Chapter 415: Unreasonable Clause: My Mom Has "Immunity to Clap Back"!
At the capital, Spark Media Building.
Wu Tong, the gold-medal director renowned in the variety show circle for being utterly “shameless,” clutched his briefcase. The moment he saw Jiang Ci, it was like spotting a long-lost father he’d been separated from for years.
“Teacher Jiang! My long-lost family!” Wu Tong rushed over with a sliding kneel, “I thought I’d be spending every New Year on your blacklist for the rest of my life!”
Jiang Ci sat in the main seat, twirling a pen in his hand. He wasn’t wearing his usual baggy hoodie today; instead, he’d changed into a black shirt with the top two buttons undone and the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, revealing the smooth lines of his forearms.
Ignoring Wu Tong’s melodramatic pity party, Jiang Ci tapped the pen tip lightly on the table.
“Stop acting, Director Wu.” Jiang Ci’s voice carried no discernible emotion, yet it exuded a sense of pressure. “You didn’t wipe off the eye drops. They’re still hanging on your cheek.”
Wu Tong let out a sly chuckle, instantly dropping the act. He pulled out a chair and sat down smoothly, then produced a thick stack of contracts from his bag.
“It’s an S-Class project, ‘Romantic Trip with Family.’ It focuses on intergenerational bonding and healing travel.” Wu Tong talked a mile a minute, spittle flying everywhere.
Jiang Ci didn’t take the contract. Instead, he looked over at Lin Wan beside him.
Lin Wan understood immediately. She slid a document that had been printed in advance across the table toward Wu Tong.
“What’s this?” Wu Tong was taken aback.
“A Supplementary Agreement.” Jiang Ci leaned back in his chair, relaxing into the backrest, his gaze turning sharp. “Sign this, and I’ll sign your contract.”
Wu Tong warily flipped open the file.
The smile froze on his face the moment he saw the first page.
[Clause 1: Right to Refuse Malicious Editing]
Party B (Jiang Ci and his mother) reserves the right to provide final review and suggestions for the finished episode. If the program crew uses splicing, audio manipulation, or other means to maliciously distort or vilify the image of Madam Chu Hong (such as creating a persona like a ‘Horrible Mom’), Party B has the right to unilaterally and unconditionally terminate the contract and demand that Party A pay a penalty for breach of contract of fifty million yuan.
“Fif-fifty million?” Wu Tong’s throat went dry. “Teacher Jiang, this is just a variety show. Shows need conflict to be interesting…”
“Conflict is fine, but it can’t happen to my mom.”
Jiang Ci stared at him coldly. “She’s never worked in this circle. She doesn’t understand your dirty tricks for chasing traffic.”
Wu Tong wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “Alright… well, what about this…”
[Clause 2: Absolute Right to Speak and Immunity to Clap Back]
During filming, Madam Chu Hong has the right to halt recording at any time. If anyone (including but not limited to other guests or passersby) provokes her unreasonably, Madam Chu Hong holds the ‘Right to Clap Back with Immunity.’ The program crew may not use this as grounds to steer public opinion negatively.
“Immunity to clap back?” Wu Tong’s mouth twitched. “What if Auntie makes another guest cry?”
“Then they must have deserved it.” Jiang Ci answered with complete justification. “My mom is a reasonable person. She only acts up when someone else is unreasonable.”
Wu Tong gritted his teeth and turned to the third page.
[Clause 3: Right to Physical Removal]
Given Party B’s special circumstances as a celebrity (prone to attracting negative attention/sudden incidents), for any suspicious individuals (including unofficial paparazzi and obsessive fans) attempting to charge at or harass Madam Chu Hong, Party B reserves the right to ‘physical removal.’ Any legal consequences arising from this will be handled with Party A’s assistance.
“Physical removal?” Wu Tong stared at those four words, shrinking his neck. “Isn’t that… a bit too violent?”
“Director Wu.” Jiang Ci stopped twirling the pen. “My mom is getting older. She can’t handle being scared. This is my bottom line.”
He tapped the table, producing a crisp knock. “If you can sign it, press your fingerprint now. If not, the door’s over there. Goodbye, and don’t bother coming back.”
The conference room was dead silent.
Lin Wan sipped her coffee, watching the show with calm detachment. She knew Jiang Ci too well. On the surface, he seemed carefree, but the moment it came to people he cared about, this guy’s internal calculations were sharper than anyone’s, and his methods were crueler.
