In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Huang Bo stood backstage, clutching the light yet heavy check in his hand, his mind still reeling.

Ten thousand yuan.

The number buzzed in his mind, like a gong being pounded inside.

He has been singing for so many years, and has worked in nightclubs and bars in several cities. The most generous customers he has ever met, if they were to give him a sincere tip, would only casually throw down three or five hundred yuan, which was enough for him and his companions to envy and talk about for days.

Ten thousand yuan? I've never even heard of that.

The other singers backstage had already gathered around, chattering excitedly and curiously.

"Bozi, is it really ten thousand? Let me see, let me see!" Sha Baoliang, who had long hair and an ordinary appearance, came over and stared wide-eyed.

"My God, this is enough to buy so many cassette tapes!" Wu Xiubo, wearing a denim jacket, also left his corner, looking astonished.

Even Zhou Xun, who had just stepped off the stage and hadn't fully recovered from the performance, blinked her bright, intelligent eyes and looked curiously at the piece of paper in Huang Bo's hand.

Huang Bo carefully unfolded the check and looked at it again. The number on it was handwritten, neat and clear, and it was indeed "ten thousand yuan"!
"The guests in the Paris Hall... said it was a gift from the young master," Huang Bo murmured.

He could still hear Duan Yunfeng's calm and capable demeanor and the words, "Our young master greatly appreciates your performance," replaying in his mind.

Young master? Which family's young master? He's so generous, it's like something out of a novel.

“The Paris Hall? Isn’t that the private room that Director Jiang Wen booked?” said a slightly older singer. “I glanced at it when I passed by just now, and it was quite lively inside. Liu Xiaoqing seemed to be there too.”

"Jiang Wen? The one who directed 'Red Sorghum'?" Sha Baoliang clicked his tongue. "That's a big director. The guest he invited... no wonder."

"It's not just about having money, it's also about having the heart." Wu Xiubo crossed his arms, deep in thought. "A casual tip of ten thousand, probably because of what happened just now? Bozi, you handled it well, but it's not worth ten thousand, is it? What's this young master after?"

This was also Huang Bo's biggest question.

He's not good-looking, he knows it himself; as for singing, it's not bad, but he's by no means exceptionally talented, at least compared to the charismatic Zhou Xun next to him or the classically trained Sha Baoliang, he has no advantage.

When customers made difficult song requests, he used his quick wit and self-deprecation to defuse the situation. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened; at most, he'd get a few cheers or a few extra tips of tens or hundreds of yuan.

Ten thousand yuan? This goes far beyond the scope of "tipping".

As he stood there lost in thought, a series of slightly hurried footsteps approached. The manager of the karaoke bar, a man in his forties, dressed in a suit with his hair neatly combed, strode over, his face showing surprise and a hint of urgency.

"Huang Bo!" The manager, surnamed Sun, was usually not strict with the singers, but he was also very quiet. However, his voice was a little loud at this moment. "What happened? I just heard from the waiter that a customer tipped you 10,000 yuan?"

The backstage area fell silent. Manager Sun's gaze fell on the check in Huang Bo's hand, his pupils contracting slightly. He took the check, examined it carefully, and after confirming it was correct, his expression became even more complicated.

Manager Sun looked up at Huang Bo, "Do you know the guests in the Paris Hall?"

Huang Bo quickly shook his head: "I don't know him. It was that Brother Li who was asking me to sing a song and making things difficult. After I got through it, that Mr. Duan... oh, the one who brought the check, said that his young master appreciated me and gave me a tip."

“Mr. Duan…” Manager Sun hesitated. He remembered Mr. Duan, who had an extraordinary demeanor and drove a Mercedes-Benz W14; Mr. Duan had come with a very young guest from the Paris Hall.

The young man, whom Jiang Wen addressed as "Young Master," possessed an extraordinary air about him.

“Regardless of the reason, the guest gave such a generous reward, so it’s only proper that you go and thank them in person.” Manager Sun quickly made a decision. “It’s only polite. I’ll go with you.”

