“Cheers!”

Amid cheerful laughter, everyone raised their glasses together.

After one sip, Zhao Qingluo burst out laughing. “Did you all see that just now? The moment Wen Tingli pulled out the Twin Pearls adaptation contract, Liu Menglin’s eyes practically popped out of his head.”

“Tingli, can you tell us now—how did you convince Zhuang Xiaosheng?”

Wen Tingli, her face glowing, set down her glass and pointed sincerely at her own chest. “Sincerity.”

“Don’t be coy with us. Was Liu Menglin lacking in sincerity? Compared to you two, he not only had sincerity, he had piles of silver dollars too.”

Wen Tingli shook her head. “No, he had silver dollars, he had power—the one thing he lacked was sincerity—”

Seeing four pairs of eyes at the table gleaming at her expectantly, she composed herself. “Think about it—if he’d truly had sincerity, would he have carelessly sent his manager to approach Zhuang Xiaosheng first? Him personally visiting Zhuang Xiaosheng the second day was only because he’d heard we wanted to buy Twin Pearls too. I approached the situation from that angle, helping Zhuang Xiaosheng weigh the pros and cons, speaking to him honestly and directly.”

Yan Zhenzhen looked thoughtful. “Did you talk to him about your current struggles? Or did you convince him that Twin Pearls was especially important to Xiufeng right now, and that’s what moved him?”

Wen Tingli shook her head with a smile. “In negotiations, the worst thing you can do is only talk about your own difficulties and needs. You have to firmly focus on the other party’s needs and interests instead. From start to finish, I never once mentioned what this deal would do for us at Xiufeng—I only talked about what it would do for him, Zhuang Xiaosheng. What do you all think mattered most to Zhuang Xiaosheng right now?”

“Fame? Money?”

“Neither. It was recognition. He’s been secretly competing with Sister Yue for years. Twin Pearls is the first work of his to be adapted to the screen, so you can imagine how much he’s invested in its success. All I had to do was convince him that without Sister Huang’s Golden Film, Twin Pearls absolutely could not be made well. Actually, someone like Mr. Zhuang, who wears his emotions so openly, is easier to deal with than most—because his thoughts are written all over his face.”

Gao Xiaowen looked thoughtful. “‘In negotiations, never talk about only your own needs—focus firmly on the other party’s interests instead.’ Now I understand why my elder brother’s negotiations so often fail. Wen Tingli, where did you learn all this?”

“Where else would I have learned it—from that old teacher called ‘life,’ of course.” Huang Yuanshan seemed rather moved, setting down her glass and patting Wen Tingli on the shoulder. “Orphaned at eighteen, with a younger sister still to raise—every single day since then, she’s had to open her eyes and learn to solve one problem after another. Over time, naturally, she learned how to deal with all kinds of people. It’s just that her instincts are sharper than most. Tingli, I raise my glass to you. Thanks to you, our Xiufeng made it through this crisis safely.”

Wen Tingli raised her glass in return. “Sister Huang, it should be me toasting you. Without you leading the way, I never would have had the courage to take this step, let alone the resolve to found Xiufeng together with you. You’ll always be the role model of my life.”

Yan Zhenzhen and the others silently joined in the toast.

“I can’t drink any more.” Huang Yuanshan patted her own cheeks. “I need to head to Hangzhou to find Li Zhen. You all wait for my good news.”

Several people helped Huang Yuanshan gather her coat, and no sooner had the doorbell rung again than Huang Yuanshan reappeared—having apparently come back—with someone in tow.

“Look who’s here,” Huang Yuanshan said, pushing the person forward.

“Sister Yue!” Everyone rushed forward at once to embrace Yue Zhaoyun with a flurry of questions. “When did you get to Shanghai? How did you know we were all at Wen Tingli’s place?”

“I called Sister Yue earlier,” Wen Tingli said with a smile, taking the suitcase from Yue Zhaoyun’s hand.

Yue Zhaoyun said happily: “I heard about Yuanshan’s resignation last week. I meant to come to Shanghai right away, but got held up by other matters for a few days. By the time I finally set out, I’d already missed today’s press conference—though I heard it went very well? Quick, tell me all about it.”

“It was an absolute success! You wouldn’t believe it, Sister Huang and Wen Tingli practically fought their way through five checkpoints and beheaded six generals to get there.”

“Sister Yue, I owe you an apology. I used your name to provoke Zhuang Xiaosheng without asking your permission first.”

“You’ve already apologized to me so many times over the phone, why would I hold that against you? Some fellow professional has apparently been treating me as a rival for years—I ought to feel honored. But is this news reliable? This Zhuang Xiaosheng secretly competed with me all this time, and I never even knew?”

“Put that way, Zhuang Xiaosheng sounds rather pathetic—secretly comparing himself for all these years, and in the end it was entirely a one-man show, since Sister Yue never even gave him a second thought,” Zhao Qingluo said blankly.

