"Xue Xiaolu, professor at Beijing Film Academy, author and screenwriter of *Don't Talk to Strangers*, and director of last year's film *Ocean Heaven*." Xue Xiaolu smiled at Zhou You and extended her hand. "Director Zhou, you're truly accomplished at such a young age. I've heard a lot about you lately. The three of us are practically colleagues—all university teachers." Hearing who she was, Zhou You felt a surge of respect. Just *Don't Talk to Strangers* alone had been a childhood nightmare for countless people. *Ocean Heaven* was even better—a film about autism that scored high ratings, though it was a shame about its box office performance. It leaned toward being a semi-art-house film. Zhou You also extended his hand. "Teacher Xue, since we're colleagues, don't call me Director Zhou. Just call me Teacher Zhou. Otherwise, I'll have to call you Director Xue, and that feels too formal." In unfamiliar settings, sharing a common identity was the fastest way to bridge the gap. "Alright, then Teacher Zhou it is. You've really made a name for yourself in the film industry lately. The movies you've invested in either win awards or rake in huge box office numbers. A lot of people want to meet you," Xue Xiaolu said politely. She was here to secure funding, having primarily worked as a screenwriter before. Last year, she'd tried her hand at *Ocean Heaven*, but the box office flopped, though it did win a few awards. For her personally, it wasn't a loss. But finding investors had become tough. She'd managed to scrape together some funding through her connections, but there was still a significant gap. Word in the industry was spreading in small circles that Zhou You was generous with investments and hands-off, making him a top choice for directors. "You're too kind, Teacher Xue. It's all been luck—great directors and actors, and friends who introduced me to good projects. I just put in a little money and ended up earning some back," Zhou You said modestly. Ever since *Love Is Not Blind* had a massive box office success, many people had approached him for investments. But most of them he'd never heard of, and their scripts left no impression, so there was no way he'd invest. Those people either flopped or were scammers. If Zhou You didn't know what he was doing, he might have been fooled. Too bad for them—Zhou You had an edge. The group exchanged pleasantries while Sun Li listened in, finding it amusing. Zhou You was a completely different person in front of others compared to how he was with her. Thinking back to when she'd taught him to play the flute, she'd treated him like a sucker. Maybe back then, Zhou You had seen her as a fool—those little tricks of hers were far too amateurish. After chatting for a while, seeing Zhou You keep dodging the topic, Miao Xia couldn't hold back. "Lulu, didn't you have something to discuss with Teacher Zhou? Go ahead and say it—we can all weigh in." Xue Xiaolu finally got to the point, a bit embarrassed. As a university teacher, she wasn't used to the social games of the industry. "I've written a script and am preparing to shoot a film. Some funding is already in place, and the lead actors are confirmed. I'm just short a bit more capital. Would Teacher Zhou be interested?" She handed over the script as she spoke. Zhou You took it and glanced at the title: *Finding Mr. Right*. He'd actually seen this movie before. After watching it, he felt the values were off. At first, he found it hard to believe, but after working in sales and meeting more people, he realized reality was often stranger than fiction. Fiction couldn't work without logic, but reality rarely followed any. Most people just repeated the same routines day in and day out, never seeing the bigger picture. This film was decent—a classic example of a small investment yielding big returns. It successfully tapped into female psychology, with many men dragged to the theater by their girlfriends. Zhou You flipped through the script while recalling details. After a quick scan, he asked, "What's the total budget, and how much is still needed?" "The budget is 30 million, and we're still short a bit over 10 million," Xue Xiaolu said. She hadn't expected to secure much funding today—a few million would have been enough. She'd quoted the upper limit. "And how much have you invested yourself, Teacher Xue?" Zhou You pressed. There were too many variables in filmmaking, but as long as the director had skin in the game, it wouldn't turn out too badly. Shared interests mattered. "I've put in most of my savings. My last film won two awards but bombed at the box office, so this time I'm going all in. If it doesn't work out, I'll just focus on teaching and screenwriting," Xue Xiaolu said with a bitter smile. Every dream chaser paid a heavy price. As a screenwriter, she'd always wanted to direct—write and direct without acting. "Alright, the script is excellent, and I really like it. Since you're going all in, Teacher Xue, I'll give you my full support. How much are you short? I'll cover the rest to save you the hassle," Zhou You said, eager to take a bigger share. Xue Xiaolu's hand trembled, nearly dropping her cup. She steadied herself for a few seconds before replying, "Teacher Zhou, you're truly generous. The rumors in the industry aren't baseless. The budget is 30 million. I've invested 2 million myself, and other distribution companies and channels have put in about 13 million. "With another 10 million, I believe we can make the film. With 15 million, we could definitely create a masterpiece." She gritted her teeth as she said this, desperate for a comeback. "Fine, no problem. 15 million it is," Zhou You said, flush with cash after just recouping over 10 million. Otherwise, it would have just sat in stocks. Xue Xiaolu quickly stood up, her chair scraping loudly as it slid back, nearly tipping over. "I haven't had any alcohol today, so I'll toast with this drink. Bottoms up!" She downed it in one gulp. Zhou You also rose. "Teacher Xue, no need for that. I'm an investor, and I don't get up early for nothing. I have two small requests: save a minor female role for me, and let Teacher Miao and my girlfriend work on the soundtrack." "Of course, no problem. That's only fair," Xue Xiaolu agreed readily. A minor female role was nothing—with this investment, she could have asked for a lead role. Miao Xia, sitting nearby, was pleasantly surprised by this unexpected windfall. "I didn't expect to get a reward as the middleman. Alright, I'll bring Sun Li along for the soundtrack and help her break into the industry." When Sun Li heard Zhou You ask for a female role, she felt a twinge of discomfort but quickly let it go. She knew Zhou You had other women—at least one she was aware of. Zhou You sat down and explained to Sun Li, also for the others to hear: "That female role is for the daughter of my future PhD advisor. I'm planning to pursue a part-time doctorate and have already found a supervisor—a professor at Jiangcheng University. It turns out his daughter is in the entertainment industry and graduated from your Beijing Film Academy." Hearing him specifically clarify things for her, Sun Li felt satisfied. At least it showed she held a significant place in his heart. "Is she in Beijing now? If not, why not call her over and introduce her to Teacher Xue?" Sun Li suggested. Zhou You realized she had a point. It would save the trouble of introducing her later. Mainly, he had no interest in Shi Wenxiu, so he'd subconsciously overlooked her. If a man had his eye on a woman, he'd naturally remember her. If he didn't, it meant he had no intentions.