Chapter 61: The Price of Ambition

Life doesn’t hand out many strokes of luck. Meeting someone who can change your trajectory is a rare gift, and perhaps Director He was the greatest benefactor in Yin Mengxi’s career. What she brought wasn’t just opportunity but also a grounding in integrity and perseverance.

Of course, at first, the director didn’t even know who she was.

A leader of such stature commanded instant respect. As soon as she entered the conference room, the chatter of employees died down. Those who had been complaining moments ago now sat quietly, waiting for her to speak. Without reprimanding anyone, she took her seat at the head of the table, flipping through the team’s proposals with a furrowed brow, the tension in the room mounting.

“The preparation period for Star Song has been long enough,” she began, her voice smooth and authoritative like a trained alto—calm yet commanding. “The last time it was rejected, it was because the format overlapped too much with other singing competitions. If you can’t find an appealing angle or a topic that sparks interest, don’t expect to secure a spot in the summer lineup.”

The planners and directors below fell silent, heads bowed, barely daring to breathe.

“Yuan Rui,” she turned to address the group leader, “you have production experience. What’s going on? Too lazy to put in the effort? Or have you run out of ideas?”

The producer, nearly forty, nervously adjusted his glasses under her gaze. Stammering, he tried to explain, “Director He, our concept…”

“If you’re too lazy, we’ll replace you. If you’re out of ideas, bring in fresh talent,” He Yarong cut him off, uninterested in excuses. “Our industry never lacks talented people. If you’re stuck in your rut and not delivering, don’t blame me for pulling you out. Do you understand?”

The producer nodded awkwardly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Submit new proposals in three days. I’ll review them personally,” she declared, standing up briskly. “If they pass, we’ll take it to the next meeting. If not, this project is dead.”

Her dramatic entrance left an indelible impression.

Yin Mengxi was immediately intrigued by the deputy director. After the meeting, she secretly looked up He Yarong’s resume on her phone—a formidable woman with her own Baidu entry. With over two decades in television, she had started as a foreign correspondent for an international channel, worked at CCTV, and won a Starlight Award at thirty-six for a program she produced. In recent years, she had been poached by their station to serve as deputy director of the programming center, with rumors of further promotions to come.

A true success story…

Inspired, Yin Mengxi scrolled through the page, only to be interrupted by Jin Yu, who happened to walk by. Smirking, he asked, “What, envious?”

Startled, Yin quickly pocketed her phone, feeling irritated by his lack of manners. She didn’t respond, but Jin Yu continued unperturbed. “I’m envious too. Do you know how much the station spent to recruit her? They even gave her a house—a school district property, no less. Her kid’s education is all sorted!”

Ah.

“Money.”

“House.”

These were the magic words that captured Yin Mengxi’s full attention and intensified her admiration for Deputy Director He.

If she worked hard enough…

…could she achieve similar success?

After He Yarong’s scolding, the atmosphere in the team grew tense. The producers scrambled to come up with ideas, though none were confident they’d satisfy the higher-ups. Eventually, they decided to crowdsource solutions, asking everyone—even interns—to submit a concise proposal. Quality mattered more than quantity; even a single innovative idea could make a difference.

Yin Mengxi saw this as her chance to shine. She was already diligent, but now driven by ambition, she became even more relentless. At her tiny workstation, she sped through videos of music programs, taking notes and brainstorming ideas.

“Are you serious about this?” Jin Yu yawned beside her. “Do you really think they’ll use an intern’s idea for a show? These are seasoned veterans. Their work will always look more polished than anything a student could produce.”

His words weren’t entirely wrong, but exceptions existed. Take their Challenge Cup project, for instance. While upperclassmen were undoubtedly more experienced, her spontaneous ideas sometimes offered perspectives they hadn’t considered. After refinement, those ideas stood a chance of succeeding.

Seeing her still scribbling away, Jin Yu leaned over to peek. “Got any thoughts? We can discuss. I did a talent show during my last internship, so I’ve got some experience.”

Hmm?

Yin glanced at him, thinking collaboration might help. Hesitantly, she replied, “Not yet, but I’ve been analyzing trends.”

