Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 43

The boy, tall and long-legged, reached out and swiftly snatched the two contracts. His tea-colored eyes lit up with a vibrant gleam—he looked even happier than when he signed all the previous deals.

These were the ones Jie had secured just for him.

He was already somewhat familiar with both shows. They weren’t particularly popular, but their style suited his own musical sensibilities perfectly. One of them even featured his old mentor as a judge.

To win such resources for an unsigned artist—this alone showed how much effort Jie had put in for him.

But… they’d only met yesterday.

Could it be… that she spent the entire night pulling strings and calling in favors just for his sake?

Shang He felt a sting in his nose. Just as he was about to sign his name, a warm hand gently gripped his wrist, the soft heat of it sending a tremor through his heart.

“Jie…?”

“Your schedule’s already packed. You’ll burn out. Be good—leave yourself a little breathing room.”

Shang He’s eyes welled up. He could feel tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“Jie, I have to sign. Please…”

No one had ever cared about him like this. No one had ever gone out of their way to support him. He wouldn’t let her down. He was going to become a massive star—he had to.

“Alright. Then I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Su Ci held his hand, giving him strength with her calm encouragement.

Tang Tian watched this beautiful, passionate scene unfolding between them and itched to jump in. She barely lifted a finger before Shang He shot her a vicious glare.

She rolled her eyes.

What? Only you get to hold the pretty lady’s hand? Big deal. If it weren’t for your sugar daddy backing you, I wouldn’t even bother stepping aside for you. Ugh!

Because of her previous life’s memories, Song Weijiao knew that the company was expecting a batch of very high-quality resources today. So, she made sure Yan Zhiyan and Qu Tongzhou were there early to pick through them.

What she didn’t know was that this batch had been specially set aside—personally assigned by Shang Yi to pave the way for his younger brother.

Back then, on the day of the interview, Song Weijiao had signed Shang He early, before the acquisition had taken place, so she had no idea there was a gold-tier backer behind him.

She assumed she was getting first pick because of her sharp eye and strong track record.

So, she confidently handed all the top-rated, buzzworthy show contracts to Yan Zhiyan and Qu Tongzhou—and sure enough, they quickly gained a solid fanbase.

As for Shang He?

Please. He played obscure instruments that were way too niche and classy. His concerts would probably put people to sleep. It was all completely out of touch with modern trends.

Song Weijiao insisted on following her own plan. She wanted to push him into acting or get him on idol survival shows. With that face, he could rake in fans without saying a word.

But Shang He absolutely refused. He kept going on about how he had a “mental cleanliness” issue and couldn’t accept being some public fantasy or selling emotional value like a boyfriend figure.

What a joke. Why bother entering showbiz if he was going to be that pretentious?

Just thinking about him made her irritable. Thank goodness she’d managed to dump that headache in this lifetime. All she needed now was to manage her future Best Actor and Best Female Vocalist and ride that wave to the top.

“Tang Tian! Tang Tian?! Where the hell did she go?!”

It was nearly noon—why hadn’t the new resources been brought over yet?

Then she remembered. Oh right—she did threaten to fire Tang Tian yesterday.

Were assistants these days really that temperamental? She only gave her a warning and the girl really didn’t show up?

Song Weijiao turned to Yan Zhiyan.

“Go ask the office next door what’s going on. The intel I got was solid—there has to be a batch of resources today.”

Yan Zhiyan scowled. “Why do I have to go?”

Qu Tongzhou was a grown man, yet not an ounce of chivalry. And that’s the guy being pegged for Best Actor?

He just sat there, smug as ever.

Ever since Song Weijiao started calling him “Best Actor material,” he’d completely gotten ahead of himself. As if a future Best Actor could be ordered around by his manager. The press would have a field day if they caught wind of that.

Song Weijiao was fuming. Had she signed two clients or two spoiled brats?

No talent, no looks—just endless attitude.

Fine. She’d go ask Xu-jie herself.

Unsurprisingly, she was met with passive-aggressive sarcasm.

“Well, well. Look who it is. Not here to steal my talent this time? Targeting another colleague’s artists instead? Careful—this one has someone very powerful backing them.”

Song Weijiao scoffed. “Please, he’s just a pretentious musician who can’t make it big. I’m not interested. I’m asking about the resources. Did you take them all?”

Xu-jie gave her a look that could only be described as “Are you stupid?”

“Don’t make false accusations. I didn’t take them. And why do you assume those resources belong to you? If you get something, it’s a favor—not a right.”

