Chapter 6: Do It “Let me see just how bad you are…”

Han Rao left Li Mengyang’s house and went straight back to her rented apartment.

This nearly forty-square-meter apartment was still rented by Xu Lianqiu for her. Xu Lianqiu signed a two-year lease in one go and paid the full amount upfront, just so she could live here without any worries.

The housing prices in Beicheng were staggering. A few years earlier, when Han Rao was still in school and living in the dormitory, she didn’t feel the financial strain too much. Plus, she had just debuted that year, starring in two dramas, and the pay she received far exceeded that of her average classmates, allowing her to make ends meet.

But after being shelved by the company, she gradually couldn’t make ends meet. Coincidentally, that year she graduated from university and could no longer stay in the school dormitory. At her lowest point, she lived in a basement.

That winter, on her birthday, Xu Lianqiu made a special trip to Beicheng to accompany her, only then realizing how financially strained she had become.

Without a word, her mother took her to stay at a hotel. The next day, she started entrusting an agency to find her an apartment, then unfailingly transferred her 5,000 yuan every month.

Han Rao felt somewhat weary. Gazing at the rental apartment she had lived in for nearly two years, now filled with a homely atmosphere, she couldn’t help but reminisce about the past.

She actually remembered that winter when her phone kept pushing notifications about the cold wave invasion. The weather was exceptionally harsh, and as she stood by the window of her rented apartment, watching the heavy snow bend the tree branches, she felt with acute certainty that she didn’t belong in this city.

She felt the urge to retreat at that moment.

I don’t know what’s been keeping me going till now.

Han Rao walked in, tossed her keys onto the shoe cabinet, kicked off her high heels, casually changed into a comfortable nightgown, then pulled out her phone, turned on the computer, and backed up all the recordings from her phone to the cloud.

After finishing all this, she finally relaxed her tense nerves and curled up on the single sofa, staring blankly into space.

Suddenly remembering something, Han Rao got up, grabbed her phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the contact number Zhao Jichuan had left her the night before.

He said this was his assistant’s contact information, so when Han Rao waited for the call to connect, it was agonizing and awkward. She imagined how embarrassing the call would be if Zhao Jichuan hadn’t yet informed his assistant that he was keeping a young celebrity.

Just as I was thinking, a deep male voice came from across the room, “Miss Han, hello.”

Han Rao let out a slight sigh upon hearing this and asked, “Is Zhao Jichuan here?”

Sun Hao looked at Zhao Jichuan, who gave him a meaningful glance. Understanding the cue, he said, “Mr. Zhao is busy right now. You can tell me what you need.”

Han Rao smiled self-deprecatingly and didn’t beat around the bush. She had called precisely to ask for money—after all, she couldn’t afford to pay the penalty fee herself.

“I’ve already submitted a request to terminate the contract with the company. They’ll probably calculate the penalty fees and process the paperwork in the next few days. General Manager Zhao said he’d cover this amount for me first.”

Zhao Jichuan listened to the woman’s cold, emotionless words and slightly raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected her to act so decisively. Just last night, she had presented her conditions to him, and today she dared to request termination from the company.

The man lowered his gaze and gave Sun Hao a slight nod.

“No problem, I’ll transfer the exact amount you need to your card.”

Han Yao leaned forward, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table, tapped the box with one hand, and pulled out a cigarette to place between her lips.

Her expression carried a hint of anxiety, and no one knew what had crossed her mind in those brief seconds.

Finally, Han Rao lit her cigarette with a soft “click.” She took a deep drag, exhaling smoke as she flicked the ash lightly, her gaze inscrutable as she murmured, “Thank you.”

　　-

Even with the money to pay the penalty, Han Rao’s path to contract termination was not smooth.

In the entertainment industry, many companies are nothing but ruthless capitalists. When you can make money, they exploit you to the fullest. When you fall into trouble, they are the first to shelve and abandon you. And when you can’t endure the bleak days and want to terminate your contract for freedom, they squeeze every last penny out of you.

A saying in the industry goes, the company’s legal team always has its guns trained on its own artists.

When celebrities are subjected to online rumors and cyberbullying, the legal team conveniently disappears, not even bothering to issue two cease-and-desist letters to set an example. But when a celebrity defies the company, the legal team suddenly becomes highly effective, leveraging their full power—with a flawless track record to prove it.

Han Rao was unlucky—she had experienced all of these in just five short years.

Han Rao found herself entangled in a contract termination dispute. She had signed a ten-year contract with the company back then, and there were still five years left before its expiration. The company “reasonably” calculated their investment in her, assessed her commercial value, and tallied her annual revenue, ultimately demanding a precise compensation of 22.33 million yuan from her.

Han Rao looked at this astronomical figure and let out a dry, forced laugh.

She knew the penalty would be substantial, but never imagined it would be this much. Recalling how the company’s legal department went through her financial records, she actually felt a twinge of relief—relief that her business transactions over the past four years had been nearly nonexistent. Otherwise, with the compensation calculated at ten times the standard, she might have ended up owing hundreds of millions.

