The premiere consisted of two episodes, and no matter how many ads were inserted, it was still just two episodes, which would eventually end.
In a room with three people watching the drama, each had their own thoughts.
Cao Shao was clearly watching the female lead, Li Mengjiao, with admiration, her every frown and smile exuding the charm of a youthful girl, making his heart itch.
Xu Mei, meanwhile, kept comparing herself to Li Mengjiao. After watching both episodes, she was puzzled: could someone really excel at everything?
Li Mengjiao’s performance wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it was quite good.
She couldn’t compare to seasoned actors, but her performance was certainly not inferior to professionally trained newcomers.
How was that possible!
Li Mengjiao was still just a high school student.
When Xu Mei acted in Emerald Forest, she had no experience, struggling to even find her mark in the first few shoots, causing other actors to have to reshoot with her. Scenes with her took two extra days. If not for Hunan TV backing her, the director would’ve kicked her out.
Filming in Taiwan for two months had exhausted Xu Mei!
Her intelligence and comprehension were fine, she was capable of getting into a top Shanghai university.
But acting relied half on understanding and practice, and half on raw talent.
Xu Mei didn’t believe her talent was less than Li Mengjiao’s. The current situation could only be because Li Mengjiao chose the right script and role. Princess’s New Clothes was tailor-made for her!
Her path was different from Li Mengjiao’s, so comparing them wasn’t fair.
Even though she won a championship, signed a contract, and followed the company’s orders, she could only play the second female lead!
Li Mengjiao, ignoring industry rules, got to play the lead… Xu Mei gave a bitter smile. Reincarnation was indeed a skill. If her family had the same conditions as Li Mengjiao’s, she might not have entered the talent show, would’ve been a perfect match for Qin Yi, and wouldn’t have broken up.
Xu Mei slipped into self-pity again.
Pan Li’s perspective was unique. She didn’t care if the drama was good, if Li Mengjiao acted well, or if the male lead was handsome. She was looking for flaws!
Any detail promoting bad values, Pan Li wouldn’t let slide.
After two episodes, the only flaw she found was: why was Wen Ying’s name in the screenwriter credits alongside Zhang Guangzhen?
Wen Ying was a screenwriter for Princess’s New Clothes?!
This was due to Pan Li’s outdated information.
Working in Hunan recently, she hadn’t followed Chengdu news. Bestselling novels were irrelevant to her, so she didn’t know Wen Ying was the author of Youth Idol.
Without this context, Wen Ying being one of the two screenwriters seemed absurd.
Same name, same surname?
Or did she shamelessly add her name to the credits because of her connection with Li Mengjiao?!
Pan Li believed the latter.
“Wen Ying, a screenwriter? How’s that possible?”
“Teacher Zhang Guangzhen must have a good temper to let a high schooler share the credit!”
Most screenwriters wouldn’t agree to that.
When Wen Ying’s name came up, Cao Shao was indifferent, but hearing “Zhang Guangzhen,” he snapped back, asking Xu Mei, “What do you think of the drama?”
Xu Mei nodded lightly, “Though I’ve only seen two episodes, Teacher Zhang Guangzhen’s character crafting is impressive. If he takes our commission seriously, I’m confident.”
Confident in what?
In becoming a breakout star, of course.
Cao Shao rubbed his chin, “Should I invest some money then?”
Shooting a drama just for Xu Mei was impossible. A drama like Princess’s New Clothes cost at least 20 million yuan. Even if Cao Shao had that much liquid cash, he wouldn’t pour it all into Xu Mei.
But partnering with a coal tycoon, putting up two or three million himself, was doable!
Neither Cao Shao nor Xu Mei cared much about Wen Ying’s name in the credits. The one fuming was Pan Li, who had a direct grudge against Wen Ying.
Finding no support from Cao Shao or Xu Mei, Pan Li called Professor Fang.
Professor Fang had also watched Princess’s New Clothes at home. After a long pause, he replied to Pan Li:
“Don’t you know? The recent high-profile reputation infringement case in Chengdu—Wen Ying is the author of Youth Idol, ‘Reverse Flow Fish.’ If she can write a bestselling novel, she’s not just a name on the Princess’s New Clothes team.”
Unlike Pan Li’s hatred for Wen Ying, Professor Fang’s feelings were complex.
Pan Li was shocked, “You mean Wen Ying actually contributed to the script?”
Could Cao Shao and Xu Mei have hired the wrong person by paying a million for Zhang Guangzhen?
The thought came and went.
No, impossible. Zhang Guangzhen was a seasoned Taiwan screenwriter. Wen Ying was just a novice, possibly learning from him, but contributing more to the script than Zhang Guangzhen? Impossible!
If she had, her name would be listed before Zhang Guangzhen’s.
Pan Li convinced herself and Professor Fang.
Professor Fang struggled to accept that Wen Ying had become a bestselling author, reaping fame and fortune so young. Now a screenwriter too, achieving success so easily—what arrogance would she show later!
…
Being a screenwriter wasn’t something to be arrogant about.
There were many people far greater than Wen Ying, countless mountains for her to climb. Only the narrow-minded would think she’d get cocky over this small achievement.
In fact, as Wen Ying watched Princess’s New Clothes with Wen Dongrong for the second time, she noticed some logically stiff setups and details.
On the path of screenwriting, she had much room to grow.
Princess’s New Clothes was revised from Zhang Guangzhen’s script, not her original work. Scriptwriting and the final filmed product were different; the same script could be interpreted differently by directors… Wen Ying was lost in thought when Wen Dongrong turned off the TV and cleared his throat:
“Your drama’s decent, no bad elements. You won’t get scolded if you tell your mum.”
Wen Dongrong hadn’t expected to watch two full episodes, wasting over two hours with ads included!
But those two hours were fulfilling. He finally understood where his car came from.
“Your screenwriter pay wasn’t just for a second-hand car, was it?”
“What, you want a new one?!”
Wen Ying’s reply indirectly confirmed her substantial earnings. Old Wen silently spat blood: as if he’d dare!