“There are plenty of music shows out there, and the market is increasingly segmented,” she explained, consulting her notes. “There are pure singing shows, singer-songwriter platforms, idol dance-singing competitions, high-end professional formats, and niche genre-specific programs…”

“These are broad categories. We can’t overhaul the entire concept now,” she pressed the tip of her pen absently. “But I think adding a unique twist to the competition structure would work…”

“I agree,” Jin Yu nodded. “Like what?”

“What if we innovate how star guests appear?” she suggested. “I once saw a digital stage where a deceased singer’s hologram performed. It was incredibly realistic. Maybe during auditions or semifinals, we could create holograms of the original singers whose songs contestants choose. Some holograms would actually be live performers, unknown to the contestants. Cameras could guide the audience to distinguish between real and virtual appearances, giving viewers an omniscient perspective. When contestants realize the truth, it’ll be a delightful surprise.”

It was her most innovative and feasible idea so far, though as a newcomer, she lacked confidence. Sharing it with Jin Yu felt like testing the waters—gauging whether he’d be interested or dismissive.

“Hmm…” Jin Yu stroked his chin, appearing deep in thought. “Not bad… but…”

But what?

Yin listened attentively, but Jin Yu trailed off, eventually saying, “Let me think about it some more. We can refine it into something stronger.”

She believed him—at least until the next day’s team meeting, when she received her first harsh lesson in workplace dynamics.

As each planner reported their progress, Teacher Chen Chen stood up third and announced, “I have a new idea regarding guest appearances, utilizing digital imaging technology…”

Yin was stunned. She hadn’t shared her detailed plan with her mentor yet—it was still a work in progress. Realizing Jin Yu must have stolen her idea, she turned to glare at him. To her disbelief, he met her gaze calmly, even winking.

What did this mean…?

Chen Chen concluded her presentation without mentioning Yin Mengxi or Jin Yu. The producer seemed pleased, nodding approvingly. “Good idea. Refine it and send it up.”

“Thanks, Brother Yuan,” Chen grinned triumphantly. “All our hard work paid off.”

This exceeded Yin Mengxi’s expectations. Though still a student, she understood she had been robbed of credit. Jin Yu had stolen her idea to advance himself. Back at her desk, she confronted him.

“Can you explain what happened?” Despite her anger, her upbringing kept her polite. “Did you report my idea to the teachers without my consent?”

Jin Yu chuckled, pouring her a glass of water. “Calm down, drink some water. Don’t get upset…”

She ignored the cup, demanding an explanation. Sheepishly, he scratched his nose, tacitly admitting his wrongdoing.

“Then let’s go,” Yin stood up. “We’ll clarify this with the leadership.”

She needed recognition for her efforts. She couldn’t let this injustice slide.

“What are you talking about?” Jin Yu smirked condescendingly, as if she were naive. “You’re not going to confront Teacher Chen, are you? She’s your mentor. Your internship certificate depends on her.”

What did that mean?

Confused, Yin Mengxi struggled to process the complex web of workplace relationships. She assumed Jin Yu was the sole villain.

“You shouldn’t go,” Jin Yu said smugly, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll only cause trouble and gain nothing.”

—That was perhaps the only honest thing he said, but Yin Mengxi didn’t listen.

Driven by urgency, she wanted to seize this opportunity, prove her worth, and emulate Deputy Director He’s success. Success would not only improve her family’s situation but also protect her relationship. Too young and impulsive, she made a reckless decision. Rising from her seat, she approached her mentor, Chen Chen, who gestured for them to talk outside. In the break room, the air was tense.

“Teacher, about today’s idea…” Yin began, hoping Chen would uphold fairness as teachers did in school. “That was actually my idea, not Jin…”

“Xiao Yin,” Chen interrupted coldly, “I don’t think you understand how things work here.”

“We’re a team. Achievements and risks are shared. Ideas belong to the collective, not individuals. Even if Brother Yuan submits it, it won’t bear my name. Higher-ups will see it as a group effort.”

“This isn’t school. You need to adapt quickly. Jin handles this well. You should learn from him.”

________________________________________

Author’s Note:

Reflect on this, Teacher Xiao. Why does everyone want to see you break up?

Is it possible your character has some… issues?

Teacher Xiao: …?