The next day, Chen An took his laptop and brought Cheng Lele to work at the cinema. Today he had arranged to meet an expert in cultural scenic spot design to view the site. The person hadn’t arrived yet, so he first dealt with emails in the office.
Beside him, Shen Dafeng was demonstrating his grand ambitions to Cheng Lele.
“Sis, hurry up and register a livestream account. Have you seen Li Jiaqi and Viya doing product sales? Oh my god, all you girls, buy it buy it buy it!” Shen Dafeng imitated Li Jiaqi’s high-pitched voice. “Sis, with your current IP, although it’s still a bit behind those two, we’re not asking to sell out in seconds like them, right?”
Cheng Lele propped up her head listening: “Do you know what IP means?”
Shen Dafeng pulled over a chair and sat down, spittle flying: “We’ll start by selling package tickets. For example, two movie tickets plus one medium popcorn plus two medium sodas. I’ve already calculated the costs—we’ll sell it for ninety-nine. At the time, you’ll just say the original price is two ninety-nine, special for livestream customers.”
“Who would believe the original price is worth two ninety-nine?” Cheng Lele didn’t look as excited as usual when hearing proposals—she even seemed somewhat resistant.
Shen Dafeng said: “These days, who looks at original prices? Sis, I’m telling you first—we have two bags of popcorn kernels in the warehouse about to expire. If we don’t promote them during this period, we’ll have to report them as losses.”
“Let me think about it.” Cheng Lele twirled her pen.
Shen Dafeng was anxious for her: “What more is there to think about, sis? You’re so popular right now—shouldn’t you strike while the iron is hot and set up an account to retain fans?”
“I’m not planning to work here until I die. If you tie me and Starlight together, when I leave later, will you still count on me to livestream?”
“I’m not asking you to bind yourself. Just think of it as building up the account. Once we have fans and slowly operate it, we’ll train someone to replace you. Sis, buying fans is so expensive now. You have a ready-made channel—others can’t even be jealous enough.”
Cheng Lele asked: “How do you plan to do it?”
“Usually these product sales livestreams take several hours. We’re not skilled at the business, so let’s set a small goal first—say, an hour or so.”
“An hour? I sell package tickets for an hour?”
“You’re not really Li Jiaqi—how could you talk for an hour? You’ll just act like an employee, sell tickets for a while, then go make some popcorn, then take everyone on a tour of the theater, and finally visit the projection room.”
“That still won’t take an hour, will it?”
“Sis, good-looking people are watched doing anything. If you really can’t fill the time, just do what you normally do—check the warehouse, inspect the cleanliness. It’s mainly to satisfy everyone’s curiosity and desire to peek into your life.”
“What desire?” Cheng Lele threw down her pen.
Shen Dafeng slapped his own mouth: “What I mean is, you’re more or less a celebrity now. Introducing everyone to the cinema’s daily operations, letting more people understand us—isn’t that good?”
Cheng Lele pinched her forehead without speaking. After holding it in for a long time, she said: “I don’t really like the camera constantly filming me.”
Shen Dafeng’s jaw nearly dropped: “Sis, you’re someone who filmed a movie with Liang Yuchao and performed on stage in front of hundreds of people. You didn’t get stage fright with a crowd of people filming you, but you’re afraid of just one phone?”
“That’s different. The former is performing, but livestreaming is more like—sharing privacy. My daily words, my movements, every tiny habit—they’ll all be seen by people on the other side of the camera. I don’t like that.”
Shen Dafeng said strangely: “It hasn’t reached the point of leaking privacy…”
“Let me think about it, okay?”
“Sis—”
“I said, let me think about it.” Cheng Lele stopped him.
Shen Dafeng felt utterly confused. The leader who used to be willing to risk her life to save even a little bit of marketing budget, upon hearing such a profitable proposal, wasn’t overjoyed but instead put it off repeatedly—it was truly unexpected.
After Shen Dafeng left, Chen An poured Cheng Lele a glass of water: “If you don’t like doing it, don’t do it. Why make things so difficult for yourself?”
