MACRM Chapter 71

Early the next morning, Lin Zhu — who had gotten up perfectly clean and innocent through sheer virtue — personally saw Zhong Yao off at the airport and stayed until the plane took off.

“Lin-ge, you’re really not leaving with Zhong-laoshi?”

The publicity staff watched the plane disappear into the sky, a little worried, sneaking glances at Lin Zhu’s expression. “You— you’re staying because you’re worried Huaying might counterattack, so you’re going to hold the fort here for a few more days?”

Still firmly believing that he himself had led Zhong Yao down the path of sin, the publicity manager had already written a letter of repentance. Feeling even more guilty toward the young agent carrying such a heavy burden, he circled around with concern. “Zhong-laoshi just told us you need to rest well today. We can handle all the running around. Go back and lie down for a bit.”

“If it’s not working, take some medicine. Be careful not to get a fever, and absolutely don’t eat anything spicy…”

After being smothered with all kinds of concern all morning, Lin Zhu felt a little numb and nodded. “Alright…”

Then he suddenly remembered something. “Do you guys go on the Jinjiang forum too? Do you have any high-level member accounts?”

The planning manager had already confessed his mistake. He’d accidentally lent his gold-member alt account to Zhong Yao and even taught him how to read fanfiction. Logically speaking, Zhong Yao should have seen more than Lin Zhu by now.

Even though their progress so far had been slow, steady, and consistently moving forward, Lin Zhu still couldn’t help wanting to know exactly what Zhong Yao had read to develop such wildly nonstandard ideas.

He’d long heard about the tragic incident of the planning manager accidentally leading Zhong Yao astray. The team had been so delighted by the disaster they’d nearly crowdfunded a bungee jump for him. Hearing this, a PR staff jumped in fright and said guiltily, “We do read… but Jinjiang is really strict! You can’t write anything below the neck! It’s all clean romance plot!”

Lin Zhu sometimes asked them for fanfiction and fan comics too, but no matter how broad-minded someone was, seeing themselves pressed against a table and crying submissively probably wouldn’t make them very happy…

Jinjiang authors were honest. Even with plenty of subtle implications, they still kept a careful grip on the throttle. Afraid Lin Zhu might overthink, the PR staff hurried to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Lin-ge. The highest level is just foreplay. Writing Zhong-laoshi looking down at you from above, hugging you—”

It was his first time verbally describing borderline smut. His face flushed bright red. “After that it’s either a ship drifting on the open sea, or interstellar explosions and cosmic reconstruction, or some kind of storm with flowers falling everywhere…”

Lin Zhu’s account couldn’t even see the “flowers falling everywhere.” He frowned. “What is that supposed to be?”

Further explanation would violate public decency. The PR staff clenched his teeth and hinted awkwardly, “Ab—abstract art. You can… combine it with your own personal experience…”

Lin Zhu: “……”

He had absolutely no desire to admit that his “personal experience” was simply being held tightly by Zhong Yao and sleeping through the night without a care in the world. Lin Zhu sighed lightly, waved his hand as if he understood, and turned to walk out of the airport.

At the exit, he ran straight into a swarm of reporters rushing in.

Lin Zhu was a very familiar face in the industry. With quick reflexes, he slapped on his sunglasses and grabbed the PR staff who nearly crashed into him. “Is someone coming back today?”

“No idea.”

The PR staff shook his head in confusion. “I didn’t hear anything. Such a big setup… should I go ask around?”

Lin Zhu nodded, swept a glance toward the arrival gate, didn’t linger, and left the airport with him. “While you’re at it, keep an eye on who’s started buying publicity lately. Report to me every day.

The PR staff didn’t quite understand but nodded anyway.

With more and more reporters gathering and the crowd being drawn over, Lin Zhu didn’t stay any longer and promptly dragged the publicity staffer into the car.

Thinking about the agent’s health after working day and night, the PR staff first sent Lin Zhu home, then hurried back to cast a wide net and investigate the recently resurfacing names.

Lin Zhu didn’t start working right away. He went back to the bedroom and lay facedown in the unmade bed for a while.

The Marlensius team was here. To avoid leaks, he hadn’t told anyone on his own team, nor had he deliberately explained why he hadn’t gone back with Zhong Yao and had stayed behind alone.

He had his own channels of information, so others might have theirs too. With such a commotion rushing back, it was impossible not to be cautious.

