Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 134

Some people are born to be abandoned.

Yu Xiangwan's childhood memories were shrouded in gray.

In many broken families, it's usually the father who has a gambling addiction or violent tendencies, while the mother protects the child—either divorcing him, running away, or enduring in silence.

But Yu Xiangwan's family was completely different.

His biological parents were equally addicted to gambling and equally violent. Both were wrecked by alcohol and chaotic lives, too weak to fight each other, so they turned their fists on their frail young son instead.

Before the age of seven, the bruises on Yu Xiangwan's body never fully healed. By the time the wounds on his arms faded, new ones would appear on his legs.

In his mind, home was a place where the strong preyed on the weak.

His father was stronger, so most of the time, he had the upper hand.

But when he was drunk, it was his mother’s turn—stomping on his back in high heels, laughing triumphantly as he lay limp on the floor.

More often, though, the two would casually kick him or pinch him, ordering him to cook.

Naturally, the same rule applied among people—the strong dominated the weak. Since he wore the shabbiest clothes, the other children loved to bully him, pelting him with stones. But when he fought back viciously, chasing them even with his own head bloodied, their mockery and exclusion quickly turned into fear.

There were consequences, of course. When the injured children ran home crying, their parents stormed over, demanding compensation. Without hesitation, Yu Xiangwan’s parents broke his leg.

"Your kid just bled a little, but ours has a broken leg! If anything, you should be paying us!"

Sweat beading on his forehead, the child with the shattered leg was tossed onto the doorstep like trash as his parents took turns arguing, even extorting money in the end.

When it came to shamelessness, no one in the neighborhood could match them. So, naturally, they got their money.

They were thrilled, finally sparing Yu Xiangwan a glance. "Yeah, he’s perfect for scamming people."

At an age when he should have been innocent and carefree, Yu Xiangwan had already learned too much.

He knew his parents didn’t hate him—they just loved themselves more, loved the thrill of a winning bet.

The neighbors would tell him his parents hadn’t always been like this. Back when his mother was first pregnant, the couple often strolled hand in hand, dreaming of his arrival.

Yu Xiangwan couldn’t picture it. Nor could he, as the neighbors hoped, "understand" his parents and lament how gambling ruined them.

After all, it wasn’t the neighbors who got beaten, who woke to screams in the dead of night, who were only taken to the hospital after a broken leg because it could be used for another scam.

He seemed born with the ability to discern kindness from malice, to see the true thoughts behind every action.

Like the neighbor’s half-hearted advice—the small child could instantly tell the man was just flaunting his own "goodness."

See, he never dared to lecture Yu Xiangwan’s parents. Those two would curse him out.

But what could Yu Xiangwan do if he got angry?

A child that small was powerless.

His heart burned like molten lava, but he never raged. He’d learned early: Survival came first. Everything else was meaningless.

So he just lifted his bruised little face, eyes welling with tears, voice soft and pitiful:

"Then why don’t they like me now?"

"Is it because I’m bad that Mom and Dad don’t like me or feed me?"

The neighbor’s indifferent expression instantly faltered. Flustered, he stood up. "No, no, it’s their fault. They starved you again?"

"Here, Uncle will give you some food. Poor thing."

Yu Xiangwan got half a bowl of rice. Holding it, tears still streaming, he gazed up with feigned gratitude. "Thank you, Uncle."

The neighbor felt satisfied, basking in the glow of his own charity.

Of course, he didn’t see the child’s face—the moment Yu Xiangwan looked down, all traces of gratitude vanished.

This ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌‍was the second lesson Yu Xiangwan learned: Every gift came with expectations.

So if he wanted something, he had to offer something in return.

For a long time, he thought he’d have to wait until he was older to escape. But fate intervened sooner.

His parents got into trouble.

Yu Xiangwan was still too young to remember what they’d done. He only knew that one night, they rushed home in a panic, blaming each other while frantically packing.

The little boy understood—they were running away.

Silent in the corner, he watched them gather every last bit of money, peek out the door, and sneak off.

From start to finish, they never once thought of him.

No one asked if he wanted to come.

Of course, looking back as an adult, Yu Xiangwan would coolly say: After a childhood of abuse, only a lunatic would follow them.

