Chapter 304: The Goodwill I Cannot Accept

Wu Yuchen sighed inwardly—he never would’ve guessed this girl had become such a skilled actress; how ridiculous that he’d just spent ages giving her a detailed analysis…

Her goal wasn’t Chen Kaizi at all!

Wu Yuchen ignored Jiang Qin’s tugging at his arm, shaking his head with a sigh.

“Honey~ I really wasn’t faking it! I just thought of it on the spot…”

Wu Yuchen chuckled: “Qin Qin, what’s the point of beating around the bush with me? Why not just tell me the truth?”

Hearing this, Jiang Qin dropped the innocent act: “I just want to be your leading lady—what actress doesn’t want to be your leading lady?”

Wu Yuchen said: “Didn’t you already play the lead in last year’s ‘The Sword of the Brocade Knife’? You were pushed to audiences all over the world!”

“I…”

Jiang Qin paused, then spoke with a hint of grievance: “I still haven’t won any decent awards. Not to mention Best Actress—I haven’t even had a single film of mine win any major prizes!”

Wu Yuchen now understood Jiang Qin’s true motive. The films he’d cast her in as lead—excluding the short ‘Car 44’—from ‘The Night the Comet Came’, ‘If Love Had a Destiny’, to ‘The Sword of the Brocade Knife’—were all aimed squarely at commercial success and box office, never serious awards.

The films Wu Yuchen actually won major awards for—‘Dr. Liu’s Donkey’, ‘Love’, ‘The Boy in the Striped Pajamas’—all starred Gong Li. And ‘Run Lola Run’ featured Li Xiaoran, whom he helped win Best Actress at the Golden Horse Awards—a rare honor in the Chinese-language film world.

Jiang Qin continued: “I never meant to force you into casting me. I know you’re busy, so when I got Chen Dao’s offer, I was tempted—he may not be you, but it’s still a good opportunity for me. But since you say his film’s no good, I won’t take it. That’s why I just thought to mention it to you.”

Wu Yuchen pinched her cheek with a smile: “I didn’t say anything to you—why are you acting wounded?”

Jiang Qin turned her head away: “I’m not wounded!”

Wu Yuchen hugged her: “Tsk tsk, look at that pout—fine, fine, smile for me.”

Jiang Qin bared her teeth in a fake grin, then turned her head away again.

Wu Yuchen chuckled: “A leading lady? Of course you’ll get one.”

Jiang Qin’s ears perked up instantly as Wu Yuchen sighed:

“But right now, I’m exhausted from shooting every day, under immense pressure, and my beautiful wife’s throwing tantrums—how am I supposed to feel creative?”

Jiang Qin immediately slapped his arm: “Who’s throwing tantrums?”

“Mm, mm, mm—nobody’s throwing tantrums~ But I’m feeling awful, completely drained—what should I do?”

Jiang Qin turned her face away, pouting: “How should I know?”

Wu Yuchen groaned dramatically: “Leading lady… major award… who even wants them?”

Seeing his act, Jiang Qin knew he was teasing—but still grabbed his arm: “You… then what should we do?”

Wu Yuchen leaned forward, pointing at his cheek. Jiang Qin knew exactly what he meant, laughed softly, then tiptoed and kissed him.

But Wu Yuchen wasn’t done—he turned his other cheek and pointed again. Jiang Qin, seeing this, tiptoed once more and kissed him.

When he pointed at his lips a third time, Jiang Qin punched his chest: “Hey! Are you done yet?”

“Alright, alright! Hahaha~” Wu Yuchen laughed, stopped teasing her, and kept walking, arm around her.

As they walked, Wu Yuchen said: “This year’s out of the question—next year, I’ll make you my leading lady, and we’ll go for a major award together.”

Jiang Qin’s head now rested on Wu Yuchen’s shoulder, a smile playing on her lips—she could now refuse Chen Dao with full confidence: she’d be the lead in Wu Yuchen’s next film.

