Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

Zhang Yu was silent for a few seconds: "I'll talk to Chen Chen."

“Okay. Also, the PR firm suggests you get a few influential people in the industry to endorse you,” Li Xiaoming added. “Your teachers at the Beijing Film Academy, or veteran artists you’ve worked with. I’m already in contact with them, but you’ll need to call a few key figures yourself.”

"understood."

After hanging up the phone, Zhang Yu finally stubbed out his cigarette on the bluestone beside the pillar. The birthmark under his left eye throbbed faintly, like some kind of warning. He knew that if this crisis wasn't handled properly, not only would "The Scholarly Family" be canceled, but his directing career might also come to an end.

But strangely, he wasn't afraid. Deep within him, something so calm it was almost ruthless was awakening—an instinct honed through countless cycles of reincarnation. At this stage of the game, it was time to reveal his hand.

---

At 8 PM, outside Chen Chen's room

Zhang Yu stood outside room 303, raising his hand to knock, but hesitated in mid-air. The corridor lights were dim, and the carpet was dark red, absorbing all sound. He could imagine what Chen Chen was doing behind the door—maybe removing her makeup, maybe reading a script, maybe... crying.

He eventually knocked on the door.

A few seconds later, the door opened. Chen Chen was wearing light gray loungewear, her long hair loose, her face bare, and her eyes were indeed a little red and swollen. When she saw it was him, she instinctively wanted to close the door, but Zhang Yu's hand was already blocking the door frame.

"Five minutes," he said. "I'll leave after that."

Chen Chen looked at him, her struggle evident in her eyes. In the end, she let go of his hand, turned and went into the room, leaving the door open but not inviting him in.

Zhang Yu entered the room and closed the door. It was a standard room, and Chen Chen's things were neatly arranged—the script was on the desk, marked with different colored sticky notes; the water glass was on the bedside table, next to which was a half-empty bottle of eye drops; the moon-white cheongsam she wore today was hanging on the windowsill, swaying gently in the night breeze.

"I need you to attend tomorrow's press conference," Zhang Yu said bluntly.

Chen Chen, with her back to him, was tidying up the bottles and jars on the dressing table: "In what capacity? Ex-girlfriend? Or the poor actress you deceived?"

Her voice was cold, as cold as the river water in Xitang in winter. Zhang Yu walked behind her and looked into her eyes in the mirror: "As a partner, Chen Chen, this film isn't just mine, it's yours too. If it falls apart, all your hard work will be wasted."

"So you're trying to use me again?" Chen Chen turned around, her eyes reddening. "Zhang Yu, do you think I'll always foolishly cooperate with you? No matter how you hurt me, as long as you say a few nice words, I'll come back to you?"

“No.” Zhang Yu shook his head. “This time it’s not about taking advantage of you. It’s a request. Chen Chen, I know I owe you too much. But this matter involves the hard work of hundreds of people in the entire crew, and it involves your career. Even if you hate me, please think about the others.”

He spoke with great sincerity. Chen Chen looked at him and suddenly laughed, a laugh filled with bitterness: "Zhang Yu, you really know how to manipulate people. You know I'm soft-hearted, you know I'll think of the bigger picture, so here you are again."

"I'm sorry," Zhang Yu said softly.

"What good is 'I'm sorry'?" Chen Chen's tears finally fell. "Zhang Yu, tell me, from Xitang until now, have you ever truly loved me? Or have I been nothing more than part of your plan from beginning to end?"

This was a heavy question. Looking at her tear-streaked face, Zhang Yu felt as if an invisible hand was clenching his heart. Of course he loved her, loved her enough to give up that damned mission for her—but he couldn't. Eighteen Starshine Marks had already been collected; if he gave up now, all the previous suffering would be meaningless, and Chen Chen's pain would have been in vain.

"I love you," Zhang Yu finally said, "but some things are more important than love."

"For example, what? Your dream of becoming a director? Your fame and fortune? Or the women surrounding you?" Chen Chen wiped away her tears, her voice trembling. "Zhang Yu, I don't understand you. I really don't understand you."

As she spoke, she walked to the window, her back to him: "I will go to the press conference tomorrow. But not for you, but for myself and for the entire crew. Zhang Yu, after this film is finished, let's... let's end it completely."

The last few words were spoken softly, but with unwavering resolve. Zhang Yu stood in the center of the room, watching her retreating figure, wanting to say something, but finding all words pale and powerless.

"Okay." That was all he could say in the end.

As Zhang Yu left Chen Chen's room, a figure flashed past at the end of the corridor. Zhang Yu squinted and recognized it as Zeng Li's assistant, Xiao Zhou. Sure enough, there were eyes everywhere in this film crew.

---

9 PM, Hengdian World Trade Hotel Coffee Shop

Zeng Liyue's place was secluded, in a booth at the very back of the coffee shop, separated by a screen. Today she wore a burgundy silk robe-style dress with a black knitted cardigan, her long hair was slightly curled and loose, and her makeup was a carefully crafted "no-makeup" look—seemingly casual, but in fact every detail was calculated.

"Director Zhang, please sit down." Zeng Li gestured to the seat opposite her. Two glasses of red wine had already been placed on the table. "It's an '82 Lafite. I've been saving it for a long time. On a day like today, we should drink something good."

Zhang Yu sat down without touching his wine glass: "Miss Zeng, what brings you here?"

"What else could it be? It's the press conference tomorrow, of course." Zeng Li swirled her wine glass, her eyes alluring. "President Wang gave me two choices—either remain neutral at the press conference, or... help him out."

"help you with what?"

“Say ambiguous things, such as ‘I trust Director Zhang’s character, but the financial issues do need to be investigated.’” Zeng Li laughed. “These kinds of words are the most fatal. They make you seem magnanimous, but they also plant the seeds of doubt.”

Zhang Yu looked at her: "So, what is Miss Zeng's choice?"

“That depends on Director Zhang’s attitude.” Zeng Li leaned forward, the neckline of her silk dress slightly open, revealing her delicate collarbone and a hint of cleavage. “Director Zhang, you know that I’ve always admired you. If we can take things a step further, then I’ll naturally stand on your side.”

Her implication was too obvious. Zhang Yu picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and said, "Miss Zeng, that's not how deals are made. You help President Wang today, and he can use the same methods against you tomorrow. In this circle, there are no permanent allies, only permanent interests."

"So what's in your best interest?" Zeng Li asked. "Keep your position as director? Or... keep those pretty girls around you?"

Her tone was tinged with jealousy. Zhang Yu laughed: "Miss Zeng is jealous?"

"Me? Why would I be jealous?" Zeng Li turned her face away, but her ears were slightly red. "I just think your taste is getting worse and worse. That Gao Yuanyuan, she's an advertising model; that Zhao Liying, she's just an extra; and that Jing Tian, ​​she's just a little girl who hasn't even grown up yet... Zhang Yu, what are you after?"

Zhang Yu did not answer. He couldn't very well say that what he wanted was their pure, star-like mark—the simpler and more sincere the emotion, the more useful it would be for that mission.