Zhong Yao’s lingering presence hadn’t yet faded. Lin Zhu rolled around in the blankets twice, grabbed a bag of crispy noodles, chewed and swallowed them, then took a deep breath to rally himself. He got up, turned on the computer, pulled out the resources he’d recently obtained, and started cutting a new version of the audiovisual reel.

Last time, the edit had been for [No Bridge], selecting all gentle, refined Republican-era aesthetics, clearly unsuitable for this project’s main direction. Lin Zhu hadn’t yet contacted the Marlensius team and didn’t fully understand the film’s stylistic orientation. He temporarily crammed a few films to find the right feel, buried his head in rough cuts, and only looked up to realize dusk had already fallen.

Zhong Yao had long arrived back on set and resumed filming. He reported that he was safe and sent over a few photos.

Lin Zhu replied quickly to a few messages. Seeing the clean shirt Zhong Yao was wearing in the photos, he pressed his lips together, reached into his pocket, and quietly took out a tie. After all, this cloth was the one he’d carried back over thousands of miles earlier.

It should have been packed with Zhong Yao’s things… but while helping with the luggage, Lin Zhu ultimately couldn’t resist and secretly kept the tie.

Zhong Yao didn’t often wear ties anyway; he’d only brought it back for emergencies. He probably hadn’t noticed yet.

Lin Zhu’s face warmed slightly. He played with the tie for a while, lightly winding it around his hand.

If Zhong Yao found out…

Scenes he’d once read flashed through his mind. Lin Zhu startled awake, shook his head hard to fling away the inappropriate imaginings, and sighed softly.

If Zhong Yao found out, he’d probably just buy him a few more ties… maybe even give him a tie clip with a little red flag on it.

A restless heart made it easy to slack off. Lin Zhu sat distractedly in front of the computer for a while, realized he couldn’t focus on editing, and stopped. After saving the project, he got up and pulled out the meals Zhong Yao had prepared from the fridge.

Three days’ worth. Lin Zhu didn’t have the heart to eat them too quickly. He carefully reheated a small portion for himself and ate while messaging Planning.

Well-read and deeply aware of the pain of long-distance separation during the honeymoon phase, Planning enthusiastically sent him candid photos along with live text updates, dumping them all at once.

Planning Manager: [Lin-ge, don’t worry. Zhong-laoshi’s state isn’t affected at all. He’s acting especially well!]

Planning Manager: [He just likes grabbing people to talk about you. Anyone who asks what he did last night gets pinned down to listen. He’s already reached the point of telling stories from when you were under the stage at “Light and Shadow”.]

Planning Manager: [Lin-ge, was that “Light and Shadow” station director really that bad? Keeping you two gazing at each other from on and off stage? Not even letting you go on stage…]

Lin Zhu laughed helplessly, rubbed his temples, and replied: [No, what would I be doing on stage? I’m just the agent.]

Lin Zhu: [Try to stop Zhong-laoshi a bit. Don’t… say too much, or he’s going to get jointly blacklisted by every production team.]

His fingers hesitated over the keyboard for a moment. His lips still curved up despite himself. He rubbed his burning ears, his mood inexplicably lifting.

The planning manager replied quickly: [This one really isn’t Zhong-laoshi’s fault. Everyone keeps asking what he did last night. We’re about ready to hold up a sign that says “Zhong-laoshi had a date and stayed over last night, do not disturb.”]

Planning Manager: [But honestly… if it were me, I’d want to ask too. I heard he skipped that line-reading scene yesterday and sent Director Jin a recording instead.]

Planning Manager: [The producer was supposed to come over for the final scene last night, so everyone showed up whether they had a chance or not. Zhong-laoshi was the only one who wasn’t there. Then Director Jin, stone-faced, held up his phone on speaker and played Zhong-laoshi’s recorded lines for the scene…]

Lin Zhu read while eating and couldn’t help bursting out laughing, coughing as he gulped down some water.

Planning Manager: [The edited meme versions of the photos are already spreading like crazy in private. If the crew hadn’t signed confidentiality agreements forbidding leaks, they’d probably be all over the internet by now!]

Planning Manager: [But Li Yijie is really riding high this time. Probably thinks the producer is backing him. Everyone’s flattering him now, and he’s openly and covertly competing with Zhong-laoshi. Apparently they’re even keeping track of how many people each of them talks to! Insisting on comparing everything. Isn’t that just idle nonsense…]

Planning Manager: [Ahh, can’t talk now! The seventh person just came to ask. I’m going to listen first!]

