MTL - 34

Isn’t it always like this with people? When someone is right in front of you, you can’t see them clearly, but once they’re far away, everything becomes crystal clear.

Tang Yu, maybe I don’t fully understand this kind of feeling. It also makes me feel a bit humiliated.

— The Diary of a Little Rich Girl

In recent years, most of the films produced and invested in by Shiguang Pictures were either patriotic or military-themed, or crime thrillers. Meanwhile, Lu Zhixing preferred art-house films. Over the past couple of years, their movies had never been released at the same time, so there wasn’t any real competition between them.

Therefore, when Boss Tang suddenly asked to review the recent market research data from Lu Zhixing’s studio a few days ago, Gao Heng guessed that it might still be related to Miss Tang.

Ever since Miss Tang left the company, even he felt like something was missing, let alone Boss Tang.

Tang Yu tossed the file aside and glanced up at his assistant: “Do you think Lu Zhixing’s commercial film will lack investment?”

Even though he’d made some flops and bad movies before, Lu Zhixing had also directed award-winning films. With solid works and achievements under his belt, plus the fact that this movie was already trending online before production began and its book sales had skyrocketed, even those skeptical about the genre would be willing to take a risk and invest.

Investment itself was always a risky endeavor. Even the best directors and crews could produce duds. Moreover, every year there were always one or two dark horse movies that defied expectations at the box office.

Dreaming For You appeared to be just a light fantasy novel, with relatively easy adaptation and filming. The most important part was post-production; the special effects would be quite costly.

This was why, despite owning the rights for many years, no one at Shiguang had proposed making the movie—it was expensive, risky, and success wasn’t guaranteed.

Gao Heng was momentarily speechless and simply replied: “Boss Tang is right.”

Tang Yu slightly furrowed his brow, now worried that if Tang Xin found out he was thinking of investing in her movie, she would probably accuse him of being crazy. His current behavior was indeed a bit abnormal.

He pushed her away, and now here he was, desperately trying to get involved again.

He had never done anything like this before and felt somewhat embarrassed.

Knock, knock, knock—

The door opened directly, and Tang Yu and Gao Heng didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Huo Chendong walked in with a file in hand. Gao Heng looked at him, then turned to Tang Yu: “Shall I leave first, Boss Tang?”

“Wait.”

Tang Yu stopped him.

Gao Heng stood still as Tang Yu calmly instructed: “Check my schedule for the next few days, find some time to arrange a meeting with Lu Zhixing, tell him I want to discuss a potential collaboration.”

Gao Heng wore an expression as if he had expected this, adjusted his glasses, and said earnestly: “Alright.”

Huo Chendong raised an eyebrow, and after Gao Heng left, he tossed the file onto the table, leaned on it, and nodded toward Tang Yu: “Tsk tsk, what’s going on? Can’t hold back anymore and decided to make a move?”

Tang Yu glanced at him indifferently and casually countered: “Is that not allowed?”

Huo Chendong let out a low whistle, his expression exaggerated: “This is truly a once-in-a-century sight! I’ve known you for so many years, and this is the first time I’ve seen you throw money around to chase a woman. Little Sugarheart is really something, running off with the copyright to seek refuge with Father Lu, while Father Tang comes chasing after her with cash…”

“Stop.”

Tang Yu frowned and interrupted him, his voice cold: “Who said I’m throwing money at her?”

Standing like this was tiring for Huo Chendong, so he pulled over a chair and sat down opposite Tang Yu, lazily crossing his legs before smirking at him: “Isn’t that what you’re doing? Back when the copyright was with Shiguang, you didn’t even consider making it into a movie, but now that she’s quit and is collaborating with others to make a film… To be honest, Little Sugarheart’s book is extremely popular now and has trended online multiple times—thanks partly to your contributions—and Lu Zhixing’s movie isn’t short on investments. Based on your previous preferences, you wouldn’t touch projects like this. Shiguang has plenty of projects, mostly guaranteed profits. If you say you’re investing in this movie for money, I don’t believe it. So, isn’t it for Little Sugarheart? Isn’t that the same as throwing money around?”

The two had grown up together, and although Tang Yu disapproved of Huo Chendong’s private life, their relationship was good. Only Huo Chendong dared to speak so bluntly. Since Tang Xin left, he had been waiting to watch the show, and now the real drama was just beginning.

