Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

He spoke with passion, yet also with realism. The atmosphere in the meeting room shifted from oppressive to exhilarating.

“I agree.” Yang Mi was the first to raise her hand. “Director Zhang, you go talk to him, we support you.”

“I agree,” Bai Bing said.

"agree."

"agree…"

Everyone raised their hands.

As Zhang Yu watched this scene, the star-shaped birthmark under his left eye felt slightly warm. He could feel that those star-like markings were experiencing a strange resonance at this moment—not an individual emotion, but a collective belief.

“Okay,” he said. “Then let’s do it this way. Ms. Li, please contact Wang Jinghua. The rest of you, prepare for reshoots. Chen Chen, you’re in charge of coordinating the actors’ schedules. Mr. Li, you’re in charge of the sets and props. Yang Mi, you come with me to see Wang Jinghua tomorrow.”

"Why me?" Yang Mi asked.

"Because you were the first artist signed to the studio, and also the most ambitious one," Zhang Yu said. "Wang Jinghua likes ambitious people."

Yang Mi smiled and said, "Okay."

The meeting concluded in a spirited atmosphere. Everyone received their tasks and left in a hurry.

Zhang Yu was the last to leave the conference room, and Chen Chen was waiting for him at the door.

“Zhang Yu,” she said, “are you really sure? About Wang Jinghua…”

“I’m not sure,” Zhang Yu admitted. “But some things you have to do even if you’re not sure. Chen Chen, we’re on the edge of a cliff now. We either jump off and die, or we grow wings and fly. I choose to fly.”

Chen Chen looked at him and suddenly laughed: "You really are... incredibly crazy."

"So, are you willing to go crazy with me?"

"I'm already on the verge of madness." Chen Chen turned to leave, but after a few steps he turned back. "Oh, right, don't forget to take that 120,000. I want the shares."

"it is good."

Watching her retreating figure, Zhang Yu knew that their relationship was undergoing a subtle change—from lovers to business partners, and then to…something more complex.

---

Six o'clock in the evening, on the streets of Hengdian.

Zhang Yu and Yang Mi had arranged to prepare materials for their meeting with Wang Jinghua the next day. As soon as he stepped out of the hotel, he saw Song Qian standing under the sycamore tree at the entrance, carrying a large backpack and looking around.

"Song Qian?" Zhang Yu walked over. "What are you doing here? Weren't you training in South Korea?"

When Song Qian saw him, her eyes lit up: "Director Zhang! I... I heard something happened at the studio, so I took leave and came back!"

Here she comes again. This seventeen-year-old girl never does things the way they expect.

"What will you do during training?"

“I asked my teacher for a week off, saying I had family matters to attend to,” Song Qian said. “Director Zhang, although I can’t be of much help, I can do odd jobs! I can help with rehearsing lines, I can run errands, I can…”

"That's enough, that's enough," Zhang Yu interrupted her. "Come on in, it's cold outside."

He took Song Qian to the hotel coffee shop and ordered her a cup of hot milk. Song Qian held the cup, sipping it slowly, but her eyes remained fixed on Zhang Yu.

“Director Zhang, don’t worry too much, things will always be resolved.” She said softly, “When I was training in South Korea, I also encountered many difficulties. Once I twisted my ankle while dancing, and the doctor said I might have to rest for three months. I cried all night, but I still gritted my teeth and went to training the next day. Although it hurt, I knew that if I gave up now, I would never have another chance.”

Her words were simple, yet powerful. Zhang Yu looked at her: "Aren't you afraid? What if the studio really goes under..."

“I’m not afraid.” Song Qian shook her head. “Director Zhang, I believe in you. In fact, I think this crisis might be a good thing.”

"Good thing?"

“Yes,” Song Qian said earnestly. “I learned a term in Korea—'crisis management.' My teacher said that true strength lies not in never encountering crises, but in finding opportunities within them. Director Zhang, you are exactly like that now. If we can weather this storm, the studio's cohesion will be stronger, and everyone will be more united. Isn't that an opportunity?”

What she said made a lot of sense. Zhang Yu laughed: "You studied these things in Korea?"

“Yes! Besides singing and dancing, we also need to learn management, marketing, and how to manage ourselves,” Song Qian said. “In South Korea, entertainers are not just performers, but ‘products’ that need to be developed in all aspects. Although I think treating people as products is a bit excessive, some of their ideas are worth learning from.”

Zhang Yu nodded. South Korea's idol industry is indeed much more mature than China's. Although the model has its drawbacks, it is worth learning from.

“Song Qian,” he said, “once the studio is stable, I want to send you back to South Korea to continue your training. But not as a trainee, but as an ‘exchange student’—the studio will pay for it, you’ll go to study, and when you come back, you’ll help us build an artist training system.”

Song Qian's eyes widened: "Really...really?"

“Really,” Zhang Yu said. “You are talented, willing to learn, and knowledgeable about both cultures. You are the most suitable candidate.”

Song Qian's eyes reddened: "Director Zhang, thank you... I will definitely work hard!"

Her starlight shone brighter at that moment—it wasn't just admiration, but a sense of belonging that came from finding direction in life.

---

It was 8 PM in Yang Mi's room.

When Zhang Yu knocked on Yang Mi's door, she had already prepared all the materials. The coffee table was covered with documents—Wang Jinghua's information, the studio's artist files, market analysis reports…

Yang Mi changed into casual clothes today, a light gray knit sweater and black leggings, her long hair loose, and her face bare, but she still looked beautiful. She sat cross-legged on the carpet, typing on her laptop.

"Director Zhang, please sit down." Without looking up, she said, "I've compiled a list of the artists Wang Jinghua has managed over the years and discovered a pattern—she likes artists with unique characteristics, compelling stories, and ambition. So, what we'll be focusing on tomorrow isn't how good our acting is, but how 'special' we are."

Zhang Yu sat down opposite her and picked up a document to read. Yang Mi had compiled it in great detail, highlighting each person's unique selling point—Chen Chen's "academic charm," Bai Bing's "cool and aloof temperament," Gao Yuanyuan's "national first love face," Zhao Liying's "grassroots success story," Liu Shishi's "ballet dancer transformation"...

“You have a real talent for being an agent,” Zhang Yu said.

“Because I understand this industry.” Yang Mi finally looked up, her eyes sharp. “Director Zhang, Wang Jinghua isn’t so easy to impress. She’s seen too many people and too many projects. What we need to show her is not just potential, but ‘possibility’—the possibility of a completely new model for cultivating artists.”

"How to say?"

“Traditional talent agencies treat artists like commodities, squeezing out all their value and then discarding them,” Yang Mi said. “What we want to do is treat artists as partners, growing together and sharing the fruits of our labor. No one in China has ever succeeded with this model before. If we can make it work, we will be pioneers.”

She was right. Zhang Yu nodded: "So the key point tomorrow is not to ask her for investment, but to invite her to 'start a business' together."

“Yes.” Yang Mi closed her laptop and leaned forward. “Director Zhang, I have another idea.”