Back home, she didn’t hear the sound of a car engine starting downstairs. Wen Tingli hurried to the window to look outside.

She saw Lu Shicheng still sitting motionless in the car.

She pressed her forehead against the window sorrowfully, silently watching the figure in the car.

What was he thinking? Thinking of her, or thinking of how she’d deceived him?

Thinking of his hatred for her, or his love for her?

It wasn’t that she didn’t know — she understood everything.

Along the way he’d walked, he’d been surrounded by all manner of deception and betrayal — she thought again of that Mr. Fang Da, who’d managed to become the head of a Lu family subsidiary, which showed how much trust Lu Shicheng had once placed in him, yet he’d still betrayed him. Lu Shicheng had nearly lost his life because of it. Every time such a traitor appeared beside him, another scar was added to his back.

And it was her blade that had cut the deepest.

Her deceiving him was like a sharp sword, nearly piercing straight through his chest.

He seemed to have walked away, yet even now remained trapped in place, unable to leave, unable to let go, tormented in every way, with no path of escape.

In this relationship, she’d always felt she owed him.

But on this particular matter, she could never possibly tell him the truth.

Never.

Perhaps he was still hoping for her answer.

Her eyes stung faintly. She quietly withdrew her gaze and returned to sit stubbornly, silently, before her dressing table.

Before long, the sound of the engine starting came from outside the window. Without getting the response he’d waited for, he’d left.

The next day, on the way to the company, Wen Tingli bought a few newspapers to read as usual.

The papers that morning were full of law-and-order news like “Sixteen-Year-Old Shanghai Schoolgirl Cleverly Catches Petty Thief” and “Hongkou Church Congregants Mistakenly Fall for Swindlers’ Scheme.”

Flipping through, she found the news she’d wanted to see in the Shanghai Spring Daily.

【Renowned Film Company Manager Chen Maoqing Unfortunately Robbed Last Night While Returning Home.】

The article said: Last night, the moment Chen Maoqing got out of his car, several petty thieves threw a sack over him and beat him up, stripping him of his wallet, watch, and other valuables, then dumping him in a filthy ditch. Fortunately, a kind passerby happened by and fished him out, sending him to the hospital… According to witnesses, Chen Maoqing was covered in mud at the time, as bedraggled as a pig, wailing without pause.

Wen Tingli burst into gleeful laughter. The article spared no effort in mocking Chen Maoqing — just the phrase “bedraggled as a pig” alone would have people laughing at him for a whole year.

No need to guess — this was certainly the work of last night’s pack of reporters. Chen Maoqing had fed them false leads that sent them running around for nothing, not to mention barging into room 905 and now facing accusations from the two foreign residents — of course these reporters wanted to vent their anger somehow.

Wen Tingli set down the newspaper, thoroughly satisfied. That surnamed Chen had come after her time and again — it was about time he learned a lesson at her hands.

After attending the joint reception hosted by the company and the film association that morning, Wen Tingli went back to the office together with Liu Menglin and Huang Yuanshan.

“You want to fire the driver, Old Huang?” Liu Menglin looked baffled.

Wen Tingli recounted what had happened last night.

“Old Huang was already bribed by Chen Maoqing. That pack of reporters last night — he was the one who led them there. If we don’t fire him, there’ll be endless trouble.”

Liu Menglin, his face dark, called the logistics department: “Send Old Huang to Suzhou right away to pick up a guest. For the next couple of days, Miss Wen will be driven by Old Li instead. Yes, don’t spook him yet — make sure his background is thoroughly investigated before we drive him out.”

Huang Yuanshan sneered: “I say we shouldn’t just investigate the driver — might as well thoroughly investigate everyone inside the company to be safe.”

Liu Menglin said to Wen Tingli: “See that? The moment you become popular, people immediately start giving you trouble. All the more reason to strike while the iron’s hot. Take a look at these scripts first — the new studio’s almost finished, and we start shooting the next film in a week.”

Wen Tingli was caught off guard: “So soon?”

“I still think it’s too slow. This industry doesn’t allow you to take your time recovering — three months without a new release and the audience will forget you completely.”

Wen Tingli hurriedly sat down to read the scripts — eight in total, and every single one was a wuxia film (note), all rushed out in a short time, poor quality scripts with vague characters, dull dialogue, and formulaic plots — the kind audiences could guess the ending of after watching just the opening.

Worse still, they left little room for actors to perform — whether lead or supporting roles, all were mere puppets on strings.

She said with difficulty: “Boss Liu, are there no more original scripts?”

“There are!” Liu Menglin casually pulled several dust-covered scripts from the cabinet behind him and tossed them to Wen Tingli, saying bluntly, “Take a look at these — anything to your liking?”

