Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

“So I would like to ask Officer Wang to help report this to our superiors.” Chen Chen took out a document from his bag. “This is the project filing material for ‘A Family of Scholars,’ as well as the investor’s qualification certificate. This project has already attracted the attention of China Film Group, and Chairman Han Sanping has personally intervened. If the project is aborted due to this kind of malicious incident, the impact will be significant.”

Her words were very skillful—she didn't mention Wang Zhongjun or personal grudges, only the importance of the project and the attention from China Film Group. This gave Officer Wang a way out, while also putting pressure on him.

Sure enough, Officer Wang's expression turned serious when he heard the names "China Film Group" and "Han Sanping." He took the document, glanced at it, and then nodded: "Okay, I'll report to my superiors. Also, I'll send more people to strengthen patrols around your film set. But Ms. Chen, I also want to remind you—there are some people you can't afford to mess with."

"Thank you for the reminder, Officer Wang." Chen Chen stood up. "But since we've chosen this path, we have no intention of turning back."

When Chen Chen left the police station, the rain had stopped. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, reflecting a shimmering light on the wet streets. Standing at the door, Chen Chen took a deep breath of the fresh post-rain air and pulled out his phone to text Zhang Yu.

"The film set was vandalized in the early hours of the morning; all props and costumes were destroyed. We've called the police and are arranging for them to be remade. Everyone has decided to complete all work within fifteen days. Don't worry, focus on things in Beijing."

She thought for a moment, then added, "We will win."

---

11:00 AM, Beijing China Film Group reception room.

Beijing, China Film Group headquarters building. Zhang Yu sat on a leather sofa in the reception room on the sixteenth floor, holding a cup of Longjing tea freshly brewed by his secretary. His gaze seemingly casually swept over the classic posters of Chinese film history hanging on the wall—"Red Sorghum," "Farewell My Concubine," "To Live"... Each one a memory of an era.

The birthmark under his left eye felt slightly warm. He could sense that this was a turning point.

The door to the reception room was pushed open, and a man in his fifties, slightly overweight, and wearing glasses walked in. He was wearing a dark blue jacket, his steps were steady, and he had a gentle but distant smile on his face—it was Han Sanping, chairman of China Film Group.

"Director Zhang, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." Han Sanping shook hands with a moderate pressure. "I just finished a meeting, sorry."

"Mr. Han, you're too kind. I apologize for disturbing you," Zhang Yu said politely as he stood up.

The two took their seats. The secretary withdrew and closed the door. The reception room was quiet, with the sound of traffic flowing down Chang'an Avenue outside the window audible.

“Wang Jinghua told me about you,” Han Sanping said bluntly. “I’ve seen ‘Autumn Day.’ It’s well-made, insightful, and inspired. It’s rare for a young person to produce such a work.”

"Thank you, Chairman Han."

“But Director Zhang,” Han Sanping changed the subject, “you should know that China Film Group, as a state-owned enterprise, has its own investment principles and risk assessment system. Your studio has just been established, and projects have run into trouble one after another—materials have been destroyed, licenses have been blocked, and now even the film set has been vandalized. We need to carefully consider this kind of risk.”

He spoke directly, but without hostility; it was more like a well-intentioned reminder.

Zhang Yu put down his teacup and leaned forward slightly: "Chairman Han, you're right. These are indeed risks. But what I want to say is that it is precisely because of these experiences that the studio is even more worthy of investment."

"Oh?" Han Sanping raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"First, resilience," Zhang Yu said. "A team that doesn't collapse after a major setback, but instead becomes more united and resilient, is more valuable than success when everything is going smoothly. That's how we are now—if the footage is destroyed, we reshoot; if the set is vandalized, we redo it. Every setback makes us stronger."

"Secondly, talent attraction." He continued, "The studio now has a group of promising and ambitious actors such as Chen Chen, Yang Mi, Bai Bing, Li Binbin, and Li Xiaoran. Why are they willing to follow a newly established studio that has been frequently involved in scandals? It's not because of money, but because of our philosophy—we want to make good works, respect creation, and change some bad habits in the industry. The appeal of this philosophy cannot be bought with money."

“Third,” Zhang Yu paused, looking directly into Han Sanping’s eyes, “Times are changing. Chairman Han, you have experienced the most difficult period for Chinese films, and you are also experiencing a critical period of market-oriented transformation. You know better than me what Chinese films need in the future—good works, good directors, and a healthy industry ecosystem. And that’s what the studio wants to do.”

He spoke with neither arrogance nor servility, displaying both a clear understanding of reality and unwavering confidence in the future. Han Sanping looked at him, his scrutiny gradually turning into admiration.

“Director Zhang, you’ve convinced me.” Han Sanping smiled. “However, there are procedures for China Film Investment. How about this, you cut out a sample of ‘The Scholarly Family’ and I’ll take a look. If the quality is indeed good, China Film can handle the distribution and invest in your next project.”

This was a huge breakthrough. Zhang Yu's heart leaped with excitement, but he remained calm on the surface: "Thank you, Chairman Han. We are working hard to produce the sample, and it should be completed by April 20th at the latest."

"Okay, I'll wait." Han Sanping stood up. "By the way, what about Wang Zhongjun... should I put in a good word with him?"

These words carried a deeper meaning. Zhang Yu thought for a moment, then shook his head: "Thank you for your kind offer, Chairman Han, but I want to resolve this myself. Business competition should be conducted in a business-like manner."

A hint of approval flashed in Han Sanping's eyes: "You have guts. But Director Zhang, let me remind you—Wang Zhongjun is a man of many tricks. You need to be careful."

“I know.” Zhang Yu also stood up. “But he forgot that in this industry, what matters most in the end is the work itself, not the methods.”

It was noon when Zhang Yu left China Film Group. The sun was shining brightly, and Chang'an Avenue was bustling with traffic. Standing at the building entrance, Zhang Yu took out his phone and saw the text message Chen Chen had sent in the early hours of the morning.

The film set was vandalized… All work was completed within fifteen days…

His heart clenched. He could picture the scene, the back of Chen Chen standing amidst the ruins, and the weary yet determined eyes of everyone present.

He dialed Chen Chen's number.

The phone was answered after three rings, and Chen Chen's slightly hoarse but calm voice came from the other end: "Hello?"

“It’s me,” Zhang Yu said. “I saw the text message you sent. How is it?”

"It's under control." Chen Chen's voice was tired but steady. "The costumes and props are being redone, and everyone is working very hard. Zhang Yu, we can do it."

“I know you can do it.” Zhang Yu paused. “Chen Chen, I’m sorry for making you shoulder so much alone.”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then Chen Chen said softly, "Zhang Yu, this isn't just your problem, it's everyone's problem. You're in Beijing fighting for resources, and we're in Hengdao ensuring production; it's a division of labor. No one owes anyone anything."