MACRM Chapter 74

The PR manager’s expression darkened slightly as he stepped forward, but Lin Zhu raised a hand to stop him.

The other party’s attitude… wasn’t unexpected.

If even they could see at a glance what Huaying was trying to do, then Song Tianlang — who had been with Huaying for more than ten years — couldn’t possibly fail to see that Huaying hadn’t been bored out of its mind and randomly decided to pick on Zhong Yao.

Back then, Zhong Yao and Song Tianlang had become rivals precisely because their positioning was similar. If Zhong Yao had really been recruited by Huaying, he would undoubtedly have been sent to compete head-on with Song Tianlang.

To Huaying, this kind of non–traffic-driven actor was naturally the more the better. But top-tier resources were limited after all, and neither Song Tianlang nor his team would be happy about it.

Huaying had never had its signboard smashed by someone coming to its doorstep before. This time it had swallowed a silent loss, and it was even less likely to broadcast it everywhere. Song Tianlang’s agent coming over now to give them a show of authority was clearly meant to make them back off with Zhong Yao, knowing when to quit.

Lin Zhu went along with it and smiled politely. “Zhong-laoshi doesn’t need an invitation to come. I’m just here to take a look around.”

His tone carried no offense at all, yet he completely ignored the hand the other man had extended. Song Tianlang’s agent stiffened, almost about to lose his temper, but when he heard Lin Zhu’s words, his expression instead turned strange.

“Doesn’t need an invitation?”

Lin Zhu’s gaze was clear and frank as he nodded.

“Hahahaha…” The middle-aged agent laughed until he nearly doubled over, took out an invitation, and showed it to him. “Who told you you don’t need an invitation to come here? Only actors who have won major international film awards more than twice and made contributions to the arts are invited. How could you not need one?”

He shook his head with a smile. “And your Zhong-laoshi is young and doesn’t have many works yet, that’s normal. Not being able to come isn’t anything embarrassing. But how come he didn’t even teach his own agent something as basic as this…”

He didn’t bother lowering his voice. People nearby heard the commotion and looked over.

“Good works can’t be forced. There’s no rush.”

Lin Zhu seemed not to hear the mockery at all. His gaze skimmed lightly across the other man’s eyes, his tone still calm and even. “It’s my own standards that are high. I don’t want to take small overseas productions. Zhong-laoshi has an English background, a further degree from Columbia University’s drama department, and stage experience on Broadway. He also has a solid fan base domestically…”

The smug look in Song Tianlang’s agent’s eyes hadn’t even had time to fade before Lin Zhu smoothly went on at length. His face gradually changed, and he couldn’t help interrupting, “That’s enough! You—”

Lin Zhu ignored him, casually pulled the invitation from his hand, opened it, and flipped through it. “Zhong-laoshi participated in two years of formal stage productions on Broadway. He’s good at physical performance and the use of movement as a language, and he prefers working with cinematography teams skilled at building light and using montage techniques. He just hasn’t found one that’s especially suitable yet…”

Before he could finish speaking, the tall, gray-haired producer had already understood him with the help of a translator. Unable to hide his excitement, he pushed through the crowd and rushed over.

The middle-aged agent’s face instantly turned pitch black.

Lin Zhu had already taken the opportunity earlier to figure out the type of actor the Marlensius team most wanted and matched it perfectly with Zhong Yao’s conditions. As expected, he was seized by the producer who tapped him by the shoulders, and bombarded him with questions. After all, the producer had also graduated from Columbia’s drama department. Lin Zhu smiled, greeted him, switched to English, and answered calmly.

Song Tianlang, who hadn’t managed to chat much with Marlensius and was now trying to ingratiate himself with other team members, looked over when he heard the noise. His expression changed as well, and he hurriedly apologized and walked over to his agent’s side.

“What’s going on?”

The middle-aged agent’s face looked terrible. He was about to speak when Lin Zhu had already lifted his head from the crowd around the producer and smiled at them politely.