But that night, he truly wished they’d asked.

He’d been abandoned.

After his parents vanished, no one wanted him. So he was sent to an orphanage. It was a chance—but he had to leave before they returned, or they could reclaim him.

Maybe that night, Yu Xiangwan had hoped to go with them.

But after that night, he never wanted to see them again.

Even though Yu Xiangwan wasn’t the ideal age, his deliberate efforts paid off—his adoptive parents chose him.

They believed it was fate.

Yu Xiangwan knew better. This "fate" was just the result of his careful performance.

He only wanted to use them.

But they were good to him.

They renamed him Yu Xiangwan.

His new mother gently explained: "Xiangwan, you met Mom and Dad a little late. But we found each other, and now we’re family."

They took him to amusement parks, bought him schoolbags, celebrated his birthdays, gave him his own room. His mother sat by his bed, reading bedtime stories. His father brought gifts home from business trips.

Those were Yu Xiangwan’s happiest years.

Yet he was also afraid. Afraid that such a huge gift would demand a repayment he couldn’t provide.

What if his parents abandoned him too?

The child buried his fears deep. He worked hard to be the perfect son—top grades, impeccable manners, bringing friends home, helping with chores.

Yu Xiangwan loathed his birth parents, yet he couldn’t escape their influence. He turned himself into the "payment," the thing offered in return.

And sure enough, he received love.

His adoptive parents loved him, protected him, cared for him—as if he were their own.

Yu Xiangwan became even more convinced that he had done nothing wrong. He cherished the love he received with great care, striving to protect it. Had his adoptive father not passed away unexpectedly, perhaps Yu Xiangwan would have grown up just like this, always maintaining the image his parents had hoped he would become.

After his adoptive father's sudden death, Yu Xiangwan felt as though everything was surreal for a long time.

He didn’t even realize that half of his happiness had been snatched away just a few years after it began. All he felt was an unbearable pain in his heart, and he even found himself strangely asking inwardly:

Was my repayment not enough? Did I not do well enough?

His adoptive mother began raising him alone, and to his dismay, she never once thought he hadn’t done enough. She continued to love him just as before, so he tried even harder to be better.

If anyone who had known him before the age of seven saw him now, they wouldn’t believe this polite, well-behaved, academically outstanding teenager—who helped his adoptive mother with chores after school like a tender bamboo shoot—was the same Yu Xiangwan.

This child was just too well-behaved, so much so that many who moved into the neighborhood later assumed he was the family’s biological son.

The only thing Yu Xiangwan ever did against his adoptive mother’s wishes was dropping out of school after learning she was too ill to work, determined to earn her medical expenses his own way.

Of course, before that, he lied—about his studies, his job—he lied about everything to her.

He succeeded, and he kept at it for years.

When his adoptive mother fell seriously ill, Yu Xiangwan clearly realized he had run out of options, but he wasn’t despairing. He knew what he still had.

He still had his life.

Even now, when someone was willing to stake their life, they could always reap some substantial rewards.

Yu Xiangwan, just like when he was a child, gave his all, desperately safeguarding the love he had received.

He didn’t believe in gods.

But that day, he knelt devoutly in his rented room, forehead pressed to the floor.

He begged.

Hoping for a miracle.

A colleague beside him asked, "Haven’t you thought about it? What if you sell yourself and your mom still doesn’t make it? Wouldn’t you lose everything?"

"I have to try," Yu Xiangwan said.

In truth, he knew—if his mother didn’t pull through, he wasn’t sure what meaning there would be in continuing to live like this.

She was his mother, and also the last person in this world who would ever be kind to him.

Yu Xiangwan’s reputation in the industry was polarizing. Some saw him as someone who always repaid kindness, while others believed he would stop at nothing for profit and couldn’t possibly be the type to remember favors.

In reality, the latter wasn’t entirely wrong.

Yu Xiangwan only repaid kindness in action. Deep in his heart, aside from his adoptive parents who had loved him, he cared for no one else.

His so-called "repaying kindness," even at the cost of himself, was fundamentally just an exchange—his own life was merely part of the bargain.

Perhaps, if that day ever came, he would keep his promise, numbly staying by the side of whoever bought him, exhausting himself in their service.

