Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

This is a big problem. Zhang Yu thought for a moment: "Sincerity."

"sincere?"

“Yes.” Zhang Yu nodded. “Skills can be learned, experience can be accumulated, but sincerity is something that comes from within. If an actor loses sincerity, no matter how skilled they are, it’s just a collection of techniques that won’t move people. But an actor with sincerity, even if their skills are still raw, can make the audience feel the character’s heart.”

These words resonated with Li Xiaoran. She looked at Zhang Yu, her eyes filled with a sense of being understood and touched: "Director Zhang is absolutely right... Sometimes I feel that it's very difficult to remain sincere in this industry."

“It is very difficult,” Zhang Yu admitted. “But it is precisely because it is difficult that it is all the more precious. Ms. Li, I believe you can do it.”

Li Xiaoran's eyes reddened slightly, but she quickly composed herself, lowered her head, and took a sip of tea: "Thank you, Director Zhang."

Watching this scene, Wang Jinghua was deeply moved. Zhang Yu truly possessed a unique charm—he could see the most precious things in an actor's heart and knew how to protect and inspire them. Such a person was born to be a director and a talent scout.

The dinner didn't end until nine o'clock. After seeing Wang Jinghua and the other two off, Zhang Yu stood alone at the entrance of the Kunlun Hotel, looking at the night view of Beijing.

The birthmark under his left eye felt slightly warm. He could feel that three more starlight marks had appeared tonight—Shu Chang's mutual appreciation, Li Xiaoran's introverted resilience, and Li Binbin's shared ideals.

Progress: 36.

There are still seventy-two questions to go.

The road ahead is still long, but more and more people are joining us.

My phone rang. It was a text message from Chen Chen: "Any progress on the permit issue? The reshoots in Hengdian are going smoothly, but everyone is worried about scheduling."

Zhang Yu replied, "The license is no problem. I'm working on the scheduling, don't worry. You guys focus on filming, leave the rest to me."

Chen Chen quickly replied, "Okay. Take care and get some rest while you're all alone in Beijing."

A simple sentence, yet it warmed Zhang Yu's heart.

He knew he was not fighting alone.

In Hengdian, there is Chen Chen, Yang Mi, Bai Bing, and all the partners from the studio.

Beijing has Wang Jinghua, Orange Field Culture, Feng Xiaogang, and new friends I just met.

He has enough power to fight against Wang Zhongjun and to forge his own path.

In the darkness of night, Zhang Yu looked up at the starry sky over Beijing.

Although the city lights dimmed the stars, they were still there, twinkling with a faint but steadfast light.

Just like the starlight marks within him.

Each one represents a contribution.

Each dish represents a glimmer of hope.

---

March 31, 2000, 4:00 AM, Hengdian, light rain, 11-19 degrees Celsius.

A light drizzle enveloped Hengdian World Studios like mist, leaving only a blurry outline of the Ming and Qing Palaces in the dim light of dawn. In the temporary work shed outside the "Imperial Study" at the reshoot location, Chen Chen, wrapped in a military green cotton coat and holding a thermos, stared intently at the playback footage on the monitor screen.

She had been working for eighteen hours straight. Last night at 11 p.m., the reshoots finally completed the last shot—Lin Shuwan's final farewell to Gu Jiangnan at the Shanghai dock. It was one of the most emotionally intense scenes in the entire film. Chen Chen filmed it seven times before it was done, and when it was over, she was completely exhausted and knelt on the ground, tears mixed with rain streaming down her face.

But she had no time to rest. Zhang Yu's progress in Beijing was directly related to whether "A Family of Scholars" could be released smoothly, while her task in Hengdian was to ensure that the internal production was flawless while Zhang Yu resolved the external crisis.

"Director Chen, all the footage has been copied, three copies in total." Editing assistant Xiao Zhao walked over carrying three hard drives. "As per Director Zhang's instructions, one copy is to be stored in a bank safe deposit box, one copy is to be stored in the studio, and one copy is to be carried with you."

Chen Chen nodded, his eyes still fixed on the screen: "Check it again to make sure every scene has a backup. Wang Zhongjun's men won't let this go easily; we can't give them any chance."

"Understood." Xiao Zhao turned to leave, but Chen Chen called him back.

"Wait a minute." Chen Chen rubbed his temples, which were throbbing with pain from exhaustion. "Have everyone rest for half a day today. We'll meet at 2 PM for a debriefing meeting. Everyone's been working themselves to the bone lately."

"What about you?"

"Let me take another look at the materials." Chen Chen took a sip of hot water, which had already cooled down. "I need to make sure everything is perfect."

Xiao Zhao hesitated for a moment, then simply nodded and left. Only Chen Chen and the soft hum of the computer fan remained in the workspace. On the screen, a close-up of Lin Shuwan's tears was frozen in time; her eyes were filled with the resilience and sorrow of a woman in the chaotic Republican era—a true reflection of her inner world over the past three months.

My phone vibrated; it was a text message from Zhang Yu: "Just finished a meeting with China Film Group. Han Sanping agreed to watch the film. How's it going on your end?"

Chen Chen quickly replied: "All reshoots are complete, and three copies of the footage have been made. Everyone is exhausted, so I've let them rest for half a day."

"You should rest too, that's an order," Zhang Yu replied quickly.

Chen Chen looked at the word "command" and a bitter smile curled at the corner of her lips. This man, even thousands of miles away, was still trying to control everything. But she didn't dislike this feeling—at least it meant he cared.

"Okay," she replied, then turned off the monitor, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes.

However, the rest lasted for less than five minutes.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside the work shed, followed by Huang Ying's panicked voice: "Chenchen! Something's happened!"

Chen Chen suddenly opened his eyes, his heart clenching: "What's wrong?"

Huang Ying rushed in, her hair soaked from the rain and her face pale: "The film set... the film set has been vandalized! Props, costumes, and equipment that hadn't been moved—everything's destroyed!"

Chen Chen's mind went blank. She grabbed her coat and rushed out of the work shed, Huang Ying following closely behind. The drizzle was still falling, and the streets of Hengdian were deserted in the early morning, with only the red and blue lights of police cars flashing in the rain in the distance.

The "Imperial Study" in the Ming and Qing Palace Garden was a scene of utter chaos. The Republican-era furniture used for filming was smashed to pieces, dozens of meticulously crafted cheongsams and long gowns were cut into pieces and thrown on the ground, and two spare cameras were tossed into the nearby lotus pond, bobbing on the surface like two floating corpses. Most critically, the temporary editing room storing today's footage had also been pried open, and all the equipment inside was destroyed.

Fortunately, the source material wasn't there.

"When did this happen?" Chen Chen's voice was unusually calm.

"The security guard on duty said that between 2 and 3 a.m., a group of masked men climbed over the wall and left very quickly, in less than ten minutes." Huang Ying's voice trembled. "The security guard tried to stop them, but was beaten... and has now been taken to the hospital."