Huang Bo's heart tightened. Going to that kind of private room and facing so many wealthy and influential people made him instinctively feel a little apprehensive.

But Manager Sun is right. They gave us such a large sum of money; it would be inappropriate not to thank them in person.

"I...can I go in like this?" Huang Bo looked at his slightly comical and ill-fitting performance suit.

Manager Sun looked him up and down: "That's fine, it'll seem more authentic. Hurry up, don't keep the guests waiting."

Huang Bo took a deep breath, carefully folded the check in half, put it into his inner pocket, and straightened his clothes, even though they didn't look very good no matter how he straightened them.

He followed Manager Sun through the slightly noisy lobby and up the stairs leading to the second floor.

The closer Huang Bo got to the heavy wooden door with the "Paris Hall" sign, the faster his heart pounded. Laughter and music could be faintly heard through the crack in the door, a world he knew well where he sang for a living and had to deal with all sorts of customers, as if separated by an invisible membrane.

Manager Sun stopped in front of the door and gently knocked.

A loud voice came from inside: "Come in!"

Manager Sun pushed open the door, stepped aside to let Huang Bo go in first, and followed closely behind.

The scene inside the private room made Huang Bo feel a little dizzy for a moment.

Under the warm yellow light, leather sofas were arranged in a U-shape, with a large glass coffee table in the center littered with cups and plates, the smell of smoke and alcohol mixed with the aroma of fruit. A large television screen on the opposite wall flashed a karaoke video, but the volume was low.

The sight of the group of people sitting on the sofa made him catch his breath slightly.

He recognized Director Jiang Wen; he'd seen her face in newspapers and on television. Beside her, smiling, was the famous actress Liu Xiaoqing.

Of the people next to Jiang Wen, he could only recognize some of them... Each one of them was someone he could only look up to in the media.

Two young and beautiful women, one with short, aloof hair and the other with long, radiant hair, were clearly extraordinary, though I couldn't recall their names.

These people seemed to be in a relaxed and casual manner, surrounding the young man sitting on the sofa in the center.

The young man was dressed in a simple light gray cotton shirt and black trousers. He was tall and handsome, with an appearance that was unbelievably striking. He was between the ages of a boy and a young man, but his eyes were calm and peaceful, as if they could contain all the hustle and bustle in front of him.

He leaned casually against the sofa, a glass of wine in his hand, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The "young master" that Duan Yunfeng mentioned should be this one.

Huang Bo's gaze swept quickly across the room, finally landing on Duan Yunfeng, who was sitting in the corner near the door. Duan Yunfeng nodded slightly to him.

Manager Sun clearly recognized Jiang Wen, and a warm yet respectful smile spread across his face as he bowed slightly.
"Director Jiang, I apologize for disturbing you all. I'm Xiao Sun from the karaoke bar. This is Huang Bo, who sang earlier. I heard that a distinguished guest rewarded us handsomely, so I brought him here to thank the guest and everyone in person."

The laughter and music in the private room subsided, and all eyes turned to Huang Bo, who looked somewhat awkward by the door.

Huang Bo sensed the scrutiny, curiosity, and perhaps even a hint of disdain in those gazes. He knew he was "ugly," and standing among this room full of glamorous, sophisticated people, he looked more like a servant who had stumbled into a lavish banquet.

But he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. After so many years of struggling at the bottom, he might not have developed any other skills, but he had certainly honed his thick skin and adaptability.

He took two steps forward, faced the bright sunlight, and bowed deeply, his waist bent very low, his attitude extremely sincere.

"Thank you, young master! Thank you for your generous donation! It's really too much of a expense for me... I feel unworthy of it."

Huang Bo's voice was slightly dry from nervousness, but he spoke clearly, trying his best to remain calm. "I was just doing my duty and handling the situation. I didn't expect to receive such high praise from you, young master. I, Huang Bo, will remember this kindness. Thank you so much!"

