After Breaking Up with the Stoic CEO - Chapter 51

Chapter 51: A Good Horse Doesn’t Turn Back to Eat Old Grass

“Sister Lu?”

“Sister Lu!”

A familiar female voice rang out, accompanied by a gentle pat on her shoulder.

Lu Wu suppressed her drowsiness and slowly opened her eyes. What met her sight was the leather back of a car seat. Her young assistant, Xiao Yin, who had her hair tied in a ponytail, was looking at her with worry in her eyes.

“Sister Lu, are you okay? Is your headache acting up again?”

“Should I tell the production crew that we won’t be heading over today?”

Her dazed mind snapped back to reality, and Lu Wu finally remembered they were on the way to the set of the production Echo. After the bumpy journey, she had barely rested; her headache had indeed returned, though it hadn’t reached an unbearable level yet. Missing the very first script-reading session wouldn’t be ideal.

Lu Wu raised her hand to press against her temples, her voice somewhat weak. “No need. How much longer until we arrive?”

Xiao Yin opened her tablet, looking at the clear navigation route on the screen. “The filming base is in the suburbs. It took some time to get through the city center. We have about ten minutes left.”

Lu Wu scanned the screen and nodded slightly. “Understood.”

Xiao Yin was still worried, her round eyes looking over, hesitating to speak. “Sister Lu, your complexion looks really bad…”

Lu Wu was mostly awake now and had regained some spirit, so she started joking with the young girl. “How bad can it be?”

Xiao Yin thought for a moment and handed over the mirror on the back of her phone. “Look.”

Lu Wu took a glance. The person in the reflection had quite pale lips. Motion sickness was a lingering issue left over from that one major illness, and the headaches were caused by habitual insomnia. Having both motion sickness and a headache hit at the same time was indeed a frightening combination to look at.

However, she maintained a relaxed demeanor, took out a lipstick from her bag, and used the assistant’s hand as a makeshift vanity stand. “It doesn’t matter if my complexion is bad; a little lipstick will fix it.”

Xiao Yin: “…”

Just as she finished touching up her makeup, her phone rang. The caller ID showed: “Tan Xingxue.”

Lu Wu picked it up. Tan Xingxue’s voice came through. The background was noisy with people, but her tone was clearly excited.

“How is it? Are you in C City yet?”

Hearing this voice after so long, Lu Wu felt an instinctive sense of warmth, and her tone lightened as well. “I’ve arrived. I’m on my way to the script-reading session now.”

Tan Xingxue made arrangements briskly on the other end. “Let’s get together tonight. Ji Youyan said she’s treating.” “Where is that reading session of yours? Do you want us to come pick you up?”

Lu Wu could almost imagine the scene of Ji Youyan being “forced” to treat; she couldn’t help but curl her lips. “It’s at the filming base outside the Third Ring Road. No need; send me the location, and I’ll drive over directly when I’m done.”

Tan Xingxue let out a “tsk” on the other end, sounding quite emotional. “Almost forgot, you have a car now. Alright, Great Screenwriter Lu, let’s meet at 7:00 PM sharp tonight.”

Lu Wu responded simply, “Okay.”

When they reached the Film and Television City, the director, Du Hengxu, was waiting outside for her.

“Screenwriter Lu, I heard you rushed over from Tibet. The long journey must have been very exhausting, right? The reading room is this way. Most of the actors have already arrived. Let me lead the way for you.”

In recent years, the movies directed by Du Hengxu had achieved good results at various major film festivals. The movie he directed the year before last, The Mysterious Love of the Snake Demon, even received an Oscar nomination, though it ultimately lost to a foreign production by a very small margin. Among domestic directors, he was considered highly capable and reputable.

Given his status, he shouldn’t have needed to personally fetch a screenwriter—a role often considered less significant. However, while the role might be minor, this Screenwriter Lu who had come from afar was no small name.

Four years ago, Lu Wu became famous across the entire East Asian cultural circle with her original novel Echo. Since then, she had produced one work every year, each causing phenomenal discussions nationwide. Three years ago, she transitioned to screenwriting, creating her first original script, Woman Struggling in the Deep Sea, which won an award in the Short Film Competition unit at the Cannes Film Festival. Earlier this year, she won the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay, with many media outlets hailing her as the most talented and promising new screenwriter of the past decade. She was at the height of her popularity.

It was no exaggeration to say that the name “Lu Wu” represented the potential for a massive hit. Everyone wanted to buy her copyrights, and every production crew wanted her involved in the writing. Du Hengxu considered himself talented, but he truly admired this young woman from the bottom of his heart, so his attitude was naturally very attentive.

Additionally, this script was adapted from Lu Wu’s original novel Echo. The cast was also high-budget, featuring the currently popular “90s starlet” Lin Shengjiao and the veteran award-winning actress Xu Wei. If development went smoothly, perhaps this movie could truly make up for the regret of The Mysterious Love of the Snake Demon and become his first Oscar-winning work.

Thinking of this, Du Hengxu’s mood grew excited and his tone increasingly warm, his steps becoming quite buoyant. “The actors’ schedules are concentrated for this shoot, so the filming progress will be very fast. We’re aiming for a mid-year release next year, so we can submit it to the judging committees by the end of the year.”