Lin Zhu fell silent, gently set the phone down, picked up a bite of food, and slowly chewed it together with the rice.

Huaying’s side had been dealt with for the time being, but Li Yijie hadn’t been pressed down.

This oblivious traffic idol was practically the textbook definition of a “pretty vase.” His acting relied on post-production, his singing on pitch correction; aside from a good-looking face, he had almost nothing of substance to show. And yet Huaying heavily promoted him, with formidable resources backing him, allowing him to swagger around unchecked to this day.

The last time the two had clashed unexpectedly, Li Yijie had been so frightened by Zhong Yao that his mind went blank. Lin Zhu hadn’t even managed to figure out who his real patron was, only guessing by instinct that it had something to do with Huaying.

He’d already kicked over Huaying Entertainment’s table. There was no need to care about a mere Li Yijie anymore.

Putting on a bit of a spoiled young master’s air, Lin Zhu vaguely felt that this mindset wasn’t entirely healthy, yet he still couldn’t resist opening his account to check his available funds and dividends, calculating whether it might be enough to cover the crew’s investment shortfall.

He finished the meal slowly, chewing every bite. Planning then sent over several more messages, dutifully live-reporting from the set.

The producer had just left. Li Yijie was bound to use this momentum to give everyone a show of force. That evening, one of his scheduled night scenes required Zhong Yao to feed a few lines off-camera. He’d demanded early on that the crew coordinate bringing Zhong Yao over to cooperate, only to make everyone wait more than ten minutes.

Planning Manager: [Getting Zhong-laoshi to cooperate wasn’t a problem, and Director Jin agreed… but even after Zhong-laoshi was in position, Li Yijie complained about this and that. In the end he said his skin condition wasn’t good and demanded to shoot it another day.]

Planning Manager: [Zhong-laoshi didn’t really get angry, but Director Jin was so mad he nearly cursed him out.]

Planning Manager: [I just heard a few assistant directors saying that Director Jin personally put a lot of his own money into this film. The producer’s money is mainly going into post-production promotion. That part has a huge funding gap. If the producer pulls out, people will immediately start bad-mouthing the project, and the other shareholders might run too. Otherwise Director Jin would’ve fired him already…]

Lin Zhu raised an eyebrow, his eyes lighting up.

[Serving the Sovereign] had a total investment of 200 million. He didn’t have that much cash on hand yet. But if it was only post-production promotion, his money might just be enough.

A little tempted, Lin Zhu lightly tapped the tabletop and typed back: [Firing him would be easy, but fan wars would drag the project into muddy waters. Director Jin won’t do that.]

Li Yijie’s fans were terrifyingly combative. Lin Zhu had taken some time over the past couple of days to see it for himself. They could flood the internet, fight 800 rounds, hurled insults, and grind data; they were experts at all of it. If Li Yijie were really fired, it wouldn’t be surprising at all for [Serving the Sovereign] to be maliciously review-bombed down to a 3.0/10 after airing.

For an educational propaganda film, whether it was entertaining or not was secondary. The most important thing was to stay clear of this kind of mess. Otherwise, the level of official support might be sharply reduced.

The planning manager sounded a little discouraged: [Yeah… guess we can only hold our noses and endure him…]

Lin Zhu smiled: [Not necessarily. We can also spoil him.]

The planning manager was stunned, replying with a string of question marks.

Lin Zhu: [Go talk to Director Jin. Aside from close-up frontal shots where he actually has to be taught how to act, get stand-ins for everything else so he doesn’t have to suffer.]

Lin Zhu: [Accommodate him in every way. Let his fans praise him to their hearts’ content first. We’ll talk about the rest later.]

The planning manager immediately caught on to his plan: [Pull him so high up in the sky, so when he’ll fall, it will be devastating… so in the end, apart from his face, there’s basically nothing of him left? That’s even more satisfying than firing him!! But won’t that producer get angry and pull funding? It’s post-production promo money! If that goes, the whole thing really could collapse…]

Lin Zhu: [It’ll be fine. It won’t collapse.]

Lin Zhu: [Tell Director Jin that Zhong-laoshi is also bringing funding into the production. However much they withdraw, we’ll make up for it. And we’ll cover the remaining gap ourselves.]