Everyone burst into even louder laughter.

During the chatting, Yue Zhaoyun learned there was also a film about factory girls in the works, and curiously asked Wen Tingli for the materials and outline to look over.

As she read, perhaps out of sheer writerly instinct, she couldn’t help but ask her devoted young fan Yan Zhenzhen for a fountain pen and notebook, marking it up as she read: “What made you think to shoot this subject? This is unlikely to be a box-office draw.”

By now Wen Tingli was already a little tipsy, resting her head against the sofa and gazing sideways at Yue Zhaoyun. “Sister Huang is an idealist—she’s wanted to make a film about laborers for a long time. As for me…”

She pressed a finger to her forehead, trying to gather her thoughts. But the alcohol in her system had a strange power, stirring up feelings buried deepest within her. Without her noticing, the happy mood receded like an ebbing tide, and sorrow slowly took hold of her heart. She shook her head—it didn’t help. She pressed the empty glass to her lips—that didn’t help either. Countless unspoken sorrows began bubbling up from her throat like foam.

“…Why did I want to make this factory girl film… let me think, maybe it’s to commemorate… not long ago, someone I deeply admired passed away, hic, Sister Yue, you have no idea how shocked and heartbroken I was. She taught me that life is short, and that a person needs something beyond fame and fortune to pursue in this world. These factory girls have such hard lives, truly hard… As for me… Lu Shicheng… why are you looking at me like that, don’t ask.”

Yue Zhaoyun had only been listening quietly at first, but hearing this, she quickly reached to take the glass away from Wen Tingli: “Xiao Wen, you’re drunk.”

But Wen Tingli clutched the glass to her chest as if it were a treasure, tipping sideways onto the sofa, murmuring: “I’m not drunk…”

The exhaustion of these past strenuous days had finally caught up with her completely, and mumbling a few more words, she fell into a deep sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, the sunlight felt harsh. The surroundings were familiar and warm, but the lingering emotions stirred up by the alcohol left her feeling out of sorts—no, it wasn’t the alcohol’s doing. However drunk she’d been the night before, some part of her mind had remained clear.

She simply felt a hollow ache—those people and things were buried too deep in her heart, so deep she’d once thought she’d let them go. But it turned out nothing had changed at all; everything remained as vivid and tangible as before…

At first, she lay there in a daze, not moving. Then she suddenly remembered two important tasks for the day: first, going to see Mrs. Pan about leasing the studio space; second, asking Liu Yaqiao to serve as the company’s legal counsel.

The thought jolted her upright. She saw Zhao Qingluo, Yan Zhenzhen, and Gao Xiaowen sprawled every which way on the carpet, while on the other side, Yue Zhaoyun lay curled up alone on the long sofa, sleeping soundly. Everyone had gotten too swept up in the celebration the night before and ended up sleeping together in her living room. Fortunately, thoughtful Zhou Sao had draped a thin blanket over each of them.

Seeing that the blanket was about to slip off Yue Zhaoyun, Wen Tingli crept over to tuck it back around her, when she suddenly noticed two notebooks that had fallen beside Yue Zhaoyun’s hand.

Picking them up to look, one was the outline for the factory girl film, and the other… appeared to be a newly written script.

Flipping through it, Wen Tingli’s eyes went wide. Yue Zhaoyun had stayed up all night revising the factory girl film’s outline.

The original outline had been chaotic and disorganized, but this new script added a major dramatic conflict right in the first act, making the story gripping from the very opening. The second act, the third act—

Wen Tingli read on eagerly, hardly able to stop. Nearly every scene had been substantially reworked, all the material woven together into a compelling story, the characters far more vivid. If the original outline had only been worth fifty or sixty points, Yue Zhaoyun’s polish had transformed it into a thoroughly engaging film script.

Even the title had been decided: When Spring Wind Blows Again [from “Wildfire cannot destroy it, spring wind brings it back to life”].

Wen Tingli felt something strike deep within her.

“Wildfire cannot destroy it; when spring wind blows, it grows again.” After Sister Li’s sacrifice, she’d often comforted herself with that very line.

Sister Yue was so perceptive—she’d managed to pick out the conviction embedded in the lines of Wen Tingli’s own crude, unpolished outline.

Wen Tingli bowed her head in silence. For this title, When Spring Wind Blows Again, for this moment of being understood, or perhaps for something else entirely, she needed to sit with this surge of emotion a while longer, just a while longer, before she could carry this gift of friendship and goodwill forward into the day ahead.

A week later, Xiufeng Film Company officially opened for business.

That day, newspapers large and small scrambled to report the news. Part of the reason for the sensation was the recent uproar over the scramble for Twin Pearls‘ rights. Another part, just as Wen Tingli had anticipated, was that the company had paid a hefty sum to hire makeup artist Gu Jie, and their boss had personally traveled to Hangzhou to recruit former Hujiang Daily supplement deputy editor Li Zhen—both became hot topics of discussion around town.

