Chapter 2: I Think Mr. Duan Is Tired of It

"Go wait on the couch while I finish these documents."

"Oh…"

More than half an hour later, someone brought in the food. Mu Qingtang sat on the sofa, picked a movie to watch, and ate while enjoying it.

Duan Qiyan glanced over and frowned. "Just eat properly."

Mu Qingtang mumbled under his breath, "Young people need an 'electronic pickled mustard tuber' to go with their meals, don't you understand?"

The voice was so soft that Duan Qiyan didn't catch it. "What did you say?"

Mu Qingtang quickly put down his phone and looked at him obediently. "I understand."

Duan Qiyan withdrew his gaze and continued reading his documents.

After finishing his meal, Mu Qingtang tidied up the lunchbox, wiped the table, and curled up on the sofa to watch his movie. He put on headphones to avoid disturbing Duan Qiyan's work.

The headphones had excellent noise cancellation, and he was so immersed in the movie that he didn't even notice someone knocking on the door.

Curled up on the sofa in silence, he remained unnoticed when the visitor entered.

"Mr. Duan…"

A boy stood in front of Duan Qiyan, his eyes filled with tears, looking aggrieved. He was handsome, his pitiful expression accentuating his delicate features.

Duan Qiyan leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen in his fingers. His face remained emotionless, exuding the commanding presence of a superior.

Under his impassive gaze, Song He bit his lower lip in humiliation. His trembling fingers unbuttoned his shirt one by one until he stood half-naked.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Duan Qiyan's face. He glanced sideways at the small sofa, still motionless, his gaze darkening. Then, with a loud thud, he threw his pen onto the table.

Startled, Song He flinched, his red-rimmed eyes welling up with more tears. His voice trembled as he pleaded, "Boss Duan, please… let my father's company go. I… I'm willing to be with you, no matter what you do to me…"

As he spoke, his tears fell harder, his sobs echoing in the large office, trying to elicit sympathy.

But Duan Qiyan remained unmoved.

Seeing no reaction, Song He clenched his fists and took two tentative steps forward.

At that moment, a small head peeked out from behind the sofa.

Mu Qingtang had accidentally witnessed the whole scene. His almond-shaped eyes widened in shock and helplessness, unsure whether he should speak up or not.

He just stared at the half-naked young man inching toward Duan Qiyan, leaning down, attempting to kiss him in a desperate bid for favor.

"Haven't seen enough?"

Duan Qiyan's cold voice cut through the tension.

Song He froze. Following Duan Qiyan's line of sight, he turned his head—only to meet a pair of innocent, wide eyes. His pupils shrank in horror.

"Ah!"

He let out a sharp scream, stumbled backward in panic, and hurriedly grabbed his discarded shirt, hastily putting it on. His face burned with anger and humiliation.

Mu Qingtang swallowed nervously and slowly climbed off the sofa. His ears were red with embarrassment as he took small steps toward the door. "No… I'm sorry… I didn't hear anything… You… you guys continue, I'll just—leave first…"

"Stop."

Duan Qiyan's deep voice rang out. He shot a cold, oppressive glance at Song He, whose pale face was on the verge of collapse.

"Get out."

Song He clutched his collar and bolted, escaping in shame.

Mu Qingtang remained frozen near the door, head lowered, not daring to move or even glance around.

This is terrifying.

So this was how reality played out—just like those dramatic TV shows. A vulnerable beauty forced into a deal of power and submission. And he, unfortunately, had ruined the moment.

Does this mean I interrupted the beginning of a tragic, love-hate entanglement?

Just as his imagination spiraled, Duan Qiyan walked up to him and pinched his chin.

"Mmm…?"

Based on past experiences, Mu Qingtang assumed Duan Qiyan would take off his shirt.

But this time, he guessed wrong.

Duan Qiyan let go of Mu Qingtang, turned around, and said indifferently, "You can go back first."

…Huh?

Mu Qingtang was confused.

Is he… losing interest in me?

Duan Qiyan sat back at his desk without sparing him another glance. His deep voice carried no emotion. "Go out and close the door."

Mu Qingtang pursed his lips, muttered a soft "oh," and left the office, closing the door behind him gently.