He then turned to Jiang Wen and the others, bowing slightly: "Thank you, Director Jiang, and thank you all, it is an honor for Casablanca to have you come to our karaoke bar."

Yang Guangming looked at the bowing young singer in front of him. Compared to the confident and charismatic actor he would become on screen in the future, Huang Bo was now green, reserved, and even showed signs of weariness and timidity from years of struggling at the bottom of society. But in his eyes, besides gratitude and fear, there was indeed an unyielding tenacity and cleverness.

"Huang Bo, right?" Yang Guangming spoke up, his gentle voice breaking the brief silence. "No need to be so polite, come and sit down."

He pointed to the empty corner of the sofa diagonally opposite him.

Huang Bo was stunned for a moment, somewhat incredulous. Manager Sun gently nudged him from behind and whispered, "The young master asked you to sit down, so sit down."

Huang Bo then walked over somewhat awkwardly and carefully sat down in the empty seat, only sitting on one side of his buttocks, keeping his back ramrod straight.

Manager Sun, being quite tactful, bowed slightly to everyone and said, "Then please enjoy yourselves. I won't disturb you any longer." With that, he left the private room and gently closed the door behind him.

The atmosphere in the private room subtly changed with the arrival of Huang Bo, this "outsider." But everyone was looking at Yang Guangming, clearly indicating that he was in charge.

Yang Guangming gestured to Duan Yunfeng, who immediately stood up, took a clean glass, poured Huang Bo a beer, and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

"Have a drink, relax a bit." Yang Guangming raised his glass. "Downstairs just now, you handled that customer's difficult behavior quickly and tactfully. You didn't embarrass the customer while preserving your own dignity. That quick thinking is rare."

Huang Bo quickly picked up the wine glass with both hands. Hearing the praise, he smiled gratefully and somewhat embarrassedly: "Young Master, you flatter me. I was just... forced into it."

Singing in karaoke bars for a long time, you run into all sorts of people. Just being a good singer isn't enough; you also need to be good at reading people and talking to them. Otherwise, you can't last a day.

"Oh? Sounds experienced." Wang Shuo interjected slowly, sizing up Huang Bo. "How long have you been doing this?"

"To answer your question, it's been on and off for several years," Huang Bo replied honestly. "I sang in my hometown, and later came to Kyoto and performed in several venues. I've been in Casablanca for less than half a year."

"Do you like singing?" Liu Xiaoqing asked, her tone carrying a hint of casual concern from a senior to a junior.

"I like it." Huang Bo nodded, a glint of light flashing in his eyes, but it quickly dimmed again. "It's just... I'm not good-looking, and my voice is just so-so, nothing special. I'm just trying to make a living, so I don't have any big ambitions."

Feng Xiaogang, with a cigarette between his fingers, chuckled and said, "You sang 'Spring in the North' pretty well just now, quite emotionally. It's just that your appearance... is a bit of a disadvantage."

He spoke directly, but without malice; it was more like stating a fact.

Huang Bo chuckled self-deprecatingly: "Director Feng, you're telling the truth. I'm so ashamed of myself when I look in the mirror. So when customers request songs, sometimes they don't really want to hear you sing. They just want to have some fun, or... like that Brother Li from earlier, they want to show off and get a sense of presence from us."

His candid words earned him more favor from the seasoned veterans of the industry who had witnessed the ups and downs of life.

Be straightforward, don't complain, and be clear about your situation.

Yang Guangming looked at him and suddenly asked, "Have you ever encountered a situation like the one where they were asked to kneel and sing before?"

Huang Bo's smile faded, and he remained silent for a few seconds. The private room fell silent as everyone stared at him.

“I’ve encountered him before.” Huang Bo’s voice lowered, carrying a bittersweet feeling of recollection. “And… he was more troublesome than that Brother Li from before.”

He paused, seemingly deciding whether to continue. But facing Yang Guangming's calm yet seemingly insightful eyes, and the weighty "appreciation" of ten thousand yuan, he felt it necessary to be honest.