Once Li Zhen and Gu Jie’s employment contracts were finalized, Minle Evening News, at Wen Tingli’s suggestion, made a big show of it, jokingly dubbing them the “Four Great Guardians of Xiufeng” in an article.

The first “Guardian”: Huang Yuanshan, serving as the company’s general manager, in charge of directing and production affairs.

The second Guardian: Wen Tingli, also a co-owner of the company, in charge of talent management, company planning, and external public affairs.

The renowned makeup artist Gu Jie was appointed manager of the costume and makeup department, primarily overseeing actor makeup, while also handling set design.

Li Zhen, with his sharp pen and broad connections, was appointed manager of the publicity department.

The abilities of all four were plain for everyone to see, and once the “Four Great Guardians” title caught on, public opinion of Xiufeng’s strength shifted considerably.

Minle Evening News even ran a special feature: “On-Site Report: Xiufeng Film Company.”

The report claimed that although Xiufeng was a newly established film company, its scale was no less impressive than other established studios—the office building was already complete, the main building having two floors plus a basement and garden. The first floor housed the reception hall and administrative offices, the second floor held the actors’ dressing rooms, dining hall, and storage. The basement contained a film-developing room, printing room, screening room, photography studio, art department, and so on. In the back garden, a studio was being built “at great expense.”

Much of this was exaggerated.

In reality, Wen Tingli had rented the building from Mrs. Pan’s friend less than a week ago, and many areas were still unfinished, barely serviceable enough to conduct business.

The building had originally been a cement factory that went under due to poor management, located in the Chinese-administered district. Too small to serve as a proper factory, and with too poor a location to attract residential buyers looking for garden estates, it had sat abandoned for nearly a year, growing increasingly dilapidated.

Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan had taken one look at it and immediately fallen in love with the place—it was perfectly suited for a film company. After leasing it, they immediately set about hiring people to renovate it, while simultaneously rushing to build the studio. After a few days, everything had begun to take shape.

As luck would have it, the reporter Minle Evening News sent to do the feature was none other than Wen Tingli’s old acquaintance, Chen Qiufeng. He deliberately photographed only the already-renovated corners and wrote in the most flattering terms possible, all but transforming this somewhat modest film workshop into a formidable film production trust in print.

Once this feature ran, the results were remarkably good. Every day, people called in seeking employment—actors, screenwriters, prop artists, cinematographers… some even traveled specially from as far as Tianjin and Beiping.

Huang Yuanshan couldn’t stop smiling. With this many applicants pouring in, surely they’d be able to begin filming soon.

The first position to be filled was the company accountant.

It was none other than Miss Cao Renxiu, who had earlier proactively provided Wen Tingli with material about the female workers at the Hongmian cotton mill.

Miss Cao had a strong sense of justice and had graduated from the accounting department of Shanghai Normal College. She’d worked in the accounting office at the Hongmian cotton mill for several years already, so she had no shortage of experience. Having someone like her manage the company’s books was reassuring.

More importantly, once the factory girl film premiered, Miss Cao’s own job there might not be secure, which was why Wen Tingli had promised early on to help her find another position.

They hadn’t misjudged her—Cao Renxiu worked with extreme diligence and responsibility, and within just a few days had sorted the company’s accounts into perfect order. This gave Huang Yuanshan and Wen Tingli even more confidence to work freely, and they went on to hire more than thirty additional staff, including an accounting cashier, several experienced extras from various film crews, script supervisors, art designers, screenwriters, and more. Even the staff cafeteria found a suitable cook.

As for legal counsel, Liu Yaqiao naturally took on the role without question.

The one position that remained stubbornly unfilled was production department staff.

According to the company’s preliminary plan, Twin Pearls and When Spring Wind Blows Again were meant to be filmed simultaneously. Huang Yuanshan alone could handle directing and post-production editing, but there was still a great deal of on-location photography and production work that required assistants—meaning the more qualified professionals they could hire, the better.

However, professionally trained cinematography talent was scarce to begin with, and most of that small pool was already employed at major film companies. What remained were either green newcomers just entering the industry, or complete outsiders with no knowledge of directing or cinematography whatsoever—fine for odd jobs around the studio, but useless for serious work.

After a full week of interviews, Huang Yuanshan was still a lone commander with no troops. At the end of the day’s work, she gazed out the window at the setting sun, agitated. “Another day, another zero results. At this rate, we won’t be able to start filming until next year.”

Li Zhen, one of the “Four Great Guardians,” had also been involved throughout the hiring process, and chimed in from beside her: “We’ve already raised the salary to eighty silver dollars a month. By all rights, there should be at least one experienced applicant. Something fishy must be going on—let me make some calls and see what I can find out.”

Li Zhen had extensive connections in the press world, and after a few phone calls, he really had managed to dig up some information.

