What should I name it? Of course, no matter what, I can't call it Black Charcoal. Yang Yi absolutely didn't want to end up with a naming skill as poor as his daughter and Murphy's!
If he was going to name it, it had to be something profound!
After some deep thought, Yang Yi finally had an idea.
He gently stroked the kitten's head and smiled. "I'm going to call it Duoduo!"
"Duoduo? As in 'many'?" Murphy asked, puzzled.
"No, it's the 'Duo' with the mouth radical," Yang Yi shook his head.
"But that 'Duo' with the mouth radical still carries the meaning of 'many'!" Murphy giggled, looking at Yang Yi with a hint of smugness, her expressive eyes seeming to say, "I've got you figured out!"
By now, Murphy knew Yang Yi all too well. She knew he liked even numbers, that two kittens made a perfect pair, and that three kittens clearly meant one too many.
So it was "Duoduo"! No, it was "Duoduo" with a mouth radical—this obsessive-compulsive late-stage patient was still trying to cover it up!
Caught red-handed, Yang Yi shot her a look that was both helpless and amused.
What could he do? Yang Yi wanted to tell Murphy, "A woman who knows too much like you would've been killed in the old days!"
But Murphy glared back fearlessly, her eyes sparkling with laughter, as if saying, "You're threatening me? Getting bold, huh?"
Just then, Xixi had something to say. The little girl pouted and said, "No way, Daddy can't call it Duoduo!"
"Why not?" Yang Yi asked, confused.
Murphy was also surprised.
"Because it's different from the names Mommy and I picked. I named mine Xiaoguai, Mommy named hers Xiaohui, so Daddy's has to follow the same pattern!" Xixi explained.
Murphy rolled her eyes at Yang Yi again, this time with a hint of exasperation, leaving him bewildered. "What's wrong now?"
He had no idea that Murphy suspected Xixi, after living with her dad for so long, had picked up his obsessive-compulsive tendencies—even naming had to follow a set order!
That wouldn't do!
"It's fine, everyone can name their own kitten whatever they like!" Murphy coaxed her daughter with a smile. "That's the rule! So the kitten your dad likes will be called Duoduo!"
This trend couldn't continue. If Xixi really showed signs of obsessive-compulsive behavior, they'd have to correct it—get her used to things that weren't orderly or symmetrical!
As it turned out, Xixi wasn't obsessive-compulsive. She thought it over carefully, decided her mom made a good point, and nodded. "Okay then!"
From biggest to smallest: Xiaohui, Duoduo, Xiaoguai. The three little British Shorthairs, still curiously exploring their new surroundings, were about to settle down in Yang Yi's home!
...
"Hey, Fatty, grab a couple of guys and help me move these props."
At the Beijing northern suburbs film base, on the set of "Great Han Palace" Scene C, a slightly chubby guy in fake armor stood up, called over two acquaintances, and walked toward a young man with a pen tucked behind his ear, waving a hardcover folder and bossing around the extras.
"We're here, Brother Dabin!" the chubby guy said with a grin. "Just tell us what you need!"
The young man nodded in satisfaction but didn't bother to give them a friendly look. He waved his hand and said, "Go, go, go. Bring that box of costumes over and have today's extras change into them!"
"You got it!" Despite sweating buckets under the heavy armor in the scorching heat, the chubby guy eagerly went to move the stuff.
This was Guo Ziyi. He'd only been in Beijing a few days, but with his silver tongue and hardworking attitude, he'd already risen above the crowd of extras who just lay around playing dead. Now he was a high-level extra who got to stand and even had a few scenes.
While moving things, one of his companions leaned in and whispered, "Xiao Guo, what's up with Dabin today? He's never this loud!"
These companions were all a bit older than Guo Ziyi, but not by much—country kids who'd skipped college to come to Beijing for work. They'd later found that being extras paid decently, so they just drifted along.
They were simple folks, not the sharpest tools in the shed. But when they saw that Guo Ziyi didn't look down on their thick accents or their rural roots, they stuck together. Plus, Guo Ziyi was quick-witted and resourceful, helping them snag good roles a few times, so they'd come to see him as their unofficial leader.
Of course, they still called him "Xiao Guo," and he didn't mind.
"I heard the big director's coming today to shoot the lead's scenes, so he's putting in extra effort, hoping to catch the director's eye," Guo Ziyi said with a shrug.
"Oh!" The companions understood, looking at Guo Ziyi with admiration. They thought it was amazing he could dig up such big news.
In reality, they just didn't pay attention—they treated being extras as a way to coast, hiding in the shade to laze around during breaks. Guo Ziyi, on the other hand, stayed in the sunniest spots, eavesdropping on conversations between special guests or minor supporting actors, picking up all kinds of intel!
Soon, a stir rippled through the set. Except for the clueless extras, all the actors and crew members rushed over eagerly.
"Director Chen, you're here?"
"Teacher Chen, you must be exhausted in this heat..."
"Director Chen, what do you think of this..."
Greetings, flattery, and work reports all jumbled together, making the place as noisy as a market.
Guo Ziyi and his little crew watched from a distance, not daring to crowd in.
"Man, what a presence!" one companion said enviously.
"I wish I could be like him someday!" another muttered, daydreaming about being surrounded by people, leading the pack like a big shot.
Guo Ziyi was muttering too, but not out of envy—more out of awe. "Director Chen Fengchen! Man, I'd love to act in one of his films someday! Not as an extra—I'd have to be the lead..."
That's right, the newcomer was Chen Fengchen. Today, the old man was dressed much sharper and more imposing than when he'd been at the bookstore. A round-neck undershirt paired with a black leather jacket, a bowler hat atop his head, and black sunglasses hiding his eyes—if not for his white beard, you'd never guess his age.
Clothes make the man, and so does presence. Today, the old man had both, and his aura was every bit that of a big-shot director.
"Alright, alright, stop hovering around me. Get back to work. Old Liu, check if everything's ready. You've got fifteen minutes—we start shooting on the dot!" Chen Fengchen barked, true to his reputation as a big director with a short temper.
But it worked like a charm. Everyone scattered instantly.
Chen Fengchen sat down on his director's stool, and no one nearby dared to sit. They all tried to look busier than ever, occasionally rushing past him.
But Chen Fengchen didn't even glance at them. He was frowning, lost in thought.
He'd read "Soldiers'突击" and "亮剑" and loved them. Just from reading, he could already picture them as TV shows.
The seasoned director had a sharp instinct that these two works were perfect for adaptation, so he'd immediately contacted the publisher to discuss copyright with the author.
But to his surprise, the response was that the author was too busy to come to Beijing in person until September.
Chen Fengchen didn't blame Yang Yi—after all, Yang Yi had shown enough respect by agreeing to come. But he was anxious!
In this world, there was no shortage of literary works, good stories, or scripts. But one thing never changed: good stuff was always fought over by many.
These two books had been out for a while and were wildly popular. Chen Fengchen couldn't be sure that other directors or companies hadn't set their sights on them. In the cutthroat market, even his seniority wouldn't help.
By September, it would be too late!
As he waited for shooting to start, Chen Fengchen mulled over this problem. "No, I can't wait. If he won't come, I'll go to him! I'm getting those rights, no matter what!"