The Breakup Didn’t Stop Me From Owning the World - Chapter 5

Li Ruonan slapped Lan Muyu’s hand away with a sharp sound, mimicking her gesture as she extended her own: “Then you should pay the rent first. And since you just took a shower, hand over the utilities fee too.”

Lan Muyu said nothing, snatching the hairdryer and darting to an outlet in the corner. The whirring sound soon filled the air as her hair gradually became smooth and silky.

The doorbell rang. Li Ruonan took the delivered takeout and began unpacking the containers one by one. The steaming food quickly caught the attention of Lan Muyu, who, after hastily drying her hair, scurried over to the dining table.

Lan Muyu was unusually attentive during the meal, perhaps to avoid the utilities fee. Whenever Li Ruonan glanced at the soup a few times, Lan Muyu eagerly served her a bowl. If Li Ruonan couldn’t reach a distant dish due to maintaining her poise, Lan Muyu would promptly use serving chopsticks to place some on her plate.

When both had nearly finished eating, Li Ruonan sipped her soup and asked, “What are your plans next?”

“Acting, of course,” Lan Muyu replied leisurely.

After a brief silence, Li Ruonan inquired, “Are you really set on staying in the entertainment industry? Have you considered switching careers?”

“What, should I go get a master’s in business now and join you in deciphering complicated reports and infuriating documents?”

“You certainly could.”

Lan Muyu scoffed lightly. With her intelligence—she had been the top scorer in Yan City’s college entrance exams—she definitely could. But perhaps if she tried hard enough, she could dump her family’s affairs onto Li Ruonan too?

“No, I refuse.”

“I’ve heard entertainment agencies often force artists into undesirable work. The Li Group has a talent agency under its umbrella. If you want, I can arrange something for you.” Under Lan Muyu’s surprised gaze, Li Ruonan hastily added, “It’s… it’s your parents who asked me to look after you.”

Compared to the Lan family’s real estate ventures, the Li Group’s investments spanned a much broader range, with stakes in numerous industries. Though Li Ruonan didn’t manage the smaller companies under the Li Group’s umbrella daily, they still had to report their annual performance. She vaguely recalled having investments in Yuncheng as well.

Lan Muyu set down her chopsticks and propped her chin on her hand. “Don’t worry, I didn’t misunderstand that you wanted to help me out of your own volition. It’s all my parents’ doing.”

“Right.”

Unable to bear Lan Muyu’s gaze, Li Ruonan was about to retreat when Lan Muyu spoke again: “What about the profit split? I won’t sign for anything less than 100%.”

Li Ruonan froze mid-step. “Are you robbing me?”

“You just said my parents asked you to help. Are you backing out already?” Lan Muyu teased.

“I’m not.” Li Ruonan headed upstairs. “Go to bed early tonight. I’ll take you there tomorrow morning.”

“Got it! Thank you, President Li. Good night, President Li. Mwah, mwah, mwah!”

At the corner of the staircase, Lan Muyu successfully caught sight of Li Ruonan stumbling slightly before hurrying up the steps.

Humming cheerfully, Lan Muyu cleared the leftovers into the trash, washed her hands, and leisurely made her way upstairs.

The second-floor bedroom clearly saw regular cleaning—not a speck of dust in sight. She knocked on the only closed door, “Where do I sleep?”

A text soon arrived on her phone, Your choice.

Lan Muyu saved the number in her contacts and chose the adjacent bedroom—the one she had just showered in—before stepping inside.

She collapsed onto the large bed, the soft mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Lan Muyu rolled over, grabbed a pillow to hug, and opened her phone, switching to her own Weibo account.

Having played the female lead in Director Qi’s art film Whispering Love in My Heart—a mute girl who starts as an innocent, bullied child and grows into a confident female team doctor for a soccer team—the film was filled with heartwarming interactions between the leads, radiating sweetness.

As it was a dual-female-lead film, after Lan Muyu won the Best Newcomer Award, the other actress, Han Feifei, completely cut off contact. But such things were common in the entertainment industry, so Lan Muyu could only laugh it off.

Director Qi, with decades of ups and downs in the industry, excelled at capturing atmosphere and mood, often outperforming commercial films at the box office. Thus, Whispering Love in My Heart swept awards for Best Director, Best Cinematography, and Best Newcomer for the female lead, bringing Lan Muyu some popularity.

In her past life, after signing with Fu Yao’s Tianhao Entertainment, the company pressured her to bring newcomers into the cast. However, Director Qi never bowed to capital influence, so despite his high regard for Lan Muyu, he refused Tianhao’s demands.

Later, rumors spread that Director Qi had abandoned Lan Muyu, which eventually morphed into claims of personal conflict between them. From then on, Lan Muyu was shut out of the film industry and could only act in TV dramas.

