Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 69

Xia Xinran wasn’t a man who always did what he said, but Gu Jie was. When Xia Xinran, full from eating until late into the night, wanted to go home and sleep, he was ruthlessly obstructed by Gu Jie.

After declaring it an all-nighter, they agreed not to stop until the first rays of dawn broke through the clouds and lit up the sky. Throughout the night, Xia Xinran, hugging Ran Lin, repeatedly asked why he had agreed to dine out with this person.

Ran Lin, sipping on sour plum soup, was neither tired nor sleepy, but rather content.

As the sun rose, Gu Jie, true to his word, arranged for a driver to send everyone home in his formidable Land Rover.

As for the “letter of severance of relations with the Gu family” Xia Xinran had written on a napkin at 3 a.m., no one knew where it ended up; no one remembered it anymore.

When the car first stopped at Xia Xinran’s place, he, barely able to keep his eyes open, reminded them, “Remember, next time the spicy hot pot is on me!”

Despite the initial rounds of drinking, the three of them had mostly stuck to non-alcoholic beverages throughout the night, so aside from fatigue, they were all sober.

After Xia Xinran was dropped off and the car started up again, Ran Lin suddenly remembered something important and asked Gu Jie, “When you recommend me to Director He, does the director need to see clips of my performance? My team has made a highlight reel of my performances. I can send it to you if needed.”

After saying everything in one breath, Ran Lin realized it was inappropriate. After all, helping was a favor, not an obligation. Gu Jie’s willingness to make introductions was already meaningful. His words seemed overly concerned and eager, likely adding pressure to Gu Jie. Moreover, his words were unfiltered and direct, spoken as soon as they came to mind…

“No need.” Gu Jie flatly refused. “Whatever your team made for you will surely be only the best parts. Even if I take it, Director He won’t watch it.”

Ran Lin looked at his friend’s disdainful face and suddenly realized his attitude was overly polite.

Feeling complicated, he suddenly felt a heavy pat on his shoulder, then heard Gu Jie continue, “What era are we in now? A simple online search will turn up all your videos. Director He will definitely observe you from all angles. He even has an account on Station B.”

Ran Lin, mouth agape, doubted his ears. “That’s… trendy?”

“A ghost edit video can open new perspectives for observing an actor,” Gu Jie explained. “That’s his exact words.”

Ran Lin was filled with emotion. “No wonder he became a famous director…”

Gu Jie stretched his arms out, resting them on the backseat, leaned back, and sighed as if enlightened. “So… without experiencing hardships, how can you see a rainbow~~ No one can succeed easily~~”

It was an old song, but when Gu Jie hummed it, it still carried an invigorating, motivational feel.

Ran Lin suddenly realized that Gu Jie’s attitude was exactly the kind of equanimity he had always strived for. Simple, pure, direct; ready to wait a year for a good script, willing to curse at a director who rewrote a script he’d memorized, and helping a friend with whom he wasn’t particularly close.

It wasn’t a choice made after weighing gains and losses; it was just his character.

With the power of a role model, when it was time to get off at his home, Ran Lin had no more hesitations and began to treat Gu Jie like a brother. “Say some good words about me in front of the director, you hear?”

Gu Jie, with a “you-don’t-need-to-tell-me-that” look, still cautioned, “Even if I say good things, if you don’t catch Director He’s eye, don’t blame me.”

Ran Lin smiled, recalling the enticing food descriptions Gu Jie had made at the hotpot party and immediately promised, “Whether it works out or not, I’ll treat you to authentic Inner Mongolian roasted lamb leg, crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, a taste that lingers!”

“Remembered, huh… I knew you had more conscience than that guy,” Gu Jie said, clenching his fist and thumping his chest twice. “Leave it to me and wait for the victorious news!”

Ran Lin mimicked the gesture, thumping his chest twice and suddenly feeling like he had joined some secret brotherhood.

After returning home, Ran Lin fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t wake up until two in the afternoon. Feeling rejuvenated, he went online to search for information about the film <Dyeing Fire>.

[A story of the praying mantis stalking a cicada, while oriole follows*.]

*Idiom refers to while coveting the gains ahead, one should be aware of the dangers behind.

Ran Lin looked at the movie synopsis that only had one sentence after searching it and almost wanted to drop the mouse.

Director He, you might as well work for the secret service!

As for the cast, other than Gu Jie’s confirmed participation, there were guesses about every young actor you could name on Weibo, with marketers betting on who would be cast, including rumors that Director He might use a completely inexperienced newcomer.

