Chapter 7

Inside the private room.

A gentle piano melody drifted among them.

It was a piano adaptation of the Scottish folk song “Mairi’s Wedding.”

Amid the romantic melody, An Xiaoshi chatted with her companion Zhang Jingya about the script of “Love Ferris Wheel,” occasionally glancing at Zhou Yang across from them, flipping through the script.

At some unknown moment…

The two chattering girls, as if seeing something, simultaneously fell silent.

Under the warm lighting of the room, golden light flowed over Zhou Yang’s sharply defined profile; his forehead’s stray hairs cast shadows on his eyelids, the gold-rimmed glasses accentuating his gentle, tranquil gaze, exuding a hint of ascetic restraint. He silently turned the pages of the script, his pale fingers long and strong; whenever he reached a crucial passage, his dark, ebony eyes would freeze, the slight upward curve of his eyelids revealing a blade-like focus…

It was a rare quality—blending Western gentlemanly elegance with the deep reserve of an Eastern man!

In that instant, both girls were momentarily stunned.

Moments later, almost simultaneously, the two girls exchanged glances, nodded seriously to each other, then grew excited!

Yes!

This was the male second lead they had been searching for!

…

“This script is great!”

Zhou Yang removed his glasses, quietly rubbed his eyes, then smiled warmly at the two girls.

In a corner no one noticed, Zhou Yang lightly pinched his knee, forcing his face to show just a trace of admiration.

In his past life and this one.

Zhou Yang had told many lies, deceived many people…

He had thought his heart was impenetrable, yet for some reason, as he spoke these words, a faint sense of guilt stirred within him.

The film “Love Ferris Wheel” tells the story of Huang Ying, a poor girl whose electric scooter collides with a rich second-generation’s luxury car; after a series of events, a faint romance blooms between them, until her outstanding childhood friend suddenly reappears with a marriage promise, tender and devoted, forcing the girl to repeatedly choose between the jealous, excellent childhood friend and the deeply affectionate rich heir…

The taste is so damn clichéd!

“Do you like this script?” An Xiaoshi, seeing Zhou Yang’s expression, couldn’t help feeling a surge of excitement.

From the script’s inception to project approval, funding, casting, and crew assembly, she and Zhang Jingya had completed everything together.

Especially the script—they had spent nearly half a year writing and refining every word and romantic scene; whenever they reached the film’s most brilliant moments, both would burst into applause.

“I’ve seen many girls in this world, but most are one-sided: either beautiful and tall with no artistic talent, or deeply artistic but plain-looking. When I first saw the script, I was actually resistant… After all, I thought a girl as beautiful as Miss An couldn’t possibly write a good script. But… after finishing it, especially when I reached the scene where the leads confess their love on the Ferris wheel, an image of a beautiful, radiant romance—purely from a fairy tale—spontaneously rose in my mind, utterly enchanting…” As Zhou Yang watched the two girls’ expressions grow increasingly joyful, his own expression grew steadily more sincere.

“Really that good?” An Xiaoshi was surprised by Zhou Yang’s words.

No actor had ever praised her script so genuinely—even compliments usually felt superficial and awkward.

“As an artist, I know a good script and story easily resonate, but the world is full of terrible scripts. Just reading a few lines of a script reveals the writer’s skill. I read ‘Love Ferris Wheel’ carefully, word by word. I won’t even mention how richly drawn and distinct each character is—just the scene descriptions alone make this the most accomplished script I’ve ever seen in terms of literary depth. That romantic, beautiful car crash, bookended with perfect symmetry, brought together two lives that should never have met, and slowly merged two uncertain, innocent hearts in that beautiful spring…”

…

Under the lights.

Zhou Yang’s gaze was unusually deep, his eyes lingering on the window’s distant glow, as if yearning for the pure love depicted in the script.

An Xiaoshi felt unexpectedly moved, unconsciously gripping Zhang Jingya’s hand beneath the table…

Zhang Jingya stared at Zhou Yang, entranced—his low, rich, tender voice had drawn her into the world of “Love Ferris Wheel,” where the gentle, hesitant, gentlemanly noble boy Lin Feng merged perfectly with the real Zhou Yang before her…

Only when An Xiaoshi squeezed her hand did she snap back to reality, realizing she’d been staring too long; she quickly sat upright: “You’re Mr. Zhou, right?”

“Yes, hello.”

“I’m Zhang Jingya, screenwriter and assistant director of ‘Love Ferris Wheel.’”

“Ah, Teacher Zhang, nice to meet you!”

