Why Does The "Fishing Queen" Always Flirt With Me? - Chapter 10

That evening, the Director suddenly announced a team dinner.

Today had been the opening ceremony, but it revolved mostly around the “ritual” itself without much actual filming. The crew members were all regulars that the Director was used to working with; they had their own unspoken chemistry.

Take Mo Lai, for example. It had taken two full projects with Sun Ran before she was entrusted with such heavy responsibilities.

Tang Wangyue was also expected to attend the evening meeting. As it turned out, the Director’s treat served as the first official gathering of the production.

Once she arrived at the hotel, she realized this wasn’t a gathering just anyone could attend. It was limited to the top five female leads, a few senior actors—since this drama had fewer male roles, the men present were either veterans or rising stars—and the key creative staff. The other two screenwriters were there as well.

The core members of The Eldest Princess sat around a large circular table. Sun Ran smiled at the group. “Some of you met during the script readings, but we have some new friends here today. We’ll be working together for the next six months, so let’s take this chance to get to know one another.”

In these situations, the “i-people” (introverts) usually try to hide in the back, while the “e-people” (extroverts) take the lead.

True to her nature, Wangyue sat quietly beside Mo Lai. She had asked Mo Lai if she could skip it, but Mo Lai insisted that Director Sun had specifically called for her.

The voices of people introducing themselves echoed around her.

“Hello everyone, I’m Hu Ying, playing the old Emperor.”

“I’m Meng Xiang, playing the Empress.”

One by one, the important supporting cast and key crew members introduced themselves. A director can’t keep an eye on everything, so everyone had to understand their roles and get to know their colleagues.

When Mo Lai finished her introduction, it was Wangyue’s turn. Since no one else had stood up, she remained seated. “Hello everyone. I’m Tang Wangyue from the screenwriting team.”

Sun Ran took over. “Xiao Tang has a very deep understanding of the script. She’ll be assigned to the B-unit.” She then flashed a smile and teased Mo Lai, “Mo Lai, how about you let me have Xiao Tang for the A-unit instead?”

Mo Lai didn’t skip a beat. “Director Sun, you’re joking. You’re our ‘Anchor of the North Sea.’ With you, Miss Yun, and all our colleagues here, The Eldest Princess is bound to be a massive hit.”

“You’re the anchor,” Mo Lai continued, “whereas this is my first time leading a filming unit. I have a lot to learn and I need a writer to keep things on track. A screenwriter is a screenwriter wherever they go, but I wonder, Director Sun… would you be willing to part with Mr. Liu or Ms. Lu for my unit?”

Sun Ran laughed heartily. “You rascal, where did you learn to talk like that? ‘Anchor of the North Sea,’ indeed. You have the talent, you’re just short on experience, and investors care about seniority. Take it slow; I have high hopes for you.” She turned back to Wangyue. “I won’t fight you for Xiao Tang then.”

Mo Lai grinned. “Director, you’re the best. Truly my life mentor.”

“Get out of here,” Sun Ran teased, rolling her eyes. It was clear the two of them had a very close bond.

As Mo Lai sat down, Wangyue gave her a thumbs-up—I didn’t know you were like this in public.

Mo Lai shot her a look and whispered, “Give it a rest.” When you’re out in the world, you do what you have to do.

Watching Wangyue tease her friend, a flicker of a smile appeared in Yun Chuxian’s eyes.

Since Yun Chuxian was the lead, the entire production revolved around her. Naturally, the conversation centered on her, with Director Sun’s role coming in a close second.

Though Wangyue wasn’t close to anyone, she managed to exchange a few words with the people around her. The conversation between Sun Ran and Mo Lai had proven that both directors held her in high regard. In the realistic world of the entertainment industry, people naturally flock to those with backing—even children who stay in this environment long enough learn the art of social politics.

Wangyue was an introvert, but she was poised. If people reached out to her, she wouldn’t be standoffish. Besides, with filming starting tomorrow, the Director had declared no alcohol. Perhaps that was the comfort of working under a female superior—dinner was just dinner, no forced drinking required.

However, Wangyue understood Sun Ran’s underlying intent: she was establishing the hierarchy. In a production, investors often try to wedge people in; if you don’t know who’s who, you might offend the wrong person.

Wangyue didn’t know it yet, but she was soon to encounter a “young master” who would insist on her changing the script just for him.

By the time the dinner ended, Wangyue and Yun Chuxian hadn’t exchanged a single word.

She finally saw what Mo Lai meant about Yun Chuxian being “gentle to everyone.” Whether someone was a big star or a minor player, if they spoke to her, she responded with a polite, graceful smile. Just like she did with Wangyue. There was no difference.

“Let’s go, I’ll head back with you,” Mo Lai said, giving her a pointed look. See? The star is the same with everyone.

Wangyue pretended not to catch the subtext. “Mo Lai-zi, keep that little mouth shut.”

Mo Lai had a nickname, “Lai-zi,” which had evolved into “Scabby” over time—the names only got worse. As her best friend, Wangyue wouldn’t use the mean ones. After all, her own nickname, “Great Disc,” wasn’t much better. It was a mutual agreement: I’ll spare your feelings if you spare mine.

As Wangyue pushed her bike out, she saw Yun Chuxian and the Director waiting for their cars. The bikes were parked above ground, while the motor vehicles were in the garage.

Yun Chuxian’s trailer had already pulled up, but she stayed to wait with the Director. Or perhaps, she was waiting for a specific figure to appear.

Seeing Wangyue and Mo Lai approach with their bikes, Mo Lai immediately greeted the Director. “Director, want to hop on the back?”

Sun Ran looked confused. “When did you buy that?”

“The day we arrived! We ran into another crew and they had plenty of second-hand e-scooters. I don’t know how many owners this one’s had, but it works. Want me to find you one, Director?”

“Sure.” Sun Ran agreed that an e-scooter was actually the best way to get around the studio town.

Suddenly, a faint smile appeared on Yun Chuxian’s face. “Screenwriter Tang’s mountain bike looks nice. It must be comfortable to sit on the back.”

“Chuxian, you don’t know how to ride?” Sun Ran caught the hidden meaning in her words.

“No, I don’t.” Yun Chuxian gave Wangyue a look—one that felt like it was trailing a silken thread between them.

Wangyue’s heart skipped a beat. She paused for a second before finding her voice. “If you have time, Miss Yun, I could teach you.”

Mo Lai blurted out, “What are you saying? Miss Yun is so busy, where would she find the time?” She nudged Wangyue’s arm, signaling her friend not to get ahead of herself. This was Yun Chuxian. The schedule was packed; any free time she had would be better spent sleeping. During heavy filming, she’d be lucky to get three to five hours of rest a day.

Wangyue lowered her eyes and gave her friend a helpless look. “I was just being polite.”

“I’d like that,” Yun Chuxian replied, her eyes bright and smiling. It was a look that made it impossible to say no.

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