Cheng Lele took the water glass and lowered her head without speaking, her fingertips slowly rubbing the rim of the cup, as if thinking.
Chen An stood beside her, pulled up her other hand, and scratched her palm: “What’s wrong?” Then his slender fingers tapped her head, asking gently: “What’s going on in here?”
Cheng Lele sighed. The thin mist that had been surrounding her eyes was clear and transparent when she lifted them, untainted by any trace of worry: “I might really not be able to be a star, Little Ge. What a pity.”
Chen An took her hand and placed it on his chest, saying with a completely serious expression: “To me, you’ll always be a superstar.”
In the afternoon, the designer came to view the site. He wore a small round hat, had permed long hair, sported a goatee, dressed in baggy clothes with cropped pants, revealing a pair of colorful and vibrant long socks—clearly someone in the arts.
The small county town hadn’t seen many artists. As soon as he arrived, the front desk staff came in and said: “President Chen, there’s a peacock outside looking for you.”
Chen An felt the employees here must have learned from Cheng Lele—they all liked giving people nicknames, so it wasn’t good to criticize.
The designer came as a favor to Chen An. He hadn’t taken on such a small-scale project before and joked with Chen An that he felt like he was participating in “Dream Home Makeover.”
Chen An actually took it to heart. Just as Cheng Lele had fought for a film location for Starlight, if a television program could follow the entire scenic spot construction process and gain some exposure, it could completely achieve the effect of becoming popular before completion. Moreover, this kind of film museum design hadn’t been seen in current programs. Combined with the cinema’s struggles during the pandemic, having the program call for attention to vulnerable industries also aligned with the current mainstream theme.
Chen An immediately indicated he could inquire whether similar programs were being prepared. However, his project was quite urgent—if there really was one, they’d need to jump the queue, and he’d have to ask the designer to fully cooperate.
The designer wasn’t lacking money but wanted recognition. With President Chen’s influence, if he said it could be arranged, it surely could. He couldn’t help but put his full heart into this matter.
In the evening, Chen An called up Zhong Yueshan and Quan Zirong, brought Cheng Lele along, and together they took the designer to a private kitchen restaurant for dinner.
The private kitchen restaurant was located in a secluded alley in the east part of the city. The environment was quiet and peaceful. Inside the black-tiled, gray-walled space was a simple Eight Immortals table. Aside from Chen An and Cheng Lele, the three men each sat on one side.
Zhong Yueshan was responsible for introducing the evolution history of projection equipment, Quan Zirong was responsible for introducing Taixi’s local customs and culture, Chen An was responsible for paying the bill, and Cheng Lele was responsible for eating—clear division of labor, each performing their duty.
Although the designer dressed artistically, he was skilled in human relations. Upon hearing that Quan Zirong was the son of the county’s top official, he very politely toasted him. Quan Zirong only saw Chen An focused on peeling crawfish for the person next to him, not even saying two words on his behalf. Unable to refuse, he had to drink along, glaring at Chen An several times with resentment while drinking.
Later, Quan Zirong got into the spirit of drinking. Chen An reminded him several times to no avail, so he had to let him enjoy himself.
By the end, both the designer and Quan Zirong were somewhat drunk. Chen An called a car and had Zhong Yueshan send the designer to his hotel first. He himself stayed a bit longer, had the chef make some sobering soup, and poured it down Quan Zirong’s throat.
Quan Zirong, drunk and dazed, saw Cheng Lele in his haze and immediately pointed at her nose and scolded, saying how could you be so heartless back then, leaving just like that? Do you know he got acute myocarditis because of you, went into ICU, and almost died? You must treat him well in the future, or I won’t let you go even as a ghost…
Chen An couldn’t stop a drunk person’s mouth. He had originally brought Cheng Lele along just to let her eat something good, never expecting her to hear such depressing words. He couldn’t help but feel regretful.