“It was the year before last, at another venue,” Huang Bo said slowly, his gaze somewhat unfocused, as if he were back in the scene at that time. “It was around one o’clock in the morning. The customer had drunk a bit too much and requested one of my songs. At first, it was just a normal song request, and he gave me a small tip. But then, I don’t know what happened. Maybe he was in a bad mood, or maybe he was just deliberately trying to pick a fight and take it out on me. He even demanded that I sing while kneeling.”

I was young then, and I was too embarrassed to admit it, so I tried to say nice things to get out of it.

But the customer wouldn't let it go, and started pulling out money—one hundred, two hundred, five hundred… and so on.

Huang Bo's voice was calm, but the fingers holding the wine glass tightened slightly. "He said he just wanted to see what it would be like for me, the 'clown,' to sing on my knees, and whether it would be more entertaining."

The private room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Xu Jinglei and Xu Qing, two young women, looked on with reluctance. Liu Xiaoqing frowned. Jiang Wen, Wang Shuo, and the others looked serious.

"And then?" Jiang Wen asked in a deep voice.

"later……"

Huang Bo gave a wry smile. "The money was increased to one thousand yuan. One thousand yuan was a lot of money for me back then, more than I earned singing in a month."

I told him I didn't want the money, and I didn't want to kneel. But my boss came over and secretly told me that the man in question was someone with a reputation in the area, and we couldn't afford to offend him, so he told me... to bear with it.

His voice was a little dry: "The boss said, 'It's just kneeling down, it won't cost you anything.' The boss said that kneeling down can make customers spend a thousand. If it were him, he could kneel until the customers went bankrupt. It's all for making money, there's no shame in it."

I...I finally gave up.

He knelt there and finished singing.

The guest and his friends at the same table were laughing particularly loudly.

After Huang Bo finished speaking, he picked up the beer in front of him and drank it all in one gulp. The cold liquid slid down his throat, but it couldn't suppress the complex emotions surging up in his heart—humiliation, helplessness, and a hint of numb resignation.

"Did you take the money?" Ma Weidu asked.

“I took it.” Huang Bo put down his cup and tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What else could I do? The boss said so, I can’t afford to offend him. Besides… I sent that thousand yuan back to my mom later. It was the first time I’d ever sent money home.”

These few simple words paint a vivid picture of a young man struggling to make a living at the bottom of society, forced to bow to reality.

Although most of those present had experienced hardship, Huang Bo's experience of being directly confronted with such blatant and blatant attempts to trample on dignity with money still resonated with everyone.

"It wasn't easy," Ye Daying sighed.

Zhao Baogang nodded in agreement: "This rice isn't very tasty."

Yang Guangming listened quietly, his face showing no particular expression.

After Huang Bo finished speaking, he slowly said, "So, the way you handled it today is because you've experienced it and thought about it beforehand."

Huang Bo nodded: "I guess so. You have to learn from your mistakes."

Later I thought, I definitely can't just stand my ground. In this line of work, our customers are our bread and butter, we can't afford to offend them too much.

But we can't just let them ruin it.

So you have to figure out how to say it, so that you can give the guest a way out while also extricating yourself from the situation.

Self-deprecation is a good way to lower your profile, and sometimes customers will feel embarrassed to press you further.

Like today, when I said I was going to get a bloodline test, I was basically passing the buck back, and it was kind of a joke. Brother Li laughed when he heard that, and he gracefully backed down.

His summary was simple, yet it revealed the wisdom honed by life's trials.

“This is a skill forged by society,” Yang Guangming commented, his tone tinged with approval. “It’s more useful than a lot of theoretical talk.”

He pondered for a moment, then looked at Huang Bo with a considering look in his eyes: "Huang Bo, how much do you earn per month in Casablanca?"

Huang Bo was taken aback by the question and hesitated for a moment before honestly replying, "It's not fixed; it depends on how many songs customers request and how much they tip. On good months, I can earn over a thousand yuan, but on bad months, it's only seven or eight hundred, and sometimes even five or six hundred. After deducting food and lodging, the rest... isn't much."