“Have you two had a falling out with Chen Maoqing, the owner of Huamei Film Company?” he asked, hanging up the phone.

Huang Yuanshan and Wen Tingli exchanged a quick glance. “‘Falling out’ doesn’t begin to cover it—we’re practically mortal enemies. He’s wary of Wen Tingli, since her looks overlap somewhat with his company’s Yu Peiling, and this past year he’s schemed against Wen Tingli more times than we can count, openly and covertly—though we haven’t exactly been pushovers either. Never mind that for now—is he behind this new scheme?”

“Him and Liu Menglin both. The two of them have formally put the word out: whoever comes to work at Xiufeng is openly declaring war on them. Chen Maoqing’s also been spreading rumors in the industry that Xiufeng is nothing but a small workshop that’ll fold within three months at most, and that anyone who’s worked at Xiufeng will never again be allowed through Huamei’s doors. Huamei and Golden Film are the two hottest studios right now—no one in this line of work wants to openly offend either of them.”

Huang Yuanshan flew into a rage. “That scoundrel! No wonder not a single experienced applicant has shown up all these days!”

“So what do we do now?” Gu Jie, normally laid-back and rarely one to voice an opinion, couldn’t help but speak up this time. “If they won’t come to us, we can hardly go around forcibly abducting people from other companies, can we?”

Wen Tingli said nothing, absorbed in flipping through the various film company periodicals spread across the table—Gu Jie had brought them in, to keep tabs on recent developments at other studios.

Suddenly she heard Li Zhen call out to her: “Miss Wen, what do you think?”

Ever since Li Zhen had joined the company, he’d only ever called Huang Yuanshan “Boss Huang.” For Wen Tingli, he consistently called her “Miss Wen.”

This time was no exception. Wen Tingli hadn’t failed to notice this, though she’d always taken it in stride. Hearing his question now, she closed the copy of Huamei Film Weekly she was holding, deep in thought. “I’ll head over to Golden Film and Huamei right away.”

The other three were alarmed. “What for, to go pick a fight with Liu Menglin and Chen Maoqing? Don’t act rashly—they’re playing dirty tricks, and shouting at them won’t do any good.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Let me go meet them face to face first.”

Wen Tingli parked her car outside Huamei Film Company and walked straight in without hesitation. The gatekeeper stepped forward to stop her, and she handed him her calling card.

The gatekeeper straightened with sudden respect—the card read: “General Manager of Xiufeng Film Company: Ms. Wen Tingli.”

“This—this lady boss, our Boss Chen isn’t in the office right now.”

“I’m not here for Chen Maoqing. I’m here to see Miss Yu Peiling. I’ve already found out that she’s doing a costume fitting at the company today. Please take my card in and let her know I’ll be waiting for her at the café across the street.”

Half an hour later, Yu Peiling arrived, looking utterly baffled.

“I thought someone was pulling my leg. So it really is you?” She sat down across the table with a hint of wariness in her expression, though within moments her face had returned to its usual languid, pampered look.

“What can I do for you, Miss Wen?” she said with a coy smile.

“I’ve come to poach someone.”

Yu Peiling seemed to find this rather amusing. “Poach someone? Who is Miss Wen planning to poach?”

“You.”

Yu Peiling laughed softly, lowering her head. “Miss Wen certainly knows how to tell a joke.”

Wen Tingli was smiling too, sipping her tea unhurriedly as she smiled, then pulled an old newspaper from two months back out of her bag and slid it across the table to Yu Peiling.

There, prominently displayed, was a photograph showing Chen Maoqing eagerly negotiating with Steward Xu of the Lu residence. Behind him, a woman sat in the car, her profile blurred, but the press at the time had all assumed the woman was Yu Peiling.

In an instant, a flash of anger crossed Yu Peiling’s eyes.

“What are you trying to do?!”

“It seems Miss Yu remembers this story quite vividly too. ‘Chen Maoqing Brings Actress on Multiple Visits to Lu Shicheng, Turned Away Each Time at the Lu Residence.’ Let me guess—how many times has Chen Maoqing forced you to socialize with men now? Before this it was Manager Ma of Dadong Bank, and before that, the young master of Maofeng Department Store, and there was also that owner of Feidi’er, the proprietor of Taoxian Tea Garden… just counting the ones that made the papers, that’s probably five or six already.”

“Are you here to humiliate me?” Yu Peiling cut her off sharply. “You think you’re in a position to?”

Wen Tingli made no attempt to argue, continuing in a sympathetic tone: “I imagine, every time Chen Maoqing wants to secure sponsorship, he drags along his most popular actress to keep the guests company. It’s clearly effective—in just two years, Huamei has successfully produced over a dozen films and made a fortune. Chen Maoqing also successfully pushed out the company’s other partners, becoming Huamei’s largest shareholder in the process. It was only when he set his sights on Lu Shicheng that he finally hit a wall.”

