Chapter 2: Difficult Living

At dusk, Fang Hong brought the revised script and rang the doorbell of Liu Tianxian's suite with a "ding-dong."

What he called the revised script was merely an added scene at the end of the film: a group of reporters taking photos while the two leads kissed.

That was all.

This kiss scene had no meaning whatsoever—it came after the story had already ended—and Wang Laoer had unilaterally inserted it just to satisfy his own desires.

It was said this was Liu Tianxian's on-screen first kiss, though only said.

The door opened and Liu Tianxian appeared, frowning: "What do you want?"

"The director wants to add a kiss scene," Fang Hong said, handing her the script. "Here's the revised version. Take a look."

Liu Tianxian took the script, lowered her head to read the text, and felt a quiet unease stir inside her.

Because this kiss scene was added without reason, with no logic.

She said nothing, expressed nothing, simply stared silently at the script, looking plainly troubled.

The script had barely two pages—anyone could finish reading it in a glance—and seeing Liu Tianxian's expression, her grim face, Fang Hong spoke:

"If you don't want to film this kiss scene, I can talk to the director for you."

"What good would it do if you talk? Do you think he'll listen to you?"

Liu Tianxian lifted her head and looked at the man before her.

Although this film bore his name as director, the real director was Wang Laoer—and one word from Wang Laoer could make this man vanish.

Substitute directing was common in the entertainment industry: many famous people who'd never directed a film hired obscure, classically trained junior directors to do the actual work.

Then they used the famous person's name to promote the movie upon release.

Just like the movie "South-North Contradiction," shot by Hong Kuzi, where Huang Bo played the big star who showed up for cameos, recited numbers as lines, yet was credited as lead actor.

A substitute director had no real power, because the producer could always hire someone else.

"Just try talking," Fang Hong said. "If you refuse, he can't force you, right?"

"When I signed on to this film, there was no kiss scene," Liu Tianxian said. "I don't know why he suddenly wants to add this."

Of course it's to kiss you, to show off—do you really think it's for art, you silly girl?

When this movie was released, Wang Laoer promoted it using Liu Tianxian's on-screen first kiss as a selling point—and even went around telling everyone what it felt like to kiss her. Fang Hong could only say: dude, you're awesome.

Liu Tianxian continued: "If you talk to him, he probably won't listen—but don't say it's my refusal."

This girl had a bit of cunning—she didn't want to offend anyone. Fang Hong said: "Fine. I won't mention you. I'll argue from an artistic perspective."

Hearing this, Liu Tianxian smiled faintly, lips pressed together—this man spoke in a way that was both pleasant and interesting.

Seeing her expression soften, Fang Hong judged the timing right and ventured: "Uh… I'm a bit short on cash lately. Could you lend me some money?"

"What?!" Liu Tianxian blinked in surprise, pointing at herself, voice rising, "You're asking me for money?"

This was the first time a crew member had ever asked her for a loan. Mainly because they weren't close, and their status gap was too wide—after filming ended, they might never meet again.

"I have no choice," Fang Hong said, looking troubled. "My living situation is truly difficult."

Liu Tianxian, kind-hearted, asked: "How much do you need?"

"One million. Urgent." Fang Hong spoke without flinching.

He'd originally wanted ten million, but that was too outrageous, so he removed a zero.

Even one million was outrageous—Liu Tianxian's mouth parted slightly, her beautiful eyes blinked in curiosity: "May I ask what kind of life you lead?"

She'd assumed a few thousand yuan was enough to live on—she never imagined someone would ask for seven digits. How bold.

"I live simply—occasionally drink red wine, smoke a cigar," Fang Hong said seriously. Liu Tianxian rolled her eyes at him. "I'll lend you ten thousand at most. No more."

"Fine," Fang Hong nodded. Some money was better than none—he could slowly save up. All startup capital began this way.

In his past life, he'd worked for years, then partnered with others to raise startup funds. This life, he didn't want to work for anyone anymore.

Too hard! Too exhausting! Liu Tianxian transferred him ten thousand without asking for a promissory note—she probably figured she'd never see it again.

She didn't care about this small sum.

But Fang Hong didn't use the money to drink wine or smoke cigars as he claimed—he returned to his tiny single room, listed his funds: roughly 15,000 yuan.

That included his salary.

Then he opened his old laptop and finished the unfinished script.

He wanted to invest some of his own money, then attract investors to produce the film—so he could earn both dividends and a salary.

Because he knew what kind of movies made money, he aimed to maximize profit.

But without money, there was nothing he could do. The next day, filming for "Love Announcement" continued.

The kiss scene was scheduled for last, so there was still time—Fang Hong didn't go to talk to Wang Laoer.

He'd wait a while, let them stew. After all, Wang Laoer didn't know Liu Tianxian's true feelings.

Liu Tianxian didn't know whether Fang Hong had spoken to Wang Laoer or if the kiss scene had truly been canceled—so she waited too.

Let them both suspect each other. When they grew anxious, they'd naturally come back to him.

From his observations over this period, Liu Tianxian was serious on set—she didn't casually joke with anyone.

Even with Ceng Yike, she rarely spoke.

This couple had little interaction now—that came later.

Fang Hong didn't know whether Ceng Yike had invested money into the production—he spoke his lines like singing.

Whatever. This set had no normal people. Not even the half-naked girls from his web movie days had better acting.

"Hey, have you finished your script?"

During a break between takes, Fang Hong was reviewing the next shooting schedule when someone tapped his shoulder.

He turned to see a beautiful woman with long hair and a commanding aura smiling at him.

Her name was Chen Zhixi—the film's external liaison producer, currently interning, since she'd previously been an actress and wanted to switch careers.

She wanted to switch because after seven years as an actress, she realized actors were chosen by others, had no control over their own fate, and had to endure the industry's hidden rules.

Once, the production company asked her to attend a dinner engagement, but she refused, and as a result, the lead actress was replaced by the second female lead—how realistic.

That's why she decided to transition into becoming a Producer, because a Producer can control what she wants, help others realize their dreams, and create wealth—it's magnificent! This was nearly the same as Fang Hong's past-life belief.

Chen Zhixi's path was even more brilliant; within less than two years of her transition, she achieved tremendous success—The Lost City was her first film as General Manager.

Later, her abilities stood out remarkably; she discovered many young directors, including Xu Guangtou, Dong Dapeng, and Cheng Sicheng.

Every film she produced turned a profit, and she led her company Ruyi to acquire Wanda Pictures.

In his past life, Fang Hong's admiration for her flowed like an endless river! Of course, Fang Hong himself was also discovered by her—half a month ago, she noticed his exceptional directing talent, and ever since, she would accompany him just to chat about his ideals.

When Fang Hong said he wanted to write screenplays and make films, she immediately expressed support and asked him every day.

One can only say that even though Fang Hong was so low-key, she still managed to spot this gem shining brightly—those who succeed truly have sharp eyes!

How different from Liu Tianxian, who blindly lent only ten thousand! (End of chapter)