After Divorce, I Can Hear the Future

Chapter 22: Burning Bridges After Use

“Mr. Lu, what are you doing?”

Qingqing followed Lu Liang into the room but let out a startled gasp as he swept her up by the waist and carried her to the bathroom.

What followed was a frenzy of passion. When it was over, Lu Liang walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a bathrobe, leaving Qingqing to tidy up the aftermath herself.

Lying on the balcony’s sofa, he lit a cigarette, letting the breeze from the river wash over him. With fingers lightly tapping the table, his mood was light.

What he had been most worried about hadn’t happened, and he even received an unexpected bonus. However, he had a hypothesis that would take four more days to confirm.

...

The next morning, Lu Liang drove Qingqing back to Haomeng Production Company.

After exchanging contact details, he gave her a pat on the backside. “Go on, get to work. I have some business to discuss with Mr. Wu.”

“Or how about I make you some tea first?” Qingqing’s smile was radiant. Living in Tomson Riviera and driving a Bentley—she felt Lu Liang was her destined Prince Charming, the benefactor who would guide her to success.

“Go ahead.” Lu Liang smiled faintly, but as soon as she left, his expression turned serious.

He pulled out a project proposal. “Mr. Wu, I’m interested in this project. Could you help me get in touch with the team?”

With an investment of just five million yuan, he could see a return of 120 million in seven months—24 times the profit. It was hard not to be tempted.

“Happy Mahua?” Wu Tianzheng frowned. “That’s a fledgling company. Let me look into them for you.”

He searched through his records. “Their film department was established only last year. Before that, they focused on stage plays. This film is also an adaptation of one of their plays.”

“Are you sure you want to contact them, Mr. Lu?”

Wu Tianzheng recalled that Happy Mahua’s general manager, Zhang Chen, had approached him several times, seeking connections and investments.

He wasn’t optimistic about the project. It was the company’s first film, adapted from a stage play, which meant audiences familiar with the original might not find anything new or exciting.

Happy Mahua’s influence was limited. The film’s main cast, including the director and screenwriters, were all core members of their theater troupe. The entire project seemed impulsive.

As Meng Changkun’s friend, Wu Tianzheng couldn’t stand idly by and watch Lu Liang step into what he saw as a trap.

“I’ve seen the stage play, and I thought it was pretty good. Please go ahead and contact them for me,” Lu Liang replied, appreciating Wu’s concern but placing full trust in the voice of the future.

If Wu Tianzheng couldn’t see the film’s box office potential, it simply meant he lacked vision. The same went for most investors, which was why this dark horse was still wandering outside the race—giving Lu Liang an opportunity.

“Alright, I’ll reach out.” Wu Tianzheng sighed, dialing Zhang Chen.

“Mr. Zhang is in Beijing. When he heard you were interested in investing, he immediately booked a flight and will arrive by noon. When would be a good time for you to meet, Mr. Lu?”

“Let’s say three in the afternoon. Please arrange the meeting and send me the address. I’ll head straight there.”

“Would you like Qingqing to accompany you, or should I contact Bai Xiaoqin from yesterday?” Wu Tianzheng asked cautiously.

He assumed Lu Liang’s investment might involve grooming a talent, given his recent behavior.

“No need to bother with Bai Xiaoqin. As for Qingqing, I’ll have to trouble you to provide her with some resources in the future.”

Lu Liang wasn’t planning to interfere with a film capable of leveraging a 20 million yuan budget into a 1.441 billion yuan box office. Intervening might risk its success, and by extension, cost him over a hundred million yuan.

“Would you like to review other proposals?” Wu Tianzheng asked, recognizing that Lu Liang’s priorities had shifted.

“No, I have something else to handle later.”

Earlier, Zhao Haisheng from Guotai Securities had called to inform him that he now qualified for the VIP trading room and should schedule a visit to complete the necessary paperwork.

Guotai’s VIP trading room wasn’t just a status symbol—it offered tangible benefits.

Previously, Lu Liang had a standard account with a transaction fee of 0.03%. For a 10 million yuan trade, that was 3,000 yuan per transaction. Now, as a VIP, his fee would drop to 0.012%, and he’d gain access to financial services like margin trading and short selling.

...

Lu Liang and Wu Tianzheng left the office together, chatting amicably, only to run into Bai Xiaoqin, who was there to sign a contract.

“Mr. Lu, Mr. Wu, hello,” Bai Xiaoqin greeted them with a mix of joy and nervousness.

Last night, she had received an invitation for the fourth female lead role. She knew it was thanks to Lu Liang, and it had kept her up all night with anticipation.

She had heard plenty of stories about hidden rules, especially in low-budget web films like Phantom Disc Battles Writing Disc.

For instance, producers would invite actresses to "study scripts" in hotel rooms late at night. Refusing often meant being sidelined or even having months of hard work edited out of the final film.

Yet, she hadn’t received any such calls, sparking a tiny bit of goodwill toward Lu Liang. Just a tiny bit.

“Do your best. I’m looking forward to your performance,” Lu Liang said casually, ignoring Qingqing as he walked out of Haomeng.

“I’ll give it my all!” Bai Xiaoqin said, bowing deeply with excitement as she watched him leave.

Qingqing passed by, sneering. “Hah, how naive. If hard work were all it took, extras wouldn’t exist.”

She was clearly upset. Being ignored by Lu Liang felt like he had burned bridges after using her.

“Senior, did I do something wrong?” Bai Xiaoqin asked, straightforward as ever, confused by the hostility.

“Don’t mind her,” Wu Tianzheng interjected, glaring at Qingqing. “Sign the contract and report to Director Liang.”

Then, he turned to Qingqing. “Next month, we’re doing a feature for Bazaar magazine. Prepare to model some new fashion lines and head to Beijing for the shoot.”

Seeing Qingqing’s dissatisfaction, he added earnestly, “Qingqing, don’t overthink it. Wealthy men aren’t fools. Mr. Lu isn’t much different from your previous sponsors.”

Wu Tianzheng didn’t know what had happened the previous night or what Lu Liang had said, but today’s attitudes made it clear: Lu Liang wasn’t serious, while Qingqing was.

Biting her lip, Qingqing dug her nails into her polished fingers before sighing in defeat. “Understood, Mr. Wu.”

“Good. Off you go.” Wu Tianzheng nodded, satisfied.

He believed Qingqing had the potential to rise—she just needed resilience, effort, and patience.

...

Meanwhile, Lu Liang arrived at the Guotai Securities branch.

It was Saturday, a non-trading day, so the hall was quiet, with only a few investors dropping by for account-related matters.

Zhao Haisheng, waiting at the entrance, watched Lu Liang step out of a Bentley and couldn’t help but marvel.

Just half a month ago, Lu Liang had been scraping by with barely 250,000 yuan in his margin account. Now, he was a millionaire VIP client.

“Brother Liang, park here,” Zhao quickly adjusted his mindset, smiling warmly as he pulled out a parking barrier to make room.

Having been in the industry for seven years, Zhao knew better than to envy others’ luck or timing. Some things—like fortune and opportunity—couldn’t be forced. His job was simply to serve well.

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