"Of course," Shang Yechu smiled. "Who wouldn't want to appear in your writing?"
There may be writers in this world who don't care about money at all, but there will never be writers who don't care about their readers at all—even if they are writing a diary or a will.
Shengwenzhi was no exception.
Sheng Wenzhi flipped through the various scraps of paper on the table, as if he were reading letters from readers. Every now and then he would pick up a piece and examine it closely. As he read, his lips moved slightly with a graceful cadence; he was reading silently.
Shang Yechu squinted, scrutinizing his expression and movements, feeling more confident.
"It's a pity they're going to be disappointed." Shang Yechu's eyes were cold, but her face showed regret and pity. "These old men and women spent ten or fifteen days planning to put together this pile of things..."
"Shh!" Sheng Wenzhi put his index finger to Shang Yechu's lips as a gesture to silence her. "Wait until I finish reading."
Shang Yechu flicked away Sheng Wenzhi's index finger: "With so many letters, how long are you going to read them all? Anyway, you don't plan to write any."
Sheng Wenzhi clicked his tongue loudly.
Shang Yechu wasn't buying it: "What are you twitching about? I'm busy. Since you're unwilling to write a sequel to make up for the runtime, I have to figure out a way, right? Otherwise, not only will I not be able to film these, but I won't even be able to film the Rules General Store."
Sheng Wenzhi stared intently at the paper in his hand. "There are some interesting rules on this old street... Filming hasn't started yet, is it allowed on this street? I want to go and take a look."
Indeed, a good writer is like a good cook; when faced with high-quality, inexpensive, and unprocessed raw ingredients, it is impossible not to feel the urge to cook.
Sheng Wenzhi, who was really into cooking, was much easier to deal with than the stubborn Sheng Wenzhi. Shang Yechu slightly twitched the corners of her mouth: "Isn't that unnecessary? You're not planning to write anything anyway."
Sheng Wenzhi twirled his hair, his brows furrowing and then relaxing: "Who said I can't read it if I don't write it? Does going out for a trip mean I have to do field research?"
The stone soup has boiled.
Shang Yechu shrugged: "Okay, if you want to go, I can take you. But you'll have to shop by yourself; I need to go to the company to report on the script."
Sheng Wenzhi neatly arranged the "Letters from Readers" on the coffee table, put them back into the brown paper bag, and stood up with the bag in his hand: "Okay, then I'll go change my clothes."
"etc!"
Shang Yechu suddenly grabbed Sheng Wenzhi's wrist: "You reminded me!"
"What did I remind you of?" Sheng Wenzhi asked, bewildered.
Shang Yechu said excitedly, "You can't write a complete book, but you can at least write some short stories, right?"
"Huh?" Sheng Wenzhi opened his mouth.
Shang Yechu snatched the paper bag from Sheng Wenzhi's hand: "You can't write a complete book in a short time, but those short, disjointed stories are easier, right? I saw you were engrossed in reading them just now; maybe these things written by the neighbors gave you a lot of inspiration. You can extract some rules that interest you and rewrite them into short stories..."
Sheng Wenzhi paused slightly, his breath catching in his throat: "You mean—"
Shang Yechu tried her best to suppress her excitement and shook the brown paper bag in her hand: "If the movie isn't long enough, we don't necessarily have to write a sister film to make up for it. Doesn't 'The Decameron' have those scenes where people gather to tell stories? We can set up a scene at the beginning of the movie where the owners of the general store, bookstore, and dessert shop gather together to tell stories about their recent interesting experiences 'related to the rules'. After everyone has finished telling their stories, we can look at the new general store owner and let the newcomer say a few words."
Shang Yechu picked up the script on the coffee table and waved it meaningfully: "Then, this new general store owner can explain his 'professional experience'."
Sheng Wenzhi seemed to sense something was amiss: "Uh, but—"
Shang Yechu swung the brown paper bag around, making a rustling sound: "But what? This way, you won't disappoint these uncles and aunts' generation readers. Every store can get a small story to appear in the movie. And the problem of insufficient movie length is also solved. What do you think?"
Sheng Wenzhi's breathing quickened, and his expression shifted uncertainly. Shang Yechu put on an expectant look as she stared at his face, but in reality, she was sweating bullets.
Sheng Wenzhi spun around on the spot, then suddenly hugged Shang Yechu tightly, exclaiming excitedly, "Little Yechu, you're a genius!"
Shang Yechu was taken aback by Sheng Wenzhi's sudden attack, but then breathed a sigh of relief.
It's done.
Shang Yechu hugged Sheng Wenzhi and patted his back: "It was your words, 'Who says you can't read if you don't write it,' that reminded me—who says only complete novels can be adapted into films? The real genius is yourself. Okay, stop being so affectionate and go change your clothes. I'll go shopping with you in the shopping district."
Sheng Wenzhi nodded excitedly on Shang Yechu's shoulder, then picked up the bag of "reader's letters" that were quite precious to him and went upstairs.
Shang Yechu watched Sheng Wenzhi's retreating figure. After the tall figure completely disappeared from sight, Shang Yechu took out her phone and made a call.
"It's me. Ye Chu." Shang Ye Chu spoke calmly and clearly, "How's Xingfu Commercial Street now? Is anyone there?"
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