Sickly Bigshot CH 07 Kidnapped
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
Confident in his understanding of his own brother’s temperament, Shi Qing sat leisurely in a chair, legs crossed, listening to the phone call on speaker.
But when Shi Zhou casually ended the call with a final remark, completely disregarding his life or death, Shi Qing was left dumbfounded. His expression quickly shifted to one of terror, like a tightrope walker who suddenly realizes mid-air that their safety rope isn’t properly secured.
The burly man holding the phone also froze for a second before kicking Shi Qing to the ground and roaring, “Are you fucking with me?! Is this the ‘brother who’d sell his blood for you’ you were bragging about?”
Shi Qing never expected Shi Zhou to be so heartless.
Back when they were poor, Shi Zhou had actually sold his blood to help pay off Shi Qing’s debts. He had been so good to him back then. How could he suddenly change after becoming a celebrity, making so much money, and even climbing into the good graces of President Zheng?
Money really does corrupt people, turning them ugly and cruel!
“No! Brother Zhao, this can’t be! My brother wouldn’t do this! There’s no way he’d really abandon me... Let me call him again—he must be joking! Or maybe he thought it was a scam. This time, I’ll talk to him myself!”
Shi Qing took out his phone, cleared his throat, and quickly summoned tears to his eyes.
Too bad no talent scouts were around to witness this performance—it was Oscar-worthy.
Shi Zhou was undressing to take a shower. The clothes Qin Yancheng had lent him were too loose, so he’d bought a new set from a roadside store to make do.
Seeing Shi Qing’s call, he didn’t even answer—he just hung up.
Shi Qing and Zhao Tai listened to the automated “The number you have dialed...” message and exchanged glances.
Zhao Tai’s expression darkened. Shi Qing swallowed his tears and scrambled to his feet, standing nervously to the side.
Zhao Tai said coldly, “So, what’s your plan now? Shi Qing, if it weren’t for your brother being a celebrity with money, do you think I’d have been so patient with you?”
Shi Qing forced a smile. “I still have a way.”
After his shower, Shi Zhou scrolled through his WeChat messages, trying to sort out his social connections.
The original host’s relationships weren’t complicated: a dependent younger brother (Shi Qing), a sugar daddy (Zheng Qi), and the so-called “friends” he’d met upon transmigrating—not a single decent person among them. They’d taken money and sold him out without hesitation. Luckily, Shi Zhou had reacted faster than the original host and ran into Qin Yancheng, narrowly escaping his cannon fodder fate.
Then there was his agent, Li Cheng, and a personal assistant.
Checking the chat history, Shi Zhou realized Li Cheng hadn’t contacted him in over two months.
In the entertainment industry, where trends shifted at lightning speed, disappearing for two months was practically career suicide.
At this point in the novel, Zheng Qi and Song Duannian’s relationship had heated up. Though Zheng Qi’s obsession with his unattainable white moonlight remained strong, he’d at least found a distraction.
Meanwhile, the stand-in, Shi Zhou, had gradually lost favor and access to Qixing Entertainment’s resources. It was time for him to exit the stage and meet his end.
Before bed, Shi Zhou lay there, racking his brain about the plot. He also wondered—would his father grieve his sudden death? His older brother’s death three years ago had already been a shock. Now, with him gone too...
Then again, he couldn’t help but feel a twisted satisfaction. His cold, heartless father—who knew if he’d mourn the loss of his sons or just his heirs?
He hadn’t even shown up to his eldest son’s funeral. Back then, Shi Zhou had been uncharacteristically bold and rebellious, nearly throwing fists with his own father in his grief and fury. Now, he could only wonder what kind of scene his own funeral would be.
Zheng Qi had been having a terrible few days. He’d gotten into a heated argument with Song Duannian, ending in a bitter stalemate and an ongoing cold war.
But what really unsettled him was whether Shi Zhou actually had some connection to Qin Yancheng. He knew enough about Qin Yancheng to understand that if Shi Zhou had stayed overnight at his villa, their relationship couldn’t be ordinary.
And he’d groomed Shi Zhou to look so much like a young Qin Yancheng... Had Qin Yancheng noticed?
The thought made Zheng Qi lose his appetite, his anxiety gnawing at him. This restless, defeated state lasted days until his friend Zhang Zhenqing snapped him out of it with an invitation:
“Hey, Zheng Qi, I’ve set up a dinner. You know about the Jinshui Film Studio project, right? A few top-tier investors—big names, all of them. Took a lot of effort to get them together.”
Zheng Qi perked up immediately. An opportunity to rub shoulders with the ultra-wealthy and powerful didn’t come often. He pushed aside his worries and asked eagerly, “When? I’ll get ready.”
“Four this afternoon, Nansheng International. Gotta go—gotta invite a few others. Sharing the wealth, you know?”
The Jinshui Film Studio was being built to rival the largest and most advanced in the world, a massive deal in the industry. Zheng Qi hadn’t had the chance to get his foot in the door yet, and the reclusive major shareholder’s identity remained a mystery.
Zheng Qi marveled at Zhang Zhenqing’s connections. Putting together a gathering like this wasn’t easy—it took serious clout.
Bai Ran carefully double-checked everything prepared for tonight’s dinner to avoid any mistakes. The last secretary who’d forgotten the “Emperor’s” medicine had already been temporarily banished to the cold palace.
“President Qin, everything’s ready.”