“Oh…” Yu Peiling drawled with a smile. “Now I understand why you’re here. You blame me for provoking Lu Shicheng? Of course, I should have guessed you two had history. That time he suddenly turned his guns on Huamei, it was to help clear the way for you, wasn’t it? I heard he went back to Nanyang. Let me guess who dumped whom between you two. Without any formal status, I doubt you’re even in a position to be jealous of him.”

She let out a mocking laugh.

“Spare me your amusing little rivalry theories,” Wen Tingli said, her expression turning stony. “I’m here to help you today.”

Yu Peiling looked as if she’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. “Help me? What could I possibly need your help with? Everyone knows I’m Huamei’s hottest female star right now. You think just because you’ve opened a little workshop, you can go around playing everyone’s savior? Utterly delusional!”

Wen Tingli sighed softly. “I’m no savior. I’m merely an observer. Last week, at a dinner at the Gao residence, I ran into that young master of Maofeng Department Store—he has a smoking habit and breath foul enough to knock you over. Manager Ma of Dadong Bank doesn’t smoke opium, at least, but he’s old enough to be your father. Every time Chen Maoqing forces you to entertain these men, you must be sick to death of it inside, aren’t you? But you can’t refuse, because the moment you stop cooperating, Huamei will simply replace you with someone else—just as it did with your predecessor, Zhang Xiaofeng. Before you, Zhang Xiaofeng was Huamei’s most celebrated actress. Where is she now?”

Yu Peiling’s smile gradually stiffened.

“After falling out of favor, Zhang Xiaofeng spent a full two years benched at your company—no roles, no exposure, no income of any kind, slowly worn down bit by bit, until she’d completely lost her name in the film industry. Only then did Chen Maoqing finally kick her out—this is his usual tactic. Care to guess when this same fate will fall on you.”

“Don’t try to scare me with dramatics!” Yu Peiling said, forcing composure. “Zhang Xiaofeng is Zhang Xiaofeng, I am me! I’ve always known how to leave myself a way out. Besides, my fame now far exceeds anything Miss Zhang ever had—Chen Maoqing can barely keep up with flattering me.”

“Miss Yu is being far too naive. Then what about that Miss Yao Lingzhu at your company lately—I hear Chen Maoqing already plans to cast her as the lead in the next film, The Wanderer. She’s only been at the company for two or three months, hasn’t she? You, on the other hand, waited a full year before you got your first leading role—which shows just how much Miss Yao has managed to win Chen Maoqing’s favor. Perhaps within a year, it’ll be your turn to play second fiddle to her, just as you once did to Zhang Xiaofeng.”

Yu Peiling slammed her coffee cup down onto the table in frustration. As it happened, she was wearing a white qipao patterned with lily blossoms that day, and the black coffee splashed across it, blooming in dark stains across the white flowers—an alarming sight.

Yu Peiling fumbled frantically through her bag for a handkerchief to dab at the stain, but the more flustered she grew, the less she could find it. Just then, a clean handkerchief was suddenly offered across the table.

“Use mine.”

Looking up, she met Wen Tingli’s unexpectedly sincere gaze. Yu Peiling wasn’t sure what to say, taking the handkerchief and dabbing haphazardly at the stain before tossing it back.

“Enough beating around the bush. What exactly do you want? Let’s speak plainly.”

Wen Tingli lowered her eyes, stirring her coffee with a silver spoon, and said quietly: “To be honest, my own departure from Golden Film was for much the same reasons. They cut my scenes and used a script I’d never even seen to force me into acting opposite a male co-star. That was the moment I realized: if I gave in this time, I’d only lose more and more freedom going forward, until eventually I became nothing but a puppet. So, regarding Miss Yu’s current predicament, I have no intention of mocking you—only a sense of kinship, of understanding what you’re going through. I genuinely want to help you. Please believe me.”

The hostility in Yu Peiling’s eyes gradually began to dissolve.

She ran a hand through her hair, agitated, then turned to gaze out the window at the street, her expression clearly lost in thought. After a long silence, she sighed heavily. “I admit, my only real interest is in acting. Those disgusting men, I don’t even want to look at them, let alone anything else. But ever since I joined Huamei, I’ve had no control over my own life. Chen Maoqing, he—” she bit her lower lip, then looked up at Wen Tingli with a complicated expression. “What exactly are you offering to do to help me? Don’t waste my time with empty words, I’ve heard enough of those already.”

“Come to our Xiufeng.”

Yu Peiling started in surprise.

“I’ve already looked into it. Your contract with Huamei is for three years, and this happens to be your third year—meaning you have at most half a year left before you can terminate your contract with Chen Maoqing. When that time comes, no matter what tricks he uses to try to get you to renew, don’t listen to a word of it. Come straight to Huamei—” [Xiufeng]

Yu Peiling laughed with delight. “Why on earth would I go to your Huamei? Can you even afford my fee, keep a big star like me? And another thing—I’m used to being the female lead. There’s no way I’m going to some small company to play second fiddle.”