Wu Tong stared at the Supplementary Agreement, which was practically ripping his flesh off, his heart bleeding. This wasn’t inviting a guest; this was inviting a living ancestor!
But then he reconsidered—
What kind of heat did Jiang Ci have right now? He was a walking nuclear bomb of traffic!
Add in that mysterious Empress Dowager Chu Hong, who could train Jiang Ci to be obedient… the moment this mother-son duo stood together, they were guaranteed ratings!
Never mind a fifty-million penalty. Even if he had to perform an on-the-spot swallowing of the contract, he’d take it!
“Sign!” Wu Tong bit down hard, squeezing out the words through gritted teeth. “Fortune favors the bold! I’ll sign!”
Signing, stamping.
The deal was done.
Jiang Ci looked at the bright red seal on the contract and finally let his tense shoulders relax. He switched back to his usual lazy demeanor, played with his phone, and dialed the top contact on his list.
“Hey, Mom.”
His tone immediately shifted, transforming from the cold Asura at the negotiating table into an obedient, doting son. “The deal’s done. That little Wu… oh, Director Wu—he was practically crying and begging for us to come. Yeah, right. The money’s all paid, no refunds.”
Chu Hong’s vigorous voice came through the other end: “Really? It’s not one of those scam groups trying to sell you health supplements, is it?”
“Of course not.” Jiang Ci laughed. “It’s the real deal. The kind that’s on TV. You should start packing now. I’ll come back early, and we’ll leave the day after tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Chu Hong panicked a little. “Then I need to get ready…”
Three days later.
Star City, the old residential compound.
The morning mist hadn’t lifted yet. A few black business vans, plastered with the Romantic Trip with Family logo, parked in jarring contrast on the worn-out concrete road.
The van door slid open.
First out was the camera operator, hoisting dozens of pounds of gear, aiming the lens at the red-brick building covered in ivy.
Following him was Director Wu Tong, stepping down.
He looked at the building, steeped in the atmosphere of the 1990s, and then at the pile of honeycomb briquettes nearby. Pushing up his glasses, a flash of wild joy lit up his eyes.
This material! This texture!
Other celebrities had mansions, villas, and huge luxury flats, with toilets practically gold-plated.
But Jiang Ci? He’d dragged the entire program crew straight into a Reply 1988 setup.
This extreme contrast was guaranteed ratings!
“All departments, steady. Covert filming. We want to capture the most authentic first reaction.” Wu Tong whispered into his walkie-talkie.
The cameras snuck silently into the stairwell.
The motion-activated lights were old and broken. The hallway was dimly lit, the walls plastered with ads for unclogging drains and fake IDs.
Third floor, Room 301.
The place where Jiang Ci grew up.
Wu Tong stood at the door, straightening his collar, and signaled the on-site host to knock.
Knock, knock, knock.
The knocking echoed unusually loud in the silent stairwell.
Everyone held their breath.
What would be behind the door?
A touching mother-son reunion? Or a frantic scramble to tidy up the house?
“Who is it? This early in the morning.”
A vigorous female voice came from inside, accompanied by the slap of slippers on the floor.
Click.
The old security door swung open.
Chu Hong stood there in a loose set of pure cotton pajamas, holding a dripping spatula in one hand, her hair casually pulled back in a bun. She wore not a trace of makeup, and still had the sleepy grumpiness of someone just woken up.
The lens zoomed in.
This was the national mother-in-law’s debut! All-natural! No filter!
Wu Tong was just about to put on his professional smile and greet her, “Hello, Auntie. We are—”
Slap!
Chu Hong took one look at the array of long guns and short cannons outside the door, turned around, and slammed the door shut.
She moved so fast she nearly smacked the camera operator’s lens.
Everyone outside the door: ”…”
Wu Tong’s hand hung in the air, his smile frozen solid.
What kind of script was this?
Then, Chu Hong’s voice came through the door, loud and completely unashamed.
“Jiang Ci! Get up and put some clothes on!”
“Those TV people are here!”
“Change out of that red underwear with the hole in it! Don’t embarrass me!”
In the hallway, the dozen or so staff members of the program crew looked at each other in blank dismay.
The bullet comments in the live stream froze for a second, then exploded completely.
[HAHAHAHAHA! Red underwear! It’s the red underwear again!]
[This is his real mom! One hundred percent his real mom!]
[I’m dying! Jiang Ci’s Film Emperor image just shattered into a million pieces!]
[That door slam was amazing! As long as I close the door fast enough, the awkwardness can’t catch me!]