In the mid-1990s, this income wasn't low among Beijing's working class, but it certainly wasn't good, especially for a singer with "artistic aspirations." Yang Guangming nodded, not pressing the question about income further, but instead changing the subject: "Besides singing, what other hobbies do you have? Or, have you thought about what you want to do in the future?"

Huang Bo thought for a moment and said, "My hobbies are... just listening to music and watching movies."

"I haven't dared to think too far ahead. I'll probably continue singing and see if I get the chance to release an album or something. But I know with my abilities, the chances aren't great."

He paused, then added, "Sometimes I envy those actors. It seems like they get to experience different lives in dramas, which is quite interesting. But then I think, with my looks, I'm definitely not cut out for acting."

When he said this, his tone carried a self-deprecating tone, but also a hint of longing that was barely perceptible.

Yang Guangming smiled but didn't comment on his "actor's dream." He simply said, "Everyone has their own ambitions and their own path. Sometimes, when opportunity knocks, you can't stop it."

His words carried a deeper meaning, but Huang Bo didn't dare to delve into them. To him, this young master was like a person on a cloud; the fact that he received a tip was already an incredible stroke of luck, and he dared not hope for more.

Yang Guangming seemed to have finished asking his questions for the time being. He raised his glass to Huang Bo and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you today. Keep the ten thousand yuan; it's rightfully yours."

In the future, you might encounter similar situations in karaoke bars. Remember your quick thinking and tact today, but also remember that some bottom lines must be upheld.

Huang Bo quickly raised his glass with both hands and respectfully clinked it against Yang Guangming's glass from a distance: "Thank you for your guidance, young master. I will remember it."

"Alright, that's enough for today." Yang Guangming put down his wine glass, his tone gentle. "Go back and sing your songs well, Lao Duan."

Duan Yunfeng immediately got up and walked over.

"See Huang Bo off for me," Yang Guangming instructed, then said to Huang Bo, "Get Duan Ge's contact information. If you encounter any difficulties in Beijing in the future, or... if you have any ideas, you can contact him."

Huang Bo's heart skipped a beat. Did this mean... this young master might take care of him in the future? He was so excited that he almost stood up and bowed again, but he forcibly held back and thanked him repeatedly, "Thank you, young master! Thank you, young master!"

“I’m not some young master. My name is Yang Guangming. ‘Young master’ is a nickname that Lao Jiang and the others gave me. They gave me this nickname with ulterior motives so that they could feel justified in robbing the rich.”

Huang Bo was stunned for a moment, not knowing what to say.

Duan Yunfeng gestured for Huang Bo to leave, and Huang Bo bid farewell to the others. The two walked out of the private room one after the other.

The door closed, shutting out the outside world. A few seconds of silence followed in the private room.

“This kid is a talent,” Wang Shuo said first, breaking the silence. “He’s quick-witted, has a sharp mind, and speaks with integrity. Most importantly, he’s experienced hardship, knows how to read people’s expressions, and knows when to advance and retreat.”

Feng Xiaogang nodded: "Those who are honed in this kind of environment develop resilience and a kind of unconventional cleverness."

Jiang Wen looked at Yang Guangming and smiled, "Young Master, have you discovered another gem? You're throwing around ten thousand yuan just to hear him tell you a story?"

Yang Guangming smiled and didn't answer directly, but said, "I just feel that it's rare to see someone who has struggled at the bottom but hasn't lost that tenacity and resourcefulness. That kind of response is not just quick wit, but also a survival wisdom. This kind of wisdom is sometimes more precious than talent."

Liu Xiaoqing seemed thoughtful: "You want to help him?"

"I wouldn't call it helping," Yang Guangming shook his head. "It depends on his own fate. However, I do need a suitable personal assistant."

"A personal assistant?" Ma Weidu was somewhat surprised. "Wasn't Duan Yunfeng doing a pretty good job?"