Compared to that, at least the information Gu Jie shared had some substance. In the movie, Gu Jie plays a film cop, and he thinks Ran Lin would suit the role of a young man just released from prison, who at eighteen had followed the wrong crowd and got incarcerated for robbery. Now, six years later, he’s released at the start of the film at twenty-four.

As for the relationship between the film cop and this young man, since the new script was still up in the air, even Gu Jie wasn’t sure. But in the old script, the young man was described as thin, with pale skin hinting at green, living in a daze, and listless.

Ran Lin didn’t know why Gu Jie thought he fit this young man’s character, but he didn’t dare to ask too much for fear of upsetting matters.

A day passed after that.

The good news came on August 13^th, the day Ran Lin was shooting an advertisement for the web game of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.

He was in a magnificent costume, dueling with Tang Xiaoyu, who was clad in a moonlight white robe, both enjoying the swordplay. After the scene, they stood side by side, forcefully delivering the ad’s catchphrase to the camera—

“The most romantic sentiment, the fiercest martial world, Sword of Fallen Flowers, waiting for you to battle!”

The director was satisfied and declared it a wrap for the half-day shoot.

Tang Xiaoyu couldn’t wait to take off his makeup as he started to remove the large, bright green jade pendant hanging in front of his chest while walking back to the makeup room. He complained about the rough and shoddy work of the costume and makeup department and realized. “No wonder ‘Elder Brother’ didn’t come to shoot. It’s really a bit embarrassing.”

Ran Lin looked forward to the future. “It will also be blasted on various online platform ads.”

Tang Xiaoyu lamented, “My gentle and jade-like Xu Chongfei, ruined…”

As Ran Lin sympathized with him, Liu Wanwan caught up, offering a constantly vibrating phone, saying, “Ran Ge, you’ve got a call.”

Seeing “Gu Jie” on the caller ID, Ran Lin had a very auspicious premonition.

……

Wang Xi didn’t stay with Ran Lin to finish shooting the web game advertisement that day. Instead, after escorting him to the set and exchanging pleasantries with the director, she hurriedly returned to Dream Without Limits.

After confronting Han Ze, she had been incredibly busy for two consecutive days with various pre-scheduled meetings and activities, such as meeting with producers, directors, or networking with potential investors who might not be immediately useful but could be valuable in the future. Her schedule was packed, so she hadn’t had the chance to report her intention to change agents to the company.

Of course, she was also being cautious.

Even though Han Ze’s work had been mediocre in the past two years, he was still considered the top star of Dream Without Limits. Proposing to change agents as an artist of his stature would undoubtedly lead to criticism, and she needed time to prepare a persuasive explanation for the higher-ups.

Today, having finally found some free time and prepared her rationale, she left Ran Lin and returned to Dream Without Limits. She had already informed the boss the previous afternoon, so upon her return, she went straight to the boss’ office, who was waiting for her, which seemed like a good sign.

Everything seemed optimistic.

Before she could speak, the boss said, “Han Ze told me.”

Wang Xi had calculated everything, but she didn’t anticipate that Han Ze would act first, underestimating his shrewdness. Facts prove even the dumbest person can have moments of clarity, especially when they’re up to no good.

With the boss already spoken, Wang Xi didn’t need to say anything. She just sat there, bracing for the inevitable scolding.

When Han Ze got ruthless, he didn’t show any mercy at all. He even shared the intimate details of their initial romance with the boss, though he twisted the story to portray it as “his youthful naivety against her calculated scheming”. He piled on accusations of her inability to separate personal from professional matters, poor leadership, and more, blaming her for all the mishaps and setbacks in his career over the past two years, dumping all the blame onto her in one go.

Wang Xi wasn’t surprised by Han Ze’s betrayal or the boss’ full-blown rant. After all, if she couldn’t manage her relationship with the artists well, even she admitted that her management of Han Ze was a failure from a career standpoint.

So, she pretended to listen attentively to the boss’s scolding while actually checking if the curtains in the office were drawn.

Unfortunately, they weren’t.

This wasn’t a well-soundproofed office, and with the clear glass windows, the boss seemed determined to spare her no dignity. Wang Xi was surprised, but when the boss almost finished his rant and suggested they didn’t need to look for another agent within the company for Han Ze because he had already found a suitable one who would soon join Dream Without Limits brokerage team and become her new colleague, she realized the root of today’s drama.

