Chapter 82: Last Year, I Bought a Watch

Tianhai Tower.

Jiang Xia sat in his office, his expression grim. Across from him was a handsome foreign man with blond hair and blue eyes, about thirty-something years old—Jason.

“Mr. Jason, is there really nothing we can do about this?” After a long pause, Jiang Xia finally spoke.

“What else can be done? I called headquarters yesterday, but they told me to follow Zhao’s instructions. What more can I do?” Jason sneered, speaking awkwardly in Chinese.

“But… Mr. Jason, we had an agreement. Now that the endorsement has been snatched away, aren’t you—” Jiang Xia hesitated, his face growing darker.

Jason’s eyes widened, a flicker of anger crossing his handsome face. “Mr. Jiang, we did have an agreement, but some things aren’t up to me alone. Frankly, your company’s strength wasn’t enough, and Shen Peng’s fame isn’t big enough.”

“What? Our company isn’t strong enough? Mr. Jason, that’s not what you said when you took my money…” Jiang Xia’s temper flared.

Yoyo Company had invested a great deal in securing this advertisement endorsement. Through various connections, they finally reached Jason. At the time, Jason had patted his chest and guaranteed that even that woman Zhao would have to give him some face—securing the endorsement would be no problem. For this, Jiang Xia offered two million and promised an additional cut from the endorsement fee if successful.

He thought the endorsement was in the bag; with ‘Cardi’ backing them, Yoyo Company would soar, and Shen Peng could be propelled straight to stardom. Yet, at the critical moment, things went awry. Not only did Zhao refuse to give Jason any face, even headquarters sided with her.

With things as they were, there was little hope of salvaging the situation. Still, Jiang Xia couldn’t bear to watch such a golden opportunity slip away.

Jason laughed coldly, looking at the frustrated middle-aged man before him. “Mr. Jiang, what are you talking about? Me taking your money? Hahaha… God can be my witness, when did I ever accept your money? Don’t make baseless claims.”

“You—” Jiang Xia was fuming. This foreigner dared deny everything right to his face, and he had no recourse—he’d left no evidence when handing over the money.

If only he’d known what kind of man Jason was… Now Jiang Xia was full of bitterness with nowhere to vent. For all his lifelong cleverness, he’d stumbled over this foreigner.

Jason, seeing Jiang Xia at a loss for words, straightened up with a smile. “Mr. Jiang, actually, things aren’t beyond saving. As long as they haven’t finalized the agreement, the spokesperson can still be changed. The trial shoot is coming up soon—I don’t think Lin Chuan will pass it smoothly.”

“Hm?” Jiang Xia was taken aback, looking up. “Mr. Jason, you mean—?”

“The director coming to China for the ad shoot is named Albert. We’re quite acquainted. If I step in and have a word with him…” Jason stopped mid-sentence, a smug smile spreading across his face.

Jiang Xia understood immediately. He grinned, “Mr. Jason, if Cardi’s endorsement lands with our company, all previous promises will be fulfilled.”

“Hahaha, Mr. Jiang, I like working with people like you. No worries, leave it to me.” Jason laughed, confident.

Jiang Xia quickly stood, circled the desk, and fetched a bottle of vintage red wine from the cabinet, pouring two glasses.

“Let’s toast to a successful partnership.”

Jason smiled, raised his glass. “Cheers.”

…

Monday morning.

Lin Chuan, accompanied by Uncle Gao, arrived at the ad shoot location as invited. It was an unfinished building, long abandoned. No one knew why.

The crew had already set up—lighting, cameras, everything in place. As Lin Chuan and Gao Mingyuan stepped out of the car, a foreigner approached.

“Mr. Gao, great to see you. This must be Mr. Lin Chuan?” The man spoke English.

He appeared about forty, but looked older—perhaps foreigners age quickly. His hair was thinning on top, with streaks of gray around the temples.

