I planted a seed, hoping it would grow into fruit. You are my little, little apple—no matter how much I love you, it's never enough. Zhou You hummed all the way back. Seeing him in such high spirits, Sun Li couldn't help but smile, guessing roughly why he was so happy.
As they spent more time together, Sun Li's love for Zhou You deepened. The documentary and music industries were both places where Zhou You felt stuck. Documentaries were a lost cause, only able to develop slowly. The music industry, on the other hand, had been thoroughly ruined by big capital—everyone was chasing easy money, churning out garbage. Day after day, polluting the public's ears. Though the music market was becoming more fragmented, with audiences divided into niches, couldn't they at least put out some songs the masses liked? Instead, they kept milking the niche audiences dry, nearly stripping them bare.
Just as they neared home, Zhou You snapped out of it, sitting up abruptly. "Did your mom leave?" he asked urgently. Sun Li laughed at his reaction. "Haha, are you scared of my mom?" "Not scared, just not sure how to face her," Zhou You admitted, backing down. Still, it was a hurdle he couldn't avoid. He'd have to face it eventually, but for now, he'd take it one step at a time. A living person wouldn't be choked to death by pee. "She left long ago. Went back to work after the New Year—she hasn't retired yet." "Did she ask about the house?" "She did. I said it was rented, and that was that." Sun Li hadn't been in the mood to dwell on it, still waiting for her grad school results.
They opened the door, showered, and went to bed. Zhou You didn't say much, just ran through some sparring routines. Fierce and fluid, loosening his muscles and joints.
Zhang Yiming was finally riding high. When he heard Zhou You was in Beijing, he insisted on inviting him to check things out. He chattered nonstop the whole way—download numbers, user retention, investors coming to him on their own. No longer the small-time errand boy begging for favors. "It's all thanks to us brothers. Without your backing, I couldn't have built this up, wouldn't have had the nerve to haggle with those investors. Damn, they're all wolves in sheep's clothing—some even wanted control!" Zhang Yiming grew angrier as he spoke. "Don't worry. The future will be even better. Soon, more investors will be begging you," Zhou You said with a sigh.
At the company, the team had expanded significantly. They'd rented the neighboring office space, finally looking like a proper business. Many of the old-timers lit up when they saw Zhou You, rushing over to greet him. They'd dealt with plenty of investors, but Zhou You was the easiest to talk to—warm, down-to-earth, no airs. Other investors mostly acted superior, doling out favors with a condescending sneer that made you sick. Pretending to be saviors when all they wanted was profit. Greedy, wanting it all.
Zhou You gathered the old crew for a small get-together to catch up. As he bragged a little, they learned he'd invested in several recent blockbuster films, and they couldn't help but gasp. They clamored for him to take them out to see the world. Zhou You waved a hand. "Easy. There's a celebration banquet tomorrow for *Finding Mr. Right* in Beijing. Everyone's invited!" The programmers were ecstatic. "Boss Zhou, can we get photos and autographs? I like Tang Wei." "Haha, no problem. Just don't drool." Seeing their flushed faces, he couldn't help but think of her graceful figure.
He pulled out his phone and sent a message: "Shangri-La, 911." She'd definitely be in Beijing by now—tomorrow was the banquet, and the lead actors had to attend. A few minutes later, a reply came: "I'll cover the room." Zhou You smiled knowingly. Classy move. She was independent like that—never taking advantage.
After a good meal, it was time for exercise. Both seasoned veterans, they skipped the young folks' games and got straight to the point. It was a battle of skill and strength. Tang Wei lost again, badly. "Tomorrow's banquet—some people from a company I invested in will be there. They're all coming for you," Zhou You said, glancing at her lying motionless on the bed. "Oh? What do you mean?" Her tone shifted, a hint of wariness creeping in. "They want to see their goddess, get a photo with you. Please do them the honor," Zhou You said, guessing her thoughts. "Do they know their goddess can't beat anyone?" Tang Wei finally smiled, relieved. It wasn't paranoia—such things weren't unheard of in the entertainment world. A pure face, a worldly soul.
The next day, Zhang Yiming showed up with his crew, right on time. But Zhou You barely recognized them. These programmers usually dressed however they pleased—sweats and sneakers in winter, sandals and shorts in summer. Now, they'd all gotten fresh haircuts, wore nicer clothes, some even in suits. It was a bit jarring at first, mismatched, but their excitement was palpable.
Programmers used to be a hot commodity in the dating market. As those polished girls put it: "Programmers are great—they make good money, have no free time, and aren't physically fit. Perfect tools." Later, some people even targeted them for marriage scams, until one was driven to jump off a building, exposing the truth. When Zhou You saw that story, he thought, even a movie wouldn't dare script this.
A bunch of homebodies, ogling entertainment industry beauties like country bumpkins. Sure, the company had its so-called pretty girls, but compared to the stars, there was no contest. Beauty was a resource. You could gauge an industry's health by how many attractive women were in it. Take banking or real estate sales, for example. Beauty, too, followed the water and grass.
Tang Wei gave Zhou You plenty of face, going over to their table personally to toast. She took a small sip, and the whole table downed their drinks, making her laugh. Then everyone got a photo. The programmers were shy, standing stiffly with hands clasped in front of them, faces flushed. After the photos, they immediately shared them in company groups, family chats, and friend circles, posting on social media too. "At the *Finding Mr. Right* celebration banquet, photo with the goddess." "Boss took us to the banquet, got a photo." "She's even more beautiful in person than in the movie!"
Watching their excitement, Zhou You wondered—was this more effective at winning hearts than throwing money around? No wonder people got fooled so often later. Too little experience, couldn't tell a fake from a genuine girl. They needed more exposure.
The film's final box office hit 520 million yuan, breaking the domestic romance movie record. Another small-budget success story. Zhou You's share, after deductions, came to about 120 million yuan—nearly ten times his investment in under a year. A massive win. His reputation soared. Whether it was luck or sharp instincts, many directors now clamored for his investment. Before the banquet even ended, familiar faces were lining up to pitch their projects. A roc rises with the wind, soaring ninety thousand miles on a single day.