Wen Tingli was dumbfounded — all of them were male-lead scripts like The Night-Shift Driver Detective and Tiger Descending the Mountain.

“Miss Wen, do you think good scripts just fall into your lap?” Liu Menglin sneered. “Do you know how many film companies there are in Shanghai right now? A hundred and forty-five! Do you know how many new films these companies produce each year? Thousands! With an average production cycle of just one month per film, competition is this fierce — every script on the market worth shooting has already been snapped up.”

Huang Yuanshan pondered for a moment on the other side: “Still, you can’t have Wen Tingli shoot some garbage script. I’ve always opposed the company making these tastelessly cheap wuxia and supernatural films — just the other day, the Shanghai Spring Daily published an article criticizing them, saying such films have no social educational value and only corrupt public morals.”

Liu Menglin scoffed: “Why doesn’t the paper mention that wuxia films have low costs and high returns? Just two years ago, Xia’er Meng Film Company was on the verge of bankruptcy, and it was purely thanks to Treasure Hunt at Golden Mountain that they made a fortune. Now almost every company on the market is racing to shoot wuxia films, for no other reason than the audience loves watching them! Having Miss Wen shoot a wuxia film at this juncture can only benefit her continued popularity.”

“But these scripts are completely rotten! I’ll bet that if Wen Tingli really shoots this film, not only will her career fail to advance, it’ll seriously drain the goodwill Belle of the South built up.”

Liu Menglin tapped the ash off his cigarette: “Don’t speak too soon. Refined art and popular entertainment each have their own audience. Miss Wen’s situation is special to begin with — she has to attend school while filming, which means her time is more limited than other actors’. But given this year’s competitive environment, do you two really think the company can afford to spend four or five months on a single film like we did with Belle of the South last year, just to accommodate her schedule?”

He said firmly: “Absolutely not! With the studio recently on hiatus, I and several of the company elders have redrawn our development strategy — and the first consensus was to increase our release speed. Under these circumstances, a wuxia film suits Miss Wen best: first, there’s a large supply of ready-made scripts for her to choose from, so she can start the next film without delay; second, the production cycle is short enough to release quickly and help sustain the momentum from her last film. If she doesn’t want to act, that’s fine too — she can keep waiting for your so-called good scripts.”

This last remark was tantamount to condemning Wen Tingli to being benched.

Huang Yuanshan tried softening his tone: “Brother Menglin, hear my analysis first: Yu Peiling’s new film Chronicle of a Loyal Heart opens tomorrow, Le Zhiwen’s new film is about to wrap too, and though Xiao Diejun’s Remarried Couple lost to us at the box office this time, she still has a high-quality family drama film waiting to release. Facing such formidable rivals, can you really bear to have Wen Tingli perform in a shoddy film? Don’t forget the audience has judgment! By then, they won’t remember her outstanding performance in Belle of the South at all — they’ll only think of her as the lead in a bad film. The company finally discovered a newcomer with both talent and star power — wouldn’t it be shortsighted to waste her talent like this?”

“I’m shortsighted?” Liu Menglin laughed in fury. “Don’t forget, the company doesn’t only have her, Wen Tingli, as its female lead! I’ll tell you honestly — there are good scripts, but I’ve already given If This Life Were a Dream to Duan Miaoqing, and The Great Way to Heaven was tailor-made for Shen Yingying. In such a short time, where am I supposed to conjure up more good scripts for Wen Tingli? Besides, with Wen Tingli’s current standing, it’s not yet her turn to be picky! Same as before — act if you want to, or wait if you don’t!”

Wen Tingli suddenly looked up and said: “Boss Liu, to guarantee we start filming quickly, we must use a ready-made script, correct?”

“Correct.”

Wen Tingli pointed at the pile of scripts in front of her: “Then — as long as it’s among these scripts on the table, I can choose freely, is that right?”

“What are you planning?”

Wen Tingli picked up The Night-Shift Driver Detective and said to Liu Menglin, “So then, this script is also among the choices?”

“That’s a film centered on a male lead.”

“Let me look at the script first. Just tell me if it’s allowed or not.”

“It’s allowed,” Liu Menglin said, somewhat bemused. “But time waits for no one — you need to make up your mind quickly.”

Wen Tingli wore a meaningful smile: “Don’t schedule me any activities tomorrow morning. I’ll give you my answer by tomorrow noon at the latest.”

The next morning, tickets arrived early at Golden Studios — Yu Peiling’s new film Chronicle of a Loyal Heart was set to premiere that day at the Cathay Theatre.

