Quick Transmigration: The Beautiful Host Wants to Have Both Love and Career

“After organizing the chain of evidence according to international judicial standards, I will have the International Bar Association issue a public inquiry letter.”

He suddenly became serious and said, "You should immediately apply for 24-hour personal protection. Powerful financial means are far more difficult to defend against than bullets on the battlefield."

As he hung up the phone, the rain subsided. Sui Si opened the safe and took out the manuscript of "A Glimmer of Hope" bearing the seals of twenty-seven international literary awards.

Between the yellowed pages, a dried daisy specimen lay so fragile it seemed it would shatter at the slightest touch—a gift a fan had tremblingly handed him at a book signing.

He gently stroked the petals, a cold, fierce fighting spirit igniting in his eyes:

In this battle against financial giants, he not only wants to win, but also wants to make all those who trample on the dignity of creation pay an unbearable price.

The blinds in the studio were lifted by the wind, and the afternoon sunlight, like a sharp golden sword, struck precisely the manuscript that Sui Si had spread out.

The four characters "柳暗花明" (meaning "a bright future amidst the darkness"), stained with ink, flickered in the light. His index finger unconsciously rubbed the edge of the page, which had been worn rough from repeated readings.

"Xiao Li, compile the information on animation directors with a Douban rating of 8.5 or higher in the past three years."

The pen nib hovered in mid-air, casting a long, thin shadow on the manuscript paper.

"Attach their storyboards and original artwork, highlighting teams that excel at emotional storytelling."

Assistant Xiao Li's fingers suddenly stopped on the keyboard.

As the chief assistant who had worked for Sui Si for three years, he was all too aware of the weight behind the editor-in-chief's order—the name of that disgraced director was still painfully lying deep in the file folder in the leaked adaptation proposal last month.

As he turned around, he caught a glimpse of a throat lozenge tin on his desk. The lid of the tin featured a chibi-style illustration of the main characters from the novel "A Glimmer of Hope," a gift from Ran Cang.

The studio in the preparation stage resembled a precisely operating gear set.

Ran Cang tiptoed to adjust the angle of the giant backdrop, her hair brushing against the drooping gold ribbons.

She suddenly turned around, her ponytail swinging in a beautiful arc:

"Brother! Should we replace the silver bell in the female lead's hair with glass beads in this key visual?"

In the original work, those were her mother's belongings..."

Sui Si looked up from the storyboard, the lamplight casting a bluish-gray shadow under his eyes:

"Keep it as it is. Animation requires the continuity of visual symbols."

He rubbed his temples, then suddenly added as if remembering something, "But we could add some details of the cracks in the close-up shots to suggest the fragility of fate."

On the day of the press conference, the crystal chandelier will cut the venue into countless diamond-shaped light spots.

Sui Si stood at the registration desk, a silver wristwatch peeking out from the cuff of his black suit, the ticking of the second hand particularly clear amidst the noisy crowd.

When that tall figure appeared outside the revolving door, his fingers gripping the gold pen tightened abruptly—Jun Sui was wearing a dark gray suit with a jasmine brooch pinned to his collar.

"I've long admired you, Professor Sui Si."

A deep voice, carrying the scent of jasmine, brushed past my ear. Jun Sui's pen moved smoothly across the sign-in book, the ink blurring the last stroke of the characters "Jun Sui," like a tear that had not yet fallen.

Sui Si lowered his eyes to look at the ring mark on the other person's ring finger, the pale mark being slowly covered by his sleeve.

Ran Cang's fingers, which were holding the sign-in sheet, suddenly tightened.

She clearly saw that when Jun Sui turned around, his fingers, hidden in his sleeve, were tightly gripping the hem of his suit jacket, the folds like clouds churning before a storm.

Meanwhile, his older brother's back was ramrod straight, and the mother-of-pearl buttons on his shirt collar gleamed coldly under the light.

As the spotlights on stage came on, a carefree voice pierced through countless shaky camera lenses:

"The story of 'A Glimmer of Hope' is not only about the adventures of the main characters, but also a parable about breakage and rebirth."

His gaze swept over the focused faces below the stage, finally settling on the left side of the third row.

Jun rested his elbows on his knees, his long, slender fingers interlaced into a tower, and the sandalwood bracelet on his wrist jingled softly with the movement.

When Jun Sui stepped onto the stage, the entire audience suddenly fell silent, so quiet that the sound of the film reel rolling could be heard.

