(The Old Yu)
Filming resumed soon after.
At first, things didn't go smoothly for Hu Xiaoyu. He wasn't used to facing the camera; his gaze wandered, his angles awkward.
But foxes learned fast.
Within minutes, he'd asked if the other two actors could shoot first so he could "observe."
Xin Shibai handled the negotiation effortlessly, and Director Zhong agreed. The others didn't mind either—finishing early meant leaving early.
Zhong was prepared to spend extra hours coaching the newcomer, even mentally drafting the apology email he'd send to the client later that night.
But when Hu Xiaoyu finally stepped before the camera, the entire set went quiet.
He didn't act—he became the frame.
Every blink, every turn of his head caught the light in perfect rhythm. The lens loved him.
Zhong's heart thudded once.
We'll have to reshoot the others, he realized. They'll look flat beside him.
By the time the final shot wrapped, Zhong was grinning like a man who'd just discovered gold.
The assistant texted his boss.
"Filming complete. You can come pick up Little Fish now."
Twenty minutes later, Yang Kai's "help" arrived.
A tall, gaunt man stepped out of the elevator—his once-handsome face now lined and weary, a deep frown carved into his brow as if it had never left.
Yang Kai hurried forward, eyes red and wet. "Uncle Yu! You came! Without you, I— I'd never be able to face them again!"
The man was Yu Wenhe, second son of the Yu family's previous patriarch.
To be more precise—he was Yu Tan's father.
Yu Wenhe had always been fond of the younger generation. Even though Yang Kai was only distantly related—his grandmother's cousin's child, practically a stranger—Yu Wenhe couldn't bring himself to ignore the plea.
When he saw the boy's miserable state, his expression softened slightly. "Come on. I'll take a look."
Yang Kai followed close behind, a triumphant gleam flickering in his eyes.
After all, who in Shencheng would dare refuse a Yu?
The moment Yu Wenhe appeared in the studio, the atmosphere shifted.
Zhong Yizheng, who had seen his share of powerful men, straightened instinctively. He recognized the name—an elder from the Yu family.
He'd always thought Yang Kai's talk of "connections" was bluster. Apparently not.
Xin Shibai's face tightened. He quickly stepped aside and texted his boss.
In Yu Tan's car, a box of desserts sat on his lap.
By the time he finished reading the message, the cardboard corners had been crushed under his fingers.
"Drive faster," he said evenly.
Inside the studio, Yu Wenhe stood with the kind of arrogance that only years of power could breed.
He looked Hu Xiaoyu up and down—surprised for half a second by that extraordinary face—then lost interest just as quickly.
His tone was cool, dismissive. "Replace him. The ad will be shot by Yang Kai."
Zhong Yizheng's jaw tightened. "Mr. Yu, with respect, this wasn't Hu Xiaoyu's fault."
Hu Xiaoyu blinked.
Yu?
His gaze flicked toward the man again. Something about him felt… wrong.
His life force was dim, flickering—like a lamp nearly out of oil.
So this was Yu Tan's father?
Why did his presence feel so utterly lifeless?
Yu Wenhe's lips curved faintly. "And if it's not his fault?"
He turned those cold eyes back on Hu Xiaoyu, looking down at him as one might at a speck of dust.
"Will you leave on your own," he said, "or shall I have someone escort you out?"
Xin Shibai leaned close, whispering, "That's the elder Mr. Yu—President Yu's father."
Hu Xiaoyu blinked. "Yu Tan's… biological father?"
"Yes."
The conversation wasn't quiet enough.
Yu Wenhe heard every word. His expression darkened instantly. "You know Yu Tan?"
Hu Xiaoyu didn't answer at once. His mind was whirling.
From his fox's intuition, he could see the truth plain as day—this man's fate line was barren.
A life without heirs.
So how could Yu Tan possibly be his son?
End of Chapter 25.