Oh—I see.
Good thing she didn’t get ahead of herself.
Xie Qian naturally needed to invest. Relying solely on extorting money from Xie Jinghu wasn’t a sustainable plan—especially after Xie Jinghu’s major loss before the year-end. He’d surely be wary of Xie Qian going forward.
The ‘Jinhu Group’ was a behemoth—Xie Jinghu’s heart leaned heavily toward his overseas mistress and illegitimate children—who wouldn’t stay quiet. The more leverage Xie Qian held—the greater his chances of winning in the future.
The land he bought in Modu couldn’t be developed yet. In the meantime—Xie Qian needed other ventures. Two to three million was a lot for most—but for Xie Qian—it was a manageable sum to practice with.
Wen Ying mentally polished Xie Qian’s reasoning—nodding solemnly: “Investing in this drama is the right move—Tianjiao will definitely make you money!”
Her tone was so certain—outsiders might think she was Tianjiao’s boss.
Xie Qian believed her.
“You’re putting in so much effort—even if this drama doesn’t profit—it won’t lose. Earning is great—if not—it’s experience. Your real collaboration with Tianjiao is the next project.”
Wen Ying’s revised script built on someone else’s foundation—with many constraints. Whether the drama succeeded—her contribution was partial—not enough to make her a renowned screenwriter.
Her true proof of strength would be Tianjiao’s second drama.
Xie Qian looked forward to Wen Ying’s original script hitting the screen—provided Tianjiao didn’t flop with its debut!
If the first drama tanked—where would funds for a second come from?
But he didn’t voice this to avoid stressing Wen Ying.
Her words sparked an idea.
Xie Qian was investing two to three million—she didn’t have his wealth—but had earned over 500,000 yuan from Tianjiao’s script fees.
Buying a car for Old Wen cost over 40,000—her remaining funds could just hit 500,000.
Other dramas might sit unsold in libraries—but Tianjiao’s debut—Yuan Fenghui would ensure sold its broadcast rights quickly—meaning fast returns.
Wen Ying planned to snag a Modu property deal by year-end.
But without more income—500,000 wouldn’t buy a good Modu house. Better to invest it in Tianjiao’s drama—for some dividends!
Chen Ru hadn’t finished talking with Li Zhentao. Xie Qian asked Wen Ying if she wanted to leave first: “If your mom comes out and sees you still here…”
“Let’s go—I’m with you.”
Wen Ying grabbed her bag—hurrying after Xie Qian.
As for script work—the master leads—the practice is personal. Her script wasn’t in Martian—Yun Chen and Li Mengjiao could understand it. Studying it themselves would make their performances more natural.
“Hey—”
Wang Shuang felt something off today.
His good brother Xie Qian came to back him up—why hadn’t they even chatted?
Was friendship this fickle?
Li Mengjiao grabbed him: “Why’re you running? Wen Ying’s done—you’ve got a ton left.”
Wang Shuang had no tact—Wen Ying and Xie Qian nearly got caught—they must be rattled.
Would Xie Qian comfort Wen Ying?
Li Mengjiao’s thoughts wandered.
God—what would Xie Qian comforting someone look like? She couldn’t imagine it!
Overthinking was a curse—Li Mengjiao shivered—goosebumps everywhere.
Yun Chen watched this teenage drama unfold—barely containing his laughter.
Tianjiao might be a shell company—but with these kids—he’d enjoy filming in Rongcheng.
…
Leaving Tianjiao—Wen Ying worried her mom would scold her that night. Xie Qian suggested she show more concern for her parents’ studies—accompanying her to Xinhua Bookstore to pick out study guides—half for Wen Ying—half for Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong.
The market had many guides—not all worthwhile. Some were filler—doing every question yielded little gain. Good guides progressed from easy to deep—questions secondary—fostering problem-solving thinking. Average students struggled to pick quality—Xie Qian’s scholar eye minimized errors.
In the bookstore—Zou Weijun’s co-planned academic books were visible.
Newly released—they sat prominently.
Not the bookstore’s keen eye—but the publisher’s hefty promotion budget.
“How’s this book selling?”
“Pretty well—you buying?”
The clerk glanced where Wen Ying pointed.
Before school started—students flocked to bookstores. The book’s prime spot and provocative tagline drove sales.
Thanks to that tagline—buyers acted sneaky—blushing at checkout.
These two students seemed unfazed.
“One… no—two copies!”
Wen Ying didn’t blush.
The “banned for minors” tagline was her idea for Zou Weijun.
Outrageous as it was—the book was a serious science text on adolescent physical and mental health. To support Zou Weijun—Wen Ying bought two.
One for herself—one for Xie Qian.
She didn’t think twice paying—but handing the book to Xie Qian—she noticed the clerk’s odd look.
This book—for Xie Qian—seemed… inappropriate. No—she had no weird thoughts—clear conscience—what’s to fear?
Xie Qian took the book without overthinking.
What’s taboo about teen health?
Where there’s suppression—there’s resistance. Better to guide than block.
Accepting the book—Xie Qian supported his mother’s work—and encouraged Wen Ying to study it openly at home.
Wen Ying was showing dangerous signs.
First Song Shao—now Yun Chen. Xie Qian couldn’t fault her taste—puppy love wasn’t a monster—but Wen Ying wasn’t ready for it.
“Read this book carefully.”
Xie Qian urged—Wen Ying nodded vigorously: “Definitely—I’ll write a review!”
Xie Qian finally nodded—satisfied.
Unbeknownst to him—Wen Ying meant reading it to give Zou Weijun reader feedback—entirely misaligned with his intent. Their chicken-duck talk somehow balanced!
That night—Chen Ru returned home—ready to talk to Wen Ying—but found her asleep at her desk.
Seeing the book by Wen Ying’s hand—Chen Ru’s pupils shrank.
—Banned for minors?
Wen Ying—New Concept first-prize winner—had permission to read ‘leisure books’ at home—meaning non-academic extracurriculars—not adult content!
