Chapter 220 The Greatest Fortune of My Life

"Mr. Du, to be honest, the most fundamental reason why this project has come this far and has received attention from higher-ups is because of Wanwan."

"It is because Wanwan painted you that the Record of Folk Customs and you, a witness from a thousand years ago, can be truly presented to us."

"Only then can this story begin anew."

Lin Yan'an spoke with certainty, her words filled with relief and joy: "Actually, as an individual, I am at best someone who can write stories. And if it weren't for Wanwan, I would still be struggling in the cracks between commerce and art, just like the original story."

"I was already quite disheartened and planned to just finish writing this story and that was it. I didn't even plan to participate in the filming. After all, screenwriters have a very low status in the current market, and I am no exception."

"Compared to other peers, although I can still gain some say, I also have to consider all sorts of practical issues."

"To be honest, after so many years in the industry, being a screenwriter is not as enjoyable as writing novels myself."

“In this industry, screenwriters seem important, but in reality they don’t have much say. Often, scripts have to compromise for the market, for investors, and even for the preferences of certain actors. Even for me, who has my own investment and writes my own original works, I can only gain some say, but the final decision is often not what I originally wrote.”

Lin Yan'an's tone was tinged with helplessness and self-deprecation as he spoke: "Just like with my previous work, 'The Man in the Green Robe,' I knew that adding overly commercial elements would damage the core of the story and make the characters' cores superficial, but under the pressure at the time, I had no choice but to write it."

"Because if you don't write it, the project can't move forward, and all the efforts of everyone will be in vain. That feeling of helplessness—knowing it's wrong but having no choice but to write it—is the most torturous."

[Dad~]

As if sensing his low spirits, Zhong Suisui instantly appeared on Lin Yan'an's shoulder, her fluffy little head affectionately rubbing against his cheek.

"Don't worry, Sui Sui, Daddy's fine."

Noticing its actions, Lin Yan'an felt a warmth in her heart. She gently raised her hand to rub its little head and said with a smile, "It's all thanks to you and your mother."

He looked at Du Qian with sincere and happy eyes: "Mr. Du, it is because of Wanwan, because Wanwan painted you, because she used her own hands and her own abilities to connect Yin and Yang, and opened the door for us to communicate with each other. She not only helped to appease your thousand-year obsession, but also for me and for this project, she reopened the road to our ideals."

"It gives me the opportunity to write what I want to write without distraction, to pursue historical truth, and to polish every detail of the script."

"I no longer need to worry about commercial elements or investment. This kind of creative environment is exactly what I've been dreaming of."

"Meeting her and marrying her is the greatest fortune of my life, Lin Yan'an."

Du Qian listened quietly, but seeing the admiration and dependence on his wife in Lin Yan'an's eyes, he still had some doubts.

The world he lived in was very different from today's society.

Women and independence—these two words were hardly synonymous in his time. In his view, women were dependent and were considered family members.

It is a situation where one obeys one's father before marriage and one's husband after marriage.

And now, a man, someone as extraordinary as Lin Xiaoyou, is so frank, even quite proud, as he tells him about his dependence on and admiration for his wife.

This completely overturned his understanding that had lasted for thousands of years.

In an instant, he gained a new understanding of the word "companion" in later generations, an understanding that transcended his previous knowledge.

Can a married couple truly stand side by side like trees, treating each other as equals, appreciating each other, and even growing together?

None of this was within his comprehension.

It was far beyond what he could have understood from his past experiences.

Du Qian slowly lowered his eyes, and a blurry yet gentle face vaguely appeared in his mind.

He still remembered his wife, yet it seemed he had almost forgotten what she looked like.

He remembered that she always kept her head down and spoke softly in front of him, never raising her voice.

While he was reading, she would quietly leave the room and go back to her needlework, never disturbing him in the slightest.

They treated each other with respect, yet it seemed... they never shared the same fervent and equal affection that Lin Xiaoyou showed when he spoke of his wife.

In his time, marriages were mostly arranged by parents and matchmakers.

The feelings between husband and wife are often subtle and reserved, and even carry a clear hierarchy.

Women are expected to have their husbands as their heaven. Even if they have talent and ideas, they are mostly buried in the small space of the backyard, like pearls covered in dust, rarely seeing the light of day.

Just like his wife, although Du Qian could not quite recall her appearance, he still clearly remembered that she was literate, and that he could even discuss poetry and literature with her when he was in the mood.

How bright her eyes were back then! Even a thousand years later, he can still clearly remember those eyes.

But those times were rare. Most of the time, she just quietly did those needlework tasks that seemed to never end.

Her embroidery skills are also excellent; the patterns on her works are exquisite, beautiful, and lifelike.

In the end, however, they were only used to decorate the clothes and shoes of family members, or sent to their boudoirs, and never had the opportunity to be truly displayed.

He and his wife had only been together for a little over a year, and their feelings for each other had gradually developed over time, subtly and reservedly.

She was his capable wife, managing the household affairs for him so that he had no worries.

He respected her, appreciated her, yet it seemed... as if he had never truly understood her, understood the talent and thoughts that might exist beneath her gentle exterior.

Ultimately, like many women of that era, she died in childbirth at the young age of 14…

A short life, seemingly vanished before it even had a chance to blossom.

He was left with only his daughter.

He raised his daughter himself and loved her very much. But all he wanted and all he tried to do was find her a reliable husband when she grew up, hoping that he would not deceive her and would give her a stable and peaceful life.

Unfortunately, that natural disaster and man-made calamity took away his daughter who was still young.

He never dared to imagine that one day his daughter could step out of her secluded home, just like the women on the film set, and use her own abilities to see a wider world and pursue her own independent life value.

Du Qian's phantom grew increasingly silent.

He silently observed the many women before him, busy with their own work.

A thousand years of time separation,

In the end, it all turned into a silent, extremely complex sigh.