novelraw Chapter 31 Late-Night Stranger Call
Chapter 31 Late-Night Stranger Call
Song Ze's brain was working at lightning speed.
On the screen, the location of Yanjing was so glaringly obvious it hurt the eyes.
who is it?
Memories of his past and present lives were being frantically stirred up, including those he had clashed with in the recording studio and Li Guobin's female assistants—
wrong.
The voice was completely unfamiliar, deliberately lowered, and devoid of any emotion.
At this point tonight, it's definitely not a harassing call.
"Who are you?"
Song Ze went straight to the point, his voice full of defensiveness.
There was a two-second pause on the other end, no reply, but instead a very faint laugh.
"Guess, and I'll tell you if you guess correctly."
At the eye of the storm, this joke is just a lighthearted remark.
The alarm bells in Song Ze's mind went off at their highest.
Having precisely obtained his private number, I called at this time—
"Liu Yuqi?"
He named a college classmate who had gone to Beijing after graduation and had recently borrowed money from him on WeChat.
"no."
The woman's voice was as crisp as chopping vegetables.
Song Ze changed direction.
Could it be another female celebrity in the Chinese entertainment industry that he knows?
"Meng Ziyi?"
"no."
"A white deer?"
"no."
"Lin Shishi's agent?"
"no."
With each denial, the other party's composure deepens.
This composure stands in stark contrast to the fierce online battle raging on Weibo's trending topics. She actually has the leisure to play guessing games here?
Song Ze glanced at the person diagonally opposite.
Xia Ziming was still wearing that oversized pajama set, her wet hair plastered to her neck, her fingers gripping the bag strap tightly.
He doesn't have time to waste on someone who's hiding their true intentions.
I'll count to three.
Song Ze's voice turned cold.
"If you don't tell me, I'll hang up. Three."
"two."
The thumb rests on the hang-up button.
"Pfft."
A very soft laugh traveled through the electricity.
"This is Xu Yuyu. Have you checked Weibo?"
Song Ze stopped breathing.
Xu Yuyu?
Half an hour ago, the 32nd-tier internet celebrity who posted three updates on Weibo, accusing Wen Ziliang of starting a relationship and then abandoning her, engaging in group sex, and directly throwing high-definition uncensored photos in the public's face?
The woman who went crazy in the comments section, portraying herself as a victim driven to desperation?
Song Ze moved his phone an inch away.
They are not the same person at all.
How could a crazy woman who could write online, "You promised to marry me, but this past month you've been out having group sex and completely disregarding the baby in my belly," possibly speak to him in such a controlling tone?
Before he could sort out this contradictory identity, the other party threw out another sentence.
"How do you like this gift I gave you?"
Gift.
She called the shocking scandal that could have ruined a top celebrity's career and landed him in jail a "gift" for him.
Information was clashing violently in my mind.
What gives her the right to say it was a gift to him? Who is behind her? Who gave her the audacity to overthrow Wen Ziliang, this mountain of a man?
Is it a power struggle among the lower classes over unequal distribution of spoils, or has larger capital entered the game and used her as a demolition expert?
He opened his mouth, about to ask—
"Beep beep beep".
The dial tone was directly injected.
The other party cut it off cleanly and decisively, leaving not a single extra word.
Song Ze held up his phone, the backlight of the screen illuminating his profile.
Xia Ziming gripped the bag strap tightly, her voice strained: "Who? Are they Wen Ziliang's men?"
Song Ze did not answer immediately.
A network of relationships quickly unfolded in his mind: Wen Ziliang, Xu Yuyu, the forces behind Xu Yuyu in Yanjing, and himself, who was on the periphery of the storm.
What strange positioning is this?
Xu Yuyu might be able to take those long screenshots and transfer records herself.
But that two-and-a-half-minute video, shot from an extremely tricky angle, could not possibly have been obtained by her alone.
