Inside a hotel near the Beihai International Film Festival.
After hearing Song Ran out, Ye Yuan asked in confusion,
"What does this have to do with what you were talking about?"
Song Ran's words had left Ye Yuan thoroughly muddled.
"Didn't I just say it?
My next film is about antiques.
Part of the plot involves that dragon bed.
Borrowing it from Mr. Ma would have been possible.
But the key was that we needed a replica to destroy.
So I went to my dad first.
But he recommended you, saying your craftsmanship was now good enough to pass off fakes as real.
Then I thought, since we owed Mr. Ma such a huge favor anyway,
we might as well have you make a replica directly.
As long as the audience can't tell, that'll be enough."
"You've got quite the imagination. A dragon bed made entirely from Yellow Rosewood—have you considered the price?
Don't think I don't know how many shady dealings there are in your production crews.
You're just a producer. Do you really need to care this much?
Tell me honestly. Are you hiding something else from me?"
"Nothing gets past you. Aren't I moving behind the scenes now?
I've already worked as a producer for Ouyang a few times, so I was thinking about striking out on my own.
That would give me more freedom too.
So not long ago, I set up my own studio.
My next project will be jointly produced by my studio and Ouyang's company.
I'm considered a minor investor in it as well!"
Song Ran spoke leisurely.
At the end, she gave Ye Yuan a resentful look.
That look made Ye Yuan awkwardly rub his nose.
He knew perfectly well.
Song Ran had moved behind the scenes entirely because of him.
When