge again a year later, and even more unbelievable, the man actually remembered his surname.

Overjoyed, Zhao hurriedly whispered the name to his companions, and the other two were instantly filled with shock.

Zhang Henge.

It was actually Zhang Henge.

One of the Seven Sons of the Empire, each of them carrying tens of millions of followers. For a traffic powerhouse like him, all coverage was basically positive. Even if he had some scandalous material attached to him, ordinary tabloids would not dare report it lightly. Otherwise, they would be besieged by fans the next day and could shut down within a few days.

“I have something to ask you,” Zhang Henge said, pointing toward the roadside. “Come on, let’s talk over there.”

“Right, right!”

Under Zhang Henge’s imposing presence, the three paparazzi trembled with fear and kept agreeing hurriedly, following him to a row of streetlamps.

Once Zhang Henge had stopped, he asked, “Before me, how many celebrities came here?”

Reporter Zhao quickly replied, “Zhao Ya, Jiang Chuhong, and Zhong Jiancheng.”

All three of those names belonged to people in the entertainment industry.

Zhao Ya was a senior singer who had debuted nearly ten years ago. By the time Zhang Henge made his debut, Zhao Ya was already hugely popular across the mainland, Hong Kong, and Taiwan, and the media hailed her as a little heavenly queen.

Jiang Chuhong had debuted as an online singer and had once taken part in several talent shows. She was well known on the internet and famous for her husky voice.

As for Zhong Jiancheng, he was a second-tier television actor who had played many well-known supporting roles.

Zhang Henge nodded thoughtfully. “What were they all doing here?”

What were they doing here?

The three reporters exchanged glances. One of them let out a breath and said with a smile, “Probably the same thing as you...”

Zhang Henge asked, though he already knew the answer, “What do you mean?”

Reporter Zhao gave a wry smile. “They came looking for Mr. Liao, of course. Ever since ‘Nobody’ went viral, many people have been trying to get information about the songwriter and lyricist known as Anonymous from the production team of The Making of 101, but they all came away disappointed. But today, someone in the industry finally leaked Anonymous’s real identity. And guess what? Anonymous is actually the streamer Liao Yuan! The very same little streamer who cursed out Han Yu on microblog and then ran away!”

Zhang Henge nodded. “And then?”

“Now the whole internet is spreading news about Liao Yuan. Fans may not be too interested in someone behind the scenes, but plenty of singers in our industry are like cats that have caught the scent of fish. They’ve been all over microblog, tagging Liao Yuan like crazy, publicly praising songs like ‘Nobody.’ For example, Zhao Ya posted on microblog about ‘Nobody’ at noon today, full of admiration. The way she wrote it was so suggestive—anyone could tell she very much hopes to work with Liao Yuan on a deeper level...”

Another reporter laughed. “More than an hour ago, Zhao Ya drove here. But it looks like she didn’t actually see Liao Yuan. She went in for a bit and left in under ten minutes. Jiang Chuhong and Zhong Jiancheng were the same. If we count you, then there should have been four people from the business coming to see Mr. Liao tonight.”

Zhang Henge feigned surprise. “So you’re saying Mr. Liao Yuan lives here?”

Reporter Zhao looked at Zhang Henge for a moment and then could not help asking, “Mr. Zhang, you really didn’t come to see Mr. Liao?”

Zhang Henge shrugged. “Of course not. I was just passing by.”

With that, Zhang Henge smiled, patted Zhao on the shoulder, nodded at the other two reporters, and turned back to his car. He drove off without another word.

Zhao stared blankly as the roar of the sports coupe grew fainter and faded into the distance. Then he spat on the ground.

“Pah. Like hell I believe that!”