“Thanks for the explanation… I’ll be taking back this invitation of yours. You two can go outside and get some fresh air.”

He said it casually. The agent was so angry he laughed instead, stepping forward to flare up. But several burly bodyguards had already stepped in to block him.

The agent stumbled back in shock. Thinking of the unreliable rumors circulating in the streets, his heart suddenly tightened. He looked up hastily and met those clear, glass-like amber eyes.

A cold glint flashed through Lin Zhu’s gaze as he stared straight into his eyes.

Over the past few years, Song Tianlang’s career had gone smoothly. Although the films he made overseas also had only average reputations, he had at least gained a layer of “gold plating,” paving the road for the future.

His agent had the same confidence, maintaining a lofty attitude, and there were not many openings to exploit. What Lin Zhu had just read from him were only shallow thoughts like “package and sell Song Tianlang” and “make Zhong Yao back off and get lost as soon as possible.”

No one thought about things from three years ago all the time. For those who had benefited back then, they had probably long since tossed it aside without caring.

Lin Zhu had originally planned to use his usual method by probing indirectly, making the two of them uneasy, and then taking advantage of the moment when they recalled those past events to read their minds.

But that agent had been exceptionally self-destructive. It was one thing to needle Lin Zhu openly and in secret, but he just had to step on Zhong Yao as well.

Lin Zhu swayed slightly, steadied himself, and suppressed the massive surge of subconscious information he had read in the instant the other man panicked, forcing it deep into his mind.

Now wasn’t the time to settle old scores… he could look through all that slowly later. Sooner or later, he would find out what had really happened back then.

Song Tianlang didn’t recognize Lin Zhu and was still asking in confusion what was going on. His agent, however, had already been frightened by Lin Zhu’s gaze, an inexplicable sense of dread rising in his heart as he took two steps back.

Behind the line of bodyguards, Lin Zhu curled his lips slightly, his voice light. It was a contrast, especially since the young agent was dressed in a dark gray bespoke suit, looking unusually refined and gentle.

“Count your blessings, Mr. Fan.”

Daring to step on Zhong Yao in front of him…

Lin Zhu sincerely reflected that he probably had been too restrained these past two years. He straightened the tie he had taken from Zhong Yao, his palm brushing over the warm, smooth fabric, and shifted his gaze back to Song Tianlang’s agent.

“If I were three years younger, and not here watching this reception for my family… your head would’ve been cracked open already.”

Thanks to the Lin family’s young master’s bandit-like aura, Song Tianlang’s hurried departure caused no disturbance at all.

Lin Zhu had long been prepared and chatted happily with Marlensius’s film crew. He knew easily how to make people like him, and when to advance and when to pull back. He effortlessly whetted their appetite, then stopped pushing matters forward.

In China, actors with Zhong Yao’s résumé, acting ability, and reputation were truly rare. At this level, strength was everything. Finding another one this suitable was almost impossible.

Zhong Yao was Lin Zhu’s confidence. He wasn’t in a hurry to beg for resources.

The western film industry still held unavoidable stereotypes about Chinese people. The reason Song Tianlang hadn’t made any particularly acclaimed films overseas in recent years was also because, in foreigners’ eyes, Chinese characters were either weak, bespectacled, wooden bookworms, or mystical martial artists flying over rooftops. Very few could break through those molds.

Chinese actors going abroad rarely got to film as they wished. Many didn’t even have the right to voice their opinions. Lin Zhu had decided he wouldn’t let Zhong Yao play such stifling puppet roles, so he had to pile up enough bargaining chips first and fight for more initiative.

“You’re very clever. You know how to whet our appetite…”

After being led in circles by Lin Zhu for half the day, the producer took a deep breath and laughed helplessly. “What’s worse is that we know perfectly well you’re doing it, and yet we’ve still been led by the nose, getting anxious all the same.”