How could someone like Wen Ziliang, who has an obsessive-compulsive disorder of erasing the identity features of victims even when setting up scams, leave such a conspicuous close-up of a Patek Philippe watch while carrying out his schemes?
Someone installed equipment in the places he frequents.
Someone is watching Wen Ziliang, and they've been doing it for much longer than just a day or two.
They used Xu Yuyu to leak information, but immediately called him, calling him a "gift".
Wooing him over? Demonstrating against him? Or using his popularity as a shield?
The brain's deductions suddenly stalled and stopped working.
He swiped his thumb to lock the screen and casually tossed the phone onto the coffee table.
"Never mind."
Xia Ziming was stunned: "Are you just going to ignore it?"
Song Ze leaned back on the sofa, loosened the collar of his black T-shirt, and sank into a state of complete relaxation.
"Only detectives in suspense dramas try to figure out why the murderer left a rose at the scene. I'm just a corporate slave forced to work non-stop by my company."
This is his underlying logic.
Regardless of who is behind Xu Yuyu, regardless of the price tag on this gift, and regardless of what price will be paid later.
One established fact is that the evidence is irrefutable: Wen Ziliang will definitely go to jail.
He will never be able to make a ripple again in his life.
Even the most capable legal team cannot quell this kind of public outcry involving criminal charges and severe social impact.
The mastermind behind the fabrication of false evidence and the forced withdrawal from the entertainment industry for three years in his past life has brought about his own downfall on this night in 2016.
His mortal enemy has already fallen into an abyss, so why should he still be calculating profits for those high-ranking behind-the-scenes manipulators?
When the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up.
Song Ze now possesses superb singing, piano, and stand-up comedy skills, as well as superb acting skills he just acquired from Wen Ziliang. With these skills alone, he could live a comfortable life as a bar singer.
This kind of internal conflict caused by worrying about others is pointless.
Looking at Song Ze's unguarded face, Xia Ziming suddenly felt that the huge black net outside that could easily destroy a person's life seemed to become a trivial joke in front of this man.
"But why is she contacting you? What if you get caught in the crossfire tomorrow?"
Song Ze looked up at her.
"The fire is going to burn me? Wen Ziliang's own backside is already on fire enough to burn the building down."
He scoffed lightly.
"As for the people behind Xu Yuyu, since they say it's a gift, let's accept it. Why turn away something we've gotten for free?"
Xia Ziming was speechless at those words, and her nerves, which had been tense all night, inexplicably relaxed.
Song Ze stood up, walked to the window, and pointed downstairs.
Across the street from the Municipal Public Security Bureau, three more cars with flashing red and blue warning lights sped out, heading straight for the affluent area where Wen Ziliang's luxurious penthouse was located.
The authorities acted faster than he had anticipated.
No one dares to suppress such a heinous incident involving a top public figure.
Wen Ziliang has been brought down, uprooted completely.
Song Ze stretched, his bones making soft cracking noises.
The feeling of exhaustion finally washed over me.
He still has the 80 million yuan penalty for breach of contract, but at least he no longer has to be on guard against someone stabbing him in the dark every day.
He pointed to the next room.
"Go to sleep. When you wake up tomorrow morning, the only thing trending on social media will probably be the police's blue-and-white announcements."
Xia Ziming opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing, and went back to her room with her handbag.
Song Ze closed the door and had just taken off half of his coat—
The phone on the table rang again.
The ringtone sounded sharp as a knife in the quiet room.
The screen displayed a completely unfamiliar number with no registered address and only an area code: 0731.
Hunan Province.
Song Ze's brows furrowed again.
It was the middle of the night in Hunan Province.
That's the headquarters of entertainment capital.
I really don't plan to let him sleep tonight.
He walked over barefoot, answered the call, and pressed the speakerphone button.
"Who is it?"
His tone was full of impatience.
A middle-aged man's voice came from the speaker.
"Is this Mr. Song Ze? I am Hong Tao, the chief producer of Hunan TV's 'I Am a Singer 2017'."