“At the very least, Sister Huang and I would never force you to entertain men.”

Silence fell across the table.

Wen Tingli said earnestly: “Even if you don’t trust me, surely you trust Sister Huang? She’s been in this industry for years—when has she ever forced any of her people to do that kind of nonsense? With her, you can focus entirely on your acting. As for pay, if you agree to come, the company will tailor two quality films for you every year, guaranteeing you the female lead. Even when you’re not filming, your monthly salary will still be paid in full—I’ll offer you this amount—”

Wen Tingli took the fountain pen from her lapel and wrote a figure on the back of her card.

Yu Peiling was clearly wavering now, though her eyes still held deep suspicion.

“Do you mean what you say?”

“Of course I do.” Wen Tingli’s lips curled upward. “Don’t forget, I’m one of the owners of Xiufeng.”

“I…” Yu Peiling pressed a hand to her chest, breathing deeply, flustered. “Let me think it over properly.”

“In truth, Miss Yu doesn’t have many options. All crows under heaven are equally black—only our Xiufeng can offer you this kind of freedom. Of course, there’s no rush, Miss Yu has half a year to think it over carefully. Only—” Wen Tingli’s tone shifted, “now that I think of it, our company already has plenty of actors. To help our Boss Huang feel more patience and confidence toward you, you’ll need to do us one favor as well.”

A mocking smile touched the corner of Yu Peiling’s mouth. “I knew it. Go on, what is it?”

“Convince your colleague Yu Hongjie to jump ship to our company. I know the two of you are from the same hometown and are on very good terms—arrange for me to meet him as soon as possible. I’ll handle the rest. Don’t worry, I won’t put you in a difficult position.”

Yu Peiling lifted her chin proudly. “Is this some kind of proof of loyalty I need to offer?”

Wen Tingli smiled sincerely. “Not at all, because our Xiufeng’s doors will always be open to Miss Yu. Besides, this suggestion only benefits you. Have your friend come scout out Xiufeng first—it’ll let him see for himself whether we’re really the ‘little workshop’ the rumors say we are. It benefits both sides, don’t you think?”

Leaving the café, Wen Tingli glanced up at the sun and immediately turned her car toward Golden Film Company.

The next evening, at Xiufeng’s office, Huang Yuanshan roared with laughter over Yu Hongjie’s employment contract on the desk.

“Chen Maoqing tries to trip us up, so we go right to his doorstep and poach his people instead. And not just one, but two big names—Yu Peiling and Yu Hongjie! Once Chen Maoqing finds out, he’ll be furious out of his mind!”

Wen Tingli laughed. “Chen Maoqing has only himself to blame. Their internal factional infighting at Huamei is severe. Ever since Chen Maoqing became the top boss, Yu Hongjie was demoted to the third production unit, far less valued than before—he’s been wanting a way out for a while now. He’d fallen for the rumors going around at first, and also worried he wouldn’t be valued properly if he came over, but I met with him yesterday and cleared up all his doubts on the spot. Unlike Yu Peiling, he doesn’t have a long-term contract binding him, so he agreed without a second thought.”

Huang Yuanshan was overjoyed beyond words. “With Yu Hongjie on board, we should be able to get Twin Pearls moving. The only thing is, we’re still short-staffed—if only we could poach a seasoned cinematographer from somewhere too.”

Everyone was both delighted and anxious at once—now that Yu Hongjie had defected, Chen Maoqing would surely be on guard, making it impossible to pull the same trick at Huamei again. As for Golden Film, their defenses were already airtight as a barrel.

Li Zhen suggested: “Why don’t I place a few more recruitment ads in Hangzhou, Nanjing, and Tianjin?”

Gu Jie added: “I’ll reach out to some friends down in Guangzhou too, see if they can help find suitable candidates locally. If experience is really lacking, worst case, Boss Huang can teach on the job while filming.”

“Boss Huang, Boss Wen.” Xiao Tian ran in. “There’s a man loitering at the front gate, been there almost an hour—looks like he wants to come in but doesn’t dare. He seems suspicious. Should we chase him off?”

Wen Tingli’s face lit up with joy. He’d come.

“Don’t chase him off. Go bring him in right away.”

Huang Yuanshan and Li Zhen exchanged puzzled looks. When Xiao Tian led the man to the doorway, Huang Yuanshan sprang up from her chair like a coiled spring. “What are you doing here? You’re not welcome here!”

The visitor was none other than Huang Yuanshan’s own disciple, Tan Guiwang.

The day Huang Yuanshan resigned, Liu Menglin had immediately promoted Tan Guiwang to first-tier director, giving him his own film to direct solo, and raising his salary to match what Huang Yuanshan had earned while employed.

