The Show Begins

Hua Jian rode back in Bo Lin's car.

Several beautifully wrapped gift boxes occupied the front passenger seat, leaving Hua Jian to sit in the back.

Because his cover had just been blown, Hua Jian was still a little embarrassed.

As an art teacher, he was serious and stiff.

As a bartender, he showed an entirely different face.

Who knew how Bo Lin was secretly mocking him for putting on an act?

Ever since getting into the car, he had stared outside, leaving Bo Lin with only a view of his profile.

After a moment's consideration, Bo Lin withdrew his gaze. "I still haven't thanked you for last time."

Hua Jian turned his head, looking bewildered. "For what?"

"For taking me home," Bo Lin said.

Hua Jian smiled. "It was nothing. Don't worry about it, Mr. Bo."

"I wonder when you're free, Mr. Hua. I'd like to take you out for a meal."

Hua Jian waved a hand. "Just call me by my name. But there's no need for a meal. I work at UP. Taking you home was no trouble at all, Mr. Bo."

"Then don't call me Mr. Bo, either. Use my name."

Hua Jian hesitated.

After being turned down repeatedly, Bo Lin's smile froze. His expression cooled, and he turned to look out the window.

Hua Jian immediately sensed his displeasure.

He thought for a moment, then called, "Bo Lin?"

Bo Lin's fingers suddenly twitched, and he quickly murmured an acknowledgment.

"Let me know when you're free. I'll pick you up at school, and we can have a meal together."

Bo Lin disliked being refused, so he brought up the meal again.

Hua Jian was a grown man. At that, he stopped being coy. "All right, then. Thank you, Bo Lin."

Rather than let him take the subway, Bo Lin drove him downtown.

Hua Jian had arranged to meet Cheng Ruimu that day.

"Thanks, Bo Lin. Next time you come to UP, I'll mix you a new drink." The young man smiled and waved before closing the door.

Bo Lin looked out through the dark window tint.

Hua Jian greeted a man standing by the roadside, and the two soon entered a nearby shop.

Once he disappeared from view, Bo Lin shifted in his seat and instructed, "Let's go."

"Yes, Mr. Bo."

The black luxury car pulled away from the shopping street. Only after Hua Jian saw its rear disappear from the window did he look away.

For the past few days, Cheng Ruimu had felt as though he were standing on the edge of a cliff.

One thing after another had happened, leaving no respite for his mind, usually so full of poetry and romance.

"Mr. Hua, I want to thank you properly. If you hadn't given me that card, my mother might still not have been able to get her surgery."

Cheng Ruimu stood before Hua Jian and gave him a solemn bow.

"Oh, there's no need for that. Please sit down, Director Cheng!" Hua Jian rose and helped him straighten up.

"I just happened to have a little inside information and ran into you that day."

"It was no trouble at all. Besides, I genuinely admire your work."

Gratitude filled Cheng Ruimu's eyes. "What was no trouble for you was an enormous help to me. While I was at the hospital these past two days, I looked up a lot of news online. Only then did I learn that Jiayuan and Fengxin were in cahoots. They've used this same scheme to scam plenty of newcomers."

"All right, Director Cheng. If you keep being so formal, you're treating me like a stranger."

It took quite a while before Cheng Ruimu finally sat back down.

"This is the contract I drafted. I'd like to hear what you think." As he spoke, he handed Hua Jian a document envelope.

Hua Jian dispensed with the pleasantries, took out the contract, and read it carefully.

A few minutes later, he looked at Cheng Ruimu with a frown. "You'll only make the film, without taking a share of the profits afterward. Why?"

In the original novel, Cheng Ruimu had cared deeply about this script.

He had two conditions:

First, no one was allowed to make arbitrary changes to the script. Second, he wanted an equity share alongside the investors.

But now, Cheng Ruimu had actually kept only the first condition.

Cheng Ruimu smiled frankly. "I may not have faced life or death myself, but my mother has."

"Besides, the reason I wanted a share of the profits was to make sure my mother could get good treatment in the future."

"If my mother had missed that surgery, getting all that money would have been meaningless. I think you understand what I mean, Mr. Hua."

Hua Jian understood, but he still refused.

"Director Cheng, everyone loves money, and I'm no exception. But if I agreed to this contract, I'd be taking advantage of your situation."

"But..."

Hua Jian raised a hand to stop him from continuing.

"I've already found a partner for this film. It's not Lu Zexi's company, the one I mentioned before, but an entertainment company under Minghua Group."

"The investment for this film shouldn't be too large, somewhere in the tens of millions. If everything goes smoothly, it could even be released in time for the New Year holiday."

"But I'd like to enter it in competitions abroad first, then release it domestically once the results are out. That might help it earn a little more."

Cheng Ruimu sprang to his feet. "Really?"

The kind of film he made was indeed well suited to competitions.

But domestic investors had no interest in such long-term investments.

They wanted to shoot a film today and recoup their money at the box office tomorrow.

They didn't care whether the director could win an award or how well the actors performed.

Cheng Ruimu murmured, "But that doesn't benefit you at all!"

Hua Jian gave a wry chuckle without explaining much.

He wasn't a sucker. Naturally, he had his reasons for extending the investment period.

Finally, Hua Jian said, "We'll still sign a contract giving you an equity share. I also want you to sign an employment contract with me. For the next ten years, I need you to stay at my company. You can film the scripts you write however you like, but you can't sell them to anyone else."

The moment Cheng Ruimu heard "ten years," he hesitated.

He disliked being tied down. That feeling would stifle his freely creative soul.

Just as he was about to refuse, he heard Hua Jian's thoughts.

[Did I scare him? But I'm not a philanthropist. He's going to be so damn amazing in the future. If I don't latch onto him, how am I supposed to ride his coattails to the top?]

Cheng Ruimu's gaze flickered, and he gave the man across from him a slightly odd look.

He knew he had some talent, but he had never thought he was anything extraordinary.

Yet why did Hua Jian make it sound as though he was certain to achieve fame and success in the future?

Did Hua Jian trust him that much?

Cheng Ruimu was curious, so he nodded as though he had temporarily lost his mind.

Like a magician, Hua Jian produced a contract, and Cheng Ruimu signed it.

When they parted, a blast of scorching wind from the road jolted Cheng Ruimu back to his senses.

The contract in his hand left him faintly regretful. Hua Jian couldn't be part of some pyramid scheme, could he?

As for Hua Jian, he had finally put a major worry to rest.

While working his part-time shift at UP that evening, he saw the latest news on the television in the corner.

[According to an informed source, an entertainer surnamed Feng has repeatedly accompanied clients for drinks and traded sexual favors for career opportunities.]

[The agency representing the entertainer surnamed Feng has yet to issue a clarification, missing the optimal window for a public relations response. The entertainer has offered sexual favors to a well-known director and a producer, both of whom are married.]

[The entertainer surnamed Feng was previously involved in school bullying. The victim...]

Hua Jian's gaze was cold as he murmured, "The show begins."