Throwing money around?

Tang Yu fell silent for a moment, then spoke with some frustration: “I never intended to throw money around. It’s just that this is Tang Xin’s first movie, and she once wanted me to be her producer, but… as you saw, she rejected me.”

This incident remained stuck in Tang Yu’s mind, the scene in the underground parking lot engraved in his memory. He remembered every word, tone, and expression of Tang Xin rejecting him.

She had said, with unmistakable disappointment, that he had never understood her world.

That expression, even more than her rejection after impulsively kissing him and saying she would never think of him again, was unforgettable.

It was as if someone had crushed his last shred of fantasy and hope.

She must have been utterly disappointed in him at that moment.

Recently, he had been reflecting. He realized he had never tried to see things from her perspective, never considered collaborating on a movie together, even though she had carefully asked him to be the producer.

And he had refused.

He had rejected her first.

When Tang Yu recalled these events, it felt as if his heart had been clawed by a cat and then rinsed under cold water—painful, stinging, and chilling. He couldn’t forget how he stayed up all night reading that book and saw the two sentences she wrote on the last page:

Hello! Tang Yu! Welcome to my dream!

Welcome to my world!

Those two sentences blatantly laid bare all her dreams and feelings, presenting them to him.

The girl usually mingled in the project team, earning royalties, copyright fees, and coming from a well-off family. Even with just a small screenwriting fee, she lived a refined life. For many girls, she was indeed a little rich girl.

Tang Yu used to think she was happy living like this every day, just like Tang Ting, without particularly high ambitions.

Now he realized he might have been wrong.

Tang Xin had dreams too. She wanted to climb higher, to present her work beautifully on the screen. But buried within Shiguang for four years, her will and fighting spirit had been mercilessly crushed and hidden by him.

Now, she had left Shiguang and stepped out of his shadow, and that fighting spirit was gradually reemerging in her.

The stronger her drive, the harder it became for him to pursue her.

Even if they ended up together someday, this incident would forever be an unresolved conflict between them, a regret.

Tang Yu didn’t want future Tang Xin to harbor resentment toward him. While there was still time, he wanted to make amends.

If he couldn’t be the producer, then he would be the investor.

“No matter what, I want to have some connection with this movie, to get involved somehow.”

Tang Yu gazed out the window, his tone betraying no emotion. His hands clenched slightly on his knees, still filled with regret, reluctance, and remorse. He also feared that Tang Xin wouldn’t accept him, whether as a producer or an investor.

She didn’t lack either now.

Huo Chendong heard this statement, and his previously carefree, theater-watching expression paused. The smile on his lips disappeared as he looked at Tang Yu and slowly grinned, “It’s the first time I’ve seen you pursue someone so seriously.”

Tang Yu turned to him and gave him a sidelong glance: “When have I ever not been serious?”

He believed he had been serious in every relationship, taking each one seriously when it began.

Breakups happened because of incompatibility.

Huo Chendong didn’t know how to respond. Tang Yu was indeed different from him—too serious about relationships, too picky. How should he put it? Huo Chendong thought Tang Yu was too self-centered in relationships, deserving to meet someone unconventional like Tang Xin.

Huo Chendong, lounging with his legs crossed, sneered: “You don’t usually go to such lengths.”

Tang Yu snatched the file he had brought over, glanced at him indifferently, and said coldly: “What else should I do? Just sit here and watch her happily make a movie with someone else, doing nothing?”

If that was considered throwing money to chase someone, then so be it.

Huo Chendong: “...”

He pondered his words and chuckled: “So you admit you’re pursuing Little Sugarheart?”

Tang Yu held a black pen in his hand, glanced at the document, and didn’t immediately reply. After signing his name with sweeping strokes, he tossed the file in front of Huo Chendong, leaned back in his chair, and looked at him with a calm expression, asking in return:

“Hmm, what else?”

“...” Huo Chendong’s lips twitched, and he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath: “I don’t see you being much better than me. You rejected her decisively, and now you regret it, huh? People are just…”

Despicable.

These were words Huo Chendong dared not say aloud.

Tang Yu caught it and coldly glanced at him: “Are you any less despicable?”

“...”