Han Rao stepped out of the company building, gazing at the overcast sky of Beicheng, feeling an inexplicable tightness in her chest.

To be fair, she didn’t want to pay this money, and she knew the company was deliberately making her pay an exorbitant penalty. But if she didn’t pay, she would never have a chance to rise again.

Han Rao stood by the roadside, took out her phone, and called Sun Hao again to discuss the amount of the penalty fee.

Sun Hao told her he would transfer the money to her soon.

From Sun Hao’s attitude, it was clear that Zhao Jichuan was a businessman who valued integrity—at least when it came to her.

An eight-figure penalty, and he didn’t even hesitate.

At this thought, Han Rao suddenly let out a helpless laugh, amused by the cognitive and class gaps between people. To her, this sum was a significant amount, but for Zhao Jichuan, it might not even be enough to invest in a minor project.

The damned class divide—money is just a number to the rich, but it can cost lives for the ordinary class.

Han Rao suddenly asked Sun Hao, “Where is he?”

Sun Hao paused for a moment before realizing she was referring to Zhao Jichuan.

“President Zhao is busy.”

Han Rao blinked her eyes and asked, “Could you help me ask him if I can see him today?”

Sun Hao had no idea what she was up to. At that time, he hadn’t met Han Rao in person yet, only hearing Zhao Jichuan’s evaluation of her—he said she was clever, aloof even.

“Sure.”

“Assistant Sun, may I call you that?” Han Rao suddenly asked.

“Of course.”

“You tell him, I really want to thank him.”

As for how to express gratitude, both she and he knew it all too well.

Han Rao hung up the phone after saying those words.

She glanced at the time, quickly hailed a taxi back to her rented apartment to do her makeup and change clothes. She had a feeling that she would definitely see Zhao Jichuan today.

　　-

In the evening, Sun Hao finally replied to her, telling her to go directly to a Western restaurant.

Han Rao glanced down at the carefully selected dress she was wearing—it wasn’t suitable for squeezing onto the subway—so she decided to take a taxi instead. But she had forgotten that this was peak evening rush hour in Beicheng, and the roads were completely gridlocked. It took nearly two or three minutes just to get through a single traffic light.

Han Rao frowned, her gaze repeatedly darting forward. The driver’s car had an LED clock with flashing red digits, relentlessly ticking away, reminding her that time was slipping through her fingers.

The driver noticed her restlessness and, mistaking her glances for concern over the fare, said in a thick local accent, “There’s nothing we can do about this traffic. How about I knock a bit off the fare?”

Han Rao shook her head. “I’m in a hurry to meet a… a client. How much longer do you think it’ll take?”

The driver raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. She was wearing a black bodycon skirt with a plaid shirt draped over it, her makeup was immaculate, and she carried a Chanel bag. Connecting the dots with the word “client” she had just mentioned, the driver’s thoughts immediately took a lewd turn. Having lived in North City for years, he was well aware that near this Western restaurant stood an upscale club.

It was called a club, but everyone knew what it really was—a playground for the wealthy, teeming with beautiful women, though slightly less extravagant than the infamous Tian Shang Ren Jian back in the day. Back when Tian Shang Ren Jian hadn’t been shut down for rectification, he’d picked up a few women from there, and every single one of them was dressed just like Han Rao.

The traffic was heavy, and the driver’s gaze lingered on her a few seconds too long, almost invasive. He deliberately zoomed in on the navigation map, pointing at the red lines marking congested roads. “Look at this,” he said, “it’s jammed all the way. Hard to estimate how long this will take.”

Han Rao also noticed the driver’s somewhat disdainful gaze. She lowered her head to adjust her shirt, feeling a lump of frustration in her chest.

She didn’t dwell on the driver’s thoughts, pulling out her phone from her bag to search for nearby subway stations. “Sir, how about this—just drop me off here. I’ll take the subway instead.”

Han Rao got out of the car and, without overthinking, hurriedly made her way to the Western restaurant after several transfers.

She gave Sun Hao’s name, and the waiter led her directly to Zhao Jichuan.

After nodding in thanks, Han Rao slowly turned her gaze toward the man seated in the booth. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, his trousers pressed without a single crease. His eyes were fixed on the view outside the window—from the 35th floor, the neon lights dotted the cityscape, and the bustling traffic below seemed nothing more than insignificant ants in the grand scheme of the world.

The man clearly knew she had arrived, but didn’t turn around.

Han Rao guessed he might be somewhat angry, after all, she was very late.

“Zhao Jichuan.”

She softly called his name, deliberately adopting a humble posture. Instead of sitting across from him, she chose to sit on the same side.

Zhao Jichuan slowly turned his head at the sound, studying the woman before him with a hint of amusement. She looked somewhat disheveled—her cheeks slightly flushed, her hair damp with sweat and clinging to her forehead. His gaze traveled downward. She wasn’t as polished as the last time they’d met, her dress half-hidden beneath a mismatched plaid shirt. Yet, despite the odd pairing, her natural poise kept her from appearing outright sloppy.

The man reached out and tugged at the outer layer of her shirt, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Laughing at her not only for being late but also for her untidy attire.

