If Li Mengjiao was pushed to study, she could manage.
With her current grades, if her parents pushed hard, she might have a shot at a top university.
Rural kids, with no access to tutoring and parents unable to help, still manage to get into top universities from poorly resourced township schools. That takes exceptional intelligence and strong study habits.
Li Mengjiao was different.
If she got into a top university, it would be because Li Zhentao and his wife prioritised her education from the start, enrolling her in extracurricular tutoring, guiding her from a top city primary school to a provincial key junior high, then a provincial key high school. With such educational resources paving the way, it would be odd if she didn’t succeed.
But that was it.
The college entrance exam would likely be the highlight of Li Mengjiao’s life.
For a child who didn’t love studying, how could she change her life through academics?
The path Li Zhentao and his wife laid out made Li Mengjiao’s life easier, but that ease meant she’d struggle to surpass her parents’ achievements. At Li Zhentao’s age, he was a state-owned enterprise leader. By the time Li Mengjiao reached that age, he’d be retired, and she’d face life’s challenges alone… With limited ability, the difficulties Li Zhentao handled with ease might cause her great pain.
Thinking of this, Li Zhentao’s resolve strengthened, “What parents like doesn’t matter. She needs to do what she loves, what she’s good at!”
Passion fuels motivation.
She needed supervision for homework but loved singing and dancing from the heart. Her popularity on the talent show, with many fans, showed she had real talent, not just parental bias.
So why not let her try?
Even if parents couldn’t help much.
Li Zhentao believed he could.
He couldn’t protect his daughter forever, but within his power, he could give her a boost.
Wang Jun was somewhat convinced.
Parents’ preferences shouldn’t override a child’s. Wang Shuang had recently matured, not because of Wang Jun’s teaching, but because he figured things out himself.
“Xianming, what do you think?”
Wang Jun looked at Qin Xianming, who tapped the table, “Any business can make money. Our issue is we’re unfamiliar with this industry, but that’s fine. We can start with a few million to test the waters. If it profits, great; if not, it’s tuition for learning.”
Qin Xianming believed film investment could be profitable.
The initial goal was to help Li Zhentao.
Li Mengjiao, whom they watched grow up, was like a niece. They couldn’t let her naively dive into the entertainment industry and get hurt.
Plus, it was 2004. TVs were widespread, black-and-white sets nearly gone, replaced by large colour TVs. These improved programme visuals, with vibrant gala shows on coloured screens… TV content was far richer than in Qin Xianming’s youth. After over 20 years of reform and opening, with people’s basic needs met, it was time to grow the entertainment economy!
Qin Xianming set the tone, and Wang Jun, trusting his investment instincts, agreed without further comment.
“When do we put in the money?”
Wang Jun, bold and impatient, was ready to act.
“No rush. I need to vet the project to ensure your investment doesn’t go to waste. I’ll look into the details.”
Without a good script, Li Zhentao wouldn’t foolishly invest his own money or drag friends into it.
He understood Yuan Fenghui’s intent and was willing to invest with friends, but only if she was reliable!
What if Yuan Fenghui came to the mainland just to make a quick buck?
They were outsiders, clueless about the industry, and film investment was ripe for fake accounting—daily shooting costs or actor fees were whatever Yuan Fenghui claimed. Celebrity tax evasion scandals had already hit the news, showing the industry’s cost controls weren’t always transparent.
As for what made a good script, Li Zhentao didn’t know but would find experts to judge.
With business settled, they called for the food and brought out Wen Ying, Li Mengjiao, and Wang Shuang.
At the table, no one mentioned business in front of the trio, as if the night was just for dining.
Wang Shuang nearly asked several times but held back.
Li Mengjiao couldn’t figure out what her dad was up to, eating distractedly like Wang Shuang.
Only Wen Ying stayed calm.
Li Zhentao would share what they needed to know in time.
If he didn’t, it wasn’t meant for them.
Wen Ying wasn’t anxious. Whatever Li Zhentao planned, it was for Li Mengjiao’s good. After dinner, he asked Wang Jun to take Li Mengjiao home while he drove Wen Ying.
Wen Ying was curious what Li Zhentao wanted to say without Li Mengjiao, never expecting him to invite her to join scriptwriting.
“No rush now. Start during winter break, just be mentally prepared.”
Li Zhentao told Wen Ying he, Qin Xianming, and Wang Jun tentatively planned to invest ten million to start a film company.
