Always Chasing My White Moonlight Omega - Chapter 40

Following the address given by Xu Rongjiang, Ruan Yang arrived at the foot of Ruochu Group’s building.

Xu Rongjiang’s assistant personally came downstairs to escort Ruan Yang to the top floor. Inside the massive office with glass walls on three sides, Xu Rongjiang was waiting for her on the sofa.

Noticing Ruan Yang’s arrival, Xu Rongjiang smiled and called out, “Yangyang’s here, come sit.”

After the assistant brewed a cup of tea for Ruan Yang and left, only the two of them remained in the office. She walked over and sat beside Xu Rongjiang, smiling as she placed the pastries she had brought in front of him.

“Uncle Xu, these are some pastries my mom asked me to bring you. She said you used to love this brand the most.”

That was all in the past. Xu Rongjiang, now older, had long lost interest in such sweet treats. Hearing that Ruan Qingyu had specifically asked her to bring them, there wasn’t a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

He chuckled, not even glancing at the pastries. “Thank you, Yangyang.”

Ruan Yang sat stiffly upright on the sofa, seeming somewhat uneasy.

Xu Rongjiang remained silent, simply sitting there, exuding an intangible pressure. After a long while, Ruan Yang finally seemed unable to bear it and spoke up, “Uncle Xu, the main reason I came today is to thank you on behalf of my mother.”

This took Xu Rongjiang by surprise. His eyes flickered behind his glasses. “Oh? What for?”

“For always taking care of my mother and me,” Ruan Yang said sincerely. “To be honest, in my heart, I’ve long regarded you as a father.”

Today, Ruan Yang seemed different from usual her expressions were more vivid and varied than ever.

She appeared easier to control than before.

Xu Rongjiang studied Ruan Yang for a moment before saying, “Don’t worry, Yangyang. I’ve always seen you as a daughter too.”

As if struck by a thought, his gaze darkened slightly. “Otherwise, why would I have thrown you a birthday party last time and tried to introduce you to all my business partners?”

Mentioning this, Ruan Yang’s eyes seemed to fluster, tinged with guilt. “I’m really sorry, Uncle Xu. I wasn’t feeling well that day, and I thought it would be more embarrassing if I fainted at the party, so I went to the hospital alone.”

Seeing Xu Rongjiang’s brow relax slightly, Ruan Yang continued earnestly, “You don’t need to do such things for me to remember your kindness.”

Perhaps moved by her words, Xu Rongjiang tapped his fingers rhythmically, his expression softening gradually, though it remained somewhat complex.

After a moment of contemplation, he merely said lightly, “Is that so?”

“Of course. It was my fault for not appreciating your kindness. I’ll always remember your goodwill,” Ruan Yang apologized with another smile. “I just never knew how to repay you.”

It was unclear which word struck a chord with Xu Rongjiang.

His eyes suddenly gleamed, and his gaze finally fell upon the pastries Ruan Yang had brought.

Abruptly, he asked, “Did your mother pick these pastries, or did you choose them yourself?”

Ruan Yang blinked. “I picked them myself.”

Xu Rongjiang gazed at the box of pastries in silence for a moment before suddenly reaching out, opening it, and taking a piece to taste.

“This was your mother’s favorite pastry. When I was with her, I often ate it with her and eventually grew to love it myself,” he said, lifting his eyes with a meaningful look. “You have excellent taste, Yangyang.”

As Xu Rongjiang picked up the tea beside him and took a sip, Ruan Yang knew it was time for her to leave.

She stood up, bid Xu Rongjiang farewell, and was escorted out of the building by his assistant.

The moment she stepped outside, the smile on Ruan Yang’s face vanished completely.

Standing in the center of the plaza in front of Ruochu Group, she glanced back at the top floor she had just descended from.

She had always known the reason behind Xu Rongjiang’s kindness toward her.

He simply didn’t want Ruochu Group to fall back into Xu Zhiyi’s hands. Yet, unable to have another child of his own and unwilling to trust an adopted one, he had set his sights on her.

As an Alpha and the child of a woman who had once loved him deeply, coupled with Xu Zhiyi’s previous disdain for her, there was no one more suitable to groom as his successor.

Ruan Yang had no interest in the company, but she couldn’t allow her mother to marry such a man.

Withdrawing her gaze, she walked to the roadside, hailed a taxi, and returned to school.

Early the next morning, Ruan Yang received a call from Xu Rongjiang.

She wasn’t surprised. Xu Rongjiang had already discerned her intentions, and what followed would be his way of testing her.

She answered the call, and on the other end was Xu Rongjiang’s voice, noticeably more benevolent than the day before. He said, “Yangyang, I’ve been thinking carefully about what you said yesterday. You’re studying directing, right?”

“Yes,” Ruan Yang replied softly.

“How about this,” Xu Rongjiang paused thoughtfully. “Ruochu Group happens to have a film and television company under its umbrella, and its profits have been declining recently. Do you have time? If so, I’d like you to take a look at this company and see if you can come up with ways to boost its profits this year. Even if you can’t increase the profits, reducing some of the losses would be acceptable. I won’t blame you, dear.”

Ruan Yang listened quietly.

This was likely Xu Rongjiang’s test.

Although he made it sound lenient, Ruan Yang knew that if she failed to deliver, he might not give her a second chance.