Han Rao lowered her gaze and could see the blue veins faintly visible beneath his skin. With a hint of wariness, she leaned back slightly to avoid his hand, then pulled out a tissue to gently dab the sweat from her forehead before casually tossing her coat onto the chair.

Zhao Jichuan finally understood why she had wrapped herself in an outer coat—she was actually wearing a strapless dress.

“Han Rao, you’re late.” The man withdrew his gaze and spoke with icy detachment.

He dislikes any tardiness, no matter the reason.

Her performance today was poor, and he was very dissatisfied.

Han Rao also understood that he disliked people being late, so she didn’t explain the reason. She knew any excuse would seem like an evasion in his eyes, so she didn’t deliberately make herself unwelcome.

Moreover, it was her own lack of consideration tonight—she should bear all the consequences.

“I’m sorry,” Han Rao apologized. “Don’t be angry. If you’re really upset, you can tell me what I can do to make it up to you.” She smiled coquettishly, naturally and affectionately looping her arm through his.

To an outsider, their posture at this moment would surely resemble lovers flirting.

Zhao Jichuan raised an eyebrow, and seeing that she had no intention to explain, his mood suddenly improved considerably.

This woman is truly different.

But the more she refused to explain, the more curious he became.

The man lifted her chin and asked proactively, “Where have you been? You’re all sweaty.”

Han Rao sighed softly, “It’s rush hour, the roads are jammed. I even switched to the subway halfway, but I’m still late.” She bit her lower lip slightly and said in a coquettish tone, “When I left home, it was still daylight. Look, now it’s completely dark.”

Zhao Jichuan followed her gaze outside—the sky was indeed pitch black.

He turned to look at her, only then realizing that her home might be quite far away, but he didn’t press for details.

He was too self-centered, too domineering, and never considered her feelings.

He thought, even if she lived on the moon, she’d have to arrive on time the next time he called her over.

He is a businessman, only concerned with the outcome, not the process.

Seeing that he remained silent, she had no choice but to take the initiative, “The company and I…”

The words had barely left her lips when he cut her off, “Han Rao, this is break time. I don’t want to discuss work with you.”

Han Rao shrugged her shoulders and thought to herself, if she and he could actually find some common ground, would she have to keep bringing up work matters to avoid the awkwardness?

Of course, she didn’t dare say that.

“Are you full?” she asked.

She had noticed the two steaks on the table the moment she sat down, and by now they were probably stone cold.

“What?”

Han Rao slightly lowered her body, deliberately accentuating the advantage of her dress. “If you’re full, let’s do it.”

Her voice was very soft, very light, like a feather tickling his chest.

Zhao Jichuan’s eyes darkened, and without another word, he pulled her straight back to the suite.

He paid the money, so it’s only natural to collect some interest. He believed she understood this principle, but he just didn’t want her to be as disappointing as last time.

The two walked in silence the entire way, neither uttering another word. Han Rao felt it was like the eerie calm before a real battle—whether they would live or die, win or lose, everything remained uncertain.

She had no choice in going to the battlefield.

None of this was up to her.

Just like the look the taxi driver gave her—full of disdain and contempt, yet she couldn’t argue back.

As soon as the door opened, Zhao Jichuan pinned her against the entryway, Han Rao’s back pressed against the wall with a muffled groan.

The next second, his lips sealed hers, swallowing every whimper she made.

Zhao Jichuan hadn’t expected that just from their previous encounter, he would already know her body so well. As he gripped her waist, her initially rigid back suddenly softened, and in an instant, she collapsed into his embrace.

He chuckled softly, tilting her chin up to gaze into her watery eyes. Driven by a destructive impulse, his lips trailed downward, sucking at her neck before giving it a gentle bite.

Han Rao hunched her back and shrank away. If it weren’t for the light allowing her to see his expression clearly, she would have almost believed he was a vampire deliberately trying to drain her blood.

But since he liked it, she would give it to him. So she reached out to wrap her arms around his waist, clutched his clothes tightly, and actively returned his kiss.

Her lips were incredibly soft, and Zhao Jichuan’s heart melted along with them. Hormones wreaked havoc within him, urging him to pour himself entirely into her.

He suddenly felt that keeping her by his side wasn’t so bad after all.

His fingers tangled in her hair, his heated breath mingling between them as he pinched her cheek with his rough thumb, teasing in a flirtatious tone, “Did you bring a knife this time?”

Han Rao’s heart suddenly tightened—it seemed he still minded that matter from last time after all.

She pursed her lips, stood on tiptoe, kissed his chin, and gasped softly, “I told you last time, I’m not that bad.”

“Which kind of bad?” he asked knowingly, tilting her chin to keep her from escaping his gaze.

Han Rao deliberately rolled her eyes at him, abruptly releasing her arms from around his waist and giving his chest a light push. “If you don’t believe me, fine. Just open the door and throw me out then.”

Zhao Jichuan knew she was playing hard to get, but these tactics were just right when it came to flirting. He had to admit, he was completely falling for it.

The man chuckled darkly, his hand sliding downward before lifting the hem of her skirt from below, deliberately teasing, “Let me see just how bad it is.”

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