Everyone gathered to discuss: “You think how long before this film knocks Belle of the South off the box office throne?”

“No idea, but we’d better prepare ourselves mentally — Yu Peiling’s box office draw is plain for everyone to see.”

Liu Menglin walked in and saw this scene, his face darkening further: “Nothing better to do?!”

He went upstairs and had the heads of the distribution department and accounting department called in.

“Contact those familiar reporters at Shanghai News and Today’s Evening Post immediately — Belle of the South‘s promotional ads must not be pulled, they need to be even denser than before. Whatever terms they want, agree to it.”

Just then, Huang Yuanshan and several company elders pushed open the door and came in. Hearing this, someone chimed in: “Belle of the South is likely going to be dethroned anyway. The company should hurry and shift its promotional focus to Sands of Time. As for Miss Wen, have her shoot her next film quickly while her popularity’s still strong.”

“Boss Liu has already decided,” Huang Yuanshan snorted coldly. “Having Wen Tingli shoot a wuxia film — in my view, he’s deliberately trying to squeeze her. If Wen Tingli agrees to sign a long-term contract with the company, I bet he’d immediately pull out more scripts for her to choose from.”

The head of the distribution department said to the side: “Sister Huang, you’re really wronging Boss Liu this time. After you two argued yesterday, in the afternoon Boss Liu personally went to the Cathay Hotel to see Yue Zhaoyun, and in the evening he visited the recently popular bestselling novelist Zhuang Xiaosheng. Unfortunately, neither of their new books is finished yet, so there’s nothing to adapt even if he wanted to.”

Someone tentatively offered a suggestion: “Boss Liu, should we wait a bit longer? Wuxia films are flooding the market lately, and audiences really are getting a bit tired of them. If we release into competition with strong rivals like Yu Peiling and Xiao Diejun, we might lose on both box office and reputation.”

“Then where are the good scripts?” Liu Menglin spread his hands. “You understand the saying about a clever housewife being unable to cook without rice, don’t you?”

Someone knocked at the door outside. It opened, and it was Wen Tingli.

She smiled and looked around the room: “I’d like to discuss something with Boss Liu and Sister Huang.”

Once everyone else had left, Wen Tingli quickly locked the door.

“I’ve spent all night making some preparations. Since there’s no script suitable for me right now, we can only work with what the company already has — look here—”

Under Huang and Liu’s astonished gazes, Wen Tingli took two scripts out of her bag and set them on the table.

One was The Night-Shift Driver Detective which she’d taken yesterday; the other was a handwritten script titled Miss Fu’s Campus Detective Case.

Then she took out a newspaper and pointed at a headline. 【Sixteen-Year-Old Shanghai Schoolgirl Cleverly Catches Petty Thief.】

“Yesterday I happened to see this news in Shanghai News — its position was actually more prominent than the ‘Chen Maoqing Attacked’ story. Reporters know best how to guess what the public wants, so this shows this kind of news is very eye-catching to the public. I was genuinely intrigued by the headline myself and couldn’t wait to read the full article in the car — so when I later saw this script The Night-Shift Driver Detective here at Boss Liu’s, I suddenly had an idea.”

Huang Yuanshan’s face brightened.

“What Sister Huang said yesterday made sense: she wasn’t opposed to the wuxia and supernatural genre itself, nor against the company’s goal of increasing release speed — what she opposed was the same tired formula repeated over and over. Even if we’re confident in innovating this time, it’ll still be hard to stand out among so many similar films. But if we change the theme, it’s a different story — what if we adapted The Night-Shift Driver Detective into a story about a student detective? Wouldn’t that count as a novel subject? Wouldn’t it draw in fans?”

Liu Menglin shot up from his seat: “Keep going.”

“I have two classmates who are usually very fond of reading detective stories, and our Hujiang University also has a detective club fellowship. Last night I specially went to school to borrow some meeting minutes from the detective club — there are all sorts of strange everyday stories in there. Last night I used this material to write a simple script — take a look.”

Huang Yuanshan took the script and flipped through it quickly, his face brightening with delight by the end: “Not bad. The original Night-Shift Driver Detective script already has a few ready-made stories, and combined with yours, we could piece together a whole new script in just a week. The heroine’s name should sound down-to-earth — let’s call her Fu Zhenzhen. The story shouldn’t be limited to campus, it’s best set in public places, so it can resonate with the general public more broadly… Got it! One day, Fu Zhenzhen and her classmates take a tram to school and unluckily run into a strange incident…”

“Best if it’s a murder or a missing person case,” Liu Menglin said, eagerly joining the discussion. “For instance, a female teacher at the school suddenly goes missing, or a member of the fellowship is poisoned, and the culprit can’t be found — that’s when our clever girl detective discovers some clues. Shoot it indoors, mostly close-ups, with the culprit hiding among them — the pace has to be fast, the twists plentiful!”