Qin Yan gave a faint “Mnn,” his eyes skimming over the document labeled “Jinshui Film Studio Project, Phase Three.”
“Who submitted this breakdown?”
“Manager Wang.”
“Tell him to redo it. No bonus this year. If it happens again, he can make room for someone else.”
The Jinshui Film Studio was a massive investment, with kickbacks at every turn that could make someone rich for life. Some fools assumed Qin Yancheng was too busy to scrutinize the details, not realizing his photographic memory made it impossible to hide anything from him.
As soon as Zhang Zhenqing hung up on Zheng Qi, Zhao Tai asked eagerly, “President Zhang, what about the money...?”
Zhang Zhenqing nodded, signing a check. “Here.”
Shi Qing stood nearby, trembling. “Thank you, President Zhang. What about me and my brother...?”
“I’ve already bought your brother,” Zhang Zhenqing said disdainfully. “Now get lost. Tch—if I had a brother like you, I’d be disgusted.”
Shi Qing’s face flushed with humiliation. “Th-thank you, President Zhang. Really, thank you.”
With that, he instinctively glanced at Shi Zhou, who was tied up and gagged on the sofa.
—While all this was being said, Shi Zhou could only watch helplessly, his mouth stuffed so full he couldn’t even make a noise. Otherwise, he’d have been screaming, what the hell?! Shi Qing’s the one who borrowed from loan sharks, so why am I the one being sold by the pound?!
Even if they were harvesting organs, was his flesh some kind of premium delicacy?
The worst part? They’d gagged him, robbing him of the chance to say, I can pay!
Rewind to that morning.
The sun was high when Shi Zhou finally woke up. He’d stayed up late familiarizing himself with the entertainment industry’s major players and their connections, even memorizing faces to avoid the embarrassment of not recognizing a colleague and being accused of “acting like a diva.”
The original host had terrible public relations—a C-list star with a reputation so bad it was infamous.
A talentless pretty boy who’d skyrocketed from obscurity by sleeping his way to the top—even without solid proof, rumors alone were enough to ruin Shi Zhou.
His acting was atrocious, his skills nonexistent, and his personality timid and awkward. Despite his resources, he’d flopped spectacularly, a fitting end for a cannon fodder side character.
Though Zheng Qi had never touched Shi Zhou out of some twisted “purity” complex, the original host couldn’t exactly go around proclaiming his chastity. Worse, he’d been infatuated with the scumbag, wishing they had slept together.
Rubbing his eyes, Shi Zhou headed downstairs for food.
The moment he stepped into the lobby, he saw eight or nine burly men in skin-tight black shirts, unfazed by the autumn chill thanks to their bulging muscles.
No dragon-and-tiger tattoos or sunglasses like in the movies, but their “up to no good” vibes were unmistakable.
His instincts screamed danger. He turned to run, only to find himself surrounded.
Trapped, Shi Zhou didn’t hesitate—he punched one guy square in the face, then took down another with a flawless armbar. The men were stunned. This Shi Zhou was nothing like the rumors.
But just a pair of fists was no match for numbers. Soon, Shi Zhou was pinned to the ground.
The receptionist watched in horror as Shi Zhou was tied up, too terrified to make a sound.
“If you want this little shop to stay open, act like nothing happened. Call the police or breathe a word, and we’ll find you. Got it?”
Back to the present.
Shi Zhou was trussed up like a turkey, the towel in his mouth making his jaw ache and his breathing labored. When Zhang Zhenqing finally looked his way, he frantically signaled that he’d like his mouth back, please.
Zhang Zhenqing ignored him. As the dinner’s host, he had too much to prepare.
Still, he couldn’t wrap his head around the rumors—why would someone like Qin Yancheng be into Shi Zhou’s neither male nor female act?
Seeing Zhang Zhenqing wasn’t paying attention, Shi Zhou took a deep breath and summoned his professional acting skills. His eyes rolled back, his body convulsed, and he flopped off the sofa onto the floor, twitching violently.
Zhang Zhenqing panicked. If Shi Zhou died on his watch, forget currying favor with Qin Yancheng—he’d be trading his suit for prison stripes. He yanked out the gag.
Finally free, Shi Zhou stretched his jaw with relief and stopped pretending.
Realizing he’d been tricked, Zhang Zhenqing snarled, “You looking to die?”
Shi Zhou flashed a sincere smile. “Hey, let’s talk this out, yeah? Friend, how much do you want? I’ll take out a loan if I have to. This is illegal confinement—not worth it for money, right?”
“Shut up!” Zhang Zhenqing snapped. “What’s your relationship with Zheng Qi now?”
Was this about Zheng Qi?
Sure, Shi Zhou had humiliated him in front of Song Duannian, but that was days ago. And this was way overkill—
Wait. Maybe Zheng Qi had pissed someone off, and they were taking it out on his “lover”!
Shi Zhou shook his head vehemently. “Nothing! We’re done! You’ve got the wrong guy. If I were still with him, would I be living in a dump like that?”
He even squeezed out a few tears, looking both wronged and vengeful. “I... Zheng Qi used me and threw me away. So, you’ve got a grudge against him? Then why come after me? I’m on your side—I just want—”
“You’re completely unrelated now?”
Shi Zhou nodded eagerly.
Zhang Zhenqing lit a cigarette. “Good. Then I won’t feel bad about betraying my buddy.”
Shi Zhou: ???
He dragged out an awkward “Ah...” before adding sheepishly, “Uh... actually, those were just angry words, truly.”