Inside the house.
Jiang Ci had been half-asleep, just sitting up from the sofa. That yell nearly sent him rolling off. He looked down at the red boxer briefs he’d specifically worn for good luck, then at his mother, who was now peeking through the peephole at the door.
“Mom…” Jiang Ci covered his face in despair. “You know how soundproof this door is, right?”
Chu Hong turned around, completely calm: “I know.”
“Then why did you shout so loud?”
“If I didn’t shout loud enough, how would they know you’re changing?”
Chu Hong set the spatula down on the coffee table, perfectly justified. “That way, they won’t dare to just barge in. We need to clean up first, don’t we?”
Jiang Ci: ”…”
What kind of twisted logic was this?
It was like killing a thousand enemies while sacrificing eight hundred of your own!
“Hurry up.” Chu Hong kicked the slippers on the floor. “Make the bed. I’m going to change clothes.”
“Oh, and put those two cartons of milk you brought back in a visible spot. They brought us a gift, so we need to show them we see it.”
Five minutes later.
Just as Wu Tong was seriously considering extreme filming methods like “breaking the door down,” the door opened again.
This time, the scene had completely changed.
Chu Hong had changed into a tasteful dark-colored knit sweater, her hair perfectly combed, and she’d even put on a string of pearl earrings. She stood at the doorway with a flawless, standardized smile on her face.
“Oh, it’s Director Wu, isn’t it?”
Chu Hong extended her hand warmly. “I’m so sorry, the wind was strong earlier, and the door just blew shut on its own. Please, come in, come in.”
Wu Tong: ”…”
If it weren’t for the deafening slam still echoing in his ears, he might have actually bought the “wind” excuse.
Jiang Ci stood behind his mother in that simple white T-shirt, looking at the dazed Director’s Team, and helplessly spread his hands.
His look clearly said:
See?
This is my “Best Actress” mom.
When it comes to acting in this house, I’m only second place.
“Everyone, please change your shoes.” Jiang Ci stepped aside to clear a path, pointing at the row of plastic slippers on the floor.
The lens followed the group’s gaze as it moved inside.
There was no shabby poverty on display, nor any deliberate cover-up. The old terrazzo floor was polished to a shine, the worn-out sofa draped with a white lace cover, and the ancient wall clock had long stopped ticking.
On the five-drawer cabinet directly facing the door sat a black-and-white photo.
The man in the photo wore a police uniform, young and handsome. His features bore a striking, seven-tenths resemblance to Jiang Ci. In front of the photo sat a plate of fresh apples and three small cups of liquor that hadn’t yet been cleared away.
The camera operator instinctively moved to zoom in on the memorial portrait.
Just as the lens was about to turn, a hand blocked its path.
Jiang Ci stood there.
The mischievous grin was gone from his face. He said nothing, simply staring quietly at the lens, his eyes dark and terrifying.
“This way, please.”
Jiang Ci said softly, using his body to discreetly block the photo as he guided everyone to the other side of the living room.
That was his bottom line.
That was the backbone of this household.
It didn’t need to be displayed, and it sure as hell didn’t need anyone’s pity.
Wu Tong, a veteran in the game, immediately gestured for the camera operator to change the angle.
“Alright, alright! Let’s start with the interview!” Wu Tong raised his voice to cut the tension. “Auntie, the program crew has prepared a surprise for you and Teacher Jiang for the first stop of our trip.”
Chu Hong sat on the sofa, her back straight, holding a cup of hot tea. Her presence was in no way inferior to any rich matriarch.
“What surprise?”
Wu Tong pulled an envelope from behind him, mysteriously handing it over. “Open it and see.”
Chu Hong took the envelope and tore it open.
Inside was a plane ticket.
Destination: [Sanya].
Seeing those two words, Chu Hong’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
“What’s wrong, Auntie? Don’t you like the seaside?” Wu Tong, sharp-eyed, caught the micro-expression. “These days, young people love to go surfing and diving there.”
“I do like it.”
Chu Hong placed the ticket back in the envelope, looked up, and asked a question with utmost seriousness that plunged the room back into silence: “Is the market there… far?”
“I wanted to bring two pounds of cured meat. Can I get it through security?”
Wu Tong: ”…”
Jiang Ci, leaning against the doorframe, finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.
He watched his mother seriously debating the “cured meat shipping standards” with the director.
And the stone that had been weighing on his heart finally, completely, settled to the ground.