His gesture of removing the microphone carried an elegance honed over the years, his Adam's apple swaying under the light:

"What touched me most about the original work was the tenderness hidden in the blood and wounds."

His gaze swept over Sui Si's hand resting on the armrest, and a bitter taste rose in his throat.

"For example, the female lead always closes the enemy's eyes after a battle; this detail should be shown in slow motion, accompanied by the sound of the xun (a type of ancient Chinese wind instrument)..."

The conversations in the lounge sounded like boiling tea.

Sui Si accepted the oolong tea handed to him by the staff, the water droplets condensed on the cup wall dampening his fingertips.

When Jun Sui's shadow fell on the carpet, he heard his own heart pounding deafeningly.

What are Sui Si's requirements for the pacing of the storyboard?

Jun Sui's fountain pen hovered above the notebook, its nib casting a tiny shadow on the paper.

Sui Si stared at the swaying shadow, lost in thought.

"The camera transitions in battle scenes should not exceed 2 seconds."

He swallowed the scalding tea, "But the flashback segment can be extended to 7 seconds, in conjunction with..."

"Chopin's 'Raindrop'".

They both spoke at the same time.

The air suddenly froze, and Jun Sui's fountain pen smeared ink on the paper.

As Ran Cang passed by carrying the documents, she clearly saw that her brother's ears were red, and that the legendary cold and hard Director Jun was repeatedly rubbing the edge of the notebook with his thumb.

There was a yellowed note there, with the words "To Ah Si" barely legible.

At the signing ceremony three days later, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows onto the contract.

Jun Sui's hand hovered above the signature bar, not falling for a long time.

Sui Si suddenly pressed down on the document, the warmth of his fingertips brushing against the other's hand sending a shiver through them both.

"This time... let's not lose the storyboard again."

These words are like a silver needle, precisely piercing through a thousand years of silence.

Jun Sui suddenly looked up, his eyes surging with emotions that seemed to drown him:

"Not anymore."

His voice was so low that only the two of them could hear it, “This time, it’s my turn to guard your ‘light at the end of the tunnel’.”

The sycamore trees outside the window rustled, carrying this promise away in the wind.

Ran Cang, holding a champagne glass, hid in a corner, watching the blush on her brother's ears gradually spread to his neck. She suddenly felt that this thrilling copyright protection battle might have, from a certain moment, already become a two-way redemption.

As the signing ceremony came to an end, dusk had quietly crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Sui Si watched Jun Sui sign the last stroke of the contract. The scratching sound of the pen nib against the paper reminded him of the rhythm of autumn rain pattering on banana leaves outside the window when the two of them were together many years ago.

At this moment, he lowered his eyes to organize the documents, deliberately avoiding the other party's probing gaze, a faint bitterness rising in his throat.

It's all because this person hid things away in the small world back then, causing him to feel awkward for a long time when they met again in reality.

Would you like to... come over for a while?

Even Sui Si himself felt abrupt when he said those words. His fingertips unconsciously traced the edge of the document, and he caught a glimpse of Jun Sui's suddenly bright eyes out of the corner of his eye.

That initial joy was quickly replaced by unease, much like the traveler trapped in the fog in "A Glimmer of Hope," who clearly sees the light but dares not reach out to touch it.

The black sedan stopped in front of the old villa, which was shaded by plane trees, and the streetlights cast long shadows of the two people.

As Sui Si fumbled for the key, the cool metallic sensation spread from his fingertips, and memories suddenly surged back.

Many years ago, on that stormy night, Jun Sui stood behind me in the same way, raindrops dripping from the umbrella ribs onto his fine clothes. But the moment the door opened, all tenderness was drowned out by the sound of arguing.

"Ayu, I'm back."

As I pushed open the door, warm yellow light spilled out, carrying the sweet aroma of honey grapefruit tea.

Ran Cang peeked out from the kitchen, her ponytail still covered in flour, and her apron was printed with the main characters of "A Glimmer of Hope in the Darkness of the Willows".

When she saw Jun Shisui, the wooden spoon in her hand clattered into the porcelain bowl.

"This is Jun Sui."

Sui Si's voice was calm to the point of being indifferent. When he turned around, he deliberately didn't look at Jun Sui's clenched and unclenched fist.

He could feel that burning gaze clinging to the back of his neck, with a cautious, ingratiating look, like a fox that had made a mistake and wanted to get closer but dared not.