“You say you want fearless youth~yo!”
“You’ve got the courage to stand alone~ha”
“You say the world isn’t just black and white~”
The lead song Yuan Fenghui chose for Li Mengjiao had simple lyrics, a catchy chorus melody, and a lively rhythm. Every note burst with energy. Even without post-production mixing, it struck Wen Ying’s seasoned ears, making her feel the vibrant beat of youth… Wen Ying hadn’t heard this song in her past life; it was likely a product of the butterfly effect.
Or perhaps it existed in her past life, but sung by someone else, not Li Mengjiao, and it never took off, so Wen Ying never heard it.
No matter. A song that didn’t succeed with others could become a hit with Li Mengjiao. This upbeat track had the potential to be a chart-topping banger. If Li Mengjiao was shooting a drama next year, this song should be tied to it—
After just a few listens, Wen Ying could hum along to the melody.
Easy to learn and sing, paired with Li Mengjiao’s popularity from the talent show and effective promotion, it was unlikely to flop!
For such a lively song, the MV didn’t need a complex plot. Yuan Fenghui was practically handing Wen Ying money.
Humming the tune, Wen Ying finished the script in just over two hours, with actual writing taking about an hour. The other hour was spent online researching, structuring the script with storyboards to make it easier for the MV director to shoot.
Yuan Fenghui hadn’t asked for this, but Wen Ying chose to do it.
She didn’t just want Yuan Fenghui’s 2000 yuan to be well spent; she wanted it to feel like a bargain. Wen Ying always approached work this way, which was how she’d established herself in Shanghai in her past life.
You get what you’re paid for. Those who refused to go the extra mile were stuck coasting in the workplace. When conditions allowed, Wen Ying did more.
Not for the client, but for herself. While satisfying the client, she honed her skills—why not?
After saving the document, Wen Ying, feeling fulfilled, shut down the computer and went to bed.
She thought about what Li Zhentao said in the car. The New Concept Essay Contest results weren’t out yet, but by a twist of fate, she was landing a “screenwriter” side gig… This was a milestone in her writing career, more thrilling than her first solo client in her past life. Wen Ying climbed out of bed and texted Xie Qian.
“I’ve got good news to share!”
“Funny, so do I.”
Xie Qian replied quickly. Wen Ying checked the time and curbed her urge to spill.
“Shall we talk at school tomorrow?”
“…Sure.”
Xie Qian was indeed composed.
Wen Ying tossed her phone into the blankets, buried her face in them, and laughed.
The next day at school, Wen Ying was radiant, but Li Mengjiao had dark circles under her eyes.
“My dad drove you home yesterday—what did he say? I guessed all night, and you didn’t reply to my texts!”
The usually carefree girl was unusually troubled.
When Li Mengjiao texted, Wen Ying was writing the MV script and didn’t respond, later forgetting after finishing.
Wen Ying had completed the first draft and planned to revise it tonight before sending it to Yuan Fenghui’s assistant.
As for Li Zhentao’s plan to start a film company with investors, they’d agreed to keep it from Li Mengjiao, so Wen Ying wouldn’t spill, “Uncle Li was worried Xu Mei’s setup might upset you and asked me to cheer you up.”
Li Mengjiao was skeptical, “Then why call Uncle Qin and Uncle Wang? They were clearly talking investments.”
“Maybe just catching up?”
Wen Ying’s excuse didn’t convince Li Mengjiao.
But she didn’t press further.
A possibility struck her: her dad did discuss investments with Qin and Wang, but they refused, so he didn’t mention it at dinner.
Li Mengjiao was always carefree, resolving most troubles herself. If she couldn’t, friends stepped in, and if they couldn’t, her parents did.
Especially her dad, Li Zhentao, who was like a god in her eyes, capable of fixing anything.
Every New Year, their house was flooded with visitors seeking her dad’s help.
Li Mengjiao had never seen him ask for help.
How much investment did he request from Uncles Qin and Wang to get turned down?
Just for her album… Li Mengjiao wasn’t upset at Qin and Wang for not investing; she just felt for her dad. They were equals, but now it felt like he’d been diminished.
With this weighing on her, it showed on her face. Wen Ying figured the girl’s imagination had gone astray and wanted to steer her back, but the morning study bell rang.
Xie Qian arrived late today.
His hair was damp. As the weather grew colder, Rongcheng’s mornings were foggy, and mist turned into droplets on his hair.
