Rebirth of Chinese Entertainment, the Diary of a 95 Flower

Chapter 144 Zhang Ruonan's family with a preference for sons over daughters
Yang Chaoyue quickly adjusted his state of mind.

Support yourself on the table with your elbows and press your palms against your temples.

He bent his back slightly and his fingertips trembled slightly as he flipped through the resume.

It has been going on for 4 hours.

My face was almost frozen from smiling.

Instead of calling for the next person, he turned to Jiang Yang, who was sitting next to him, seemingly engrossed in reviewing job applicants' resumes but actually playing a match-3 game on his phone, and said:

"Brother Yang, how did I do?"

"Well done! The company can't do without you!"

"Okay!"

Encouraged by Jiang Yang, he took a deep breath and spread his shoulder blades back.

Yang could have easily hired the people himself; giving the opportunity to me would have been a good learning experience for me.

There are more opportunities to try and fail.

What a great boss.

Yang Chaoyue looked down at the identity badge embedded in his chest, and at the stack of his business cards in the long business card box on the podium.

Yang Chaoyue, Human Resources Manager, Sunshine Media.

I now have another identity: an urban white-collar worker.

It was an easy and respectable job that I envied when I was a factory worker.

Many of the college students in the audience looked away in fear when they met his gaze.

Think carefully before you speak.

The speaking speed and rhythm vary, sometimes fast and sometimes slow.

Unstable breathing rhythm.

He blinked repeatedly, so nervous.

Just like when I was looking for a job before, I kept running into rejections at interviews.

For a fleeting moment, Yang Chaoyue had the illusion that there was no difference between college students and factory girls.

The thought was immediately suppressed by Yang Chaoyue.

I am keenly aware that there is a difference between college students and factory girls.

However, as company interviewers, the positions they offered, along with the added prestige of their own identities as Zhao Jinmai and Jiang Yang, allowed these college students who knew nothing about the entertainment industry to see a bright future.

"Brother Yang, do we need to interview everyone?"

"Yes, don't leave anyone out. Are you tired? Why don't I do it and you can rest?"

"No, Brother Yang, I'm not tired!"

Yang Chaoyue took a sip of water, shook his trembling fingertips, and cleared his throat: "Next."

The line moved slowly.

Another resume was handed to Yang Chaoyue.

Asking the other person questions mechanically.

Zhao Jinmai went from initial curiosity to numbness, and has been silent for quite a while.

He stared blankly out the window.

My vision seemed to travel 1200 kilometers to the hotel suite that the Beiping film crew had booked for me and my mother.

It has been a day and a night.

Is Mom already going crazy with worry?
Will I get sick from getting so angry?

I really want to show my mom through my actions that I simply can't stand her control anymore.

I was also worried that something might happen to my mother.

The taste of freedom, mixed with a guilt-like feeling like stomach acid.

She pinched the space between her thumb and forefinger hard, snapped out of her daze, and looked around. Zhao Jinmai noticed that Yang Chaoyue's voice was already hoarse. She tugged at Jiang Yang's sleeve:

"You really have the heart to watch Sister Chaoyue get so exhausted? Help her out, let her rest for a while, you evil capitalists."

"Want to play Candy Crush?" Jiang Yang handed his phone to Zhao Jinmai.

"Tsk, suddenly I feel like being a capitalist is pretty cool."

He took Jiang Yang's phone.

After entering the Happy Match game interface and completing two consecutive rounds, Zhao Jinmai had a feeling that she couldn't quite describe.

At this moment, clearly no one is watching over him anymore.

But why can't I feel happy?

I can't help but worry about my mom.

I don't want to go back to my mother's side and experience that suffocating family atmosphere again.

I envy Chaoyue, who doesn't have parents to look after her.

I also envy Yang Ge. He also ran away from home, but Yang Ge managed to stay calm and collected.

I'm not as carefree as I imagined.

Before she knew it, Zhao Jinmai exited the Happy Match game and entered WeChat.

Yang has his mother's WeChat.

I opened my mom's chat window.

I typed "Mom, I'm fine" and then quickly deleted it.

I checked my mom's WeChat Moments, and she hadn't posted anything.

Suddenly, he turned his phone face down on his lap to calm himself down and continued playing Candy Crush despite his reluctance.

Numbness is the best painkiller.

Jiang Yang did not notice Zhao Jinmai's emotions.

His gaze swept over the long line of job seekers, finally settling on a girl who was slightly shorter than Yang Chaoyue near the back door.

She was wearing a beige short cotton jacket, with a striped knit sweater underneath, a staple for students.

The pants are comfortable fleece-lined sweatpants for when you're rushing to class. On the feet are a pair of rainproof and moisture-proof Dr. Martens boots.

He carried a canvas tote bag containing his textbooks on his shoulder.

Her long hair was undyed and tied in a simple ponytail. She had no exaggerated colored contact lenses and wasn't even wearing light makeup; she came with a bare face.

It looked like he rushed over as soon as get out of class ended.

The facial contours are smooth, the eyes are clear and bright, and the corners of the eyes are slightly upturned.