Beyond profit, the company’s main goal was to promote Li Mengjiao.
The company wasn’t set up yet, and they’d keep it from Li Mengjiao to prevent her from losing focus on studies, dreaming of stardom—Wen Ying wasn’t shocked. When Li Zhentao invited Wang Jun and Qin Xianming to dinner after leaving the music academy, she’d had an inkling.
A ten-million investment was too much for Li Zhentao alone, but with Wang Jun and Qin Xianming, it was manageable. Qin Xianming once lost millions in Macau without batting an eye.
What surprised Wen Ying was Li Zhentao asking her to write scripts, to be a screenwriter.
“Uncle Li, you might be mistaken. I’m learning to write and want to pursue it, but my skills aren’t ready for TV scripts…”
Screenwriting differed from novel writing. Wen Ying was still exploring how to write, so how could she be a screenwriter?
True, Wen Ying had a forward-thinking perspective and past-life experience, having read many literary originals and seen hit shows not yet released. If pushed, she could cobble together a script from those works, full of melodramatic clichés. It might not be critically acclaimed but would likely draw attention.
But that wasn’t what Wen Ying wanted.
Nor was it the result she wanted to give Li Zhentao.
Li Zhentao’s film company was for Li Mengjiao.
Wen Ying wanted Li Mengjiao to shine in the industry, not to plagiarise or let her debut in a trashy drama!
Li Mengjiao deserved better, and so did Wen Ying.
Beyond money and fame, life needed something more—Wen Ying called it “youthful ideals.” Without ideals, the blood wouldn’t burn, and life would lose joy, a numbness material wealth couldn’t fill!
Li Zhentao looked at Wen Ying with admiration.
How many sixteen-year-olds could resist fame and fortune?
Recognising one’s limits clearly was something many adults couldn’t do, often overestimating their strengths and ignoring weaknesses.
But Wen Ying was different.
“Silly girl, if I wanted other screenwriters, couldn’t I pay for them? Ten thousand won’t sway them, but a million will! But they’d just work for money, not care about Mengjiao. They wouldn’t share the worry and hope your aunt and I have for her. You lack experience, but you’re Mengjiao’s friend. You’ll think of what’s best for her, right?”
Li Zhentao’s long speech left Wen Ying speechless, and she nodded, “Of course I’ll consider Mengjiao. That’s what friends do. When she got a chance, she recommended me to Producer Yuan right away.”
“That’s enough. Don’t worry, I’ll hire experienced screenwriters to guide you. Learn from them. With you involved, even if the script isn’t a blockbuster, it’ll be the best for Mengjiao.”
With Li Zhentao saying this, Wen Ying couldn’t find a reason to refuse.
“…I’ll give it a try then!”
No wonder Li Zhentao was a leader. Even in an unfamiliar field, his approach was solid.
His goals were clear: the film company had to make money.
It needed to produce good dramas suited for Li Mengjiao.
In the final show, others’ roles didn’t matter, but Li Mengjiao couldn’t be shortchanged. Her character and screen time had to make her the undeniable “female lead.”
Since they were investing, Li Mengjiao couldn’t play second fiddle. Fearing Yuan Fenghui might mislead them, Li Zhentao placed Wen Ying in the production, starting from scriptwriting, to safeguard Li Mengjiao.
Yuan Fenghui wouldn’t suspect Wen Ying.
Li Zhentao trusted her.
Crucially, he wasn’t sacrificing Wen Ying’s interests for his daughter. Wen Ying was already leaning toward this path.
Yuan Fenghui paid Wen Ying 2000 yuan for an MV script; Li Zhentao promised her fair compensation.
They talked a bit more, and Wen Ying went home with Li Mengjiao’s lead song materials.
Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong were already home. Seeing Wen Ying return so late, Chen Ru interrogated her about where she’d been.
“Some work stuff.”
Wen Ying told the truth, but Chen Ru brushed it off, “What work? Back to the night market? Your shrimp shop makes money, but don’t lose sight of priorities. Your dad and I don’t need you to support the family.”
Wen Ying hadn’t planned to carry the family’s finances alone.
But sometimes, when she didn’t chase money, it came to her. What could she do?
The job Li Zhentao offered, if completed well, might earn enough to buy a car—not a luxury one, but still… Best not tell her parents, to keep them motivated for English tutoring.
