In casual conversation, there were only scholars; in comings and goings, no common folk. Just after toasting to success, they sat down for the wrap party. Almost all the key members of the crew were there. There were hardly any big names—everyone was struggling in the grind. The male lead, Bōbō, was the type who didn’t initiate, didn’t reject, and didn’t take responsibility—a classic scumbag move. Too bad he ran into a tough nut, and it ended in mutual destruction. Without the iconic bushy beard of his later years, he spotted Zhōu Yóu and hurried over with small steps, bending slightly as he said, “Hello, President Zhōu, I’m Bōbō. I’ve heard Director Xuē and Xiùxiù talk about you often. Meeting you today, you’re truly dashing and charming!”
As soon as Zhōu Yóu walked in, Shí Wénxiù pointed him out to Bōbō. Who knew that right after she finished, Bōbō would dash over? “Hello, I’m a big fan of your films and TV shows too!” Zhōu Yóu extended his hand. No one could have guessed that in the next few years, things would take off so fast—film and variety shows both thriving, racking up fans left and right. The persona of a warm-hearted middle-aged uncle attracted plenty of naive young girls. Even when trouble later hit, he’d already made a fortune and retired to enjoy life.
Nearby, many who hadn’t met Zhōu Yóu before watched them chat. Since he’d always stayed behind the scenes with no photos leaked, Bōbō’s move broke the ice, and others gradually followed suit. Hǎi Qīng also came over to cozy up, considering herself an old acquaintance. In her mind, she’d heard his name so often it was practically worn out. She glanced at her outfit today—not dazzling, but decent—and was about to walk over gracefully. But in the blink of an eye, she saw a woman already standing there chatting with Zhōu Yóu, and it made her seethe with jealousy.
“Hello, President Zhōu, I’m Tāng Wéi. Thanks so much for your strong support—otherwise, I wouldn’t have landed the lead role!” Tāng Wéi flashed her signature smile, lips slightly curled, eyes narrowing with a hint of playful charm and a touch of allure. “Hello, I’ve seen plenty of your films too, beauty Tāng. You’re a goddess in so many people’s hearts!” Zhōu Yóu gripped Tāng Wéi’s hand tightly and laughed heartily. Too bad she was too eager for quick success. In life, once you lose certain things, you can never get them back, even if you eventually achieve fame and fortune. Of course, what’s worse is giving it your all and ending up with nothing.
“President Zhōu, you’re too kind with your compliments. I’m no beauty—you don’t even give me a proper look?” Tāng Wéi’s tone carried a hint of playful pout. “Let me add your WeChat, President Zhōu, so we can stay in touch.” Tāng Wéi pulled out her phone to scan his QR code. Zhōu Yóu was slightly taken aback. What’s this about? An extra surprise? His hands moved automatically, pulling out his phone to add her as a friend. Tāng Wéi added him and left without lingering, leaving Zhōu Yóu puzzled. What was that about?
But as soon as she turned away, his phone buzzed. “President Zhōu, after the lunch banquet, I’d like to ask for your advice privately. Do you have time?” — Tāng Wéi Well, well, she was playing at a high level—not showing her hand in public, keeping it all behind the scenes. Interesting. He replied with a “Sure.”
Hǎi Qīng was fuming, watching that vixen get the jump on her, but there was nothing she could do. Then the next scene confused her. Who’d have thought she’d leave so fast? Not her style. Whatever, she’d go schmooze first. Before she even got close, she started laughing: “President Zhōu, I hear Miáo Xiá and Director Téng mention you all the time. This is my first time seeing you in person. I’m Hǎi Qīng—please give me your guidance!” Zhōu Yóu recognized her, of course—the nation’s wife, always playing those roles. Eventually, her career path narrowed. She was great at first, but later it all felt like the same old thing. “This time, I haven’t had a chance to meet Director Téng yet—our schedules didn’t align. Next time, when I have dinner with Teacher Miáo, you should join us too. The more, the merrier!” Zhōu Yóu politely invited her.