A faint, bitter smile tugged at Lan Muyu’s lips. After a moment’s thought, she opened Weibo’s editing box and typed,
#Lan Muyu Joins Tianhao Entertainment#
Not signed with any agency yet. Will share good news with you all first if there’s any heart.

Simple and clear. One tap to send.

The advantage of being temporarily agency-free was that she could post such things without being scolded. Thinking of the manager Tianhao assigned her in her past life—someone who took advantage of her reluctance to fight back, berating her at the slightest dissatisfaction—she really had been pathetic.

Lan Muyu sighed and picked up her phone to search for recent entertainment industry updates. Even though she’d lived through it once, double-checking wouldn’t hurt. Time ticked by, and by the time she’d sorted out the general timeline and reviewed the industry’s state at this point, nearly two hours had passed.

The air conditioning had left her throat dry. Rubbing her neck, she headed downstairs for a drink. Though Li Ruonan could be harsh with words, at least she didn’t skimp on living conditions.

The fridge was stocked with three drawers of beverages. Lan Muyu pulled out a soda but hesitated, then put it back. For the sake of her figure, she gritted her teeth and grabbed a juice instead, twisting off the cap.

Just as she brought it to her lips—click—the entire house plunged into darkness. Some juice spilled onto the back of her hand in the sudden blackout.

Lan Muyu: ???

She turned on her phone’s flashlight and fumbled her way to the living room light switch.

Click. No response.
Click. Still nothing.

Glancing at her phone, it was exactly 9 p.m. She wondered if Li Ruonan had the property management’s contact info—this was likely a power outage.

But before seeking out Li Ruonan, she needed to deal with her juice-sticky hand.

Groping her way to the kitchen, she turned on the faucet—no water.

She stubbornly tried another faucet—still no water.

With a puzzled expression, she headed upstairs. The neighborhood looked refined, so how could the property management be this terrible?

Her parents were, after all, in real estate—how could they have settled for such shoddy work?

Lan Muyu reached the second floor. If not for the light from her phone, she would have collided head-on with Li Ruonan, who had just stepped out of her room.

“The power’s out, and so is the water. Do you have the property management’s number?”

“No.” Li Ruonan suddenly seemed to remember something and leisurely glanced behind Lan Muyu, hinting, “But I heard this place used to be a mass grave. Strange things happening late at night are pretty normal here, like—”

“Ah!” Lan Muyu’s phone fell to the ground, cutting off the only source of light.

Just as Li Ruonan was about to mock her, she sensed something and turned her gaze—only to see Lan Muyu, who had been trembling in fear moments ago, now boldly picking up her phone and shining it upward from below, illuminating her own face as she hid behind Li Ruonan, pretending to be a ghost.

Li Ruonan: “…”

This wasn’t quite what she had expected.

Without a word, Li Ruonan turned to head back to her room, but Lan Muyu grabbed her wrist at the door. “How are we supposed to sleep without air conditioning in this heat?”

Li Ruonan turned back. “Fifty percent.”

“What fifty—” Lan Muyu started to ask before suddenly realizing Li Ruonan was referring to the contract terms.

“Fifty-fifty split on the contract. Agree, and I’ll turn the AC back on immediately.”

Lan Muyu’s eyes widened in realization. “You cut the power and water?”

Li Ruonan pulled her hand free. “And the Wi-Fi. In my house, you follow my rules. Lights out at nine sharp every night.”

Lan Muyu was stunned. What kind of devil’s bargain was this?

“If I agree to fifty-fifty, will you stop cutting them?”

“They’ll still be cut, but I’ll leave the AC on for you.”

Lan Muyu clenched her fists. “I’m not hot.”

Then she stormed back to her room and slammed the door.

Fine. Li Ruonan was done for.

Was she the kind of person who would compromise just for air conditioning?

She would fight this capitalist tyrant to the bitter end!

So, at seven the next morning, when Li Ruonan opened her door, she was greeted by a Lan Muyu with dark circles under her eyes, looking like a drained spirit, who hissed, “Director Li, you’re finally awake?”

Li Ruonan hesitated. “How about… breakfast first?”

“Sign the contract first. I don’t trust you not to back out.”

Feeling a twinge of guilt at Lan Muyu’s state, Li Ruonan agreed. “Fine.”

By the time they left, it was past 7:30. Lan Muyu had spent ages layering on concealer to hide the dark circles—naturally, that took a while.

Li Ruonan took Lan Muyu straight to Starlight Entertainment. They used a private elevator, avoiding any disturbance to others. Lan Muyu was no stranger to Starlight—in her past life, it had relentlessly overshadowed Tianhao Entertainment and snatched plenty of resources from Fu Yao.