It seemed the company had been contemplating removing her from her position even before discussing it with them.

If she was right, this “new colleague” would either take over her role or work alongside her at an equal level, effectively changing the leadership dynamics within the agent department.

Indeed, a too dominant subordinate isn’t often favored by leaders.

Wang Xi thought back and realized she had indeed turned down many high-paying but low-quality projects for Han Ze. She had done her best for him, but from the company’s profit-first perspective, dissatisfaction was inevitable.

As the boss softened his tone after mentioning the new agent, it was clear he was using a mix of intimidation and kindness, a common tactic for those in power. Wang Xi inwardly scoffed, but outwardly nodded earnestly.

The boss seemed pleased with her reaction, probably surprised by her compliance, and quickly concluded the meeting, allowing her to leave.

Wang Xi was surprised herself with her calmness; in the past, she would never have imagined being so composed, recalling times when she even slammed tables during arguments. But now, she understood that acting on impulse is easy; the hard part is enduring and staying focused on the goal.

Ran Lin’s career was just beginning to shine, and she didn’t want to abandon it midway.

As she walked out of the office, all her colleagues pretended to be busy, but she knew they were all watching her, listening for any signs of her reaction.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out with her head held high, her heels clicking assertively on the floor. Just then, her phone rang from her bag. Stopping briefly, she quickly answered while continuing to walk, “Hello?”

It was Ran Lin on the line.

Just two minutes ago, he had become her only partner.

Strangely, just seeing his name on the display brought her comfort, as if a refreshing rain had fallen.

“Xi Jie…” The voice on the other end seemed to be holding back something.

Wang Xi tensed up, thinking she couldn’t afford any more surprises, when Ran Lin shared, “Director He from <Dyeing Fire> has invited me to dinner!”

Wang Xi had reached the elevator and was pressing the button while asking, “What fire? Which Director He?”

“The one who directed <Eliminating a Good Man>, He Guan, Director He. His new movie <Dyeing Fire> needs to recast a few actors due to scheduling issues, and he wants to see me!”

She could hear the suppressed excitement in his voice.

As the elevator arrived and the doors opened slowly, Wang Xi stood still and asked, “Did Director He contact you personally?”

“No,” Ran Lin answered honestly. “A friend helped me make the connection.”

As the elevator doors closed and it continued down without her, Wang Xi watched the floor numbers blinking and quietly said, “When did you get such a wide network?”

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end of the phone before Ran Lin asked, “Xi Jie, are you happy or not about this? Can you give me some direction first?”

Wang Xi’s lips, previously pursed in a straight line, slowly relaxed into a softer expression, though her voice remained calm. “Which male lead are we talking about?”

“Either male lead one or two,” Ran Lin replied, swallowing nervously. “It depends on how the script is revised. If it’s a double lead, then male lead one. If not, then male lead two.”

Wang Xi: “And who is the confirmed male lead one?”

Ran Lin: “Gu Jie.”

Wang Xi: “Oh, he’s the one who made the connection for you.”

Ran Lin: “…Xi Jie, you could be a detective.”

Unable to suppress her smile any longer, Wang Xi pressed the elevator button again and exhaled slowly, “Shooting Director He’s films is notoriously tough. Can you handle it?”

“The hardship is fine,” Ran Lin paused before adding, “but the pay is a bit low. Xi Jie, can you handle it?”

“I can,” Wang Xi laughed without mirth. “But the company will probably have a headache.”

Ran Lin’s voice grew troubled. “Then what should we do…”

Wang Xi thought to offer him a plaque with “worrying needlessly” written on it. “What to do is for me to consider. But the premise of considering it is that you actually get the role first, right?”

Ran Lin: “……”

Wang Xi: “What’s wrong?”

Ran Lin: “That’s a bit harsh.”

Wang Xi: “Instead of feeling hurt, you’d better hurry up and rewatch all of Director He’s previous films. Watch them again, and then a third time. The most lovable people in the world are die-hard fans, understand?!”

Ran Lin: “Understood!”

Wang Xi could imagine Ran Lin’s silly grin just from his voice. As she was about to step into the elevator, her phone rang again.

The notorious “signal killer” elevator of the office building seemed to suggest to Wang Xi that perhaps she should take the stairs. Turning to the stairwell, she carefully descended in her high heels, phone in hand. “Yeah… I’m listening… go ahead…”

She had barely gone down one flight when she stopped in her tracks.

