Chapter 211: Coffee Is Bitter and Sweet

The affairs of the Inserting Knife Sect are settled with Fang Hong; he'll lend a hand again when resources become available.

For now, let him suffer through it.

Using someone to get some money is enough to buy a role.

Fang Hong still has a conscience; it hasn't been eaten by dogs.

The ripples from the Inserting Knife Sect haven't faded; in mid-March, Liu Tianxian's case showed signs of being reignited.

The reason was a photo: Liu Tianxian and Zeng were photographed dining at a restaurant.

This was probably taken in Ningbo.

But before it could be widely circulated, it was buried by another big scandal: the "Zhao-Zhen Battle" had begun.

The incident started when the production team of "Special Identity" released a statement: "Zhao Wenzhuo acted like a diva, bringing eight attendants to shoot, spending 50,000 yuan daily just on accommodation."

Zhao Wenzhuo responded: "The real diva is someone else—this person not only acts like a diva but also damaged my reputation; he's the true tyrant on set!"

Secretly backing Yuzhou Dan! Both sides stuck to their claims, sparking division between Neidi and Hong Kong-Taiwan's film and TV circles.

Some Hong Kong actors disapproved of Yuzhou Dan's behavior; Yuan Hua, Yuan Biao, and Chen Yixun sided with Zhao Wenzhuo.

But this matter had nothing to do with Fang Hong; he didn't get involved and wouldn't collaborate with Hong Kong film and TV.

Liu Tianxian had already been negotiating with Zeng, trying to resolve her own issue properly; how the talks went, Fang Hong didn't quite know.

That day, Fang Hong was surrounded by a group: Chen Sicheng and Wen Muye, the two associate directors of "Superbody 1," along with art director Li Anran and cinematographer Liu Yin; actors Xie Miao, Li Zhuomei, and Song Jia walked out of the meeting room.

Song Jia played the cunning, cold-blooded Dr. Bai—the creator of the mutants—a major villain.

They had just finished a meet-and-greet; Liu Tianxian didn't come—she was still shooting "The Four Great Constables," but she'd finish by the end of this month.

"This shoot is tight—we must finish within one or two months. Please clear your schedules and work together to complete this drama."

Fang Hong looked at Song Jia.

"Understood. I'll cancel my other roles," Song Jia nodded.

Xie Miao, seeing Fang Hong look at him, flattered: "My schedule is always open, Director—tell me how long to shoot, and I'll shoot that long."

The flattery made Fang Hong smile; others also smiled.

But indeed, Xie Miao currently had few resources—he was just running errands in trashy drama sets.

Li Zhuomei was still young and seemed shy.

As the group walked and chatted, Fan Xiaopang happened to pass by, saw Fang Hong surrounded at a distance, his eyes lit up, and stepped forward to greet him.

"Principal, hello! Busy, I see," Fan Xiaopang said with his signature smile.

She wore a suit and trousers, exuding a poised, elegant beauty.

Beside her stood a middle-aged woman with short white hair and round glasses, along with Chen Xiao.

Chen Xiao nodded to Fang Hong—he was a Yutu artist, after all.

"Meeting on set—what are you doing here?" Fang Hong asked, puzzled.

"We came for a script reading. This is Director Lin Yufen," Fan Xiaopang introduced.

Lin Yufen extended her hand: "Hello, Director Fang."

"Hello, Director Lin, pleased to meet you," Fang Hong shook her hand.

"Director Fang is too kind—I'm just working for you," Lin Yufen laughed, her teeth slightly prominent.

She was the appointed director for "Star You," paid a fee, so technically she was working for Yutu.

But she had real ability—her past TV dramas included "Hua Qian Gu," "A Smile Is Beautiful," and "Three Lives Three Worlds, Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms."

Though he was from Hong Kong, his background was from the Central Academy of Drama.

"Don't say that—we're all film and TV workers; I'm one too. There's no hierarchy or superiority," Fang Hong said eloquently.

The group surrounding him felt a sense of comfort just because the Principal placed himself on the same level as them.

"Yes, the Principal is right—when we collaborate, don't talk about who's boss or who's subordinate; completing the work is what matters most," Fan Xiaopang chimed in.

Those around them nodded in agreement.

Fang Hong glanced at the woman; just then, Fan Xiaopang looked at him too; they locked eyes briefly, then Fang Hong looked away.

Fan Xiaopang looked a few more times—because this man was young, spoke with conviction, and carried an air of confidence.

It was simply the charm of a successful man.

"Principal, we've got things to do—we'll be going," Chen Sicheng said beside him.

"Go ahead!"

Fang Hong gestured to Chen Sicheng and Wen Muye: "This drama is in your hands—please put in extra effort and communicate well."

"Got it!" Chen Sicheng nodded.

For "Superbody 1," the associate directors handled all pre-production—these two were selecting cast and arranging shooting schedules.

Fang Hong barely interfered—he was the stand-in director! The group headed toward the Yutu gate; every time they exited, people had to detour around the "Chang'e Holding Rabbit" statue.

Because the statue stood right in the center of the entrance—no one knew which genius had placed it there.

Before, no one minded; but now that crowds grew, everyone entering or leaving found it obstructive.

After they left, Fang Hong asked casually: "Where are you in the production process?"

"Costume, makeup, and props are all ready; actors are confirmed—we're just waiting to choose locations and start shooting," Lin Yufen explained.

"Good, then I'll leave it to you."