Tan Guiwang had thus been “bought off.” Toward his teacher’s departure, he’d shown remarkably little backbone, accepting the new position with barely any resistance.

That alone would have been forgivable. But for a long stretch after Huang Yuanshan left, Tan Guiwang never once came to visit his teacher, showing complete indifference to all the hardships she faced in starting her own company—a coldness that genuinely wounded her. It wasn’t until a week ago, once Xiufeng had officially been established, that Tan Guiwang finally worked up the nerve to call Huang Yuanshan—only for her to hang up on him without a word.

A no-good, ungrateful wretch who bows to whoever holds power! That’s what Huang Yuanshan called him.

Three years of teacher-student bond, just like that, severed.

Just as Wen Tingli was about to bring Tan Guiwang inside, Huang Yuanshan flung her arms out, bracing them against the doorframe. “Not allowed in! He’s Golden Film’s most favored ‘Great Director Tan’ now—careful, don’t let his precious feet get dirtied by my humble ground!”

Faced with Huang Yuanshan’s mockery and hostility, Tan Guiwang offered no defense at all, only standing rigidly at the door, head bowed.

Wen Tingli stepped between the two of them, trying hard to mediate. “Sister Huang, don’t be so quick to judge. At least give Xiao Tan a chance to explain himself. He’s the disciple you trained with your own hands—if you don’t trust his character, don’t you at least trust your own judgment?”

“I must have been blind back then! Get him out of here now—and if he ever dares set foot in our Xiufeng again, I’ll beat him half to death!”

In the scuffle, something fell unexpectedly from Tan Guiwang’s pocket—a strip of pure white mourning cloth.

Tan Guiwang’s face went ashen. He quickly crouched down to snatch it up, clutching it tightly in his fist, still saying nothing.

Wen Tingli seized the moment to pull Tan Guiwang inside, and said quietly to Huang Yuanshan: “Tan Guiwang’s mother passed away last week.”

Huang Yuanshan froze.

Wen Tingli sighed. “Remember last month when Xiao Tan asked you for leave to visit his hometown? That was the trip where he discovered his mother was ill—some rare chronic condition that couldn’t be treated locally. Only a handful of Western hospitals in Shanghai could perform the surgery, and the medical costs were staggering. It happened right around the time you resigned.”

Tan Guiwang’s throat worked, and he interrupted, cutting Wen Tingli off: “Miss Wen, you’ve already helped me enough. Let me tell my teacher myself.”

He stepped forward and bowed deeply to Huang Yuanshan. “Teacher, scold me all you want, I was wrong. I let my own self-interest get the better of me—I was afraid that if I followed you out on your own, I wouldn’t have a steady income to pay for my mother’s treatment, so I—I was a spineless coward without any sense of loyalty. If Miss Wen hadn’t talked me into it yesterday, I still wouldn’t have had the courage to face you today. But I never forgot who personally taught me everything I know. No matter how much you scold me, you’ll always be my teacher. Now that she’s passed on, I have nothing left holding me back. Let me come to Xiufeng, Teacher—even if you don’t pay me a single cent, I’ll still follow you.”

“You!” Huang Yuanshan stamped her foot in frustration. “Why didn’t you say any of this sooner?”

“I knew starting a company would need a lot of money. When you left, you’d already spoken harsh words to Liu Menglin, and I didn’t want to be a burden on you at such a critical time. Besides, my mother couldn’t wait much longer—she needed the surgery right away—” His expression darkened, and he quickly turned to wipe the corner of his eye.

Moved by the scene, Wen Tingli felt her own nose sting with emotion. She stepped forward, taking Huang Yuanshan’s hand in one of hers and Tan Guiwang’s in the other. “There now, it’s all out in the open now. There’s no grudge between teacher and student that can’t be resolved. Let Xiao Tan come help at Xiufeng.”

All the words Huang Yuanshan had been holding back dissolved into a helpless sigh, though her tone remained gruff: “Fine, you can come, but the pay won’t be high. And—has your mother’s funeral been properly arranged? Look how pale you are, go home and rest properly for a few days before starting work!”

Wen Tingli leaned against the railing, arms crossed, gazing out at the scenery, occasionally glancing back toward the window behind her.

Through the window, Huang Yuanshan was animatedly gesturing at a script, and Tan Guiwang was doing much the same, listening while gesticulating enthusiastically.

Wen Tingli couldn’t help but smile to herself—teacher and student, back to their old selves. When they talked about film, they had eyes for nothing else, oblivious even if the sky came crashing down.

“Miss Wen.” Li Zhen came over to greet her, following her gaze back toward the window. “You’d been wanting to poach Tan Guiwang for a while now, hadn’t you?”

Wen Tingli only smiled without answering.

“Boss Huang’s fiery temper…” Li Zhen said with a helpless laugh. “Lucky you were there in the middle to smooth things over, or who knows how long this misunderstanding would have dragged on.”

