Chapter 131 Commercial Filming
Xiao Guang pushed his beret back, revealing his smooth forehead. He didn't speak, but walked straight to the third table by the window—Grandpa Chen's "reserved seat." Faint tea stains remained on the red lacquered wooden table, and the window frame had yellowed marks from years of steam. He reached out and touched the worn corner of the table, then suddenly turned to Su Yingxue and asked, "How many years has this table been used?"
"It must have been seven or eight years." Su Yingxue paused for a moment. "Grandpa Chen comes to sit here every Wednesday afternoon; the shop assistants all know him."
“Okay.” Xiao Guang nodded, took out his phone from his pocket, and quickly swiped through the camera app. “Don’t rush to take the picture, I need to check the lighting.” He tilted his head back, squinting at the ceiling light, then walked to the window and gestured with his finger to indicate the angle of the light. “Around 10:40, the sunlight will be shining obliquely through the window, landing on the clear broth pot—the broth must be clear, right?”
Su Yingxue nodded hurriedly, "Yes, Grandpa Chen specifically asked for clear broth when he drank his Chinese medicine."
Xiao Guang's gaze swept over the busy shop assistants, finally settling on the wind chimes hanging by the door. "That wind chime," he pointed, "keep the original sound, don't turn it off." He then turned to the employee who had followed him and said, "Could you please move that row of green plants against the wall half a meter to the right, so they don't block the steam from the hot pot in the shot?"
At 10:35, Grandpa Chen pushed open the door precisely on time. Today he was wearing a faded dark blue Zhongshan suit, the cuffs frayed but still crisply starched. Xiao Guang greeted him, pulling a piece of fruit candy from his pocket: "Grandpa, please sit here." Seeing Grandpa Chen's stunned expression, he blinked, "I added a little detail to the script—your grandson gave it to me when he visited last time."
Grandpa Chen's eyes lit up immediately. After he sat down, Xiao Guang squatted down in front of him, speaking softly, "Grandpa, just treat this as a regular hot pot meal. Talk to the owner about anything you want." He pointed to a staff member adjusting the equipment not far away, "That one in the red apron, that's the owner."
"Done!" Grandpa Chen patted his knee and pulled his reading glasses out of his pocket. "My grandson sent me a video last month saying he wanted to eat hot pot while he was abroad..."
At 10:48, deliveryman Xiao Zhou rushed into the store on his electric scooter. He was wearing a helmet, and his yellow work clothes were still wet from the rain, clearly indicating he had just arrived from outside. Xiao Guang grabbed him, saying, "Buddy, take off your helmet. We're not filming any scenes of you riding a scooter." Seeing Xiao Zhou's sweaty palms, he patted him on the shoulder, "Just think of it as coming for a bowl of noodles—by the way, the owner will bring you soy milk later, remember to say 'Thank you, owner, you've worked hard overtime.'"
Xiao Zhou blinked, then suddenly grinned: "I know this place! A customer actually brought me food last week!"
At exactly eleven o'clock, the sunlight shone through the carved wooden window and fell on the clear soup pot. In the steaming heat, Grandpa Chen was saying to the proprietress, "My little grandson video-called me last month and said he wanted to eat your tripe..." Before he could finish speaking, a commotion suddenly broke out at the door.
"Brother Qiang! Happy Birthday!" Three delivery guys wearing helmets escorted a man in a blue uniform as he walked in. It was Qiang—the "birthday boy" Xiao Guang had temporarily brought in, and also a rider for the nearby area. He was carrying a small cake, a simple smile on his face: "Boss, can you give me a discount today?"
"Of course, there's a discount for birthdays!" The proprietress smiled as she served her homemade Chongqing longevity noodles. "Xiao Guang, this wasn't in your script, was it?"
Xiao Guang, holding a camera, followed A-Qiang's smiling face: "Impromptu! Mr. Su, could you please call the couple at the next table over too—tell them it's a surprise from the restaurant!"
When the initially awkward couple, Xiao Zhao and Xiao Meng, were pulled over, A Qiang was holding a cake, and the delivery guys around them were egging him on to make a wish. Grandpa Chen's eyes narrowed with laughter as he pulled a red envelope from his pocket: "Qiangzi, Grandpa made you a little red envelope. Buy some candy."
"This..." A-Qiang awkwardly accepted the red envelope, his eyes suddenly welling up with tears. "Grandpa, I..."
"Silly child," Grandpa Chen patted his back, "No matter what hardships you endure, never forget that hot soup and hot meals are what make home taste like."
Xiao Guang's camera trembled slightly, capturing the bubbling red oil in the hot pot, the splashing water droplets refracting tiny sparkles in the sunlight; capturing the smile in the wrinkles around Grandpa Chen's eyes, the foam clinking together as delivery guys raised their beer glasses, the blushing ear tips of a couple secretly feeding each other tripe; and even capturing the proprietress moving between the kitchen and the dining area, her apron pocket filled with customers' dietary restrictions, and always carrying a bowl of freshly cooked hot soup in her hand.
"Cut!" Xiao Guang suddenly shouted, putting down the camera and walking over to Grandpa Chen. "Grandpa, that last part was really good—when you said 'hot soup and hot food make home cooking,' your eyes lit up." He then turned to Su Yingxue, "President Su, this part would be absolutely touching if it were included in the final cut."
Looking at the harmonious scene in the private room, Su Yingxue finally felt relieved. She looked at Xiao Guang—the young man in ripped jeans and a beret—who was squatting next to Grandpa Chen, listening attentively to him telling stories about his grandson. Sunlight streamed through the window and fell on him, as if gilding this "unreliable" director.
At 5:00 PM sharp, the shoot wrapped up smoothly. Xiao Guang took off his beret, rubbed his sore eyes, and said to Su Yingxue, "President Su, we'll have a rough cut tomorrow. But..." He paused, "Next time we shoot an ad, remember to tell me in advance that 'we don't have a professional location'—so I can bring a folding stool."
Su Yingxue was amused by him, but her eyes welled up with tears. She looked out the window at the street gradually becoming more lively. The noise from the hot pot restaurant, the laughter of customers, and the bubbling of the hot pot mingled together, like a warm symphony of everyday life.
This is probably the "human touch" that Longwu Hotpot wants—not an exquisite setting, not fancy words, but a piece of candy from Grandpa Chen, a thank you from a delivery guy, a small gesture between lovers, the most authentic appearance of all ordinary people in the bustling life.
A few days later
Long Meng sat in the leather chair of the president's office on the top floor of the Longwu Group, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the edge of the remote control. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city's neon lights were already lighting up one after another, turning the glass curtain wall into a flowing sea of light.
He specifically canceled all meetings today just to watch the "final version" promotional video submitted by Tengyue Media as soon as possible—an advertisement he considers a "lifesaver," carrying the key to Longwu Hotpot's brand upgrade next quarter.
The moment the television screen lit up, the familiar aroma of butter seemed to waft through the screen. Long Meng's gaze was involuntarily drawn to it.
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