She hadn’t made a fuss before because they still had to see each other at work. But now that the gloves were off, she didn’t care. When it came to ability, background, seniority—Song Weijiao didn’t even rank.

Boiling with rage, Song Weijiao stormed out and cornered several assistants before finally learning the truth—

All the resources had gone to Su Ci.

That part… was still acceptable.

But then it hit her: Su Ci only had one artist—Shang He.

So that meant… Shang He had taken everything?

Shameless bastard!

Could it be that he had also been reborn? Was he holding a grudge over her not giving him resources in their past life, and now he was hoarding them all out of spite?

Please. What a joke. With so many hit variety shows and reality programs, how could a rookie possibly handle them all? Greedy fool.

Fine. Let’s see him crash and burn.

Without the talent to match the hype, being crammed into all these shows would only backfire. When the episodes aired, he’d be eaten alive by netizens.

Meanwhile, Su Ci had personally requested a private rehearsal room for Shang He. In addition to his upcoming recordings, he was also preparing to release a solo album.

Anyone could tell—he was working himself to the bone.

He’d been trained hands-on by master musicians since childhood and graduated from one of the world’s top music academies. His foundations were incredibly solid.

But that kind of “high art” also tended to be distant and inaccessible. Sometimes, being too professional was a barrier in itself.

So while Shang He revised his compositions, Su Ci sat with him in the practice room, helping him adapt the melodies by writing lyrics that were easier for the public to understand.

After finishing each new arrangement, Shang He would excitedly play it on the piano for her—because Jie was his only muse.

Without her, he wouldn’t have been able to write such beautiful music. He wouldn’t even have had the patience for such a tedious and thankless task.

But with Jie there, everything tasted sweet. The songs sounded like buttercream frosting—just humming them made him feel like he’d been smeared in happiness.

If possible, he wanted one of these songs to be their wedding cake.

He loved Jie. So much.

He was so familiar with musical notes that whenever he looked at those arrangements, they automatically formed words—ones only he could read:

Jie. I love Jie so much. So, so much.

When he reached the bridge of one particular piece—

A pure, crystal-clear female voice joined in. Shang He couldn’t contain his excitement. He stumbled over several notes before finally pulling himself back on track.

Was that the lyric she wrote for him?

It had such imagery. So beautiful.

Thankfully they were alone in the practice room. If they weren’t, he’d be going mad with jealousy. That voice—Jie’s voice—he didn’t want anyone else to hear it.

Because of their tight schedule, they practically lived in the practice room. Shang He hardly had time to cook for her anymore, so Su Ci often took him out for lunch and dinner.

From pampered young master to live-in kept man—Shang He accepted the role with surprising ease.

Every time they went out to eat, the servers would whisper behind their backs.

“What kind of guy makes the girl pay for every date? So shameless…”

And Shang He? He’d step right up and announce:

“If having shame got you a sugar mama like Jie, you’d be flaunting it too.”

The servers would burst into tears. That’s too harsh! We just wanted to see the pretty lady every day, okay?!

Thick-skinned in public, but back home? He’d be crouched over the laundry tub, scrubbing Jie’s delicates with underwear soap while sniffing loudly, nose running.

When could he finally start making money and support her properly?

At night, he continued his habit of sleepwalking into her bed.

In the morning, he’d pretend nothing happened.

One time, Su Ci woke up early and opened her eyes—only to lock gazes with Shang He as he tried to sneak a kiss on her brow and nose.

He froze. Face burning red. He wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it.

Su Ci stared at him, stunned for a second. Then she hooked an arm around his neck, pulled him down, and whispered:

“One little kiss in a dream doesn’t count, right? You won’t remember it anyway.”

Then she tilted her head and gently kissed him—softly tracing the shape of his lips.

Shang He: “!!!”

I remember! Jie, I remember!!

They say you dream about what’s in your heart. So Jie had always wanted to kiss him? A long, lingering French kiss at that?

Shang He was ecstatic. He flipped their roles in an instant, kissing her so thoroughly she ran out of breath and passed out again, cheeks flushed.

He licked the corner of his lips, utterly satisfied.

He didn’t want time to pass, but he also wished it would move faster. Right now, he was still far too unworthy of her.

The busy, fulfilling, and blissfully sweet days flew by. Based on Shang He’s packed schedule, the next phase would be a nonstop carousel of variety show tapings.

His confidence was sky-high—yet every time he remembered he’d have to be apart from Jie during those shoots, his chest would tighten with discomfort.

He would honestly rather stay locked in the practice room, writing songs with her forever.