Uncle Gao warmly shook hands and nodded, “Yes, Director Albert, this is Mr. Lin Chuan.”

Unexpectedly, Uncle Gao’s English was quite impressive; Lin Chuan, a layman, couldn’t detect a single flaw.

Director Albert smiled, his gaze sweeping over Lin Chuan. “Excellent. Let’s not waste time. Please change outfits, and we’ll begin.”

“No problem.” Uncle Gao nodded, and the two headed to the makeshift dressing room.

The shoot was for athletic shoes, but the stylist paired Lin Chuan with a full Cardi tracksuit. Silver-gray sportswear with black sneakers made him look sharp and energetic. Once ready, Lin Chuan stood before the unfinished building.

“Mr. Lin Chuan, your main task is to run from the ground floor to the top, looking effortless. No signs of strain—you must highlight the shoe’s advantages,” Director Albert instructed patiently.

Lin Chuan nodded, giving an OK gesture.

On Director Albert’s command, filming began.

The building had eight floors. Lin Chuan ran all the way up without stopping. As he finished, Albert called from below, microphone in hand, “No, no, that’s not right, Mr. Lin Chuan. You need to look much more relaxed. You seemed too strained—let’s do it again.”

“Again?” Lin Chuan was stunned. He knew exactly how he’d run—he hadn’t felt strained at all.

But the director’s word was law. So Lin Chuan quietly nodded and returned to the ground floor.

Take two began. Just as before, he ran straight up. This time, he used subtle tricks to highlight the shoes’ lightness, but…

“Do it again…”

Third take: “No, no, you need to showcase the shoes more. Start over…”

Fifth take: “Oh my God, Mr. Lin Chuan, you must run all the way up, no stops in between—absolutely none. Again…”

Seventh take: “Are you a fool? Don’t slow down, run, run!”

After seven or eight takes, up and down the eight floors, even the fittest would be exhausted.

Now, Lin Chuan, hands braced on his knees, was gasping for air. He could barely stand, let alone run; even walking two steps would send him collapsing.

Looking at the irate director, Lin Chuan wanted to shout, “Last year I bought a watch!”

“Director Albert, perhaps we should take a break. Lin Chuan’s stamina is spent—he can’t keep going,” Uncle Gao said, concerned, approaching the foreigner.

Albert grunted, glancing at Lin Chuan out of the corner of his eye. “Fine, ten minutes’ rest.”

Uncle Gao hurried over, helping Lin Chuan to the lounge area.

Meanwhile, a black sedan drove up, kicking up dust. When it stopped, a blond man carefully got out.

“Mr. Jason, it’s an honor to see you,” Director Albert greeted him—Jason.

Jason smiled, scanning the surroundings. Spotting Lin Chuan resting, he asked, “Director Albert, what do you think of that Chinese man? Can he pass the audition?”

“You mean Lin Chuan?” Albert frowned. “I don’t know what grudge you have against him. Honestly, he’s the hardest-working star I’ve ever seen.”

“Director Albert, effort isn’t enough. I don’t think he’ll pass the audition. Do you agree?” Jason replied with a light laugh.

Albert’s eyes flickered, then he nodded. “Mr. Jason, I think so too.”

As they spoke, another sedan arrived. Jason’s face changed, and he fell silent.

When the car stopped, a woman stepped out—the very superior Jason resented.

“Miss Zhao, hello. I didn’t expect you to come. Jason and I were just talking about you,” Albert hurried over, greeting her warmly.

The woman smiled coolly, glancing at Jason. “Director Albert, thank you for your hard work. How’s today’s shoot?”

Albert didn’t answer directly, instead looking back at Jason. Jason sneered, striding forward. “Zhao, I can only express disappointment. Your candidate failed the first take. I worry how many more reels will be wasted in the coming shoots…”

Seeing Albert nod in agreement, the woman cast her gaze toward Lin Chuan, thinking to herself, “Little Chuan, I trust you’ll surprise me!”