Chapter 145: Volume 1 Chapter 145 – The Movie Emperor Who Turned Into a Cat (12)

Jiang Zhi's body lost its support, she pitched forward and half-lay on the ground; snowflakes drifted down and landed on her face, bringing a hint of chill.

This should be the last snow of deep winter.

After a moment, Jiang Zhi looked at the man who had passed out on the ground, then immediately took out her phone and dialed the police.

The nearest police station quickly dispatched a patrol car; the siren grew louder from far to near until it stopped right in front of her.

It turned out this man was a wanted criminal who had killed an entire family in his hometown, fled to the city and assumed a false identity. The corpse he was dragging was that of an extra; hearing his drunken confession, he used it to threaten them. He killed the extra intending to dump the body, but Jiang Zhi stumbled upon him, prompting him to think of silencing her as well.

Jiang Zhi went to the police station to give a statement, then walked out of the gate; outside, the sky had brightened, the snow had stopped, pale morning light fell on the accumulated snow, and the air was filled with a piercing chill.

She ate breakfast at the roadside, exhausted, returned home, took a shower, lay on the bed, and fell asleep instantly.

…

Central City Hospital, VIP ward.

The spacious, bright room was luxuriously decorated, exuding refinement everywhere like a presidential suite; on the bed lay a person with black hair falling over the pillow, a sickly pallid complexion, finely chiseled handsome features, facial contours deep as carvings, a high nasal bridge, thin lips of a light hue, and sensual lines tinged with cold color.

His dark eyelashes twitched, his eyelids slowly lifted a slit, harsh light fell on his eyeballs, bringing a sting.

Only after he grew accustomed to the light did he open his eyes; his mind was a jumble of memories, as if many things had happened while he was unconscious.

His agent Wang Pang was the first to notice his awakening, excitedly calling for a doctor.

The doctors examined him and said, "All vital signs are normal; just after waking, the body will be very weak and needs rehabilitation for a period before he can move freely."

Wang Pang's happy tears spilled out; after seeing the doctor off, she rushed to the bedside and said, "Older brother Xingyuan, you've finally woken up—you have no idea how worried I've been; it's almost been half a year."

Half a year?

Xie Xingyuan closed his eyelids; those chaotic, disjointed memories felt like an unreal dream, fragmentary, and the deeper he thought, the more his head hurt.

He frowned, his voice hoarse from disuse, and asked, "Is… is there a drama called An Xian Chronicles?"

Wang Pang froze at his words, shocked, staring at him: "Older brother Xingyuan, you're really together with Sun Yi? No way—I'm with you every day, how would I not know?"

Xie Xingyuan raised an eyebrow slightly: "Who is Sun Yi?"

Wang Pang looked at him, bewildered, then delighted, and hurriedly told him what had happened after he lost consciousness.

Xie Xingyuan: "Hasn't there been a clarification?"

Wang Pang scratched her head, looking troubled: "She didn't hesitate to drop Director Wang's lead female role, and even posted an ambiguous scarf; now the whole internet assumes you're dating, and my clarifications are useless."

It even escalated; Sun Yi's company bought who knows how many hot-search topics just to hype this up.

So scheming!

Xie Xingyuan gave a cold laugh, his narrow, long eyes flashing with gloom.

No one has ever dared to scheme against him.

"Put out the news that I've awakened."

Seeing his smile, Wang Pang silently lit a candle for Miss Sun Yi in her heart.

If Xie Xingyuan were merely an actor, with his stubborn, arrogant nature that gives no face to anyone, how could he possibly survive in the entertainment industry?

Besides Wang Pang and a few internal staff, no one else knew he was the president of Jingxing Entertainment, the country's largest entertainment company.

With a single sentence, he could directly acquire the agency Sun Yi belongs to, leaving her unable to make a living in the entertainment industry for life.

Wang Pang responded, suddenly realizing: "Older brother Xingyuan, the drama you asked about, , is a recent ancient-costume big IP drama directed by Wang Jie; because Sun Yi dropped out, its online popularity has surged."

"Everyone's talking about Sun Yi; the new female lead of , I heard she's just an extra with no company, no formal drama school training, parachuted in, with no connections—I don't know why Director Wang chose her. I think this living signboard of his is going to be ruined."

Xie Xingyuan's icy-white fingers clenched the snow-white sheets, forming deep creases; he struggled to endure the waves of pain in his head from recalling, his breathing ragged: "Who?"

Wang Pang let out an "ah," not understanding his meaning.

Xie Xingyuan drew a deep breath and nearly shouted: "I'm asking you, who is she?"

Wang Pang had never seen him so emotionally unstable; her heart tightened, and she hurriedly said, "I'll look it up."

He took out his phone, searched, and after reading the name, spoke deliberately: "The name of Director Wang's new drama's female lead is… Jiang… Xiao Zhi."

"She's called Jiang Xiao Zhi, Older Brother Xingyuan."

As he said that, he lifted his head and saw Xie Xingyuan tormented by pain.

Wang Pang was terrified, scrambling to find a doctor.

After the doctor finished checking, he came over and injected him with a painkiller.

He then stepped out of the ward and told Wang Pang: "The patient previously hit his head in a car accident; his memory is chaotic and unstable. Upon waking, he should avoid recollection for now, wait until he stabilizes, otherwise it will cause severe headaches."

Wang Pang listened, took note seriously, and then, recalling what just happened, asked involuntarily: "Doctor, I just said a name to him, and he reacted like this, but he had never heard that name before he lost consciousness—why is this happening?"

The doctor thought, shook his head, and said: "I'm not sure about that; if he needs it, he can see a psychologist."

Wang Pang stood there, dazed.

…

After waking, Jiang Zhi felt dizzy and her head ached and swollen; she lifted the back of her hand to feel it—burning hot.

777 spoke: "Host, you should go to the hospital right away—you're running a fever of 39 degrees."

Jiang Zhi's reason was still clear; she picked up her phone and checked the time—it was one in the afternoon.

She still had a scene to shoot at three.

"It's fine, just one scene; I'll go after filming."

She got up from bed, habitually felt around the blankets, and touched the empty, cold edge of the covers.

"Ah, I almost forgot—Heitan already went back." She tapped her head in regret and gave a helpless smile.

777 looked at her and felt a pang of sympathy.

The Host had always hidden her true emotions; even it couldn't tell whether she was acting or being genuine.

She rarely showed herself like this.

Perhaps it's because she's sick; when people are ill, they become frail and helpless.

Jiang Zhi changed her clothes, left her residence, and always subconsciously reached for her pocket.

Previously, the little black coal always stayed inside here; each time she reached out to touch, it would scratch her twice, but it didn't hurt—just an itchy sensation.

Jiang Zhi composed her feelings, stopped thinking about the departed Heitan, and made her way to the film set.