“How’s it written?”
Screenwriter Zhang held the script for a long time without saying a word, piquing Yuan Fenghui’s curiosity.
If the script were terrible, Zhang would have skimmed it and tossed it aside, ready to critique Wen Ying with the air of a seasoned veteran.
But Zhang’s expression showed he was engrossed.
He wanted to speak but didn’t know how to evaluate it. He pushed the script toward Yuan Fenghui, “See for yourself.”
Wen Ying’s script took an unconventional approach.
Zhang could already envision scenes from the script. A drama about the entertainment industry naturally wouldn’t be plain. Wen Ying’s handling of the plot had some rough edges, but the story was complete. Each character had a distinct personality, making different choices that drove the narrative forward, with self-consistent logic—its logical coherence surpassed that of typical idol dramas!
Idol dramas captivate because they depict scenarios unattainable in real life, offering viewers an escape. Wen Ying’s script, while set in the flashy entertainment world, had a grounded core. Amid the extravagance, there was authenticity. Audiences might not imagine themselves as the protagonist, but they’d be drawn in by her journey.
Not only the protagonist but the supporting characters weren’t just brainless props—they were vivid and compelling.
Wen Ying clearly favored the protagonist but cared more about the work’s overall integrity.
This was bold!
Wasn’t Wen Ying worried that Li Mengjiao’s performance might be overshadowed by other characters?
Tianjiao Film was investing heavily to promote Li Mengjiao. If they accidentally made another actor a star instead, that’d be quite the irony!
—Wait, why was he already imagining the script being filmed?
—Had he, Zhang Guang, already conceded defeat?!
Zhang’s emotions were a tangled mix.
While Zhang was lost in his thoughts and conflicted feelings, Yuan Fenghui quickly finished reading the script.
She stared at Wen Ying for a while, as if trying to see through her surface to her core.
After a moment, Yuan Fenghui gave up.
The world never lacked geniuses. She’d met many talented people in the industry and always knew some were born for this, creating as effortlessly as eating or drinking. Their talent wasn’t just a gift from the heavens—it was as if the heavens were spoon-feeding them!
Wen Ying was such a person.
What surprised Yuan Fenghui was how young Wen Ying was, yet she’d already tapped into her talent.
Wen Ying’s entertainment industry script wasn’t the real entertainment world, but it was the one audiences wanted to see.
Yuan Fenghui and Zhang had the same concern.
If Li Mengjiao starred in this, could she outshine the other characters?
What if someone else stole the spotlight? Wouldn’t that mean all their efforts were paving the way for another’s success?
This script should wait a couple of years until Li Mengjiao had more acting experience before launching the project. But having seen a script so perfect for Li Mengjiao, Yuan Fenghui’s professional ethics wouldn’t let her push Li Mengjiao toward Zhang’s script.
Yuan Fenghui closed the script, acknowledged Wen Ying’s work, and tossed the decision back to her, “Your script is excellent, beyond my expectations. Do you think Mengjiao can handle this level of performance right now? You wrote the supporting roles just as vividly, and Mengjiao might be overshadowed. It’s a double-edged sword!”
Zhang could write a script of this caliber, but since Tianjiao Film paid him, his focus was solely on promoting Li Mengjiao. He didn’t care if the story’s logic was tight or if the supporting roles were too dumb and got criticized—bad dramas could still get ratings!
A good script doesn’t just shine through its leads. In any classic, whether a drama or other literature, the ensemble cast makes it memorable, with a rich array of characters.
Take *Princess Pearl*, a hit across Asia. Beyond the main characters, the villainous Empress and Nanny Rong left lasting impressions. They weren’t mindlessly evil; they had their own perspectives, and their actions made sense from their standpoint.
The Empress and Nanny Rong were so striking that if the two young actresses playing the true and false princesses hadn’t been well-cast and beloved, they might have been outshone by the villains.
Yuan Fenghui had only seen Li Mengjiao’s stage charisma and didn’t know if she had acting talent. Taking on such a challenging role right away—what if she flopped?
So, Yuan Fenghui’s words were directed not just at Wen Ying but also at Li Zhentao.
Wen Ying was a minor, driven by passion. Li Zhentao, a seasoned adult, should understand her concerns.
Seeing Yuan Fenghui and Zhang’s reactions, Li Zhentao knew Wen Ying’s script was high quality.
This kid never disappointed!
Li Zhentao said gleefully, “How could Jiaojiao perform poorly?”
Money was a great thing. It could buy good scripts and fund Li Mengjiao’s drama to ensure her success. Li Zhentao had already spent big—would he skimp on small expenses?