“Mr. Zhou, it’s clear you truly love our script. We’ve also briefly observed you and are quite satisfied…” Zhang Jingya regained her composure, smiling at Zhou Yang: “May I ask about your previous acting experience?”

“Oh, plenty. I’ve performed in stage plays and had minor roles in many films…” Zhou Yang adjusted his glasses and began fabricating his acting history, naming fictional movie titles.

Of course!

Everything I just did was an act.

I nearly threw up reading that script.

If this isn’t acting, what is?

Zhang Jingya and An Xiaoshi exchanged glances. Though they’d never heard of the films Zhou Yang mentioned, his earnest demeanor left them no suspicion.

Finally, An Xiaoshi looked at Zhou Yang: “Mr. Zhou, let’s cut to the chase—we’re very interested in you. Are you free this afternoon? We’d like you to audition with the crew. What do you think?”

“Sure. Oh, but… sorry…” Zhou Yang paused, then reluctantly pushed the script back to them: “May I ask—what’s the salary if I join?”

“I’ll give you…”

An Xiaoshi started to speak, but Zhang Jingya immediately stopped her. Zhang Jingya’s expression turned serious as she looked at Zhou Yang: “Mr. Zhou, what salary do you expect?”

“How much is the film’s total budget?” Zhou Yang didn’t answer directly, but looked at Zhang Jingya.

Zhang Jingya hesitated, glanced at An Xiaoshi, and upon seeing her nod, turned back to Zhou Yang: “Mr. Zhou, this is our first film. We funded it entirely with our pocket money—it’s not a large sum, roughly two million. The production and equipment budget is about 1.5 million; actor salaries total around 500,000…”

Zhou Yang nodded after listening, took a sip of milk, his expression unchanged.

But inside, a different kind of warmth began to rise.

Pocket money?

Looks like a lamb—sweet, tender, with clear eyes and no worldly experience… a college student lamb.

Watching Zhou Yang quietly sip milk, Zhang Jingya felt uncertain, but suppressed her unease and hardened her tone: “Mr. Zhou, to be blunt—the leads’ salaries are around 350,000. Of the remaining 150,000, roughly 100,000 goes to other actors. We can only offer you 50,000.”

“Fifty thousand…” Zhou Yang lifted his head slightly, showing no attempt to hide his disappointment; his warmth vanished, his gaze fixed on the door.

“Mr. Zhou, we can offer you a share of the box office profits…” An Xiaoshi immediately grew anxious.

Zhang Jingya’s expression changed slightly; she tugged An Xiaoshi’s hand.

That was their last card!

They barely knew this man…

And now they’d revealed it!

How could they do that? How would they negotiate after this?

An Xiaoshi realized she’d been too hasty, utterly lacking in social finesse, and lowered her head to sip coffee, hiding her emotions.

Zhang Jingya looked helplessly at her useless friend, then sighed: “Mr. Zhou, if you trust our crew, believe in us, and have faith in our script and abilities, we can collaborate. We can offer you 2% of the box office profits.”

Zhou Yang’s expression didn’t change; his gaze drifted far away.

He fell into long silence.

An Xiaoshi suddenly felt the atmosphere grow heavy, but knew she mustn’t panic now.

Zhang Jingya stared at Zhou Yang: “Mr. Zhou, this project is one many of our juniors at Yanying dream of. We’re not short on male actors… actually, the third male lead is nearly finalized. It was only because Xiaoshi suddenly thought you fit that I came to see you. I agreed you were suitable—but that doesn’t mean we lack alternatives.”

When Zhou Yang heard this, he still didn’t respond. He turned his head and silently stared at the script, lost in thought.

Time passed slowly.

Zhang Jingya tried to read something from Zhou Yang’s face, but found nothing.

The longer she looked, the deeper his gaze seemed—the damn elegance made her stare again, spellbound.

Then she calmed herself, deciding this man was clearly a seasoned veteran.

Much later…

Zhou Yang sighed, lowered his gaze, tilted his head up at a forty-five-degree angle toward the window.

“Actually… I don’t need money…”

“Actually… I’m the owner of an entertainment company. I’m currently preparing an epic film myself…”

“Actually… I thought Miss An had come here after seeing my casting call, applying to act in my movie. When I realized you were also in the industry, I was about to leave…”

“But…”

“Ah!”

“When I read the ‘Love Ferris Wheel’ script, I realized—I love this script. I love the character Lin Feng. I love that vow on the Ferris wheel—together for life, never to part…”

Zhou Yang stood slightly, his gaze growing deeper, his voice longer, radiating genuine passion for the story.

But!

I’m about to throw up!

For money, can you get any more disgusting?