Wen Tingli nodded, smiling: “The key thing is this film won’t cost much — at most one or two months to finish shooting.”

Liu Menglin paced happily around the room: “Miss Wen, I simply don’t know how to praise you enough. Say what you will, at least there’s no similar film on the market right now — as long as the concept is clever and we put in the effort during filming, it’s bound to cause a sensation. If the response is good enough, we might even make a series.”

The three of them grew more and more animated as they talked.

“Wait, wait.” Huang Yuanshan suddenly remembered something and lowered his voice. “Huamei and Xifeng and those other companies are notorious for rushing to copy things — our advantage with this film is its originality, and it’d be terrible if someone else beat us to shooting a similar type of film.”

Liu Menglin’s face tightened: “Your concern is valid. We must keep this strictly confidential during filming — I’ll personally handpick the director, production staff, and makeup artists myself. Let’s do this: publicly we’ll say we’re shooting a wuxia film, order a fake set of scene signage in advance, and make absolutely sure not a whisper leaks out.”

Huang Yuanshan quickly finalized the script — the whole film had twenty-four scenes total, twenty indoor scenes and four outdoor location scenes.

A week later, Liu Menglin officially settled on the title Fair Detective, and began intensively preparing costumes and sets.

Seeing this title, Wen Tingli couldn’t help but purse her lips secretly, but she had to admit that, given today’s social climate, this title was catchier and had a broader audience appeal than her original working title Miss Fu’s Campus Detective Case — and besides, her objections wouldn’t matter anyway.

Half a month after its release, Yu Peiling’s Chronicle of a Loyal Heart officially surpassed Belle of the South at the box office.

Golden Studios seized the moment — in the two days before Belle of the South was about to be pulled from theaters, they formally announced that Legend of the Strange Knight (actually Fair Detective) would begin filming.

Once the news got out, the outside world believed it completely; most film critics expressed skepticism, and Liu Menglin and the others refused to respond to any of the doubts. Huang Yuanshan served as the film’s director, and, considering Wen Tingli had already started school, still tried as much as possible to schedule shoots for when she had no classes.

Having gained experience during the filming of Belle of the South, plus with the company’s dedicated car service, Wen Tingli found this semester much more manageable than the last. The only inconvenience was that during classes, large numbers of unfamiliar classmates often came to gawk at her, either asking for autographs or wanting photos with cameras.

Still, she managed to cope.

The first month of shooting Fair Detective went smoothly on all fronts, but in the second month, filming the location scenes ran into obstacles.

Of the four outdoor scenes in the whole film, three were meant to be filmed on campus — originally scheduled at Hujiang University’s campus — but this met strong opposition from the school administration: first, they were most opposed to film companies shooting supernatural wuxia films, and one of the writers who’d recently and frequently published articles criticizing this kind of trend in the papers was none other than Professor Wang from the school’s sociology department.

Hearing that the crew wanted to borrow the location to shoot something called Legend of the Strange Knight, Professor Wang was the first to stand up in opposition — even when the crew offered to shoot just one day of exteriors, he still wouldn’t budge.

Second, given Wen Tingli’s current fame, the school administration worried filming would cause quite a disturbance on campus.

For this, Tan Guiwang, who was in charge of the location shoot, tried every persuasive tactic, but the school administration refused to nod regardless. Continuing this stalemate would delay the filming schedule. One of the crew’s makeup artists offered an idea: “It doesn’t necessarily have to be a university campus for the exteriors, does it? Why don’t we try a middle school instead — I have a cousin who’s the head of the academic affairs office at Chengxin Middle School. Let me go discuss it with her.”

“Can your cousin sign a confidentiality agreement guaranteeing the real title won’t leak?”

“That— my cousin herself would be fine, but I’m worried their school board might not keep it confidential. Wait, why look far afield when the answer’s close by? Isn’t Meng Qiguang one of the board members at Chengxin Middle School? Why don’t we go find Mr. Meng — though I don’t know if he’ll be easy to talk to.”

Wen Tingli, however, said: “Why don’t I give it a try.”

Tan Guiwang was overjoyed: “Miss Wen always has a way. Which school are you thinking of approaching?”

“My alma mater, Wushi Girls’ Middle School.” Wen Tingli smiled. “Principal Zou and I are very close. No time to waste — I’ll go visit the old lady the moment we wrap today.”

“Good, then we’ll wait for your news. If Wushi doesn’t work out either, we’ll think of something else.”