The call was from the movie adaptation of <Chronicles of Winter>—Ran Lin had been confirmed for the lead role, and the contract was already drafted and ready to be sent over.

This was one of the most efficient and decisive production teams Wang Xi had ever dealt with. She felt it wasn’t her luck but Ran Lin’s.

After hanging up, she breezed down to the first floor, stepping out into the harsh August sun. But instead of feeling overwhelmed by the heat, Wang Xi felt a sense of clarity and brightness.

Standing in the sunlight, she tried to recall which senior executive at the company had suggested transferring Ran Lin from Kang Hui to her care. She couldn’t remember who it was, only sure that it wasn’t the one who had scolded her that day.

Resigned, she visualized the executive as a shadowy figure with bright eyes in her mind and sincerely thanked them—

Thank you.

……

Ran Lin knew that due to continuous script revisions and repeated schedule delays, Director He was anxious to finalize the cast, but he didn’t expect it to be so urgent.

“Are you free tomorrow? Director He said he’d book a flight over if you’re available.” Gu Jie always got straight to the point, making every word count when discussing business.

It took Ran Lin a couple of seconds to digest the information. “Tomorrow might not work; I have a full day of scheduled appearances. Also, isn’t Director He in Beijing?”

“He’s in Wuhan,” Gu Jie explained. “Overseeing script revisions and scouting filming locations.”

“How about the day after tomorrow?” Ran Lin felt awkward delaying any further, especially since the director was willing to fly out to meet him.

“That’s fine, just don’t change your mind. And…” Gu Jie paused before continuing honestly, “He’s not coming just to see you. Others have recommended actors to him too; he’s planning to meet with everyone in one trip.”

Ran Lin suddenly understood and felt more at ease. “That makes more sense. It would be too much of an honor if he was coming just to see me.”

Gu Jie didn’t expect such a reaction and laughed. “Right, a role is only valuable when there’s competition. Good luck.”

Ran Lin was determined to give it his all, but he also wanted to use his resources wisely. “How did you impress Director He initially?”

Usually straightforward, Gu Jie hesitated this time. After a long pause, he admitted, “My experience might not be applicable to you.”

Ran Lin did not force others against their will, but long after the call ended, he still imagined Gu Jie shattering the audition table with a single palm, Director He clapping stiffly at the table collapsed in two, and finally, with a grit of his teeth, deciding “It’s you!”

The next day, Ran Lin spent his entire day fulfilling scheduled appearances, but whenever he had a moment, he’d watch Director He’s previous films on his phone. He had seen most of them before, but this time he focused on rewatching the director’s most classic and personally satisfying works. He delved deep into the films, studying the style, narrative structure, emotional exploration, and underlying messages.

He avoided film reviews and relied on his own understanding.

Recently, he hadn’t been in touch much with Lu Yiyao due to the latter’s hectic filming schedule. The last time they spoke, Lu Yiyao was excited about how immersed he was in his role, using methods Ran Lin had suggested and finding his own approaches. He hoped to maintain this momentum and not be a fleeting sensation.

Ran Lin could hear his excitement and tension.

Lu Yiyao may not be obsessed with acting, but he was the type of person who, when doing something, wants to do it to his satisfaction, especially when encountering difficulties, there was no second path other than “overcoming” them. Therefore, breaking through bottlenecks and finding the right feeling brought him a sense of achievement after surmounting the challenges.

Ran Lin was happy for him and understood the state of being deeply immersed in a role, so he tried not to disturb him lately.

If he could secure the role in <Dyeing Fire>, likely the contract for <Chronicles of Winter> would also be signed by then. Just after speaking with Wang Xi, his agent returned with good news: not only was he confirmed for <Chronicles of Winter>, but the contract was also ready to be signed soon if there were no issues with the terms.

Thinking about sharing two pieces of good news at once made Ran Lin quite proud, almost ready to boast to Lu Yiyao.

Outside the car window, the night deepened. Liu Wanwan watched Ran Lin, just finished with his schedule, holding his phone and watching a somber, realistic tragedy, yet smiling sweetly. She unconsciously moved a bit further towards the car door.

Her phone vibrated again. Frowning, Liu Wanwan opened WeChat and replied—[Tired, don’t want to chat.]

The other side persisted—[Don’t go, I’m still on set. Probably will be shooting till late night. Keep me company?]

Liu Wanwan was exasperated—[Why should I stay up with you?]

