Chapter 5: May You Crash and Burn

The most beautiful distance!

Wang Laoer savored Fang Hong's words, and in his mind, he recalled that man again.

That man who understood him! They cherished each other, the truest kind of soulmates, yet bound by morality, they could only keep their distance.

"Look at Bo Ya and Zi Qi—those two soulmates. If they hadn't maintained the most beautiful distance, how could they have forged the perfect friendship?

Think about it—if their relationship had gone further, would the world still revere their bond?" Fang Hong said with solemn deceit.

Far away, Liu Tianxian watched Fang Hong and Wang Laoer chatting, curious as hell, wondering what they were talking about—whether it had anything to do with her.

She knew perfectly well Wang Laoer's motive for kissing her: he wanted to taste her lips, but she couldn't say anything—this was a film set, and if they didn't even shoot a kiss scene, what kind of actor was he?

So Fang Hong's role was perfect.

"What you say makes sense, but—"

Wang Laoer paused here—he simply found Liu Tianxian too beautiful, and that's why he wanted to kiss her; this truth could never be spoken.

He changed tack: "But my film is about love anyway."

"Love needs elegance too. You've made the whole movie elegant—then you end it with something vulgar? That's just ugly. Won't the audience curse you out?"

Fang Hong felt he hadn't pushed hard enough, so added: "The audience cursing you out is minor—what matters is, ask your heart: are you being ruled by selfish desire?"

This made Wang Laoer feel ashamed—he truly was ruled by selfish desire, dazzled by Liu Tianxian's beauty.

"Have you seen that movie with Zhou Naicha and Gui Lunmei—what was it called again?" Fang Hong couldn't recall the film's name.

"The Secret That Can't Be Told!" Wang Laoer supplied.

"Right—that movie. Did Zhou Naicha kiss Gui Lunmei? Look at how beautiful their distance was. Don't you want to be immortalized like them?" Fang Hong said.

Wang Laoer cared about face, about others' opinions, and had a fierce competitive streak.

Fang Hong's words instantly stirred that deep-seated competitiveness within him—and the memory of that man who truly understood him, their mutual admiration! "You're absolutely right—this kiss scene shouldn't be filmed," Wang Laoer nodded silently.

"You'll be a great director. Hua Guo's film history should have a chapter on you."

Fang Hong praised him shamelessly.

It made Wang Laoer blush—he was a man who cared about face.

If he didn't care about face, he wouldn't have given up kissing Liu Tianxian just because Fang Hong nudged him.

If this were Fang Hong's movie, he'd kiss her anyway—no matter who objected, he'd kiss her. Art? What good is art? Pleasure comes first.

Since it's already a flop, might as well make it even worse.

Fang Hong, seeing Wang Laoer was convinced, added: "Director, can you add my name to this film? Just as associate director."

This was his real goal—if his name appeared on the credits, he'd have some credibility in the industry, which would help him secure investment and pave his future path.

"No way," Wang Laoer refused outright. "Crediting a film is a serious matter—it's decided from the start and can't be changed. Besides, you're just an intern. You're not suitable."

Again, he was a man who cared about face—if his ghostwriting got exposed, it would ruin his scholar image.

The best solution? Erase all traces!

That's also why the previous ghostwriting associate director quit—probably because of a dispute over credit.

You shoot the film for someone, yet they won't even let you be credited? Who'd feel it's worth it?

Fang Hong said nothing, only whispered inside: May you crash and burn.

He still had to make his own film. Making someone else's film? You're like a dog—do whatever they say, and they can snatch your work away anytime.

You can't even complain. This happens all the time in the entertainment circle—no one will stand up for you; you might even get blacklisted.

If you expose a hidden rule like this, what are you trying to do? Many screenwriters, after having their work stolen, got angry and went public to demand justice.

Then nothing happened. The screenwriter vanished. True story. So most screenwriters, if paid enough, just let it go—they're just trying to eat.

Fang Hong had been in this circle for over a decade—he knew its filth and its invisible rules all too well.

With nothing left to say, they parted. Fang Hong had gotten what he wanted, so he lost interest in chatting, pulled out his notebook and budget sheet, and got back to work. "Hey, what did you tell him to make him cancel the kiss scene?"

Liu Tianxian sat down beside Fang Hong.

Just now, Wang Laoer announced that filming for this segment was done—no additional scenes would be shot.

He actually pulled it off? That was unexpected.

She'd already prepared herself to kiss Wang Laoer.

"Guess!" Fang Hong looked at her.

"Guess your head," Liu Tianxian rolled her eyes—such a show-off.

Fang Hong smiled, leaned in sideways: "I told him—if you shoot this kiss scene, have you thought about your soulmate?"

"Soulmate?" Liu Tianxian didn't get it.

"It's a state of being. Most people don't understand." Fang Hong said.

"Only you do."

Liu Tianxian glanced at his notebook, snatched it: "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Fang Hong snatched it back.

"Let me see," Liu Tianxian grew curious.

"Nothing worth looking at—just a script."

Fang Hong refused to give it, deliberately tucking the notebook into his chest.

Liu Tianxian, seeing how protective he was, grew even more curious: "Still want to borrow money?"

"Like I'd show you and you'd lend me?" Fang Hong said.

"Hey, that's not certain," Liu Tianxian said playfully.

As long as this man wasn't into drugs, alcohol, gambling, or vice—if he was doing something real, she'd help. After all, she thought he had talent; letting him waste away was a pity.

Mostly, he'd helped her before—he had good character and kept his word!

For the sake of the money, Fang Hong reluctantly pulled out his notebook, treating it like a priceless treasure: "Handle it gently. Don't tear the pages."

Liu Tianxian snatched it away, speechless. It was just a shabby notebook, yet he acted as if it were a treasure.

"Those Years, the Girl We Chased." She read the big characters on the cover in a soft voice, then turned the page to look at the contents.

The content was ordinary and plain, nothing dramatic, but when the male lead attended the female lead's wedding at the end, it was still quite moving.

"Not bad. The beginning is bland, but the ending is quite moving. If this notebook were to be filmed well, it would really test the director's skill." She offered her critique.

You can even read notebooks now, what a rarity. Fang Hong didn't say that, but instead said: "Life doesn't have that many earth-shaking waves; most of it is plain and ordinary, with regrets. That's what makes it real, and what resonates with people."

"That makes sense too." Liu Tianxian didn't see a screenwriter credited, and asked: "Who wrote this script?"

"A very handsome and dashing young man, with excellent character and plenty of talent. Most importantly, he's still single. I'll introduce you to him someday." Fang Hong said with an unchanged expression.

"You're praising yourself, aren't you!"

Liu Tianxian slapped the notebook against his chest, then got up and walked away into the distance.

She had to film a scene; she needed to go get her makeup done.

"Hey, you said you'd lend me money."

Fang Hong shouted from behind, but the only thing that answered him was empty air.

How did she not fall for it? (End of chapter)