The moment he was gone, Duan Qiyan threw the documents in his hand onto the desk with a loud thud. His face was terrifyingly dark, and beneath the cold expression, there was an almost imperceptible hint of… frustration.

---

After leaving Huachuang Building, Mu Qingtang didn't go home. Instead, he headed to his agency, Shengchen Entertainment—a subsidiary of Huachuang.

He walked in, took the elevator upstairs, and encountered several newly signed young artists. They greeted him enthusiastically, and he responded with a polite smile.

But the moment he stepped into his agent's office, his expression shifted to something more serious.

Du Luo was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, talking on the phone. She glanced at him and gestured for him to wait.

Mu Qingtang sighed and sprawled onto the small sofa, staring at the ceiling in deep thought.

After finishing the call, Du Luo walked over and asked, "What's wrong? Didn't you say you were taking the next two days off? Why aren't you at home resting?"

Mu Qingtang tilted his head, his gaze sharp. "Did Boss Duan give you a new little star?"

Du Luo chuckled. "Oh? Feeling a sense of crisis?"

"Are all my resources going to be given to him?"

"Relax." She patted him on the shoulder. "No one can take away what's yours."

Even though Mu Qingtang had only debuted two years ago, he had risen to fame rapidly. With strong financial backing, relentless effort, and an impeccable sense of industry dynamics, he had become a sensation overnight. Just half a year ago, he was even nominated for the Golden Horse Award for Best Newcomer.

His appeal wasn't just about popularity—he had both influence and genuine talent. Whether it was film, television, or fashion, his resources were top-tier. Even if a newcomer wanted to compete, they wouldn't stand a chance.

Yet, Mu Qingtang's expression didn't ease. He sat up, his voice serious. "I think Mr. Duan is fed up."

Du Luo, unfazed, took a sip of water. "What do you mean?"

"He didn't touch me."

He recalled what happened earlier. Not only did he not touch me, he actually pushed me away.

Since when has Duan Qiyan ever pushed me away?

"Pfft—cough, cough, cough!"

Du Luo choked on her drink, her expression twitching. "I beg you, please be careful with your wording, okay? Don't say things that sound so wrong!"

"Tsk, I'm serious."

Mu Qingtang frowned. "Not only did he not touch me, but he also threw a little star into your hands. That's a sign, isn't it? It's been two years. He's obviously tired of me."

Du Luo studied him thoughtfully, then tapped her chin. "Could it be that because you've been filming for the past two months, you haven't had the chance to maintain the relationship, so there's a bit of distance? Maybe you should take a few days off and coax him a little. If it were me, I wouldn't get tired of your face in twenty years, let alone two."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter if he gets tired. Honestly, it'd be a good thing for me."

Mu Qingtang had never intended to stay as Duan Qiyan's lover forever. When he first entered this arrangement, it was out of necessity. Now that he had gained fame and a solid foothold in the industry, his future prospects were only getting brighter. He wasn't planning to remain someone's kept person forever.

"Then why do you look so bitter and resentful?"

"I'm just worried that if he gets tired of me, my resources will take a hit."

Du Luo burst into laughter. "You're overthinking it. Even if you stop being the boss's lover, you're still the company's top money-maker. The entire agency relies on you to generate profits. Plus, you've built up strong industry connections over the past two years—your position isn't that easy to shake."

Mu Qingtang rested his chin on his hand, his face full of worry. "But what if his new favorite finds me annoying and convinces him to suppress me? I mean, my earnings are big for the company, but they're nothing to Boss Duan."

Du Luo rolled her eyes. "You're really thinking too much. Mr. Duan isn't that kind of person. As long as you don't stir up trouble and leave on good terms, he won't bother you."

"Well…"

"Enough with the sighing." She waved him off. "If you're really so worried, why not take this chance to squeeze two more luxury brand endorsements out of him before he officially moves on? That way, I won't have to clean up your mess later."

Mu Qingtang groaned and collapsed onto the sofa, his expression pitiful.

He didn't know what was worse—the thought of Duan Qiyan getting tired of him or the fear that his career might take a hit because Duan Qiyan was tired of him.

It was frustrating. It was nerve-wracking.

And most of all—it was very annoying.