The producer himself was a Columbia graduate and a former Broadway star, so he felt particularly close to the résumé Lin Zhu mentioned. On top of that, this young Chinese man could effortlessly chat about Manhattan life and culture, making the conversation even more enjoyable.

Lin Zhu didn’t hide his purpose. The producer had weathered too many storms not to see it, and he couldn’t help offering a word of help.

“We know what you want… but unfortunately, our team has always been run by one voice alone. Even I, the producer, have to listen to the director. Director Marlensius, isn’t that right?”

For the past few days, Marlensius had been troubled by the film’s storyline and didn’t pick up on the joke. He frowned and glanced at Lin Zhu.

“Mr. Alex, art is not something to be bargained over.”

The producer shrugged and said no more. But something stirred in Lin Zhu’s heart; he straightened slightly.

“Director Marlensius, could you lift your head a bit?”

Marlensius was a little impatient and raised his gaze. “If you want control over the team, then have your actor go back. We don’t want actors who only want to act according to their own ideas—”

“We’ve never wanted to control the team, Mr. Marlensius. We just want to help you tell a good story.”

Lin Zhu smiled, withdrew his gaze from Marlensius’ eyes, paused briefly, and softened his voice.

“There’s a problem with your story, Director…”

Marlensius’ expression darkened at once and he was about to stand up, but Lin Zhu had already finished the rest of the sentence quietly:

“A person trapped in mind-reading… would not have that many expectations and hopes.”

Knowing the director’s temper, the people nearby all changed expression when they heard him dare to say something like that and were about to interrupt. But Marlensius had already pressed his hand on the table and stood up abruptly.

Lin Zhu neither dodged nor retreated, meeting his gaze head-on.

Marlensius stared at him for a long moment, frowning deeply. “How do you know my story?”

The theme of mind-reading hadn’t been deliberately concealed, so it wasn’t strange that someone knew. But if the story itself had already been seen through, then a large number of finalized plot points would have to be cut.

“A guess… In your story, the protagonists are all optimistic and full of confidence. No matter what their current situation is, they always strive toward what they hope for in their hearts.”

Lin Zhu already had his explanation prepared and answered smoothly, smiling slightly.

“Besides, the core of any film is the protagonist. The protagonist must have a story. That kind of personality is undoubtedly the most conducive to telling a story smoothly.”

He paused.

“But— if a person has mind-reading, his life is different from any other kind of ordinary superpower.”

Lin Zhu said softly, “He can see everything… No surprises. No kindly concealed truths. No misunderstandings or accidents worth causing twists and turns.”

He lowered his eyes and smiled faintly.

“From the very first day the story begins, his story has actually already ended.”

Marlensius had still been displeased at first, but as he listened, his expression grew increasingly dazed. He slowly sat back down at the table.

“But… is there really no way?”

He was unwilling to accept it, staring at Lin Zhu.

“According to what you’re saying, what meaning is there in living for someone who can read minds? This ability clearly does more harm than good. The trouble and pain it brings far outweigh its benefits. What use does he have for such an ability—”

“It’s useful.”

Lin Zhu interrupted softly.

Marlensius looked up sharply.

Lin Zhu pressed his lips together slightly. The invitation that had been casually folded into a paper airplane turned once in his fingers.

A twelve-year-old boy, drifting in a daze from one orphanage to another. Living was nothing more than a habitual inertia. Every time he fell, he had thought about not getting up again.

He had thought about giving up countless times, until the day he was lifted out of the muddy water and met those dark, clear, bright eyes…

Lin Zhu glanced downstairs, pushed open the small window beside him, and casually let the paper airplane, bearing Song Tianlang’s name, fly out. It drifted in a few circles and happened to land against the windshield wiper of the car Song Tianlang and his agent had just gotten into.

He still hadn’t figured out what exactly had happened three years ago.

“When he realizes that he can use this ability to protect someone…”

Lin Zhu curved his lips, his gaze unusually clear and bright.

“His story… can begin again.”