Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

"Chen Chen, could we..."

“No.” Chen Chen interrupted him again. “Director Zhang, I’m tired and want to rest. You go ahead and get busy. The crew can’t be without a director.”

The order to leave was clearly given. Zhang Yu stood up and stopped at the door: "Chen Chen, that day in the water, you looked at me... what were you trying to say?"

Chen Chen remained silent for a long time, so long that Zhang Yu thought she wouldn't answer.

“I want to say,” she whispered, “if I really died that day, would you remember me for the rest of your life? Just like Lin Shuwan died in Gu Jiangnan’s heart, becoming an indelible white moonlight?”

Zhang Yu's heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly.

“But then I figured it out.” Chen Chen smiled, a pale yet beautiful smile. “The dead can’t compete with the living. So I’m going to live, live well, live a happier and more wonderful life than you. That way, one day when you think of me, you’ll regret it—regret missing out on someone as wonderful as me.”

As she said this, a glimmer of light finally appeared in her eyes—not love, not hate, but a pure pride that transcended emotion.

Zhang Yu looked at her, the star-shaped birthmark under his left eye slightly warm. He could feel that Chen Chen's star-like mark had undergone a qualitative change—from painful attachment to independent pride.

This mark is brighter than ever before, but it's also... farther away.

"You will be happy," Zhang Yu finally said. "I promise."

He opened the door and walked out without looking back. He knew that if he turned around, he would see Chen Chen's tears finally falling—she had been holding them in, supporting herself with pride.

After the door closed, Chen Chen buried her face in the pillow, her shoulders trembling slightly. But she didn't cry out loud; she just shed silent tears.

From today onwards, she will be a completely new Chen Chen.

Not for anyone else, but for myself.

---

Half past ten in the morning.

When Zhang Yu returned to the Hengdian World Trade Center Hotel, Li Bing was already waiting for him in the conference room. This project director from Huayi Brothers was wearing a dark blue business suit, a white silk blouse, her long hair styled in an elegant updo, and her makeup was exquisite and professional. She sat at the conference table, a draft contract and a laptop spread out in front of her, exuding the professional aura of a career woman.

"Director Zhang, good morning." Li Bing stood up and shook hands politely. "How is Miss Chen Chen?"

"She's stable now, she'll be discharged tomorrow." Zhang Yu sat down opposite her. "Miss Li, have you been waiting a long time?"

"Just arrived." Li Bing smiled. "President Wang is very concerned about your situation here and specifically asked me to come again. He said that if there is any help needed, Huayi Brothers can step in to coordinate—hospitals, media, film crew, any aspect."

This was both a gesture of goodwill and a form of pressure. Zhang Yu understood.

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Wang." Zhang Yu took the draft contract from Li Bing. "This is... a revised version?"

“Yes, based on our previous discussions, we’ve made some adjustments.” Li Bing leaned forward and began to explain, “The five-year, five-film performance agreement remains unchanged, but the total box office revenue has been adjusted from 200 million to 180 million. This was a special concession by President Wang, considering that you are a new director and the market needs time to accept it.”

Zhang Yu flipped through the contract. The terms were indeed more lenient, but the core remained the same—he still had to sign this contract of servitude.

“In addition,” Li Bing continued, “President Wang has proposed a new plan—you can sign a contract for three films first, and if the total box office of the three films reaches 100 million, then you can renew the contract for the next two films, and give your studio more autonomy.”

This is a compromise. Zhang Yu looked up at Li Bing: "Is this your suggestion?"

Li Bing paused for a moment, then laughed: "How did Director Zhang know?"

“Because Mr. Wang won’t concede willingly,” Zhang Yu said. “The kind of person he is, he either bets everything or nothing at all. This strategy of betting in batches is more like the thinking of a professional manager.”

A hint of appreciation flashed in Li Bing's eyes: "Director Zhang has a good eye for talent. It was indeed my suggestion. I think that creators like you need more trust and space. Tying you up with a five-year contract right from the start might backfire."

"Thank you," Zhang Yu said sincerely. "But Miss Li, I have another question."

"Please say."

"If I sign with Huayi Brothers, what can they give me that I can't provide myself right now?" Zhang Yu asked directly. "Resources? Connections? Funding? I can accumulate those gradually. What is Huayi Brothers' core value?"

Li Bing looked at him and remained silent for a few seconds. Then she closed her laptop, her expression turning serious: "Huayi's core value is its system."

"system?"

“Yes.” Li Bing nodded. “Director Zhang, your talent is undeniable. But in this industry, the era of working alone is over. Huayi Brothers is building a system—a complete industry chain from project development, financing, production, promotion to distribution. This system can ensure that good works will not be buried and good creators will not be let down.”

She paused, then continued, "Did you know that in 2000, Huayi Brothers officially entered the artist management business? We not only signed directors, but also actors, screenwriters, and producers. We wanted to create an ecosystem where creators could focus on their work without worrying about funding, interpersonal relationships, or distribution channels."

Zhang Yu listened intently. What Li Bing said was precisely the direction in which the Chinese film industry developed in his previous life. Huayi Brothers was indeed ahead of the curve.

"Also," Li Bing lowered her voice, "President Wang is in contact with Wang Jinghua."

Zhang Yu raised an eyebrow. Wang Jinghua, known as "Mainland China's No. 1 Agent" in her previous life, later single-handedly brought together stars like Li Bingbing, Fan Bingbing, and Hu Jun. If Huayi Brothers could sign her, their artist management business would be secure.

“This is confidential, but I think I should tell you,” Li Bing said. “Director Zhang, Huayi Brothers isn’t looking for directors to work for, it’s looking for partners, future shareholders. President Wang told me that if the five-year performance-based agreement is fulfilled, he will not only give you a studio, but also shares in Huayi Brothers.”

Shares. This means going from being an employee to an owner.

Zhang Yu was tempted. Not because of the money, but because of the power. With shares, he would have the right to participate in decision-making, the right to protect those he wanted to protect, and the right… to change some of the rules.

“I need time to think about it,” Zhang Yu finally said. “After Chen Chen is discharged from the hospital, the crew will resume normal filming. I will give you a formal answer after this drama is finished.”

“Okay.” Li Bing stood up and extended her hand again. “Director Zhang, I look forward to working with you. Really.”

Her hands were cold, but her grip was firm. Zhang Yu could sense that this woman's star quality was special—not admiration, not worship, but a respect for talent and ambition for her career.

After Li Bing left, Zhang Yu sat alone in the conference room for a long time. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting bright spots of light on the draft contract.

He needs to make a decision.

A decision that could change everything.

---

at noon.

At noon, Zhang Yu went to the film crew's temporary canteen for lunch. Because Chen Chen was hospitalized, the main actors' scenes had been suspended, but the supporting actors' scenes were still being filmed, and the canteen was still bustling with activity.