Wen Ying wasn’t the first to notice Xie Qian’s wet hair. His devoted fangirls, concerned, had swapped the cold milk in his desk for warm milk.
Milk, bread, and hot boiled eggs.
Sometimes even steaming eight-treasure porridge.
Buns or fried dough sticks never appeared in Xie Qian’s desk—they’d dirty his books, something the fangirls wouldn’t allow.
Feeding their idol was clearly a coordinated effort.
Xie Qian wasn’t surprised to find a pile of lovingly prepared breakfasts in his desk. He shared them with nearby classmates, who were used to it. One boy, seated behind Xie Qian, stopped buying breakfast, relying on Xie Qian’s handouts.
Unable to tell who sent what, Xie Qian, to avoid favouritism, ate none of it, having breakfast at home.
After distributing the food, he quietly asked Wen Ying, “What’s the good news?”
Yesterday, Wen Ying went to the music academy for Li Mengjiao’s recording. Xie Qian guessed her news might relate to Li Mengjiao but couldn’t pinpoint it.
Chatting during morning study was bold. Wen Ying passed him a note, “Uncle Li asked me to be a screenwriter!”
The exclamation mark nearly tore the paper, showing her excitement.
Wen Ying briefly explained Li Zhentao’s plan to invest with Qin Xianming and Wang Jun to start a film company.
Xie Qian smiled.
So that’s it.
He didn’t ask why Li Zhentao chose Wen Ying as a screenwriter; he could think of seven or eight solid reasons instantly.
First, Wen Ying had the talent.
Second, Li Zhentao clearly trusted her.
Li Zhentao wasn’t foolish or trying to flatter Wen Ying. Xie Qian was happy for her.
“Congrats!”
“When does he say you’ll start?”
Xie Qian was thrilled for Wen Ying but worried she might get carried away.
As desk mates, he’d observed that while Wen Ying dreamed of being a writer, she didn’t write during class. But Li Zhentao’s offer was so tempting, Xie Qian feared she’d lose focus.
“Uncle Li said winter break.”
Wen Ying’s eyes sparkled with excitement, already anticipating the holidays!
Xie Qian thought Jinhu Group had a film company, which Xie Jinghu didn’t value, leaving it to others to manage.
Xie Qian hadn’t cared before but now felt intrigued.
When he could access his 2% group shares, could he take over that film company?
Too bad he had to wait two years.
Xie Qian was impatient.
“Did Uncle Li mention how much investment he’s pulling?”
Wen Ying shook her head, “He didn’t say, but the company’s for TV production, so at least a few million, right?”
A few million was conservative. Given Li Zhentao’s moves, inviting Qin Xianming and Wang Jun, Wen Ying suspected it was in the tens of millions.
It was 2004, not 2019. A million wouldn’t cover a popular actor’s fee in 2019, but in 2004, ten million was substantial. For a TV drama with no heavy special effects or big stars, it was enough.
Xie Qian was thinking bigger.
What share could 1 million buy in the company?
2 million, or even 5 million?
Xie Qian couldn’t produce that now unless he asked his mother, Zou Weijun.
But he dismissed the idea.
He didn’t want to be Wen Ying’s boss.
Whether Wen Ying became a screenwriter or writer, it should come from her own merit. If he backed her financially, her efforts would lose their purity.
Wen Ying was proud and wouldn’t want that kind of help!
Besides, Xie Qian wasn’t content being a minority shareholder.
In a company, small shareholders had little say. If he was to do a film company, he’d rather start his own. Xie Qian didn’t like taking orders.
Wen Ying poked his arm with her pen and passed another note, “What’s your good news?”
Xie Qian pulled a proposal from his bag, *Little Firefighter*, the one he mentioned on Saturday, already fully planned.
“There are two things. One is this firefighting event. My mum wants to take it on, and since she’s interested, I agreed on her behalf.”
Wen Ying flipped through the proposal. It was detailed, addressing safety issues in Yang Xi’s neighbourhood and older surrounding areas. Xie Qian also outlined how to promote “Shrimp King” through the event, with clear steps.
“If Aunt Zou is willing to follow through, that’s great! What’s the second good news?”
Wen Ying decided to study the proposal at home, eager for Xie Qian’s other news.
Xie Qian’s smile shifted, a mix of amusement and irony, “The second thing—I know why Zhao Dong couldn’t stay abroad!”