After meeting Jiang Yang's gaze, she quickly avoided his eyes.

I lowered my gaze to organize my resume, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I suddenly pinched my thigh to keep myself from looking timid.

My phone vibrated; I received a message.

It was a message from my mom: [“Nannan, did you get the job? How much is the salary? Does it include social insurance and housing fund? Is the workplace close to home?”]
She typed back: ["I'm in line to submit my resume. Salary is 5000, with five social insurances and one housing fund. Work location is not yet confirmed."]
My mom sent me a message: [“You used to be a model in high school and could earn 5000 yuan in 3 days. You need to look to the future, Nan Nan. All of Ent’s classmates know that his older sister is a big earner. This job pays too little. Maybe you should give it up.”]
The younger brother's bragging rights are his own survival shackles.

She typed back: ["Mom, modeling gigs don't come every day. This job is very important to me. Could you lend me 1000 yuan first? I'll deduct it from the money I've saved with you."]
My mom sent me a message: ["Are you being too playful? Your dad and I have calculated that 600 yuan a month is enough for food. Don't compare yourself to your classmates, and don't spend money recklessly. I'm keeping your money here to prevent you from squandering it, and to safeguard it for you."]
I waited for 5 minutes.

My mom didn't transfer the money.

Even knowing that hope will be dashed, I still can't help but look forward to it.

Opening my mom's WeChat Moments, the most recent post was a photo of my parents and 12-year-old brother visiting Shanghai Disneyland on New Year's Eve.

Some of these photos were taken on the plane to and from the destination.

Some of these photos were taken at a Disney-themed hotel.

I scrolled through other people's posts on WeChat Moments, scrolling through them one by one.

Knowing full well that they will see content that will make them uncomfortable, they still can't help but view it in a self-destructive way.

The line of sight slides mechanically.

Most of his posts on social media are related to his younger brother.

Travel, new clothes, tutoring classes.

I have my own too.

Most of them are transfer records, not snapshots of daily life.

Silently scrolling through her parents' social media accounts, just to find a picture of herself.

The one that left the deepest impression on me was from two years ago. It was a modeling contract and a stack of banknotes, but there was no photo of her. The caption read: "[My eldest daughter is amazing. She's only in high school, but she's already earning money to support the family. Mom is so proud of you.]"
Her lips twitched; she wanted to laugh but it turned into a bitter smile.

When I saw my mother's post on WeChat Moments, I was overjoyed, thinking that I could finally support my family.

Look again now.

The red handprint on the model's contract looks more like his birth certificate than a family photo.

The day my mother was proud of me was the first day I learned to objectify myself.

Parents' love is conditional; you have to be useful to be seen.

Children who learn to make money earlier often learn to love themselves later.

Struggling between filial piety and self-interest.

A slight sob escaped during exhalation.

I turned off my phone screen, stared blankly into the distance, and my lips drooped slightly. Suddenly, I heard someone behind me call out, "It's your turn."

Looking up, I realized I was already at the front of the line.

Yang Chaoyue, standing on the podium, gave me a bright smile: "Hello, are you here for a job interview?"

"Yes...yes, my name is Zhang Ruonan, and I am 20 years old."

She forced a smile, but her shoulders remained tense.

Suddenly I realized that I had folded the resume in my hand into a small piece.

I hurriedly unfolded it and smoothed out the creases.

Repair your shattered value.

"Time is precious, let's get straight to the point and begin the interview." Yang Chaoyue took a small sip of water.

"Ok."

"Ms. Zhang, what is your height?"

Zhang Ruonan sat down at the front of the class, crossed her legs and locked them, pursed her dry lips, and tried to slow her speech: "One meter... seven inches tall."

Take a deep breath when announcing your height.

Every extra centimeter adds to your confidence.

Now we have four more points of confidence.
"What about your major?"

"I studied graphic design and worked as a model in high school."

"weight?"

"95 kilograms."

Yang Chaoyue picked up his pen and wrote, then glanced at the other person and laughed, "Kilograms? The school food is so good..."

He paused abruptly after speaking, then changed his words to, "Raise your head."

Zhang Ruonan pinched the tiger's mouth and slightly raised her chin.

He met Yang Chaoyue's gaze again.

Yang Chaoyue stared into Zhang Ruonan's pupils and saw a figure from his memory.

Three months ago, in a Starbucks a few streets away from the textile factory in Songjiang District of Shanghai, wearing a chiffon dress borrowed from Sister Yan, I was at a loss when I first met Jiang Yang. I couldn't distinguish between retroflex consonants and nasal consonants, and I spoke Mandarin with a strong Yancheng accent.

Looking at each other across time and space.

Familiar and unfamiliar.

Last year's disgrace has been replaced by a more respectable disguise.

The phrase "raise your head" wasn't meant for Zhang Ruonan in front of him.

This is a message to myself three months ago.

Through that interview, she resolutely followed Jiang Yang, changed her destiny, and provided a safe haven for her family.

[Potential nurturing partner discovered: Zhang Ruonan. Should we bind her?]
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ps: Ask for monthly ticket
(End of this chapter)