Spring Night of Misty Rain - Chapter 5

After breakfast, Shen Zeyu felt a bit more energized. She took Xu Luosu for a walk along Jinuo Avenue to aid digestion.

At this time of year, the weather in Jinuo was still quite cold. However, the sun had come out, reflecting off the damp pavement with a shimmering brilliance. Looking into the distance, the begonia trees lining the avenue were beginning to bud, dotting the gray-and-black landscape with splashes of pink.

Shen Zeyu walked slowly, and Xu Luosu matched her pace, offering her insights with great enthusiasm. “If the character Han Zhen had been female and played by Qin Zhiyue, I’m certain it would have won a major award at the Fengcheng Film Festival.”

Years ago, when the movie became a massive hit, it was invited to the Fengcheng Film Festival. In the end, it lost by a single vote to a film depicting the struggles of female academics.

In truth, that other film’s structure wasn’t as good as Life is Most Worthy, and its cinematography was a bit lacking. But its concept was strong and its core message was stable; that was how it won by that one vote.

Everyone was crestfallen when the results came out. If they had won, the entire crew would have skyrocketed to legendary status. That was the Fengcheng Film Festival—one of the most prestigious international film awards in the world. Looking at the history of Summerland cinema, barely four films had ever won it. If they had succeeded, Shen Zeyu would have been the youngest director to ever receive the honor.

She was only twenty-two when she wrote Life is Most Worthy; her future had seemed limitless.

Even without the award, Shen Zeyu’s market value tripled after returning from the festival. At the time, Giant Whale Entertainment offered a massive sum to poach her from Xinghai. She didn’t leave, but instead acted as a bridge for a series of collaborations between the two companies. The following year, she released a Republic-era drama centered on a family of “clay figurine craftsmen,” detailing their preservation of tradition and their support for the national revolution.

As expected, this grounded yet patriotic series became a massive hit during the National Day season, dominating the trending searches for the entire second half of the year.

From her debut until that point, Shen Zeyu’s career had been exceptionally smooth. Anyone else would have become arrogant, but she had been raised in a family of ceramicists. Pottery taught composure, precision, and patience. Her grandmother had always warned her: Living a life is like making pottery—it requires stability and meticulousness to shape a good “vessel.” Otherwise, you’ll end up with a life that is warped and overturned.

She took those words to heart and became even more cautious after finding fame. If people insulted her, she acted as if she were deaf and laughed it off. As for praise and flattery, she never dared to take them to heart.

With a wry smile, Shen Zeyu said, “I don’t dare agree with that. There aren’t many ‘what ifs’ in this world.”

Xu Luosu smiled but didn’t drop the subject. She thought for a moment and asked, “Alright, but was the idea to change the protagonist’s gender Xinghai’s doing?”

Shen Zeyu was caught off guard by the directness of the question.

The idea had indeed been proposed by Xinghai—specifically, it was a repeated request from Gu Ji.

At the time, Shen Zeyu was becoming famous abroad because of her debut work. A renowned international agent had come looking for a collaboration. She briefly explained the story of Worthy, and they desperately wanted the script. But before a draft was even written, Gu Ji came knocking. After hearing the story, she wanted it too.

Back then, Shang Qiuchi was just starting her career domestically. Gu Ji seemed to understand the relationship between them perfectly and offered a very generous deal: she would provide an 8-million-yuan investment, and Worthy could have Shang Qiuchi as the female lead.

The catch was that Han Zhen had to be changed to a male lead, and the role would go to Yun Ming, a male actor Xinghai was heavily promoting at the time.

Shen Zeyu didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she took those terms to the international agent to negotiate. When they offered the same deal, she went home and asked for Shang Qiuchi’s opinion.

Shang Qiuchi had mused for a moment before answering, “If we go abroad, we should choose the international agent.”

Shen Zeyu’s eyes had lit up at the “we.” But before they could stay bright for long, Shang Qiuchi poured cold water on her: “It’s just that my parents are here. My mom was just diagnosed with breast cancer, and I don’t want to be too far from them.”

Shang Qiuchi hadn’t stated her answer explicitly, but Shen Zeyu, always considerate, understood the subtext. Despite her regrets, she turned down the international offer and chose to collaborate with Xinghai.

Three years later, when she met that agent in Fengcheng, he shook her hand with a look of pity. “Zeyu, you truly are talented. But if only you had given that movie to me.”

If nothing else, that award would have been hers.

But what could Shen Zeyu say? She had chosen her own path. She could only smile and keep moving forward.

Looking back, “romance brain” was truly terrifying. Every choice she made revolved around the other person, as if her soul lived inside their body.

Horrifying. Absolutely horrifying.

Shen Zeyu shook her head. “It wasn’t just Xinghai’s idea. Let’s just say… it was a decision we made together.”