Huo Chendong was thoroughly speechless. He had just come to pass the time, but now he was wide awake. He picked up the file and prepared to leave, saying: “Alright, alright, I’m despicable, I’m leaving.”

Tang Yu called him back and warned again: “If Tingting contacts you or goes to find you, if you have any bottom line, don’t touch her.” A few days ago, Tang Ting got drunk, and although he hadn’t asked, Huo Chendong had appeared on entertainment news again that day. It was obvious it was related to him.

He feared that Tang Ting, with her clouded judgment, might do something irrational.

Huo Chendong was taken aback and laughed, “Of course not, I treat her like a sister, how could I possibly touch her?”

He waved his hand and walked away stylishly.

That night, before going to bed, Tang Yu scrolled through his social media feed and saw that Tang Xin had rarely posted photos of her life—a nine-grid collage of group dinner pictures. In the photos were her new colleagues, new collaborators, and Lu Zhixing.

He opened them and flipped through one by one. By the last photo, his brows furrowed as he noticed the large hand resting on her exposed shoulder and the casual, unruly Lu Zhixing beside her.

Wasn’t this the real pervert? Why hadn’t she chopped his hand off?

Finally, Tang Yu stared intently at the dimples on her smiling cheeks.

For some reason, he now felt her dimples looked especially carefree.

He wanted to pinch them until she couldn’t smile.

…

Tang Yu was right; Lu Zhixing’s commercial film wasn’t lacking in investments. After he and Tang Xin announced their collaboration on Weibo, investors had started approaching them.

Lu Zhixing also had some regular collaborators, but they were still considering. They probably thought Lu Zhixing had been rebellious in recent years, attempting to transition but failing, producing bad movies. They planned to wait and see, perhaps checking the script adaptation effects before discussing investments.

Lu Zhixing wasn’t in a rush and declined some investors.

Tang Xin was both excited and nervous about being the lead screenwriter for the first time. She feared letting down Lu Zhixing’s trust. Feng Cheng, nearly forty years old, was a very mature and famous screenwriter who was also willing to teach her.

During lunch, while Feng Cheng and Lu Zhixing were drinking tea in the 

office, Feng Cheng brought up the topic and praised Tang Xin: “At first, I thought this girl was just easygoing on the surface. When you paired her with me, I was worried she might be too young and hard to work with. But unexpectedly, she’s turned out to be quite good—serious and diligent.”

Lu Zhixing slowly disinfected his teacup and glanced at him: “And then?”

Feng Cheng was taken aback: “What do you mean, ‘and then’? It means we’re collaborating happily, having a great time!”

Lu Zhixing poured two cups of tea, set down the kettle, and leaned back in his chair lazily, speaking unhurriedly: “Old Feng, do you know why I wanted her to join? I feel like she hasn’t been polished yet, unlike you old hands or even me. I want her to have the freedom to express herself. I’m curious to see what kind of fresh ideas she can come up with. Don’t restrict her.”

Feng Cheng: “…Have I restricted her?”

Lu Zhixing chuckled: “I don’t know. Just a heads-up.”

At first, he wasn’t very optimistic about Tang Xin. But later, he thought that given his current state, his judgment might not be accurate. So, he decided to let things play out, hoping for a pleasant surprise.

Feng Cheng had collaborated with Lu Zhixing for several years, but it was the first time he’d seen him give so much creative freedom regarding a script. In the past, Lu Zhixing had personally overseen every detail from start to finish. Feng Cheng understood his current mindset.

“Alright, I get what you mean,” Feng Cheng said, picking up his teacup and glancing at him. “What about the investors?”

Lu Zhixing rested his chin on his hand and smiled: “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Shiguang Pictures has contacted me.”

Feng Cheng was stunned: “Huh?”

Lu Zhixing wasn’t surprised and smiled: “We’ve scheduled a meeting for 7 PM tomorrow. Let’s invite Tang Xin and Old Yuan as well.”

Feng Cheng clicked his tongue: “They didn’t make the movie when they owned the rights, and now they want to collaborate after buying it back? What’s their game?”

Lu Zhixing simply smiled without answering.

After a while, Feng Cheng returned to the office and shared the news.

When Tang Xin heard it, she was also confused.