Jiang Qin smiled at Wu Yuchen: “Don’t say I forced you, okay? I’ll tell you—I’m really hot right now!”

Wu Yuchen played along: “Oh? Besides Chen Dao, are there others chasing you with offers?”

“Of course! So many! After ‘My Fair Princess 3’ aired last month, everyone was begging me to come back as Ziwei—even Qiong Yao called me herself, begging me to save the ‘My Fair Princess’ series!”

Wu Yuchen laughed. The first two installments of ‘My Fair Princess’ had been massive; by the time the third came out with a completely new cast—Huang Yi’s Xiao Yanzi, Ma Yili’s Ziwei—they paled in comparison to Zhao Yanzi and Jiang Qin, sparking furious backlash. Audiences swore they’d watch Parts 1 and 2 a hundred times rather than glance at Part 3.

Wu Yuchen asked: “So what’s your take?”

Jiang Qin had zero interest in saving ‘My Fair Princess’—she’d agreed to Part 2 only because Qiong Yao and Mango TV had visited her repeatedly with sincerity. Now, she wouldn’t return as Ziwei for anything.

“I’m not going! Not even if Qiong Yao herself asks—last time Zhang Dao came to me, I turned him down!” Jiang Qin said sweetly.

“Zhang Dao? You mean Zhang Jizhong?” Wu Yuchen asked.

“Yes! He asked if I’d play Little Dragon Girl. I told him I’ve lost interest in TV dramas.” Jiang Qin lifted her chin.

She’d already played Huang Rong in ‘The Legend of the Condor Heroes’—a role beloved by countless fans. She’d experienced Jin Yong’s world once; no need to repeat it.

As for the popularity of ‘The Return of the Condor Heroes’ and Little Dragon Girl—frankly, with Ziwei and Huang Rong already under her belt, she didn’t need that kind of traffic. And she wasn’t just a TV actress—she was a film star with global recognition.

Jiang Qin’s greatest ambition now wasn’t traffic or box office—she wanted recognition in film. Even if she didn’t win Best Actress herself, she wanted her film to win a major award.

Hearing this, Wu Yuchen found it amusing. In his past life, Zhang Jizhong had marketed ‘The Return of the Condor Heroes’ by polling fans for Little Dragon Girl—Jiang Qin topped the vote—but it was all just a publicity stunt. He’d used her as a tool, and she’d had no power to resist.

Now, the situation was reversed: Zhang Jizhong came to Jiang Qin first, begging her to play Little Dragon Girl—but she no longer cared. Wu Yuchen found it fascinating.

…

“No, no, no—don’t just enlarge the squid. Make it more monstrous, more terrifying. When it opens its mouth, it should have a sea of monstrous teeth—dense, sharp, making viewers shudder at the sight!”

Wu Yuchen rejected the designers’ design for the sea monster Kraken, explaining his vision in greater detail.

This colossal sea beast—the legendary Kraken or North Sea Monster—would deliver major visual impact and was one of the film’s key special effects. The VFX team was constantly communicating and adjusting with Wu Yuchen to meet his demands.

After joining the ‘Pirate King’ set, Jiang Qin, watching Wu Yuchen closely, realized just how overwhelmed he was: shooting all day, then meeting about every possible issue at night.

Other crew members only needed to handle their own tasks—but Wu Yuchen, as director, had to oversee everything. Every department’s problems fell to him—he had to consult with cinematography, VFX, stunt teams, and more. He had almost no time to truly relax with Jiang Qin.

This made her feel even more sorry for him—he was so busy, yet still made time to pick her up and be with her. She’d thrown tantrums before, yet he never lost his temper, always tolerated her, and even promised her the lead role…

Looking back, she’d been utterly inconsiderate of Wu Yuchen.

The thought filled her with quiet guilt.

Wu Yuchen had no time to ponder Jiang Qin’s thoughts—he had pressing work. And he wasn’t just juggling this—he also received regular overseas calls to check on Miracle Pictures’ progress.