If it was a good script, he’d hire acting coaches to train Li Mengjiao, even breaking down the script scene by scene to shape her performance!
It was too late to stay out of the industry.
If she was in, she had to be the best!
A star with fame, talent, and commercial value held status in the industry.
Status meant protection.
Li Zhentao wasn’t blindly confident in his daughter. Even if Li Mengjiao wanted to slack off, he’d push her forward.
Yuan Fenghui was speechless.
She finally understood where Li Mengjiao’s confidence came from. Li always hid it well, but this was the real him!
Wen Ying shared Li Zhentao’s view but couldn’t say it as bluntly. She looked at Yuan Fenghui earnestly, “Teacher Yuan, if Li Mengjiao is surrounded by meek sheep, she’ll only be a sheep. Put her with wolves, lions, and tigers, and she’ll evolve to the top of the food chain. She doesn’t want to be someone’s foil, so she must work hard. She’s proud and rises to challenges. This script is risky for her, but every great opportunity in this world comes with risks!”
What’s the point of playing a simplistic sweet girl in an idol drama?
A teenage Li Mengjiao could rely on her looks to charm audiences without much acting skill.
But ten, twenty years later, would she still play naive sweethearts?
Wang Shuang, excited for a while, couldn’t hold back. As soon as Wen Ying finished, she clapped vigorously, “Li Mengjiao definitely doesn’t want to be a sheep!”
Whether mountain goats, sheep, or antelopes, they’re prey for carnivores. A Rongcheng girl wouldn’t accept such an upbringing.
Wen Ying smiled at Yuan Fenghui, “Teacher Yuan, I know you’re looking out for Mengjiao’s best interests. That’s why I hope for your approval. I don’t want to oppose you. If we face challenges, we’ll tackle them one by one, right?”
Before Yuan Fenghui could respond, Zhang stood up, “You don’t need to worry about me. This script is indeed good. If Li Mengjiao starts her career with a script of this quality, her future in acting is bright.”
In today’s entertainment industry, acting and singing are separate paths.
But two or three decades ago, Hong Kong had stars who excelled at both.
As an industry veteran, Zhang couldn’t stoop to competing with a high schooler like Wen Ying. He graciously stepped back.
Yuan Fenghui finally nodded slowly.
“Old Zhang, this time—”
Wen Ying gave Yuan Fenghui an apologetic smile and interrupted Zhang, “Teacher Zhang, you’re not backing out now, are you? Though Li Mengjiao won’t star in your script, it’s still sold to Tianjiao Film.”
Zhang was stunned.
“You think my script is good?”
Wen Ying nodded vigorously, “Of course it’s good. If filmed, it’ll likely be hotter than mine. I just said it doesn’t suit Li Mengjiao, not that it’s bad. A script that can make big money for a film company is highly valuable. If you sold it in Taiwan, it’d spark a frenzy!”
Wen Ying judged based on memories from her past life.
Her earnest tone gave Zhang immense respect, smoothing over his lingering reservations.
Li Zhentao quickly stood to shake Zhang’s hand, “Teacher Zhang, business is business. You signed a contract with Tianjiao Film. Thank you for writing such a great script! Don’t rush back to Taiwan—stay in Rongcheng a few days. Let me play host. And when production starts, we’ll need your expertise on casting. No one knows the script better than you…”
Flattered by Li Zhentao’s high praise, Zhang followed him out, slightly dazed.
He wasn’t foolish—why take the script back to Taiwan?
Not only would breaching the contract cost him a penalty, but even without one, he’d want to sign quickly.
Wen Ying said his script would be a hit, and he hoped so too.
But whether it would succeed depended on the market. Even the best screenwriters couldn’t guarantee ratings.
Besides, idol drama budgets in Taiwan were limited—millions for production, who’d spend 500,000 on a script? Tianjiao Film paid generously, and Zhang privately hoped to collaborate more.
Only Wen Ying, Yuan Fenghui, and Wang Shuang remained in the office.
Yuan Fenghui put away the script, “This is just a first draft, right? Some details need tweaking. If you’re willing to learn, I don’t think Teacher Zhang will hold back.”
With the conversation at this point, Yuan Fenghui wouldn’t object further.
Li Mengjiao didn’t want to be a sheep, and neither did a strong woman like Yuan Fenghui!
Though Li Mengjiao’s path with Wen Ying’s script diverged from Yuan Fenghui’s initial plan, the new challenge promised greater rewards. Yuan Fenghui wanted to try it!
Li Mengjiao’s winter break was destined for grueling acting classes.
High schooler Wen Ying could really write scripts.
Yuan Fenghui no longer underestimated high schoolers and turned to Wang Shuang, “Do you want to be a producer?”
