However, the next day, Murphy didn’t join Yang Yi for vocal warm-ups as usual. She had slept too late the night before and couldn’t get up in the morning, and Yang Yi didn’t wake her—only to face complaints about it later. Today, Murphy had some business to attend to. She needed to go back to her company to pick up the songs Mu Zi’ang had written for her, then return to Yang Yi’s place to practice with him. Though it might seem a bit foolish to practice singing during a “vacation,” Murphy felt it was better than wasting time doing nothing every day. Bringing Yang Yi along to practice could speed up the progress on her future album and also help nurture their relationship—a win-win situation! Yang Yi, the even more idle coffee shop owner, had no intention of opening the shop. Thinking he had nothing better to do, he drove his “Bawang” to take Murphy back to her company. Xixi was thrilled because it meant another ride with the wind in her hair! But there was a slight downside: with her mom in the car, her dad wouldn’t let her roll down the windows, and the little girl felt the ride was missing something! The Bawang’s engine was built to military standards, packed with power. Yang Yi sped along the ring road, and amid Xixi’s excited squeals, they arrived at the Tianmei building. “Xixi, be good and wait downstairs with Daddy for Mommy, okay?” Murphy said, planting a kiss on Xixi’s cheek before getting out. “Mommy, I want to go up too!” Xixi pouted. “No, your dad’s car can’t get into the parking lot, and there are too many people outside. Mommy can’t take you up,” Murphy explained. “Mommy will be quick, okay?” But she wasn’t entirely sure herself. While grabbing a stack of printed sheets wasn’t a big deal, Mo Xiaojuan had hinted mysteriously on the phone about a surprise, and she didn’t know if that would cause a delay. “Alright then!” Xixi nodded obediently. “Then I want Daddy to tell me a story!” “Okay, but no *Journey to the West*!” Murphy laughed. “You can only listen to *Journey to the West* when Mommy’s around—I want to hear it too!” Murphy wasn’t particularly interested in the other fairy tales Yang Yi told, finding them a bit too childish. But *Journey to the West* was different. She’d gotten hooked after listening to a segment with Xixi, pestering Yang Yi to recount the earlier parts just for her and even more eagerly than Xixi to “demand the next chapter”! With this forbidden and that forbidden, Xixi’s little mouth puckered in grievance. “It’s okay, Daddy will tell you another story!” Yang Yi quickly turned to comfort his daughter, smiling. “Daddy has lots and lots of great stories!” But after Murphy went upstairs, Yang Yi’s storytelling with Xixi was interrupted by a phone call—it was Mr. Lu. Yang Yi gave his daughter an apologetic smile and answered the call: “Mr. Lu, is there an update on my fairy tale book?” To be honest, Yang Yi was quite looking forward to the publication of this fairy tale book. His two previous bestsellers were essentially works he’d adapted from elsewhere, but this one was eighty percent original, crafted by him based on the patterns of fairy tales from his past life. Would it be well-received? What kind of sales could it achieve? Yang Yi had no idea! But that unpredictability only made him more eager. However, Mr. Lu wasn’t calling about that today. He said apologetically, “Sorry, Mr. Yang, your book is still in layout—it’ll take about another half month. But rest assured, our publishing house values your work highly…” Xixi, growing impatient beside him, wiggled her little bottom on the back seat, fidgeting with this and that. Still, she was well-behaved enough not to interrupt her dad’s work. Mr. Lu rambled on before finally getting to the point: “I’m calling to bother you today because a big director reached out to our publishing house, wanting your contact info to discuss the film and TV rights for *Soldiers’ Sortie* and *Drawing Sword*…” Yang Yi was quite interested in this news. He knew both books had immense potential for adaptation. In his past life, *Drawing Sword* needed no introduction—it had won the ratings championship on CCTV that year! And *Soldiers’ Sortie* had caused a sensation, sparking nationwide discussions about the drama while reaping huge rewards in ratings and awards. Of course, a good script could also be turned into a terrible film—like the heavily criticized “fresh meat” version of *Drawing Sword* these days. The choice of actors and the director’s skill were crucial! Yang Yi didn’t want these two classics to be ruined. “Who’s this big director?” Yang Yi asked. “Oh, silly me, I forgot to mention—it’s Director Chen Fengchen!” Mr. Lu said excitedly. “He’s directed major CCTV dramas like *Storm in the Capital*, *Era of War and Fire*, and *Snowy Plain Flying Tigers*!” Yang Yi wasn’t as thrilled as Mr. Lu, since he’d never heard of the name or seen those shows—his past self barely watched dramas, only the news. “Give him my address and contact info, and tell him to come find me in Jiangcheng,” Yang Yi said calmly. He decided to first look into Chen Fengchen and assess his directing skills. From Mr. Lu’s description, he seemed to have directed several war dramas, which might fit Yang Yi’s criteria. But Mr. Lu was taken aback by Yang Yi’s words: “You want Director Chen to come to Jiangcheng to see you?” “Yeah, what’s the problem?” Yang Yi asked, puzzled. “That’s Director Chen Fengchen we’re talking about!” Mr. Lu swallowed hard and lowered his voice. “He’s no ordinary director…” Indeed! Old Chen, though in his sixties, commanded such respect in the entertainment industry that everyone, regardless of status, would address him as “Senior” with deference. With decades of experience, countless protégés, and a string of hit dramas that had launched many stars, how could Yang Yi expect Old Chen to come to Jiangcheng to see him? If word got out, wouldn’t he be drowned in criticism? “How old is he?” Yang Yi frowned, asking. “Around sixty, I think?” Mr. Lu wasn’t sure. Yang Yi found Mr. Lu’s persuasive tone a bit off-putting. He wasn’t one to bow to authority, no matter how deep their background or how big their temper. But elders were a different story. Yang Yi had always respected virtuous and talented seniors, just as he had treated Old Hu with deference. “Here’s the plan: tell him I’m tied up with something this month and can’t get away. I’ll visit him in the capital in September. We’ll talk business after that, but as for etiquette, I’ll follow your advice—we young people should have a clear conscience,” Yang Yi said calmly. As he put down his phone, he heard Xixi, who had been peering out the car window, call out happily, “Mommy’s back!” Murphy had returned, clutching a large corrugated cardboard box of unknown contents. Her usually aloof face was lit up with a smile.