“Lao Duan is very capable, and he will be responsible for more and more things in the future, mainly in terms of overall coordination,” Yang Guangming explained. “I need a personal assistant who is closer to my life, who can handle trivial matters with me at any time, and who can also represent me to maintain certain relationships when necessary. Lao Duan’s abilities are more suited to being a general, and he will be given more important work in the future.”

He paused for a moment, then continued, "A person like Huang Bo, who has been tempered by society for many years, will definitely have a good service mentality, be able to read people's expressions instinctively, and have strong adaptability."

Moreover, he craves opportunities, and if given a platform, he will cherish it more than anyone else.

Having him as an assistant now is just a transitional measure. In a couple of years, if the policies for private film and television companies become clearer, I plan to have my family set up some connections in Beijing as well.

If he truly has the ambition and ability, signing with a company and starting as an actor is also a viable path.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Yang Guangming intentionally revealed his future plans in the film and television industry. The people surrounding him, besides his personal abilities, were primarily drawn to his status as an investor.

At this time, he had only invested in one film by Jiang Wen. If he were to establish a film and television company in the future, there would naturally be more opportunities for cooperation.

"Young Master, your vision is truly exceptional," Zhao Baogang exclaimed. "You have a long-term perspective when it comes to people and things. If Huang Bo really follows you, he'll be incredibly lucky."

Ye Daying chimed in, "Indeed. Following you, the people he meets, the experiences he has, even if he's just an assistant, are far better than him spending ten years in nightclubs. If he really becomes an actor in the future, with your connection, his starting point will be much higher."

As Xu Qing and Xu Jinglei listened to the men's discussion, their eyes gleamed with even more admiration as they looked at Yang Guangming.

This boy, who was even younger than them, was so mature and thoughtful in his actions. He was not only generous, but also had the ability to recognize and utilize people effectively.

A casual tip could change the fate of an ordinary person. This ability to manipulate events at will, combined with his youthful and handsome appearance, creates a powerful and compelling charm.

Xu Jinglei felt a pang of envy. She glanced at Wang Shuo beside her, who was talking to Jiang Wen and didn't seem to notice her subtle emotional changes.

She quietly clenched her fingers, suppressing the inappropriate thought that was swirling in her mind.

Xu Qing was much more generous. She smiled at Yang Guangming and raised her glass, saying, "Guangming, I'd like to toast you. Not because you're rich, but because of your discerning eye for people and your magnanimity. People who work with Director Jiang are indeed extraordinary."

Yang Guangming smiled and clinked glasses with her: "Ms. Xu, you flatter me. I just do whatever comes to mind."

"Being able to do whatever you think of is true skill." Xu Qing took a sip of wine, her eyes sparkling.

Yang Guangming had previously told Duan Yunfeng about the idea of ​​hiring another suitable personal assistant, but they hadn't found a suitable candidate yet.

Duan Yunfeng had already understood Yang Guangming's meaning, but worried that he might misunderstand, so he and Huang Bo stopped at the door for a moment to listen carefully to what Yang Guangming said before closing the door.

"Mr. Huang."

After going downstairs, Duan Yunfeng stopped, took out an elegant leather business card holder from the inside pocket of his suit, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Huang Bo. "This is my business card. There's a phone number on it. You heard what Young Master Ming just said. If you're interested, you can consider it."

Huang Bo took the business card with both hands and examined it in the light from the doorway. The business card was simple, white background with black lettering, the name "Duan Yunfeng" below the phone number. There was no title, yet it carried a certain weight.

“Mr. Duan.” Huang Bo held the business card, his mind in turmoil.

The shock of losing 10,000 yuan hasn't subsided yet, and now another opportunity that seems to lead to a higher social class is presented to us.

An assistant, specifically a personal assistant to that mysterious "young master." The salary would definitely be higher than singing, and as that young master Ming said, the people you'd meet and the world you'd see would be completely different.

However, he knew nothing about that young master Ming, nor what his temperament was like. If he followed the wrong person, a nobody like him would probably have no chance to regret it. Getting away would be impossible then.