Right now, he was on the phone with Cai Yinong:

“What? Madam Cai, you mean Chen Kaige reached out to you?”

“Yes—but not Chen Kaige himself. His wife, Chen Hong, invited me for tea and brought up ‘The Promise.’ Oh, ‘The Promise’ is the title Chen Dao just settled on for his upcoming project.”

Chen Hong? Since marrying Chen Kaige and having children, she’d become his true partner—not just managing the household, but also serving as his producer, overseeing every detail of his productions. So when Chen Hong acted, it was as if Chen Kaige himself had spoken.

Honestly, Wu Yuchen didn’t understand what Chen Hong wanted from Chen Kaizi.

Many assumed Chen Hong had married up—but those who knew her background knew otherwise: her grandfather was extremely high-ranking; Chen Kaizi’s family couldn’t compare.

And Chen Hong never promoted herself publicly, unlike some others who’d spent decades flooding the media with press releases until everyone was sick of it.

Think about it—Chen Hong was stunning, a true third-generation elite. Logically, she should’ve been pursued by countless wealthy suitors. Yet she chose to become a third party, used her child as leverage, and forced her way into Chen Kaizi’s life—was this really love?

Wu Yuchen shook off these distractions and asked: “What did Chen Hong want?”

“She implied they’d like to know if we’d invest in Chen Dao’s ‘The Promise.’ She said many investors have already approached them—Japanese, Korean, Hong Kong—but they’re offering us the first chance.”

“Hah! That’s quite the honor!” Wu Yuchen laughed.

He thought about it—he didn’t believe this was Chen Kaizi deliberately provoking or showing off. He genuinely believed his project was exceptional. Chen Kaizi was supremely arrogant.

So whether offering Jiang Qin the lead role or sending Chen Hong to approach Cai Yinong about investment, Chen Kaizi saw it as extending goodwill toward Wu Yuchen.

Wu Yuchen smiled and shook his head. He had no intention of refusing Chen Kaizi’s gesture—but the film itself? He simply couldn’t accept it.

‘The Promise’—also known as ‘A Steamed Bun That Sparked a Bloodbath’—would, over a decade later, still be firmly nailed to the bottom of the worst films list, even after ‘Hero’ had seen its reputation rehabilitated.

How could Wu Yuchen possibly accept this?

Wu Yuchen sighed. He and Kaizi were destined to have no connection.

“Madam Cai, forget it. If Chen Dao and ‘The Promise’ don’t need our investment, we won’t get involved.”

Cai Yinong had actually wanted to invest—Chen Kaige was a big name, and period wuxia was hot right now, with ‘The Sword of the Brocade Knife’ and ‘Hero’ as proof of success. But Wu Yuchen was the boss; if he’d decided, she wouldn’t oppose.

Chen Kaizi’s goodwill? Wu Yuchen couldn’t accept it.

He and Kaizi had no feud, no friendship either—just keeping their distance was fine. Each on their own path.

Then Cai Yinong mentioned another rising director: “Feng Xiaogang has come to me twice, asking when you’ll return and if you have time.”

“Huh? Why’s he looking for me?” Wu Yuchen was puzzled.

Feng Xiaogang had been well-supported by the Wang brothers and lived comfortably these past years. He’d drifted apart from Wu Yuchen—though every meeting was still warm. But Wu Yuchen had spent so much time in Hollywood lately, he rarely interacted with these people.

Cai Yinong said: “I heard he’s preparing a new film, but his script’s been rejected and rewritten multiple times. I suspect he’s coming to you because of that.”

Wu Yuchen immediately understood. Wasn’t this exactly what happened in his past life with ‘A World Without Thieves’? Feng Xiaogang was already preparing ‘A World Without Thieves’?

He calculated the timeline—it fit. He told Cai Yinong:

“I won’t be back for a while—probably not until year-end. But I’m interested in his situation. Tell him to call me directly.”

“Alright.”