Although Xie Qian still refused to personally tutor him, he made Peng Guoqing a shareholder in Jiaxin Film Company, which thrilled Peng Guoqing to no end.
From Peng Guoqing’s observations, he was the only one in their small group who knew Xie Qian was the boss of Jiaxin Film Company. This gave him the illusion of being Xie Qian’s confidant.
The best way to build a relationship is to keep a shared secret. Without Xie Qian needing to stress it, Peng Guoqing was determined to guard this secret.
He completely forgot that Xie Qian was hiding it from Wen Ying and the others and had no intention of telling him. Peng Guoqing only knew this secret because his mother, Mrs. Peng, was resourceful. She found out Xie Qian’s urgent need for funds and support, and at the critical moment, became a new shareholder in Jiaxin Film Company.
But according to Wang Shuang’s logic, a capable mom was basically the same as being capable yourself, no rounding needed.
Wen Ying said she had to go to the company, so the group’s gathering ended early. Wang Shuang and Li Mengjiao followed her, while Xie Qian wanted to go too, but a call from Shanghai came through. Gong Sheng faxed some documents that needed immediate attention, so Xie Qian had to head home first. Before parting, he reminded Wen Ying, “No matter what those Hunan people are up to, just counter their moves. Don’t let them lead you by the nose.”
For the promotion of *Galaxy and You*, Tianjiao had its own plan.
Xie Qian believed they could tweak the details but shouldn’t overhaul the plan just because of others’ actions. Sticking to their own rhythm made winning easier.
Wen Ying nodded slightly. “I understand.”
Though no lovey-dovey words were spoken, Li Mengjiao, watching from the side, still felt goosebumps on her arms.
Wang Shuang, the oblivious straight guy, just urged, “Hurry up, don’t keep Teacher Yuan waiting.”
This semester, Wang Shuang had focused on exam prep. Now that the exams were over, it was finally time for the chosen one to shine.
Brimming with confidence, the trio arrived at the company. Yuan Fenghui was surprised to see Wang Shuang. “Why are you here? Didn’t you just finish your exams today?”
Wang Shuang puffed out his chest. “Teacher Yuan, you’re worried I’m tired, aren’t you? No wonder you called Wen Ying and not me. I’m fine, full of energy. The company’s business is my business. Just tell me what to do.”
Yuan Fenghui thought: This kid’s naive, thinking I’m worried about him being tired.
Work for the company, talk about being tired?
At Yuan Fenghui’s company, gender and age didn’t matter—only ability counted.
Wang Shuang’s ability was that of an intern, good for running errands. No manager would consult an intern on major company matters.
Still, Wang Shuang was a shareholder, so Yuan Fenghui gave him some face. “Alright, listen in for now. You should learn how to handle company affairs. Next year, Mengjiao’s going to university in Shanghai. I’m thinking of setting up an office there first. When the time’s right, we’ll move the whole company to Shanghai. It’s better for a film company’s growth. Before the full move, the temporary office needs someone I trust to oversee it.”
Saying this, Yuan Fenghui gave Wen Ying a meaningful look.
Living in Chengdu, the land of abundance, was very comfortable—slow pace, low prices, with the only downside being less sunshine in autumn and winter.
But it wasn’t ideal for striving.
For a driven woman like Yuan Fenghui, used to a fast-paced life, staying in Chengdu so long hadn’t acclimated her. Not just Chengdu, the entire Sichuan Province was a major labour-exporting region, a sign of economic lag.
Tianjiao was founded in Chengdu only because Li Mengjiao needed to finish her studies.
With Li Mengjiao heading to Shanghai, it was time for Tianjiao to move.
Shanghai and Beijing, one south, one north, were the fertile grounds for film and entertainment companies.
Yuan Fenghui’s words were actually meant for Wen Ying.
Tianjiao could go to Shanghai or even move north to Beijing. Planning to move to Shanghai seemed like following Li Mengjiao, but it was really about following Wen Ying.
Wen Ying’s choices shaped the group’s future, and Yuan Fenghui never missed a chance to deepen their bond.
Wen Ying naturally caught Yuan Fenghui’s subtext.
But before she could respond, Wang Shuang was already ecstatic, assuming the “office overseer” role was his, patting his chest and promising to manage it well.
Yuan Fenghui smiled and skipped the Shanghai office topic. “The Shanghai office isn’t urgent. What’s urgent is the promotion of *Galaxy and You*. Wen Ying just hinted at the premiere on her blog, and Hunan’s side panicked. They’ve come up with a dirty trick—not to compete directly on ratings, but to make sure we get none.”
Wen Ying thought Liang Dan and her crew must be crazy.
Whether *Galaxy and You* could outrate Yu Tianlin’s new drama would only be clear once both aired.
Even if *Galaxy and You* lost to Yu Tianlin’s drama, it wouldn’t have zero ratings.
Was Yun Chen not handsome enough, or Li Mengjiao not popular enough?
During its test screening, *Galaxy and You* won over five TV stations. Due to policy limits, a drama could only be broadcast by four stations, and Anhui TV, which missed out, was still bitter. With such quality, how could Liang Dan and her people think they could make *Galaxy and You* have no ratings?
Wen Ying was both speechless and amused. “Teacher Yuan, what dirty trick did they come up with?”
Yuan Fenghui countered, “What do you think it is? If you wanted to make Yu Tianlin’s drama ignored, what would you do?”
Wen Ying’s mind raced.
She’d make *Galaxy and You* overshadow Yu Tianlin’s drama.
The entertainment industry was different from others. Whether it’s a star or a drama, attention has a time limit and exclusivity. If a star gets caught in a scandal, no matter how they explain, public interest rarely wanes—unless another star sparks a bigger scandal or controversy. In the end, the industry fights for attention. Even a critically panned drama is better than one that makes no waves.
Scandals and controversies were powerful tools for grabbing attention.
Wen Ying’s thoughts veered this way, and she shared her ideas briefly. Yuan Fenghui’s smile became genuine. “I was right to call you over. I knew you’d figure it out.”
Yuan Fenghui valued Wen Ying not just for her creative talent.
During *The Princess’s New Clothes*, Wen Ying showed her scriptwriting brilliance, but honestly, good scripts weren’t unique to her. With enough money, any script could be bought.
Wen Ying’s value to Tianjiao went beyond her talent—it was her problem-solving mindset, which oddly synced with Yuan Fenghui’s.
When few paid attention to portal site blogs, Wen Ying knew to leverage them. That forward-thinking vision was irreplaceable.
“Liang Dan’s got a dirty trick. She’s planning to have Yu Tianlin and Hu Man stir up a scandal. No matter how great our promotion, they’ll steal the spotlight first, making our efforts useless.”
Yuan Fenghui stopped teasing and shared her intel.
Wen Ying’s mind went blank, and Wang Shuang was even more incredulous. “What? Say that again? Who’s stirring up a scandal with who?”