Knowing that this young master Ming's status was too high, the fear of the unknown made him hesitate.

He hesitated for a moment, but still mustered his courage and said as tactfully as possible, "Mr. Duan, thank you very much for your kindness, young master. I am truly grateful."

But... I'm not particularly talented, I just love singing, and I still have a lingering hope that I can keep trying in the singing world.

"Being an assistant... I'm afraid I won't do a good job, and... I'm also not entirely willing to leave this industry completely."

He spoke sincerely, without any false politeness, directly expressing his concerns and the small flame of his dream that had not yet been extinguished.

As for my true thoughts, of course I won't say them.

Duan Yunfeng's face remained unchanged, still bearing his professional and gentle smile.

He knew that the young master's idea was just a spur-of-the-moment decision and that he didn't necessarily need the person in front of him to agree, but since the young master had this idea, he would definitely try his best to persuade Huang Bo to agree.

“I understand.” Duan Yunfeng nodded, his tone calm. “Singing is your hobby and pursuit, which is great. But, Mr. Huang, we can broaden our perspective.”

He paused, then continued, "Young Master hasn't discussed the specifics of the compensation yet, but I can tell you the truth: if you come to be his personal assistant, your monthly salary will not be less than two thousand. And that's just the basic income."

Two thousand! Huang Bo's heart skipped a beat. This was almost two or three times his current income, and it was stable.

In the mid-1990s, this was definitely considered a high salary.

Duan Yunfeng observed his expression and knew that money was one aspect that could move people, but for someone like Huang Bo who still had dreams, it might not be enough.

“More importantly…” Duan Yunfeng changed the subject, “Ming Shao is a student at the Beijing Film Academy, studying directing. His father is a well-known tycoon in Hong Kong and intends to invest in film and television. If nothing unexpected happens, you should hear some big news in a while, but I can’t tell you now.”

As you've seen, Ming Shao is friends with Director Jiang, Teacher Liu, and all the directors present here. He will undoubtedly have a greater involvement and commitment to the film and television industry in the future.

As Huang Bo listened, his eyes gradually lit up. He was indeed very tempted. If he weren't afraid of the young master's identity, he would have agreed immediately.

“If you follow the young master as his personal assistant, you will have access to the most core connections and resources in this industry.” Duan Yunfeng’s voice was not loud, but it carried a persuasive quality. “Whether your ideal is singing or acting, this circle is interconnected. Getting to know more directors, producers, and musicians, and understanding how this industry operates, will give you far more opportunities than if you were to bury yourself in singing in a nightclub.”

He looked at Huang Bo with a serious expression: "Young Master values ​​your quick wit and adaptability; these are your strengths. Being an assistant will help you develop your overall abilities."

In the future, if you truly have the ability and ambition, leveraging your accumulated connections and the young master's relationship, wouldn't it be far more realistic to transition into acting or develop a career in music production than to be waiting in nightclubs for an 'opportunity' that may never come?

If your concern is about Ming Shao's character, I can tell you that he is this year's top scorer in the college entrance examination, so his personal abilities are naturally top-notch. He also has a very good personality and temperament; he's not the kind of rich kid who treats people like dirt. If that's your concern, you can rest assured. I have no reason to lie to you.

These words struck a nerve with Huang Bo, hitting the core of his inner conflict.

Yes, singing in a karaoke bar may seem like the closest thing to your dream, but in reality, you're just going around in circles with extremely limited opportunities for advancement.

Following this young master, while seemingly deviating from the path of singing, might actually lead to a broader platform with more possibilities. In the entertainment industry, connections and opportunities are often more important than pure talent.

What he was really worried about was the young master's character. Since Assistant Duan had brought this up, he figured the young master wouldn't lie to him.

Moreover, this young man was the top scorer in the national college entrance examination, so he must have had a very strict family upbringing.

Seeing the change in Huang Bo's eyes, Duan Yunfeng knew that he had wavered, so he pressed his advantage and said, "Young Master is going to Venice to attend the film festival soon, and will probably leave at the end of August."

