"Wait for what?"
Gu Wenhua held Shang Yechu's hand with one hand and picked up his phone from the table with the other, sending a message to Ji Juntao in front of Shang Yechu.
Typing with one hand is inconvenient, so Gu Wenhua uses the speech-to-text function.
"President Ji, I've finished reading the script Ye Chu gave me, and I think it's excellent—I really want to make it!"
With each word Gu Wenhua spoke, Shang Yechu's expression grew more astonished. By the time Gu Wenhua released the message, Shang Yechu's expression could only be described as bizarre.
"What are you doing?" Shang Yechu brushed Gu Wenhua's hand away, frowning. "I told you—"
"Ye Chu," Gu Wenhua stammered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Shang Yechu gave an amused look: "What have you wronged me about?"
"I'm sorry for betraying your trust." Gu Wenhua closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, his eyes filled with unwavering determination. "I was too timid. I was unwilling to challenge myself with new things, only wanting to follow the paths already trodden by those who came before. I have failed your trust."
"What's there to let down or not let down?" Shang Yechu took a step back. "You don't need to let my words affect your original plans. I'll go and tell President Ji that you sent that message to the wrong person."
Gu Wenhua initially wanted to press down on Shang Yechu's shoulder, but after a moment's hesitation, his hand slid down and rested on the dining table: "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for myself."
Gu Wenhua said firmly, “The real skill lies in making a good film about niche subjects. You’re right, I can’t confine myself to this. Director Zhan Kexiang’s ‘Close Your Eyes Before Dawn’ grossed a whopping 60 million. Yet I don’t even have the courage to make a film about that subject—how can I be qualified to consider him my idol?”
Shang Yechu asked suspiciously, "Are you telling the truth? It's not because of..."
Gu Wenhua looked at Shang Yechu's wary expression and slowly forced a smile.
“Of course not,” Gu Wenhua laughed. “Actually, my feelings for you were just a misconception that arose during the filming and promotion of ‘The Mute Woman’ due to the immense pressure. People always tend to have misconceptions about those in the same trench, like the suspension bridge effect, right?”
"Really?" Shang Yechu carefully observed Gu Wenhua's expression, as if trying to find traces of a lie.
"Really." Gu Wenhua was very glad that he was a director. A good director is also an excellent actor. He could hide his expression perfectly. "After the publicity for 'The Mute Woman' ended, plus the filming these past few months... this illusion has gradually faded. This time I came back to see you, it was actually the last time."
When Gu Wenhua uttered the word "last," a sticky feeling welled up inside him, a mixture of sweetness, bitterness, sourness, and astringency, as if he had spilled a bottle of cough syrup.
Shang Yechu didn't see any flaws, but still had doubts: "If it's just to surpass Zhan Kexiang, you could actually find another film."
“This is the one,” Gu Wenhua said decisively. “Your words have inspired me. Some of the settings in this novel are completely groundbreaking. If we explore them in depth, they could be very, very promising.”
Shang Yechu's phone buzzed.
Shang Yechu took out her phone and saw that Ji Juntao had sent her a screenshot of Gu Wenhua's message, along with a question mark.
Gu Wenhua clenched his fist and gave a relaxed smile: "Besides, working with such an excellent actor as you is something I've always dreamed of."
Seeing Shang Yechu's skeptical look, Gu Wenhua added, "Before I liked you, I was first and foremost a director."
Shang Yechu ignored Ji Juntao and put her phone back in her pocket: "You clearly know that this movie is likely to fail."
"With me here, it won't fail," Gu Wenhua said confidently. Then, as if joking, he added, "What, do you expect me to beg you to let me film this novel? Ye Chu?"
"Okay." Shang Yechu finally breathed a sigh of relief, seemingly accepting this explanation, "Although I still feel a sense of guilt..."
“There’s absolutely no need for that.” Gu Wenhua’s expression was very serious. “It’s my own idea to make this movie, it’s my own idea to follow in the footsteps of director Zhan Kexiang, it’s my own idea that there are many groundbreaking things in this novel that are worth exploring—none of these have anything to do with you.”
Fearing that Shang Yechu might still have doubts, Gu Wenhua said bluntly, "Even if this movie only makes thirty-five yuan at the box office, it's my own choice. It has nothing to do with you. Do you understand, Yechu? Just like how I once mistakenly thought I liked you, but now that liking has almost disappeared... It has nothing to do with me."
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