Perhaps Li Ruonan had given prior instructions, because the talent director at Starlight already had the contract ready. Lan Muyu skimmed through it—not that there were issues, but the terms were suspiciously generous. What kind of agency took no cut and provided free services?

She double-checked. “You’re really giving me 100%?”

Li Ruonan smirked. “That depends—do you want air conditioning or not?”

“I don’t need it.”

With a contract this good, who cared about air conditioning?

Under the perplexed gaze of the artist management director, Lan Muyu swiftly signed her name and pressed her fingerprint onto the contract.

If she came here, things would indeed become much more interesting, wouldn’t they?

After signing, Lan Muyu handed the contract back to the director and bowed slightly. “I’ll be in your care from now on.”

The director, adept at reading situations, understood that Lan Muyu must hold significant importance in Li Ruonan’s heart—after all, Li Ruonan, the powerhouse behind Xingyao Entertainment, had personally shown up. She hurriedly waved her hands. “We’ll plan your career path carefully. If anything doesn’t suit you, feel free to speak up.”

Lan Muyu smiled gently. “Then I’ll trouble you with that. I should probably familiarize myself with—”

But before she could finish, Li Ruonan interrupted. “I’m taking her out for a meal. I’ll bring her back later.”

The director nodded repeatedly. It wasn’t unusual for celebrities to be parachuted into agencies, but yesterday, she had been notified that a major figure from the Li family—Xingyao’s backer—would be arriving. When instructed to prepare this contract, her shock had been beyond words.

And today, who could have guessed that the so-called major figure was none other than the president of the Li Group, and that the “small celebrity” was Lan Muyu, who had dominated the trending searches just yesterday?

Though Xingyao had considered recruiting Lan Muyu after her award win, the person claiming to be her manager had outright rejected them, expressing a preference for Tianhao Entertainment. So, they had dropped the idea.

Who could have imagined that, just days later, Lan Muyu would become their artist—and arrive hand-delivered by the CEO herself?

Judging by Li Ruonan’s attitude, it seemed Lan Muyu would have to be treated like royalty from now on. The director stared blankly at Lan Muyu’s retreating figure. Her demeanor had been polite, without any airs.

But the director had seen enough two-faced people in this industry—maybe it was all an act for Li Ruonan’s benefit? Who knew if this new star would be easy to handle?

Yesterday, inside Li Ruonan’s car, Lan Muyu had deliberately replied to Fu Yao about signing the contract, temporarily placating both Fu Yao and the Fu family.

When the Fu family saw the trending hashtag about Lan Muyu’s signing last night, skyrocketing up the charts, and heard the banquet guests praising Lan Muyu’s natural star power and the bright future of Tianhao Entertainment, they had swelled with pride.

But who could have predicted that, just as the birthday banquet was winding down, someone would read aloud Lan Muyu’s clarifying Weibo post? Under the guests’ skeptical and disdainful gazes, the Fu matriarch had fainted on the spot, bringing the celebration to an abrupt end.

Afterward, Fu Yao had been ordered by her family to track down Lan Muyu—even threatened with consequences for Tianhao Entertainment. But she hadn’t thought it a big deal. Lan Muyu loved her, after all. Maybe she had just run off in a huff after clashing with Fu Yitong. A few sweet words would surely fix things.

Yet this time, Lan Muyu was being unusually disobedient. Fu Yao could already picture her apologizing profusely.

When that happens, I’ll just stand firm. We can always amend her contract again. For the Fu family, it might not be such a bad thing after all.

Therefore, she calmly took Jiang Qianrou home first. Faced with Jiang Qianrou urging her to quickly find Lan Muyu, the guilt in her heart couldn’t help but rise again. In comparison, the willful and reckless Lan Muyu was completely no match for Jiang Qianrou.

But when Fu Yao returned to her apartment and tried contacting Lan Muyu by phone, she found the line busy. Unwilling to believe it, she called again, only to get the same result.

Though she was beginning to suspect the truth, she stubbornly sent a WeChat message—only to be met with a red exclamation mark.

Just as Fu Yao was about to throw her phone in frustration, Fu Yiming sent her a message, clearly gloating. Old Madam Fu favored her grandson Fu Yiming, and even though Tianhao Entertainment was Fu Yao’s father’s asset, the old woman constantly tried to secure advantages for Fu Yiming.

Late at night, she had no idea where to look for Lan Muyu. Since Tianhao and Xingyao’s office buildings were close by, she decided to wait until the next day. When she arrived at Tianhao Entertainment, she spotted Lan Muyu across the street, chatting and laughing with another woman.

Seeing Lan Muyu’s radiant smile, recalling the humiliation from the night before, and remembering all the pressure she had endured, the anger she had suppressed all night finally erupted.

Fu Yao stormed across the street and snapped, “Lan Muyu, haven’t you caused enough trouble?”