If you can't make a decision right now, you can think about it and give me an answer within three days.

He didn't rush him and gave a reasonable time buffer.

Huang Bo held the business card tightly, his fingers gripping it slightly.

The opportunity is right in front of him; it could be the most important turning point in his life. If he misses it, he may never have another chance.

The dream of singing... perhaps can be realized in another way.

He raised his head, looked at Duan Yunfeng, and his eyes hardened: "Mr. Duan, I understand. Thank you, and thank you even more to the young master for giving me this opportunity. No need to think about it anymore, I agree."

Duan Yunfeng smiled and said, "It's a wise decision. I can give you half a month to handle your resignation from the karaoke bar and settle your personal matters. Once everything is arranged on your end, call the number on my business card."

Huang Bo immediately replied, "Don't worry, I'll handle things here as soon as possible. Then... I'll call you."

Duan Yunfeng smiled, a smile that was much more genuine this time: "Okay. I'll wait for your news."

"Take care, Mr. Duan," Huang Bo said respectfully.

When Duan Yunfeng returned to the Paris Hall on the second floor, the atmosphere in the private room had already become lively again. Some people were singing, and some were chatting. Yang Guangming was whispering something to Jiang Wen.

When Duan Yunfeng came in, Yang Guangming looked up at him.

Duan Yunfeng nodded slightly, said nothing, and quietly walked back to his seat near the door. Yang Guangming immediately understood that the matter had been settled. Some things didn't need to be said in front of so many people.

Looking at the time, it's almost 11 p.m.

Yang Guangming clapped his hands to get everyone's attention: "Everyone, it's getting late, and we have things to do tomorrow. Shall we call it a day?"

Jiang Wen glanced at her watch: "Oh, it's getting late. I have to go to the Film Bureau tomorrow, so it's time to call it a day."

Liu Xiaoqing nodded: "I have to go back too, I have a magazine interview tomorrow."

After the host gave the order, everyone stood up and prepared to leave.

As the group stepped out of Casablanca, the cool autumn night air invigorated them. A Mercedes-Benz and several taxis were already waiting at the door.

"Everyone, which way do I go? Does anyone need a ride?" Yang Guangming asked.

"No need, no need, we'll just take a taxi, it's on our way." Wang Shuo waved his hand.

“Director Zhao, Teacher Ye, and I are in the same car,” Liu Xiaoqing said, then pulled Xu Qing over, “Xu Qing is with me too, let’s take her first.”

Xu Qing smiled and nodded at Yang Guangming: "Guangming, thank you for your hospitality today. I had a great time. See you another day."

"Goodbye," Yang Guangming replied.

Xu Qing did not immediately get into the car with Liu Xiaoqing. Instead, she walked gracefully to Yang Guangming, took out a notepad and pen from her delicate handbag, quickly wrote down a string of numbers, tore it off, and handed it to Yang Guangming.

"Guangming, this is my phone number." Xu Qing smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling in the night. "Keep in touch when you're in Beijing. Maybe I'll need to ask you something."

Yang Guangming took the note, glanced at it, and saw a string of numbers and the name "Xu Qing" on it. He also took out his business card holder, pulled out a card, and handed it to Xu Qing.

"Miss Xu, you're too kind." His attitude was natural and polite, accepting the offer of goodwill without being overly enthusiastic.

Xu Qing took the business card, glanced at it, and carefully put it into her bag, her smile widening: "Then I'll be going now, bye-bye!"

"Bye-Bye."

Xu Jinglei stood beside Wang Shuo, watching Xu Qing and Yang Guangming exchange contact information, her lips slightly pursed. She wanted to do the same, but after glancing at Wang Shuo beside her, she ultimately did nothing, only smiling politely at Yang Guangming and saying "Goodbye."

Yang Guangming nodded to her in return: "Goodbye, Senior Sister Xu."

The group said their goodbyes and got into their respective vehicles. (End of Chapter)