Wen Ying and her companions’ gazes were so sincere that Zhang Guangzhen felt embarrassed as he accepted the business card from the Hunan Satellite TV executive.
Hunan Satellite TV’s in-house drama might come with conditions that some screenwriters wouldn’t like, but its funding and production team were undoubtedly superior to the makeshift crew Cao Bo and his lot had put together. Zhang Guangzhen valued this offer highly!
Still, he felt awkward, knowing Yuan Fenghui had intended this occasion to boost Wen Ying.
“Well, this—”
“What’s with the hesitation? Why are you stammering? We’re not strangers, and do you see Wen Ying minding?” Director Fan and the other executives exchanged pleasantries and left, while Yuan Fenghui quickly gave Zhang Guangzhen a few words of advice before departing.
Tonight, Yuan Fenghui was swamped, bustling around with her three protégés, attending to every detail.
Not only did she deal with Hunan Satellite TV’s top brass and media contacts, but also brand representatives who approached to hire Li Mengjiao and Yun Chen for commercials.
Hiring Li Mengjiao came with one price, Yun Chen another, and if both appeared together, the fee would go up!
This celebration was, in truth, a networking and business negotiation event. As Yu Tianlin noted, Yuan Fenghui would create opportunities for her artists even when none existed—how could she pass up a room full of them?
Yuan Fenghui left, but Zhang Guangzhen, holding the business card, was deeply moved.
He even began reflecting, feeling he’d done too little for Yuan Fenghui while receiving so much.
Back when Yuan Fenghui was vilified in Taiwan’s entertainment circle, Zhang Guangzhen knew she wasn’t that kind of person but lacked the courage to defend her publicly.
Just yesterday, he’d even gone against his conscience to add scenes for Yu Tianlin!
Yuan Fenghui kept stressing “money matters,” but could money justify abandoning integrity?
Yuan Fenghui’s magnanimity was something he couldn’t match.
Nor could he compare to the sincerity of Wen Ying and her young friends.
Standing with the trio, Zhang Guangzhen suddenly felt ashamed.
The excitement of being courted by Hunan Satellite TV’s executives faded, replaced by a sudden lack of enthusiasm.
Wen Ying noticed the change in Zhang Guangzhen.
“Teacher Zhang, are you unwell?”
“I’m fine. I just… need a moment to myself,” Zhang Guangzhen said, waving off Wen Ying’s concern and retreating to a corner to “count mushrooms.”
A smile spread across Wen Ying’s face.
Wang Shuang leaned in, “What are you smiling about?”
“I’m happy!” Wen Ying replied.
Teacher Yuan had completely won over Zhang Guangzhen—another capable ally for Tianjiao!
Wen Ying’s smile was mirrored by Xie Qian, while Wang Shuang scratched her head in confusion.
…
With Yuan Fenghui’s promotion, Wen Ying and Xie Qian couldn’t stay low-key.
Earlier, people had been sneaking glances at Xie Qian, unsure of his identity.
A new talent signed by Yuan Fenghui?
Why wasn’t she pushing him forward?
His mysterious aura sparked curiosity.
Wang Shuang, heeding Yuan Fenghui’s instructions, stuck close to Wen Ying and Xie Qian, diligently playing the role of “top bodyguard.” Anyone trying to approach Xie Qian, man or woman, couldn’t escape Wang Shuang’s sharp scrutiny.
—Looking polished doesn’t mean they’re good people.
—Some might be after Xie Qian’s looks.
—Worst of all, they could be after his brains, trying to steal the guiding light of academic underdogs!
Xie Qian was unaware of Wang Shuang’s wild imagination but would’ve gone along with it if he knew.
He wasn’t particularly interested in such events. If not for Wen Ying’s attendance at the celebration, he’d already be in Shanghai.
Being spared from interruptions thanks to Wang Shuang, Xie Qian was grateful.
Some were probing Xie Qian’s background, while others came to greet Wen Ying.
Her identity was no secret, thanks to Yuan Fenghui. She was one of the screenwriters for *The Princess’s New Clothes* and the author of the bestseller *Teen Idol*.
A variety show host, whom Li Mengjiao had appeared with, was also present.
During the show, Li Mengjiao had given a hard-hitting plug for *Teen Idol*, which the host remembered.
The book was quite good.
More importantly, Wen Ying was so young, with limitless potential.
The host chatted with Wen Ying, asking with concern, “I read you won your lawsuit. Is the other party accepting the first ruling?”
Working on the frontlines of media, the host was attuned to news and had followed the case.
It was a great conversation starter, quickly bridging the gap with Wen Ying.
After the first ruling, there’s a cooling-off period. For civil lawsuits, the appeal window is fifteen working days. If dissatisfied, parties must appeal to a higher court within fifteen working days of receiving the verdict.
Wen Ying’s lawsuit against Han Qin and the magazine was decided in early September. A month later, neither the magazine nor Han Qin had appealed, meaning they accepted the ruling.
Speaking of which, *Aige* and Han Qin were required to publish an apology. The October issue of *Aige* should be out by now, right?
Wen Ying hadn’t seen the latest issue and responded cautiously to the host’s concern, “They probably won’t appeal. I’d need to check with my lawyer for specifics.”
“Congratulations, then!” the host said, though inwardly felt a bit sorry for Wen Ying.
An appeal would’ve been good for her—the longer the lawsuit dragged, the more buzz for *Teen Idol*, boosting sales.
But others’ opinions didn’t matter. Wen Ying wasn’t disappointed, and after a brief chat, the host was called away, leaving her a business card with a wink, “Keep it. Hopefully, we’ll collaborate someday!”
For now, Wen Ying was only appearing as a young author and screenwriter, staying behind the scenes.
But with Yuan Fenghui’s backing, she might soon step into the spotlight!
Xie Qian, thoughtful, asked, “Do you want to go on shows?”
He’d always thought Wen Ying was the type to quietly make a fortune, but now other possibilities seemed to emerge.
Wearing a dress with no pockets for business cards, Wen Ying handed it to Xie Qian for safekeeping, saying casually, “If it’s for promotion, I can go on shows—”
Wait, Xie Qian’s expression looked off.
And he didn’t take the card she offered.
—Murderous vibes!
Wen Ying quickly pivoted, “But the timing’s not right. I don’t want to be a star. With so many assignments to do, where’s the time for shows? Even if I wanted to, my mum wouldn’t agree.”
Xie Qian didn’t buy the “want to do assignments” bit, but the last part rang true. Wen Ying’s parents were traditional, especially her mother, who was fixated on her academic performance.
Going on shows could boost Wen Ying’s fame but would disrupt her studies and life—her mother would never approve.
Satisfied, Xie Qian finally took the business card.
Wang Shuang glanced at Wen Ying, then at Xie Qian.
Xie Qian didn’t look menacing, so why did Wen Ying seem so deferential around him?
In Rongcheng, Wang Shuang had seen plenty of henpecked husbands, but Wen Ying and Xie Qian’s dynamic was rare!
Heh, must be the natural intimidation of a top student over an academic underdog.
Wang Shuang pitied Wen Ying for three seconds before turning that pity into “admiration” for Xie Qian. Xie Qian was so cool—Wang Shuang wanted to learn!
As for what to do with that skill… well, more skills never hurt, right?
With that thought, Wang Shuang’s eyes kept drifting toward someone in the crowd.