He wouldn’t care whether they treated him well, whether they saw him as human, or whether their deeds were good or evil. He would give his all in repayment until the day he was discarded or died.

That night, Yu Xiangwan prepared himself for anything.

But when he arrived at the agreed-upon hotel, he was handed a contract.

A young woman said to him:

"I heard you’re highly capable. I need someone well-versed in the entertainment industry for a management role."

Just… work?

That night, Sheng Quan slept in the room.

She did nothing to him.

She simply helped him while offering him a job.

She looked at him with trust in her eyes.

As if something had changed in that moment.

And the changes kept unfolding.

He was like a young beast newly stepping into the human world, cautiously circling around Chairman Sheng, trying to demonstrate his absolute loyalty, guessing her every preference, hoping to earn that same look again.

Yet he was told that even if he didn’t do any of this, Chairman Sheng would still look at him that way.

When he asked, he received an answer:

"Why did I entrust such a major project to you? Of course because you can handle it. Big projects should naturally go to the best."

One afternoon, during a company retreat on Kara Island, Yu Xiangwan stood on the beach, the wind brushing past him as he spoke to his adoptive mother on the phone.

She had just finished watching a movie and spoke with a hint of pride:

"I came with Wu and the others. After watching, they all said it was great. I told them this was made by the company my Xiangwan works for."

After chatting with his mother for a while, Yu Xiangwan turned around, lifting his gaze ahead.

On the balcony of the beachfront villa, Sheng Quan lay on a lounge chair, sipping juice and basking in the sun. Though she was some distance away, Yu Xiangwan could tell at a glance that Chairman Sheng was in high spirits.

Unconsciously, a faint smile touched his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gu Zhao sitting under a parasol nearby. The smile on Producer Yu’s face faded slightly, but the moment his gaze returned to Chairman Sheng, his eyes softened again.

Behind him, Xu Man and Lin Aike, munching on chilled watermelon, observed every shift in Yu Xiangwan’s expression.

Lin Aike: "Why is Vice President Yu looking at Director Gu like that?"

"Don’t mind him," Xu Man said, seeing right through it. "He thinks our Chairman Sheng should have the best of everything in the world—and ‘everything’ includes all the beauties under heaven. Director Gu is fine, but he’s just one person. In Producer Yu’s eyes, he’s no different from a scheming concubine."

She was rather envious, casting an admiring glance at Yu Xiangwan. "Bet you anything—if Chairman Sheng said the word, he’d round up three thousand beauties for her. Now that’s loyalty! I’ve got a character like that in my new project—so compelling!"

Lin Aike took another bite of watermelon, glancing at the stern, frosty-faced Director Gu on the balcony. "Loyalty, I’ll grant you. But Director Gu as a… scheming concubine?"

When Sheng Quan went for a stroll along the beach, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Lin Aike was sneakily watching her.

Every time she turned around, the girl would just hold out a slice of watermelon with a grin. "Chairman Sheng, want some melon?"

Sheng Quan: "No."

She was here to enjoy a walk—and admittedly, strolling on her own island was pure bliss.

As she walked, she spotted Yu Xiangwan, who had just stood up and was now holding a seashell, beaming as he approached like a child eager to show off.

"Chairman Sheng, look at this shell—isn’t it pretty?"

Sheng Quan glanced down. It was a broken shell, clearly battered, its edges fragmented into jagged pieces. At first glance, one might dismiss it as worthless.

But she took it and examined it closely, quickly spotting a small section in the middle that was truly stunning.

"It’s beautiful."

Holding the shell up to the sunlight, she added, "The colors are incredible. Where did you find it?"

Yu Xiangwan grinned, brushing sand off his hands. "Do you like it? It’s yours."

He must have just been splashed by the seawater, his clothes damp but not soaked, and his usually meticulously styled hair was slightly disheveled, with a few strands falling loose. When he smiled, he carried an unexpectedly youthful charm.

"I really like it."

Sheng Quan happily stroked the seashell, carefully wrapped it up, and tucked it away before looking up at him with a smile. "Thank you."

She asked, "I'm heading back tonight. Are you coming with me?"

Yu Xiangwan nodded with a smile.

"Sure, let's go together."