She put down her mouse and turned to Feng Cheng, confirming: “Is it my former employer, Shiguang Pictures? Or some other company called Shiguang?”

Feng Cheng smiled at her: “How many Shiguang companies are there in the film industry? There’s only one.”

Shiguang Pictures.

Tang Xin felt a bit dazed. What did Tang Yu mean by this? She hadn’t signed any contracts with him, and now he wanted to come and invest? Was he playing the “You’re still Daddy” game?

What kind of twisted sense of humor was this?

For some reason, a surge of anger rose within her.

She even considered calling Tang Yu directly to ask what he was thinking.

Beside her, screenwriter Ding Xiaoshan patted her shoulder and couldn’t help but whisper: “Hey, didn’t your copyright sit idle at Shiguang for years? Why are they suddenly interested in investing now? I can’t figure out what these bosses are thinking.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been meaning to ask—didn’t you have some backing at Shiguang? Tang Yu personally advertised your book.”

Tang Xin smiled sweetly at her: “If I had backing, would I be here now?”

Ding Xiaoshan was momentarily speechless: “True. Then why did he advertise your book? And now he wants to invest?”

Tang Xin rolled her eyes: “How should I know?”

Maybe he went crazy.

Ding Xiaoshan glanced at her, harboring some suspicions, but those thoughts weren’t polite to voice. She had only known Tang Xin for a few days, so some things could be whispered privately but not said outright. She wondered… Did Tang Xin and Tang Yu have some kind of relationship?

After a moment.

Tang Xin stared at her computer screen, thinking pettily to herself. Eighty percent of the reason Tang Yu was doing this was because her book had become popular, and he thought the movie would make money, so he was coming to collect advertising fees?

Anyway, he had rejected her when she begged him before, and now he was intruding again, making her feel extremely uncomfortable. Tang Yu’s actions made her feel like she was receiving compensation after throwing a tantrum.

This feeling made her feel unequal and uneasy.

Tang Yu was a bastard. She had stopped纠缠 him, so why was he still making her feel miserable?

…

The next afternoon, after work, Tang Xin went with Lu Zhixing and Feng Cheng to discuss the contract.

Tang Xin originally didn’t want to go, but Lu Zhixing specifically requested her presence, so she couldn’t refuse. Besides, she also wanted to ask Tang Yu face-to-face what he meant by this.

The meeting location was arranged by Tang Yu, at a private restaurant. The restaurant had a courtyard and parking lot outside, with a quiet, elegant, and spacious environment, and plenty of parking spaces.

After parking her car, Tang Xin got out with her bag. As soon as she looked up, she saw a black Maybach driving straight toward her, preparing to reverse into the parking spot next to hers.

Seeing the license plate number, she frowned and tightened her grip on the bag strap.

Tang Yu was leaning back in the rear seat, casually glancing out the window. Even through the tinted glass, he could clearly see the angry look in the young girl’s eyes.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. Was she this furious?

Just seeing his car made her this angry?

After the car stopped, Gao Heng got out of the passenger seat, opened the door for Tang Yu, and stood aside.

Tang Yu was still dressed in a shirt and black trousers, tall and elegant. He turned around, walked over to Tang Xin standing behind the car, and stood in front of her, looking down at her indifferently: “Were you waiting for me here?”

A rhetorical question.

Tang Xin looked up at him, unable to hide the anger in her eyes: “What do you mean, Tang Yu?”

Compared to her, Tang Yu remained calm. He shoved his hands into his pockets and asked softly: “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’?”

Tang Xin glared at him: “What do you mean by wanting to invest in my movie? Back when the rights were with Shiguang, you ignored me when I begged you. Now, is it because you have money to burn? Are you trying to throw money at me?”

Tang Yu had anticipated she might be angry, but he hadn’t expected her to be this furious. He calmly looked at her, and after a moment, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips:

“Aren’t you the one who likes my money? Are you unhappy that I’m throwing money at you?”

________________________________________

Author’s Note: Little Boss Tang, do you realize how off track you are?! What do you mean by “throwing money”?

Little Rich Girl: What happened to your ultra-upright values?

Little Boss Tang: They’ve been eaten by dogs.

— Father Tang getting slapped once. When did Boss Tang start chasing his wife? Well, he’s starting now! Step by step, he’ll become... a passionate pursuer!