Her expression remained indifferent, but her voice carried a hint of warmth. “Alright, Uncle Xu. Don’t worry, I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing your efforts, Yangyang. You know, if you can really pull this off,” Xu Rongjiang lowered his voice, as if making a promise, “you’ll have a future far brighter than what you have now.”

Before hanging up, Xu Rongjiang mentioned that his assistant would pick her up that afternoon to visit the film and television company. After confirming the time, Ruan Yang ended the call.

In the afternoon, the assistant arrived on time to take Ruan Yang to the film company. On the way, she drove while introducing the company to Ruan Yang.

The company was called “Runying,” a small subsidiary of Ruochu Group. Its “small” status was only relative to Ruochu Group in the industry, it was far from insignificant and was considered a well-established player.

In recent years, with the rise of online streaming platforms, audiences have developed increasingly sophisticated tastes and become more selective. Runying, however, failed to accurately gauge these preferences, leading to a steady decline over the years.

Although the company had implemented a series of reforms, none of them addressed the core issues. Profits continued to shrink annually, and if this trend persisted, bankruptcy seemed inevitable within a few years.

As the assistant drove, she glanced in the rearview mirror at the young woman seated behind her. She couldn’t fathom why CEO Xu would even consider entrusting Runying to a student still in school, expecting her to revive the company. It seemed utterly absurd.

Still, the assistant knew that CEO Xu held this girl in high regard, so she kept her thoughts to herself and maintained a respectful demeanor.

It took quite a while to reach Runying. The assistant escorted Ruan Yang inside, exchanged a few words privately with the general manager, and then left.

The general manager, a sharp and polished woman in her thirties, wasted no time in giving Ruan Yang a tour of the company. After familiarizing her with most of the departments, Ruan Yang asked, “Where is the planning department responsible for script selection?”

Though the general manager shared the assistant’s skepticism about Ruan Yang’s intentions, she followed orders with a smile. “It’s on the eighth floor. I’ll take you there.”

The eighth floor housed only the planning department. The general manager led Ruan Yang directly to the department head, who was in the middle of lecturing his team on script selection. He spoke with great enthusiasm, gesturing animatedly, while his subordinates looked drowsy, struggling to stay awake.

Just as the general manager was about to call out to him, Ruan Yang raised a hand to stop her.

“The most crucial aspect of script selection is evaluating the core of the story,” the department head declared. “If the core is strong, the subject matter can be adapted successfully no matter what.” Take The Legend of Sangye, for example, a female-centric drama with an outstanding core. It was easy to produce and became a huge hit online.”

“With all due respect, Chief,” one of the subordinates interjected, “while the ratings were high, I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘huge hit.'”

The department head, already balding noticeably, grew visibly agitated at the rebuttal. His glare intensified, making his shiny scalp even more conspicuous. He seemed ready to reprimand the employee, but before he could speak, Ruan Yang stepped forward.

“A strong story core is important,” she said calmly, walking over to the department head, “but what truly determines a show’s popularity nowadays is the theme and character development. Audiences are tired of the same old formulas. It’s hard to innovate when plots and characters feel like they’ve been stamped from the same mold, no one enjoys that anymore.”

The department head stared at her in disbelief, then glanced at the general manager, bewildered by this uninformed newcomer. The general manager shook her head subtly, signaling him not to confront Ruan Yang.

Uncomprehending, the department head frowned and snapped at Ruan Yang, “Who are you? What do you know about scripts? The soul of any production is its core story. Without it, it’s just garbage!”

“Sang Ye Zhuan,” Ruan Yang said calmly, “I remember another historical drama aired around the same time as it. Both were similar in theme, strong female leads. Although the other drama didn’t score as high as Sang Ye Zhuan, it became a minor hit back then.”

“It was just a low-budget web series with a mediocre script. If you were looking for any profound storytelling, you wouldn’t find it there. Yet, it became the most-watched web drama of its time and even earned its lead actress, Zheng Tang, a slew of awards.”

Ruan Yang tilted her head slightly. “What made that drama a hit was its theme and the protagonist’s character design.”

The department head lowered his head in thought, momentarily unable to refute Ruan Yang’s example.

Feeling humiliated in front of so many people, the department head grew furious. Without caring who Ruan Yang was, he pointed at the pile of scripts in front of him and shouted at her, “What do you know? If you’re so knowledgeable, why don’t you pick a script? Let’s see what kind of masterpiece you can come up with!”

Ruan Yang glanced down at the stack of scripts on the table, and to everyone’s surprise, she actually started sorting through them.

She skimmed through most of them first, eliminating a batch in the initial round. In the second round, she discarded more than half, until only three scripts remained in her hands.

The department head glanced over and noticed that none of the scripts he had favored were among her selections.

Ruan Yang carefully examined the three scripts she held, then placed one of them in front of the department head.

“This one,” she said.

The department head looked down and realized it was a script he had long since dismissed.

Thinking to himself that Ruan Yang clearly had no taste, he sneered, “Little girl, you’re still young, aren’t you? Probably not even graduated yet. Listen to your uncle here, go back and study for a few more years, improve your aesthetic sense, then come back and argue with me.”

“This one,” Ruan Yang repeated patiently.

She turned to the general manager, who had been watching the scene unfold, and tapped the table twice with her fingertip, her tone resolute.

“I see this script is rated C. Upgrade it to S. And I’ll personally select the actors for the main roles and the supporting couple.”

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