Cheng Lele, sitting beside him, turned ashen. When Chen An put his arm around her shoulder, he discovered her whole body was rigid, both hands ice cold. Quan Zirong was still draped over his shoulder wailing like a ghost. He could only tug at Cheng Lele’s hand and say: “Don’t listen to his nonsense.”
Fortunately, not long after, Quan Zirong sobered up a bit and shut his mouth. However, his legs were weak and he couldn’t stand steady, so Chen An had to support him into the car and send him home.
After all this commotion, it was already past eleven by the time they got home. Cheng Lele had been in low spirits all day, and after Quan Zirong’s passionate scolding, she became even more dejected.
“I’m sorry, Little Ge.” Once inside the door, Cheng Lele didn’t turn on the lights. She hugged Chen An’s waist, leaned on his shoulder, and said slowly.
Chen An had been made uneasy all the way by Cheng Lele’s silence. Now seeing she was finally willing to communicate, he felt somewhat relieved. He lowered his head to kiss her, his voice gentle: “We agreed to always look forward.”
Cheng Lele asked in a dry voice: “You had acute myocarditis?”
“That has nothing to do with you. It’s Quan Zirong making far-fetched connections and blaming it on you.”
Cheng Lele retorted in a tearful voice: “I just searched on Baidu—pneumonia and such can also develop into acute myocarditis. Was it because of me that you didn’t take good care of your body…”
Hearing something wrong in her voice, Chen An hurriedly coaxed: “No way. I just had viral myocarditis from a cold. Stop imagining things, okay?”
After speaking, he cupped Cheng Lele’s face and pecked at it several times.
“Baidu says there’s a possibility of sudden death during an episode. When you were in ICU, did you really almost die?”
Chen An gently stroked her back and replied in a soft, gentle voice: “No, that’s only an extremely rare case. I didn’t die then, and I won’t die in the future.”
Cheng Lele still felt afraid in retrospect. She held Chen An tightly, wanting to meld him into her own flesh to feel safe: “You have a heart condition—how can you still go to haunted houses?”
“I’m not afraid of ghosts. Besides, this illness doesn’t easily relapse.”
“Nonsense. Baidu says it’s also possible to relapse.”
Chen An laughed helplessly: “Good baby, uninstall your Baidu app. You can’t rely on Baidu for medical matters, understand?”
Cheng Lele huffed: “I have more experience than you with medical matters—don’t lecture me about which app is useful.” She paused, then continued, “No more Hitchcock films from now on. Stay away from suspenseful things. Don’t stay up late, and eat properly…”
Chen An felt his good baby was overly emotional and needed to have her attention diverted, so he gently kissed her. Cheng Lele still wanted to struggle, but Chen An pressed the back of her head toward himself, not allowing her to move around. Then his index finger landed between her brows, slowly tracing the contours of her eye sockets, then comforting her by gently licking and sucking her lips.
Cheng Lele gradually quieted down in the kiss. Only then did Chen An kiss along the line of her ear and jawbone, then move down inch by inch.
Their two bodies gradually heated up. Even after removing outer garments, they didn’t feel cold. Their breathing gradually grew heavier. They pressed close and entangled on the narrow sofa, journeying together to Mount Wu.
Neither knew that a pair of eyes was watching them from behind.
The next day, Chen An was originally supposed to return to the provincial capital. He checked his schedule and saw that several items on it could almost be accomplished through remote work. The only event he needed to attend was just a not-very-important small salon, so he called the organizer to ask for leave and apologize. After hanging up, Chen An specifically circled this type of schedule item to alert Tang Xin, telling her to highly prioritize his state of passionate love in future arrangements and avoid the possibility of long-distance separation as much as possible. He also asked her to find a high-end custom jewelry shop and have them send him their catalog first, but the shop he had visited last time shouldn’t be considered again due to the poor experience.
Tang Xin was pointed out two problems in a row by her boss. Her heart, which had been inflated these past few days from thinking she knew more inside information about the romance than others, instantly contracted several inches. She didn’t dare slack off anymore and devoted herself diligently to work.