Chapter 66: I Forgot to Mention, He Wrote This (Please Keep Reading!)

Beijing City, Capital Media Building.

As an established agency in the entertainment industry, Capital Media boasts a dazzling array of artists under its banner. From A-list and B-list celebrities to minor actors, the variety is staggering. A simple stroll through the building means encountering numerous familiar faces almost every day.

Ning Yuyan stepped out of her studio, a smile gracing her lips. She had just received a message from Zhang Huaimou offering her the role of Lin Wan’er in “Joy of Life.” Of course, Zhang hadn’t mentioned that Sumu had chosen her for the role based on the costume photos. Not that it would have mattered—even if she knew the reason, she would hardly have refused.

Anyone with a keen sense of the industry trends could see it: this year, historical romance dramas were dominating the market. But among all those vying for the top, one man had been unstoppable—Sumu.

With “Nirvana in Fire,” “My Heroic Husband,” and now the much-anticipated “Cang Lan Jue,” Sumu’s works had been continuously monopolizing the screens for months. More impressive still, every single project had garnered stellar reviews—perhaps the most frightening aspect of all. It was common knowledge: if you were linked to any of Sumu’s dramas this year, attention and popularity would follow. Conversely, competing against him at the same time meant resigning yourself to bad luck.

Just ask her colleague, Chen Yang. To be honest, Chen Yang’s “Order of the Southern Skies” wasn’t as terrible as people said—at least, that’s what he believed. But these past few months, Sumu’s overwhelming success had left him completely overshadowed.

Ning Yuyan couldn’t help but recall her own misjudgment. The first time she met Sumu, it was to help a close friend. Back then, she had thought he was no different from any other pretty-faced idol—handsome, popular for a while, bound to fade away soon enough. But ever since they filmed “The Knockout” together, she’d been repeatedly astonished by his acting.

“Yuyan? Long time no see! Are you heading into a new production?” a voice suddenly called.

Ning Yuyan looked up to see Chen Yang. The memory of his latest series being trounced by Sumu’s came to mind immediately. “Yes, I’m just going to get ready,” she replied.

Chen Yang nodded. “It’s Director Zhang’s new drama, ‘Joy of Life,’ right?”

“You… know about it?” Ning Yuyan asked.

“I do. The audition news spread last month. I went as well, but I wasn’t cast.”

“Actually, the male lead—”

“I know. It’s Sumu again.”

Ning Yuyan hesitated, then encouraged him, “Chen Yang, I watched your series. It’s really not inferior to Sumu’s. Maybe it just needs time.”

Chen Yang shook his head. “No, there are things you don’t understand.”

“Huh?”

He grew solemn. “Remember this: Sumu is not someone you want as a rival. That’s very important.”

Ning Yuyan was left perplexed.

…

Two days later.

The full cast of “Joy of Life” arrived at Hengdian Film Base. Though several months of preparation still felt rushed, Zhang Huaimou had insisted on a strict casting process—choosing the right people, not just the famous ones. Of course, Sumu’s selection was the exception.

“Joy of Life” featured a large ensemble, with many roles requiring veteran actors to truly bring out the story’s flavor. For example, the characters of Emperor Qing and Chen Pingping. These two roles carried the entire narrative, because the mystery surrounding the protagonist’s mother’s death was a thread that the hero was determined to unravel. Many subtle details continually drew the audience’s attention to these two pivotal figures.

The roles needed to be performed exceptionally well to resonate with viewers. Zhang Huaimou pulled many strings and finally managed to invite several highly respected industry veterans to anchor the cast.

Once the entire cast was assembled, Zhang called everyone together for a table read—a standard ritual before shooting began.

At this moment, everyone gathered in a large conference room, chatting quietly.

“I didn’t expect both Professor Zhuang Yan and Professor Wang Ouyi to join us.”

“I know! They’re both heavyweights—they were judges for the Feipeng Awards last year.”

“Director Zhang has really been pushing hard these past couple of years. Three dramas back to back. But did you notice? Sumu stars in all three!”

“When I auditioned, I was puzzled why the male lead role wasn’t open. Turns out, it was already decided—and once again, it’s him.”

“That makes three consecutive shows, right? Are they just trying to make him a superstar?”

“Even if he’s the hottest actor this year, it’s odd—one or two dramas I get, but three in a row? That’s a bit much…”

Whispers of doubt circulated among the cast.

At the front of the room sat two seasoned veterans. Even leading stars like Ning Yuyan made a point to greet them, but not as “teacher”—they were called “professor.” Zhuang Yan and Wang Ouyi were both professors at the Beijing Film Academy, with reputations and seniority surpassing even Ma Baoguo. They’d participated in the selection of countless film and television awards and had contributed many classic works in their time.

At the moment, gossip was the furthest thing from their minds. Their focus was entirely on the script, and they soon began discussing it with several other veteran actors.

Zhuang Yan remarked, “This script for ‘Joy of Life’ is quite something. When Huaimou first gave it to me, I didn’t catch on during the first read. But after going through it again, I realized there was something special here.”

Wang Ouyi agreed. “I thought it was just another crowd-pleaser at first, a bit formulaic. But then the twists started coming, and I can’t quite put my finger on it—the writer has an incredibly vivid imagination.”

“Exactly,” Zhuang Yan said. “It’s so imaginative that by the ending, I was genuinely shocked—especially that scene in the frozen wasteland. The twist was totally unexpected.”

“At first, I thought it was an alternate-history drama,” Wang Ouyi mused. “Then it started resembling those popular wuxia fantasies. And then, out of nowhere, I noticed hints of science fiction. What do you make of that? Fascinating stuff.”

“It really is,” Zhuang Yan replied. “It’s been years since I’ve read a script like this. In fact, I considered taking it to the Film Academy to give a special lecture on the ingenuity of contemporary screenwriting. But Zhang Huaimou wouldn’t tell me who wrote it—said he’d only reveal the author if I agreed to take a role.”

Wang Ouyi laughed. “Well, when he arrives, we’ll just have to ask him directly.”

As they spoke, Zhang Huaimou entered, followed by Sumu. After brief greetings, everyone took their seats, ready to begin.

Zhang Huaimou glanced around and announced, “I know you’ve all read the script, but before we start, I think it would be helpful for Sumu to share his interpretation of it. That way, we’ll all have a clearer understanding of the story’s overarching world.”

“Wait, what?”

“Are you serious?”

There was a collective moment of surprise. Had this invitation been extended to Zhuang Yan or Wang Ouyi, no one would have objected—they were professors at the Film Academy, after all. But Sumu? No matter how popular or talented, wasn’t it a bit odd to have him give a lecture to a room full of veteran actors?

Even if he wasn’t nervous, everyone else was uneasy on his behalf. It felt awkward for all involved.

But before anyone could object, Zhang Huaimou delivered a bombshell: “Oh, I forgot to mention—Sumu wrote the script for ‘Joy of Life.’”

A stunned silence fell over the room.

Sumu cleared his throat. “Well then, let me give a brief overview…”