The other person justified—[Your boss and my boss are friends; we should maintain a good interaction too.]

Liu Wanwan—[Talk to me when you’re as handsome as your boss!]

The other side—[You can’t judge someone by their appearance! 🫴*]

*It’s actually Erkang’s hand gesture.

Liu Wanwan’s lips curved into a smile at the picture, but she resolved not to reply. Otherwise, the conversation would never end.

This colleague named “Li Tong” seemed to always find something to chat about with her, and before Liu Wanwan realized it, they had become quite familiar. Especially lately, Li Tong complained about the inhuman schedule of the <Split Moon> crew, starting work earlier than chickens and finishing later, with him suffering alongside his boss.

Liu Wanwan, feeling sorry for him, occasionally engaged in these little chats.

Neither Ran Lin nor Lu Yiyao knew that their assistants had started talking. One was preoccupied with meeting a director the next day, while the other was diligently working on set.

The next day was overcast with intermittent rain.

As soon as Ran Lin stepped out of the car, the wind almost snatched his hat away, but thankfully, the driver stopped right under the sign of “Authentic Inner Mongolian Roast Whole Lamb”, allowing him to quickly enter the restaurant without being exposed to the pre-rain winds for too long.

After he mentioned the name of the private room, a waitress immediately led him inside. However, she recognized him just a few steps in, gasped in excitement, and repeatedly expressed her fondness for his portrayal of Xu Chongfei. Ran Lin nodded continuously, hiding his dismay and agreeing, “Yes, Xu Chongfei is quite popular.”

They reached the door of the private room, and the waitress, now less excited, considerately opened the door for him. As Ran Lin entered, he felt the cool air—the air conditioning was quite strong.

Inside the spacious room sat only two people: one, his friend, beaming and energetic, dressed as if ready for a martial arts practice, and the other, casually dressed in a round-neck sweatshirt and loose shorts with a fisherman’s hat beside him—undoubtedly Director He.

Due to Gu Jie’s insistence that the day be informal, like a friends’ gathering rather than work, and the director’s preference to chat with actors, Ran Lin didn’t bring along Wang Xi.

Knowing Director He’s temperament, Wang Xi didn’t insist but reminded Ran Lin to perform well.

At that moment, Gu Jie stood up and warmly invited, “Come, have a seat.”

However, Director He remained still, not even turning to look, his gaze fixed on the teacup in front of him, exuding an inviolable majesty.

Ran Lin swallowed nervously and attempted to greet, “Director He…” but the director seemed absorbed, not responding.

Ran Lin sat down with Gu Jie, but his gaze still rested on Director He, realizing that just as Gu Jie had described, the director seemed to have entered a mysterious realm incomprehensible to others, automatically shielding himself from all external disturbances and focusing solely on his inner world.

“Have the dishes been ordered?” Ran Lin whispered.

Gu Jie nodded. “Don’t worry. All the dishes I ordered are classics.”

Ran Lin, amused yet slightly confused, wondered if Gu Jie misunderstood his question.

“By the way,” Gu Jie, remembering something, whispered, “About the lower pay for the film, there’s no issue with your agency, right? If everything goes well but you back out due to the pay, it’ll be a disaster for me. Director He would be furious.”

Ran Lin understood Gu Jie’s concerns.

As an artist signed with a company, unlike those who own their studios, he didn’t have much say in choosing scripts. The company took seventy percent of the film’s earnings, so when it came to spending a few months filming, whether earning one million or ten million, the company’s choice was obvious and without hesitation.

At such times, Ran Lin felt it was better not to be too famous. “I’ve already informed my agent. It’s all good. No eager investors are trying to throw money at me yet.”

Gu Jie laughed, about to pour a glass of water for Ran Lin, when suddenly he noticed Director He looked up, quickly patting Ran Lin on the shoulder.

Ran Lin, catching the cue, turned and met Director He’s gaze, standing up respectfully and greeting, “Director He.”

He Guan was a tall and burly man with a square face, a crew cut, deep eye sockets, a slightly hooked nose, and a chin adorned with stubble, presenting a very formidable and fierce appearance.

“Sit down quickly. No need for such formalities.” Director He finally ended his contemplation and gestured hastily.

Despite his rugged appearance, He Guan’s voice was surprisingly easygoing. Even without a smile, his facial features seemed relaxed, lacking the pretentious depth or sternness common among many directors.