At previous wrap parties, many actors were polite too, but it was nothing like now. Back then, he was just starting out, and most people thought Zhōu Yóu was just dabbling—lucky to hit a viral hit, cashing out and leaving. No one expected he’d go on to achieve so much. Now, not only were they polite, but they were also incredibly enthusiastic. That enthusiasm made Zhōu Yóu feel like a big shot, which was almost overwhelming. He knew his own worth—he got into the entertainment industry for fun and for money. When you’re young, who doesn’t have a few dreams?
Zhōu Yóu stood there, watching the bustling crowd. He couldn’t help but sigh. All this hustle and bustle, all for profit. Without experiencing these fame-and-fortune circles firsthand, you wouldn’t grasp it so deeply. Back in the day, Zhuāngzǐ could be indifferent to fame and wealth because he was born into nobility—he was already a player in that game. It was only later, after his family fell from grace, that he saw through the vanity and got straight to the heart of things. Otherwise, in that era of monopolized knowledge, even commoners struggled to read, let alone write books and theories.
Zhōu Yóu set a small goal for himself: play around for a few years first, at least try everything he wanted to eat, then think about the rest. The wrap party was nothing special—everyone just ate and drank, and at the end, they all shouted together: “Box office smash!” That was the ultimate goal of making a movie.
Tāng Wéi had Zhōu Yóu’s mind wandering. At the table, she seemed perfectly normal, no hint of anything off. Sometimes it even confused him—if it weren’t for the occasional foot brushing against his under the table, he’d wonder if he’d misread the message. As the banquet wound down, Sūn Lì was still nearby, and he was scrambling for an excuse. He was getting a bit anxious. “Xiùxiù, you and Sūn Lì go shopping first. I’ve got some things to discuss with Director Xuē this afternoon. I’ll just take a cab home later,” Zhōu Yóu finally came up with that excuse after thinking it over. Sūn Lì was still a bit clueless: “It’s fine, I’ll wait here for you. I don’t have anything else to do anyway.” But Shí Wénxiù was sharp. Seeing Zhōu Yóu’s state, she knew something was up, so she stepped in: “Sister Lì, let’s go shopping first. It’s almost New Year’s—we can buy Auntie some clothes. Aren’t you heading home this year?” Sūn Lì thought about it. Her mom had been insisting she come home for the New Year. She hadn’t wanted to go, but Zhōu Yóu worried she’d be lonely and urged her to, so she agreed. She’d seen a few nice outfits before but couldn’t bring herself to buy them. This time, she’d take another look. “Brother Yóu, I’ll go browse then. Let me know if you need anything.” “Sure, buy plenty of gifts. Don’t hold back—I’ll send you some money.” Zhōu Yóu transferred 100,000 to Sūn Lì, feeling a bit guilty inside.
Tāng Wéi watched Zhōu Yóu’s clumsy act from the side, sneering inwardly. Men were all the same—not only eyeing what’s in their own bowl but also what’s in others’. She thought Sūn Lì was pretty too, with a sharp, spirited vibe completely different from her own. After a brief chat with Director Xuē following the meal, she left. Xuē Xiǎolù saw Zhōu Yóu’s behavior and caught on—she was just a backdrop. She chuckled lightly, not bothered. When you’re young and loaded, how many can resist temptation?
Tāng Wéi left first after the party and sent Zhōu Yóu a message: “708.” Look at that style—if you didn’t know better, you’d think Zhōu Yóu had arranged it himself. He strolled through the lobby and pressed the button for the 7th floor. Walking past the room numbers one by one, he stopped at 708. He didn’t knock. Instead, he sent a message at the door: “Open up.” From outside, he heard a soft *ding-dong* from inside the room. Then a head with long hair peeked out, tilting her face up to smile at Zhōu Yóu.