Fang Hong said it casually—he didn't manage this anyway—then added: "You all get back to work."

"Hey, Principal."

Fan Xiaopang called out, stepped closer, and brushed at his shoulder: "You've got some dust here."

As she leaned in, Fang Hong caught a tempting fragrance; he looked at his shoulder: "Thanks!"

With that, he nodded to the other two and walked toward his office.

Fan Xiaopang watched them leave, his thoughts swirling. "Director, let's go grab a meal and keep talking," Chen Xiao said to Lin Yufen.

He hadn't spoken a word until now.

"Fine," Lin Yufen agreed.

"You two go ahead—I won't join. I've got something else to do," Fan Xiaopang snapped back to reality.

By late March, The Conjuring had finished its run; the sequel, Split, distributed by Universal, would premiere globally in 60 countries on April 26.

Split stars that X Jiao Shou—the same X Jiao Shou from X Zhan Jing—who is a British Academy Award winner.

Clearly, Universal wanted to replicate The Conjuring's success.

It's said New Line, Warner's subsidiary, made over one hundred million U. S. dollars in box office alone, and will earn even more later—truly terrifying.

For this reason, New Line Film Company now regrets having handed The Conjuring to Yutu.

But it's already a done deal; to shoot the next installment of The Conjuring Series, they still need Yutu's approval.

Because the copyright is in their hands—and so is the distribution rights—this was agreed upon from the start.

For this reason, Zhasilafu, president of Warner, wrote an email. He knew Fang Hong didn't understand English, so he wrote the email so someone could translate it for him.

The email warmly greeted Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian.

Liu Tianxian had been the one who spoke with him; he remembered her clearly.

This was normal: if you made money, they warmly greeted you; if you didn't, no one cared. Americans didn't understand hypocrisy.

But the warm greeting was just a facade; the real purpose was to inquire about plans for the next installment of The Conjuring Series and seek copyright collaboration.

Liu Tianxian translated the email for Fang Hong, and as soon as she returned, he dragged her to draft a reply.

The main issue was English—Fang Hong couldn't read a single word.

"You're an adult—can't you even type?" Fang Hong leaned on the desk, looking down at Liu Tianxian seated before the laptop, anxious.

Before Liu Tianxian was a keyboard; she carefully searched for each letter, then tapped it with one finger.

Like someone who'd never used a computer before—utterly clueless.

"Why rush me? Why don't you type it yourself?" Liu Tianxian looked up, impatient.

"If I understood English, I'd type it myself," Fang Hong said.

"Then why waste so much breath? Why don't you learn?" Liu Tianxian shot back.

Fang Hong fell silent—he'd learn if he could, but he'd never ask her.

"These letters are arranged randomly—A's here, B's there. I just don't get it: why not arrange them in order?" Liu Tianxian complained.

"You never use computers?" Fang Hong asked.

"No. I'm an electronic idiot. I've only played games with you a few times."

Liu Tianxian kept searching: "Where's the I key?"

"Here," Fang Hong pointed.

Liu Tianxian typed carefully: typed one letter, checked the screen, then stared at the keyboard again—repeating this cycle endlessly, exhausting to watch.

Fang Hong didn't know she couldn't type; he let her go slowly. After all, it was just one email—short enough. As long as the meaning got across, it was fine.

He stood up, poured himself a cup of coffee, and placed it on the desk.

Liu Tianxian glanced at the cup beside her, then at Fang Hong. She picked it up, sniffed—it smelled wonderful.

She praised: "You're surprisingly thoughtful."

"What's that supposed to mean? Isn't this what I'm supposed to do?" Fang Hong said.

"Good. With this attitude, I'll feel better even if I'm tired."

Liu Tianxian gave him a praising look, sipped the coffee, then immediately scrunched her face, wanting to spit it out—but swallowed it anyway.

"This is way too bitter."

"Good coffee is always bitter. I'll go add some sugar for you," Fang Hong took the cup and rushed out to add sugar—quite eager.

When he returned, Liu Tianxian took the cup, sipped, and looked at him with a half-smile: "Too sweet now. What should we do?"

"Then I can't help it—I'll pour it out and brew you a fresh one," Fang Hong reached for the cup.

"No need. I'll drink it like this."

Liu Tianxian smiled sweetly, took two sips, then resumed typing slowly, just as before.

Fang Hong didn't disturb her—he just watched from beside her.

The room fell quiet, filled only with breathing, the clack of keys, and occasional murmurs between them.

"Done!"

Liu Tianxian clapped her hands, cleared her throat: "I'll read it to you: Dear Zhasilafu—"

"Dear? You've never called me that," Fang Hong interrupted.

"It's Western etiquette. You want to hear it or not? If not, I'll just send it as-is—typos included," Liu Tianxian elbowed him.

Seriously—he was jealous over this!

"Fine, read it," Fang Hong gestured.

"Dear Mr. Zhasilafu, thank you very much for your support of Zhonghua Jia—" Liu Tianxian paused, looking up: "It's Zhonghua Jia, right?"

"Yes!" Fang Hong nodded.

"Your name's really strange," Liu Tianxian said.

"Not strange. Zhonghua Jia—same pronunciation as 'Zhong Hua Jia.' Get it?" Fang Hong said.

"Oh, I see!"

Liu Tianxian understood, then continued reading.

The entire letter ran hundreds of words, thanking Warner for their confidence and stating that the next installment of The Conjuring Series was under planning—no mention of copyright collaboration.

(End of Chapter)