Yes, even though Gu Ji had many considerations, claiming “at this stage, the market isn’t ready for female-centric themes; it’ll take at least ten years for that market to open up,” and even though Shang Qiuchi had her own worries—the final decision of who to give the script to rested with Shen Zeyu herself.

At the time, she felt it was the most appropriate choice. There was no need to regret it. Regretting it now would be like bullying her past self, who had struggled so hard to get here.

The two circled Jinuo Avenue, browsing through various shops.

While passing a clay figurine shop, Xu Luosu happily bought a set of “Fu, Lu, and Shou” (Fortune, Prosperity, and Longevity) figurines, which naturally led back to Shen Zeyu’s work.

It was unclear if she had come prepared or was truly a superfan, but her knowledge of Shen Zeyu’s released works was encyclopedic. She spoke about them with effortless authority.

No creator hates someone who genuinely loves their work. Under the flow of conversation, Shen Zeyu’s mood improved, and her expression relaxed. They spent the entire morning wandering until Shen Zeyu was exhausted. Only then did Xu Luosu, clutching a pile of gifts, follow her back to the little red building.

The moment they reached home, Shen Zeyu collapsed in the first-floor parlor.

Xu Luosu set down the clay figurines, calligraphies, and inkstones she was carrying. Glancing at the exquisite tea set on the coffee table, she asked, “Would you like some tea, Senior?”

Shen Zeyu assumed the girl wanted some and pointed toward the kitchen. “There’s purified water in the kitchen. Use the thermos to bring some here; you can brew it at the table. There’s plenty of tea in the drawers under the coffee table. Brew whatever you like.”

Exhausted. Totally exhausted. Having been hospitalized for two years, she hadn’t walked this much in ages. Her feet were numb; she didn’t want to move a finger.

Xu Luosu saw her weakness and smiled. “Okay.”

She bustled about the kitchen for a while and eventually returned with a pot of steaming black tea. She poured a cup and handed it to Shen Zeyu. “Please, have some tea.”

Shen Zeyu opened her eyes slightly, let out a sigh, and sat up to take a sip.

Xu Luosu sat opposite her, taking a sip of her own. Seeing Shen Zeyu’s color return to normal, she asked tentatively, “Feeling better?”

Shen Zeyu nodded, still weary. “Mhm.”

Xu Luosu put down her teacup, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry. I got too excited and made you walk for so long…”

Shen Zeyu waved it off. “It’s fine. My body is just too weak.” Between the hospitalization and the medication, she was physically depleted.

Xu Luosu watched her, thought for a moment, and nodded seriously. “You really are a bit frail. I think you should hire a nutritionist.”

Shen Zeyu didn’t catch the drift. “Huh?”

Xu Luosu spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’ll be joining the crew as a script consultant soon, and your body might not handle the strain. I think it’s best if I hire a nutritionist and a housekeeper for you to help you recover at home for three months before you join the set. What do you think?”

The rapid-fire words made Shen Zeyu’s head throb. Wait—when did she agree to join a crew as a consultant? They hadn’t even agreed on a collaboration yet! And what was this about a nutritionist and a housekeeper? Even if she needed them, shouldn’t she hire them herself?

This girl has zero sense of boundaries!

No—it wasn’t just a lack of boundaries; she had a very strong sense of intrusion and control. It was evident from the way she had stormed into her house first thing this morning! How did she even get the address?!

As Shen Zeyu grumbled internally, her head began to ache. She pressed her hand to her temple and frowned. “We… haven’t exactly decided on a project to collaborate on yet, have we?”

They had talked all morning, but it was all about her past work. Not a word had been said about the current situation.

Xu Luosu let out a soft “Eh?” and looked at her in surprise. “Haven’t we already decided? Two movies and two TV series…”

Shen Zeyu was stunned. “What?”

Xu Luosu set down her cup and looked Shen Zeyu in the eye. “Senior, you sent me four scripts. Didn’t that mean all four were available for collaboration? If that’s the case, I want all of them.”

Shen Zeyu was speechless. “This…”

In contrast to her hesitation, Xu Luosu smiled broadly. “And not just those four. Any future works you have, I want them all.”

What did that mean? Was she saying she was going to monopolize all of Shen Zeyu’s future output?

Was this a dream? Was this the power of “fan love”?

Shen Zeyu felt dizzy from the sheer weight of this “fan devotion,” but she hadn’t lost her mind. In fact, she felt more lucid than ever. Her mind raced, and after a long silence, she spoke cautiously.

“I’m very flattered that you admire my work so much, but Miss Xu, I have to remind you…” She looked up into Xu Luosu’s expectant gaze, her voice a mix of complexity and helplessness. “Giant Whale might not be happy to see us collaborating. Four projects… the budget would be at least 500 million! If your sister finds out, she’ll break your legs for being such a spendthrift!”