“Sister Huang can’t stand to see even a speck of dust, but her heart is softer than anyone’s. Some things just need to be said out loud, and it all sorts itself out. Her greatest virtue is that she never holds a grudge.”

Li Zhen turned to study Wen Tingli seriously.

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking—appearances can be so deceiving. Years ago, the first time I dealt with Yuanshan, I thought she was a shrewd, practical operator. In truth, she’s a pure idealist. And you—when I first met you, I thought you were some naive romantic, unversed in the ways of the world. But you turned out to be—”

“A shrewd, practical operator?”

“No, no, no.” Li Zhen laughed, lowering his head. “That’s not quite right either… I should say, Boss Wen, young as you are, you understand human nature better than most people twice your age. You know how to deal with all kinds of people—problems that seem impossibly thorny to others somehow find just the right angle for resolution once they’re in your hands. Just like this time—Yu Hongjie from Huamei, Tan Guiwang from Golden Film—an honest man would never have thought to solve the problem this way, by poaching from right under their noses. But Boss Wen thought of it without hesitation.”

Wen Tingli noticed the shift in how Li Zhen addressed her. She feigned not to notice, merely regarding him steadily. “Is Manager Li praising me, or criticizing me?”

“Praising you, of course,” Li Zhen said sincerely. “To be honest, when Yuanshan first came to Hangzhou to recruit me, I agreed to help her, but privately, I had no confidence at all in how things would go. These past few days, watching Boss Wen’s methods, my heart has finally settled completely. With someone like Miss Wen leading Xiufeng, this company can truly hold its ground in such a fiercely competitive environment.”

Wen Tingli neither agreed nor disagreed, simply lifting her gaze to look far off at the rows of glass windows in the distance, glowing red as fire in the light of the setting sun.

After a moment, she spoke unhurriedly. “Have you considered—whether it’s Tan Guiwang or you, Manager Li, what truly drew you to Xiufeng wasn’t me. It was Sister Huang.”

Li Zhen paused, taken aback.

“Everyone admires her talent, trusts her character, believes she can lead you all in building something meaningful—that’s why you came. That’s the strength of Sister Huang’s personal character. And I feel the same way.”

She smiled warmly. “There’s no shortage of practical operators in this world, but people like Sister Huang are rare indeed. She’s the kind who’d burn every bridge behind her for the sake of an ideal, who’d pursue a single goal her whole life without wavering… most people simply can’t do that. So ever since Xiufeng was founded, I’ve felt grateful every single day—grateful that Sister Huang built this kind of ‘idealized’ world. Both for me, and for Yu Peiling in the future too, this place has unknowingly offered many people a way out. That’s why Sister Huang is truly the spiritual force behind Xiufeng. I’m just an ordinary, worldly person, content to help her clear away the thorns from her path forward.”

Li Zhen was practically moved to tears by these words.

“Forgive me, my earlier words were far too one-sided. This world can’t do without people like Boss Wen either, and it certainly can’t do without idealists like Yuanshan—without both, our society couldn’t move forward at all. But I have to say one fair thing: Boss Wen is anything but ordinary. You’re a genuinely formidable woman—forgive my poor male pride acting up here, I used to be quite reluctant to apply the word ‘formidable’ to a woman.”

“Manager Li is certainly candid,” Wen Tingli couldn’t help but laugh.

Li Zhen solemnly extended his hand toward Wen Tingli, shaking it firmly. “Allow me to introduce myself properly again. My name is Li Zhen, and it’s an honor to work alongside figures like Boss Wen and Boss Huang. A wise bird chooses its tree wisely—from now on, Xiufeng is my home.”

As the two of them chatted and laughed, they noticed Gu Jie smoking alone downstairs. He must have caught sight of the handshake upstairs, because he stubbed out his cigarette and, with great solemnity, made a matching handshake gesture up toward them.

Wen Tingli smiled faintly—she knew perfectly well that Li and Gu had both been quietly observing these past few days, testing whether she and Huang Yuanshan were truly capable of steering Xiufeng. And she, in turn, had been quietly observing them just as closely.

After tonight’s conversation, she began to believe that she and Huang Yuanshan hadn’t chosen wrong—at the very least, these two knew their place, and weren’t given to arrogance.

Lost in thought, she heard laughter drifting up from behind her—it was Cao Renxiu and Xiao Tian returning from outside with dinner. Cao Renxiu laughed heartily, leaning out to call to them: “Smell that? Come on in and eat already!”

Li Zhen and Wen Tingli answered with a laugh, and as the night air turned a little chilly, Wen Tingli reached back to close the French windows as she went in. Once more, she glanced up at the distant row of glass windows—the fiery red glow was gone now, replaced by silver moonlight flowing like water across the panes.

Truly, it was a tranquil and lovely world. For tomorrow, for Xiufeng, her heart felt just like the bright moon before her—wrapped in soft, gentle light, quietly rising with boundless hope.