Chapter 41

Well, right off the bat, a slap.

It was clear the guy’s nature was just like this—no malice intended.

But that slap shattered the big director’s filter; Li Luo grumbled, “I’ve trained a bit, but not in Iron Shirt or Golden Bell Cover—I can’t block your Iron Sand Palm.”

“Hahaha.”

Jiang Wen laughed loudly and slapped him two more times: “You’ve got a good personality—I like you.”

Anyone who comes to my house is a friend.

Especially since you’re Xu Qing’s adopted younger brother—if you were meek, I’d look down on you. Sometimes, treating each other as equals is just fine.

“Enough, both of you.”

Yu Feihong tapped her watch and hurriedly said, “I’ve been waiting half the night—let’s get started.”

Li Luo walked into the greenhouse, puzzled.

He couldn’t help but chuckle—it was this kind of start.

The room was elegantly decorated, with antique calligraphy and paintings everywhere, yet in the center sat a mahjong table. So Xu Qing didn’t just call him over for company business.

Introducing him to Jiang Wen was secondary—the main reason was they were one player short.

“Take a look.”

Jiang Wen didn’t sit down yet; he picked up a brown paper file folder from the side worktable and handed it to Li Luo: “All the company documents are inside. You’ve got a sharp mind, kid.”

“Thanks, Brother Wen.”

Li Luo froze, quickly opened the folder, and there, staring back at him, was a business license.

Big characters printed right on it.

Li Luo Studio.

It really is easier when you’ve got connections inside—the whole thing was done in two days.

If I’d gone through the official channels, I’d still be waiting for this flimsy piece of paper.

“Don’t thank me.”

Jiang Wen held his cigar, grabbed a bottle of Erguotou, and took a swig: “Thank Xu Qing. I just made a phone call—the hundred thousand yuan in actual capital was transferred by Xu Qing herself.”

Li Luo slapped his forehead, then looked at Xu Qing with gratitude.

He’d forgotten all about that.

This adopted sister of his was truly going all out to help him.

“Sister Qing.”

Clutching the folder, he said seriously, “Thank you. Once my paycheck comes in, I’ll pay you back as soon as possible.”

Keep things clear.

Don’t take favors and act entitled—you still have to pay your own share.

“We’ll talk about it when you have money,” Xu Qing waved dismissively, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “You mumbled something vague the other night—who exactly asked you to act?”

Everyone sat down, the mahjong tiles clattering as they shuffled.

Jiang Wen and Yu Feihong also turned to Li Luo—they were all insiders and naturally curious.

Under their curious gazes, Li Luo gave a brief summary.

“Male lead?”

Yu Feihong’s finger trembled; the long Great Wall she’d just built crumbled into pieces.

“Wu Dun asked you to play Zhang Wuji???” Xu Qing’s jaw dropped—just two days apart, how had this magic trick happened?

The look on her face made Li Luo grin.

He’d deliberately been vague earlier just to see their shocked expressions face-to-face.

“I’ve dealt with Wu Dun—he’s a decent guy.”

Jiang Wen nodded, gulped down another sip of Erguotou: “To become the male lead in a wuxia drama at your age? You’ve got talent! Sixty thousand is a bit low, but you’re not getting ripped off.”

He himself became the male lead in a film at twenty-three.

And earned endless praise.

So he only made a passing remark—nothing like Yu Feihong’s outright envy.

“Drink less.”

Xu Qing shot Jiang Wen a disapproving look: “Cigar with Erguotou? Only you could pull off something like that. You’re banned from directing anyway—use this time to practice your acting.”

“Do I still need to practice my acting?”

Jiang Wen glared, ready to complain.

But seeing it was Xu Qing speaking, he sullenly set the bottle aside.

Last year, his film “The Devils Came” illegally entered the Cannes Film Festival—his punishment: five years without being allowed to openly direct. Now he just stayed home drinking and playing cards.

“Play cards, play cards—don’t think about that stuff.”

Yu Feihong snapped back to attention and urged the game forward, distracting Jiang Wen.

After learning the stakes, Li Luo sighed in relief.

These people weren’t gambling—mahjong was just for fun, low stakes, well within his limits.

The group sat in the greenhouse under air conditioning, shuffling mahjong tiles with a clatter.

Li Luo casually discarded a One Dot, glanced around, and marveled—life was truly strange. Just last year, he’d been running through wind and rain, living in a tiny room in Hengdian as an extra.

And now, barely over a year later,

he’d become a student at Beijing Film Academy, and was playing mahjong with Xu Qing, Jiang Wen, and Yu Feihong.

From evening into deep night,

the mahjong game raged on, dizzying and chaotic.

Jiang Wen got drunk and kept losing tiles; Li Luo sipped his small beer, happily winning hands with Xu Qing.

Only Yu Feihong barely held onto her chips.

“Enough.”

Jiang Wen shoved the tiles aside, stood up red-faced, and staggered toward the main house: “Find your own rooms to sleep in—I need to recover.”

As he swayed, the main house door slammed shut.

“Ignore him.”

Xu Qing happily counted her money and smiled at Li Luo: “There’s no formality here—sleep in the left room on the east side.”

As she spoke, she stretched.

A sliver of her slender waist was exposed, her skin looking soft and fair.

“I’m tired.”

Noticing his suspicious gaze, she quickly lowered her hand, picked up the remaining half-cup of red wine, and walked outside: “Rest. Sleep. Don’t bother me.”

It sounded like she was talking to herself, but it was clearly telling Li Luo not to get any ideas.

He shook his head with a quiet laugh.

“I’m going to bed too.”

Yu Feihong rubbed her eyes, stood up unsteadily—though she’d only sipped red wine occasionally, hours of it had still gone to her head.

Li Luo didn’t feel like driving back—he’d just sleep here.

He finished the remaining beer, cleaned up the greenhouse, then turned off the lights and left.

After a cold shower,

Li Luo, who’d been slightly drowsy, now felt wide awake.

He couldn’t sleep lying down, so he lit the extinguished cigar and wandered into the courtyard.

Everything around had grown quiet.

Moonlight spilled over the yard; insect chirps echoed now and then. A night breeze blew in, instantly cooling his whole body. He inhaled the cigar smoke contentedly, watching the mist drift away on the wind.

This Sihe Academy—

was truly comfortable to live in.

After murmuring this thought, his gaze suddenly fixed.

He noticed the door of the opposite side room was only half-closed.

You’d easily miss it if you weren’t paying attention.

She’d said one thing, but her body was honest—she’d even left a crack in the door. If he didn’t go over, it might seem rude.

He smiled, scratched his chin, and crushed the cigar firmly.