"Where are you going?" Shang Yechu almost pressed.

"I'm going to work on Xingfu Commercial Street." Sheng Wenzhi waved his hand lightly.

Shang Yechu remained silent for a while, then said, "You know nothing about farming and are lazy, so you shouldn't go and cause trouble for Grandma."

"Grandma will accept me." Sheng Wenzhi actually yawned, as if relieved. At this moment, the misty gloom completely disappeared from him.

My grandma doesn't collect trash. Shang Yechu thought. Okay, maybe she'll take it.

“I wasn’t as good as you when I was little. I’m still not as good as you now that I’m grown up.” Sheng Wenzhi chuckled easily. “But one day I will surpass you.”

"You can experience different lives, and I can experience different worlds."

These were Sheng Wenzhi's last words before he left.

----------

Shang Yechu sometimes found it strange that everyone she knew wanted to surpass her. This atmosphere of learning from and helping each other was one thing among her peers, but now it had even spread to other industries.

After the celebration banquet, the crew sat in the car as the imperial procession returned home. Shang Yechu pondered this matter for a long time, but ultimately couldn't come up with a solution.

However, today's incident did resolve a small knot in her heart.

In fact, Sheng Wenzhi wasn't the only one who had considered changing Xingfu Commercial Street. Shang Yechu had also had her doubts after seeing the extensive construction there several times.

Am I really doing the right thing? Is Happiness Street, which has become unrecognizable, still Happiness Street?

This thought remained hidden in her heart, never daring to surface. Only today did Shang Yechu realize with a start that she had almost fallen into the same mental trap as Sheng Wenzhi!

For Shang Yechu, Happiness Street was important because of the people there, not the street itself. Without the neighbors and Old Lady Hu, Happiness Street was just a long strip of reinforced concrete.

Only when these people are happy will the word "happiness" on Happiness Street have meaning.

As a writer, Sheng Wenzhi has long been detached from production. In his eyes, food doesn't grow in the ground, but is delivered to his door by a deliveryman; clothes aren't sewn stitch by stitch, but delivered to his door by a courier; money is just a number on his royalty card, and labor is just a concept in books.

He couldn't understand the determination of his neighbors to support themselves; instead, he saw it as a sign of lowliness and inferiority.

In a world where fame is rampant, romance and fleeting pleasures outweigh the basic necessities of labor; the so-called "tranquility and preservation" and "authenticity" of Happiness Commercial Street outweigh the hardships and survival needs of its residents. He values ​​the concept of the old street more than the specific people within it; he is never short of money, therefore he doesn't value it. He even expects others to share his detachment from worldly desires, regarding money as worthless!

Sheng Wenzhi has always been that kind of sullen person, so it's understandable that he thinks that way. You can't expect someone who relied on inheritance as a child and royalties as an adult to understand the hardships of life. But Shang Yechu himself climbed up step by step from being an extra, and now, after only a year at the top, he's already starting to have this "let them eat cake" mentality!

This is the terrifying aspect of this glamorous world. It corrupts everyone within it, silently altering their thoughts and beliefs. Shang Yechu was already quite vigilant, yet he gradually became complacent.

Many directors and screenwriters in the entertainment industry, in their youthful vigor, created numerous profound and universally appealing works. However, as they age, they seem only capable of producing idiotic and senile pieces. Examples include: "A young person earning 3,000 yuan a month lives in a large apartment in Haicheng," "A person earning 15,000 yuan a month has 7,000 yuan in rent," "There are good landlords among landlords," "Anti-aggression soldiers find it difficult to swallow white flour cakes," and "Aggressors salute the bodies of fallen anti-aggression soldiers"—all inhumane plots. Besides the physical cause of these directors and screenwriters' cerebellar atrophy and cerebral palsy, there's also the psychological cause of their disconnect from the masses.

The thought of ending up in this state in just one year sent a chill down Shang Yechu's spine. Thankfully, Grandma Hu had reminded Sheng Wenzhi and, incidentally, her as well. Otherwise, if they discovered this problem after producing works with intellectual disabilities and facing audience backlash, it would be too late!

Gu Wenhua sat beside her, pretending to sleep with his eyes closed. Shang Yechu glanced at the others in the car who were also resting with their eyes closed, and quietly slapped herself.

"Ye Chu," Gu Wenhua immediately opened her eyes, "What are you doing?"

"It's nothing," Shang Yechu said with a dry laugh. "I just had a mosquito on my face."

Where would mosquitoes come from in the dead of winter? Gu Wenhua seemed oblivious, nodding and saying, "Be careful."

Shang Yechu felt embarrassed and turned her head to the car window.

"What did Teacher Sheng say to you, Sister Ye?" Huang Feizhang asked, peeking in to see that they were both awake. He now completely believed in the various interpretations of "Happiness Street" online, considering Sheng Wenzhi to be an extremely profound and thoughtful writer. The thought of acting in one of his scripts again filled him with excitement.

Mei Yaohong: "..."

Fatty Zhang: Achoo!

These matters are too complicated to explain, so Shang Yechu simplified it to one sentence: "Teacher Sheng told me that he can't write the script for that sitcom and that we should find someone else."

"Oh." Huang Feizhang looked disappointed and shrank back.

Shang Yechu was indeed troubled by the choice of screenwriter. The writers of "Yun Qing Ji" were good at writing period dramas, but probably not so good at modern scripts. Moreover, most of those screenwriters had the same problem that Shang Yechu had just thought of. This group of elites would probably find it difficult to capture the essence of Happiness Street.

Suddenly, a name flashed through Shang Yechu's mind.

Shang Yechu took out her phone and searched through her contacts. Sure enough, that name was still there.

—Stir-fried pork belly with sauerkraut.