“Today is just a casual chat. Don’t be nervous. If you’re nervous, you won’t be yourself, and then today’s meal will be wasted.” Director He was straightforward, addressing the purpose of the meeting without overemphasizing it, maintaining a comfortable balance.

Ran Lin didn’t know what to say for a moment, just staring at the genial, smiling director, finding him quite marvelous.

Director He, unflinchingly, let the young actor observe him, and after a while, asked with interest, “Noticed anything?”

Ran Lin, snapping back to reality and a bit embarrassed, honestly replied, “You feel completely different from the atmosphere of your films.”

“Many people say that,” Director He watched him quietly, continuing, “But I still want to hear your thoughts.”

Ran Lin tilted his head, thought for a moment, then tactfully said, “No matter the subject or story of your films or the group they focus on, be it the lower class or the middle class, they all tend to be… gloomy and harsh. But you, in person, are especially bright and cheerful, not at all like that.”

“Gloomy, harsh…” He Guan mulled over these words, then suddenly looked at Ran Lin. “Don’t be polite with me. Can you be more direct?”

Ran Lin glanced at Gu Jie subconsciously.

Gu Jie, instead of hinting, said, “Don’t worry. Speak freely. Director He likes straightforward people.”

Ran Lin always felt one day Gu Jie would lead him into trouble. But seeing his friend’s open expression, and Director He’s similar demeanor, he suspected they might have bonded over their personalities and decided to be frank. “Pessimistic. Even if the ending is happy, it leaves one feeling hopeless and suffocated. It’s particularly bleak.”

Bang!

Director He slammed the table, startling Ran Lin. Amid the echo of the table slam, Director He burst into hearty laughter. “Gu Jie, I like your friend!”

Gu Jie, smugly, replied, “I never recommend someone blindly!”

Both men’s confidence enlivened the atmosphere.

Ran Lin unconsciously swallowed, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two men, feeling an anxious trepidation that, after this meal, he might be coerced into something daunting by the pair.

Just then, the waiter, perhaps timing it perfectly, brought over three roasted lamb legs, one in front of each person, creating a striking visual impact.

Just as Ran Lin thought they were about to feast, the waiter brought over a pot of fragrant tea. Unlike the complimentary tea, this was specially ordered and of high quality.

Noticing Ran Lin’s confusion, Director He smiled kindly. “Drinking can lead to trouble, so today let’s eat well and drink tea heartily.”

Ran Lin suddenly felt an urge to slam the table and shout himself—he was growing fond of this capricious director who played by his own rules!

The scent of the tea mingled with the aroma of the meat. Without any formalities or toasts, Director He simply commanded, “Eat.”

“Actually, a person’s understanding and perception change with age,” Director He began as they ate. “No director’s style stays the same forever, which is why I’ve been revising the script repeatedly. The screenwriter is an old friend, too accustomed to my style and prone to falling back into old patterns, but this time I wanted to do something less bleak.”

Ran Lin was surprised to hear Director He was challenging himself. “Something optimistic…uplifting?”

“Not exactly,” the director replied seriously. “This time, I’m not planning to imbue my personal feelings. I’ll let the camera follow an objective documentary style, avoiding judgment on the characters or events in the film, leaving right and wrong for the audience to decide, striving for the stark ‘harshness’ you mentioned earlier.”

Ran Lin thought to himself that bleakness and harshness aren’t mutually exclusive; in fact, his previous films were just that—a harsh style of bleakness. But he hesitated to discourage the director’s enthusiastic explanation. Changes might be real, and only the director might understand them. He couldn’t comprehend everything in just one meal.

He looked at Gu Jie, hoping to glean some insight from his partner to better understand Director He’s profound theories. But when he turned, he found his friend fully engaged in a battle with the stubborn lamb leg.

With a sigh of despair, Ran Lin turned back to his own thoughts. After a moment, he was ready to share his views, excitedly looked up, but then hesitated and held back his words.

Perhaps growing impatient waiting for Ran Lin to speak, Director He also focused on his meal, determined to conquer the lamb leg.

Ran Lin looked left, then right, and after a long moment of mixed feelings, he too threw himself into eating!

---

Kinky Thoughts:

I know the author is trying to whitewash Wang Xi and give her redemption, but like common now. It’s completely unethical to date your artist, and given that age gap and her position in power, it’s absolutely conceivable she took advantage of Han Ze (regardless of how he’s portrayed in the novel).

For such a supposedly competent and smart woman, she sure dug herself a lot of pits.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>