Wen Ying only learned what had happened a few days later, and it came from Qin Jiao’s mouth—neither Chen Li nor Deng Shangwei had told her.
This life was indeed different from the last. Wen Ying hadn’t expected her aunt to become so bold, not only standing with her uncle to face Yu Wenhao’s schemes but also returning to work at the seafood company despite pitying glances.
Chen Li’s return to the workforce thrilled Wen Ying more than anyone.
Qin Jiao felt awkward, “It’s because of my family that your uncle’s stuck with that reputation.”
Wen Ying shrugged it off. Her uncle hadn’t just done it to please Boss Qin—Yu Wenhao was a ticking bomb. Until it was defused, her uncle couldn’t sleep easy. Partnering with Boss Qin aligned their goals.
Besides, compared to her last life, where even family lost faith in her uncle, this time they were united!
Yu Wenhao and his son’s current smugness was temporary. They thought they’d sidelined her uncle, unaware that this ordeal had tightened his bond with Boss Qin. The grievances her uncle endured now would be repaid by Boss Qin later. With such a powerful ally, Wen Ying saw no limit to Old Deng’s potential this time around.
Everyone agreed Wen Ying shouldn’t meddle further, so she stepped back.
Xie Qian took her polished proposal to Director Lü. Whatever he said worked—Lü didn’t just approve the “Food Festival,” he was enthusiastic, offering strong support. That day, he sent two staffers from the street office to assist, including Xiao Ye, the shrimp-loving newbie.
Xiao Ye, a fresh college grad, was spirited, chatty, and just a few years older than Wen Ying’s crew. She clicked with them instantly, no airs, making collaboration smooth.
With Xiao Ye’s help, promoting the festival along the street was a breeze. Night snack bosses, hearing it’d be on TV, signed up eagerly.
Big events cost money!
For a legit festival, they needed light boxes and inflatable banners. Wen Ying, recalling customers praising her stall’s food for not causing stomach issues, knew hygiene mattered to diners. She’d highlighted this in her proposal.
The night snack street served regular folks, but tourists came too.
Raising hygiene standards could, with the festival’s boost, turn it into a Rongcheng tourism gem.
That must’ve struck Director Lü. He gathered all the street’s bosses for a stern meeting.
The gist: the street office would clean up the strip. Fixed shops and temp stalls had to be orderly. Old grime had to go—any unhygienic spot ruining the image was out of the festival.
Missing the festival was minor; bosses feared bigger repercussions. They pledged cooperation.
“Director Lü’s doing this for us! Why else bother with a festival? He’s not short on pay—busting his hump for our livelihoods. If I don’t appreciate it, lightning’ll strike me!” BBQ boss Big Liu was the first to chime in.
Wen Ying and Xie Qian, young faces among seasoned vendors, stood out. Wen Ying knew Big Liu well—his BBQ joint topped the street. Why’d customers pick him? He knew how to charm.
Lü loved Big Liu’s flattery but kept a straight face, “I’m just doing my job—no hero worship!”
Still, Big Liu’s sweet talk and quick cash won him a prime festival spot in Lü’s mind.
The best spot, though, was reserved for Wen Ying and Xie Qian.
A tale of students working part-time was media gold.
Lü wasn’t the type to burn bridges. Wen Ying and Xie Qian handed him a gift; he’d repay it.
During the proposal chat, Xie Qian mentioned turning their temp stall into a fixed shop, asking the street office to keep an eye out for vacant storefronts.
Stalling was part-time work; a shop was real entrepreneurship.
In principle, Lü backed it.
Few showed such precocity in their teens. Talking with Xie Qian, Lü sensed his polish and clarity—rare qualities. Helping these kids now might pay off later.
Festival costs came from participating vendors and a street office grant. Wen Ying’s stall was the only one exempt.
Lü didn’t broadcast that students planned the festival, just said Wen Ying’s crew were kids needing a fee break. No one quibbled with that.
Post-meeting, Big Liu wanted to pair his stall with Wen Ying’s, but Lü kept her and Xie Qian back.
In the office, just the three of them, Lü softened, “I’m meeting an old classmate at the TV station today. Want to tag along?”
A solid event gave Lü leverage to tap his network.
At his age, you could tell who’d soar or flop.
Old classmates spanned industries—most faded, but a few thrived, like this producer friend at Rongcheng City TV.
Wen Ying, across two lives, had never dealt with TV. Lü’s invite was a chance to broaden her horizons.
She glanced at Xie Qian. He nodded, so she grinned, “Thanks for taking us to see the world!”
Lü had set 2 p.m. with his classmate. At just past 1, he grabbed the proposal, took Wen Ying and Xie Qian, and cabbed to the station.
There, his classmate hit an urgent meeting, leaving them in a lounge.
Soon, the door opened, and in walked a group—Wen Ying spotted a familiar face.
Huh, Professor Fang?
She recalled Fang’s husband led at the provincial station, but this was city TV!
Fang saw Wen Ying and Xie Qian too.
This underage “Black Wind Duo” left a mark—especially Xie Qian’s last “blessing,” haunting her for days.
Fang couldn’t stop mulling Xie Qian’s words.
If it were her, would her kid stand up for her?
She tested her working son, who first cursed his dad’s indiscretions, then hemmed about bringing a girlfriend home, asking if Fang had proof. If it wasn’t big, could she let it slide?
Let it slide?
Family shame stayed hushed. Her son, nearing marriage age, leveraged their status—provincial TV dad, professor mom. A divorce would tank his prospects!
Her son was pragmatic. Fang got it but felt let down. Explaining it was a jest, he nearly cried—don’t joke like that!
Seeing Wen Ying and Xie Qian here threw her back to that “blessing.”
Wait, why were they at city TV?
Fang eyed them warily.
Wen Ying hesitated, then greeted her.
Fang responded coolly, keeping up appearances.
Lü chuckled, unsurprised. These kids weren’t ordinary.
Ten minutes later, the door swung open. A woman in a suit strode in, “Old Lü, Professor Fang—my fault, scheduling you together!”
Lü, needing a favor, brushed it off with pleasantries, urging her to handle business first.
She led Fang’s group next door. Wen Ying caught “audition” and “judge”—they wanted Fang for a show.
Fang didn’t commit. Producer Yan pressed, “City TV’s co-hosting, but it’s Mango TV next door running it. Auditions start soon—your presence would elevate it.”
Yan was earnest. Fang glanced at the lounge, “I see your sincerity, Xiao Yan, but I need to discuss this at home. I’m wary of the spotlight.”
Auditions, judges, Mango TV.
Summer 2004.
It clicked for Wen Ying.
The first Super Girl Rongcheng auditions were kicking off?
Super Girl launched stars and made judges famous.
Wen Ying recalled Fang wasn’t a judge last time—she must’ve declined Yan.
As Fang moved to leave, Wen Ying instinctively followed, catching her at the stairs.
“Professor, can I have a few minutes?”