“That’s why this script-reading session is very important. I’ll have to ask you to help the actors sort out the emotional beats and characterizations to facilitate the upcoming start of filming.”

Lu Wu walked beside him, nodding with a smile. “Then I’ll have to ask for Director Du’s guidance as well.”

Du Hengxu waved his hand, laughing cheerfully. “It’s not guidance; we’ll learn from each other! Learn from each other.”

The place used for the reading was a conference room, with over a dozen people sitting around a long rectangular table. They were seated according to their status from front to back: the assistant director first, then the cast. Everyone knew Lu Wu; when she entered, they all stood up to greet her.

“Hello, Screenwriter Lu!”

“Screenwriter Lu…”

They were all familiar faces that frequently appeared on the big screen. Lu Wu didn’t put on any airs and responded to each with a smile. Once the screenwriter was in place, the script-reading session officially began.

The entire story of Echo revolved around two women: female journalist Yang Yuanshu and female doctor Lu Zhixiu. Journalist Yang Yuanshu comes to the hospital following clues to investigate the illegal use of “black” miners hidden behind a mine collapse incident. Meanwhile, Dr. Lu Zhixiu, who has long held a prejudice against the media, remains on high guard to protect her patients.

From their first meeting, the two misunderstand each other, with constant conflict. This lasts until a sudden earthquake strikes, leaving them stranded in the disaster zone and forced to cooperate in a life-or-death crisis. Yang Yuanshu uses her professional knowledge to transmit disaster relief information, while Lu Zhixiu uses her emergency medical skills to save one fresh life after another. In the process of joining forces to save the trapped victims, they finally resolve their misunderstandings and step by step become the closest of comrades and partners.

Everyone present had read the script in advance and was mostly familiar with the plot. Du Hengxu only mentioned a few casual points before summarizing. “In general, the theme of the story is to explore the dialectical relationship between absolute truth and the dignity of life. If you have anything to add or any questions, feel free to raise them directly.”

As an award-winning actress, Xu Wei’s acting was publicly recognized as excellent. She was in the habit of repeatedly studying the script until she and the character were one. As soon as Du Hengxu finished speaking, she was the first to open her mouth.

“I believe that since the movie focuses on two professional women, while discussing profound truths, more focus should also be placed on the survival dilemmas of women—for example, Lu Zhixiu being marginalized in the workplace, or the administrative pressure Yang Yuanshu faces within the hospital.”

Du Hengxu thought about it and nodded in agreement. “The suggestion you raised is very valuable. We can continue to deepen the discussion in this direction during post-production.”

The second female lead, Lin Shengjiao, raised her hand from the back. “I also have a question.”

Du Hengxu gestured to her. “Go ahead.”

Lin Shengjiao asked very seriously, “I went online to look at the readers’ opinions. They generally believe that there is a sentiment between Yang Yuanshu and Lu Zhixiu that transcends friendship. What do you think, Screenwriter Lu and Director Du?”

Du Hengxu felt a bit conflicted. In the original text, the relationship between the two wasn’t explicitly defined. The film adaptation could certainly take its own liberties, but even a slight difference could have a huge impact on the emotional meaning expressed by the entire work. Therefore—regarding this question, the best answer lay with the original author.

He turned his head toward Lu Wu, waiting for her to speak. Most of the gazes in the room converged on her. Lu Wu remained very poised and gave a direct conclusion.

“The two of them are not friends, but soulmates who share a deep connection of hearts.”

Soulmates, naturally, meant lovers. Having received the answer, the confusion on Lin Shengjiao’s face did not diminish, and Xu Wei also looked thoughtful. It wasn’t about censorship; the domestic environment was much more relaxed than it had been years ago. Furthermore, the production crew was aiming for international awards, so the SARFT (State Administration of Radio, Film, and Television) review wasn’t the most important hurdle.

It was just that the two actresses and the director had no experience in the field of same-sex romance and were unsure of how to handle the tension between the two protagonists. Too light, and the boundary with ordinary friendship would be blurred. Too heavy, and it would easily feel overacted.

This was a bit tricky. Midway through, Du Hengxu took a call and stepped out, leaving only a group of young people and the nearly forty-year-old actress Xu Wei in the room. Xu Wei was still organizing her thoughts and hadn’t spoken yet.

Lin Shengjiao, however, became a bit more daring, propping her head up with one hand while looking at Lu Wu. “Screenwriter Lu, may I ask one more question?”

Lu Wu had always had a good personality and was exceptionally patient when working. She smiled and answered as a matter of course, “Sure, what is the question?”

Lin Shengjiao winked suggestively at Lu Wu. “I want to ask… do you have experience dating women?”

Lu Wu dissolved the question with a joke. “Never dated one, but I have been dumped by one.”

Lin Shengjiao, however, showed full interest in the gossip. “A person as excellent as Screenwriter Lu has been dumped? Then, if the other party came back now and wanted to be with you again, would you still agree?”

Lu Wu raised an eyebrow and gave a high-EQ answer: “A good horse doesn’t turn back to eat old grass.”

In the very next second, a soft knocking sound came from the door. Du Hengxu reappeared at the doorway, but there was an extra woman beside him.

A light camel-colored lapel coat looked lazy and relaxed, paired with dark gray wide-leg trousers that accentuated a tall figure. It was still those cold, detached features, with thin lips slightly pursed, making her emotions unreadable.

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