This director only directs blockbusters.

When the plane landed, a yellow wind was blowing in Beijing in March or April.

Yang Ning walked out of the covered bridge, her neck aching terribly—she hadn't slept well at the Hong Kong hotel last night, her mind filled with Nicholas Tse's face.

The deal is done. It's 3.5 million, a bit higher than expected, but that kid is worth it.

Old Xu was waiting at the exit with a cup of coffee in hand. Seeing him, he jogged over: "Thanks for your hard work. How's it going in Hong Kong?"

"Nicholas Tse agreed." Yang Ning took the coffee; it was cold. "Three and a half million, and he'll be there for the entire training."

"Holy crap, 350?" Old Xu's eyes widened. "Li Binbin only got 150, Hu Jun got 120, is he worth three of them?"

"This is the price for Hong Kong and Taiwanese celebrities now." Yang Ning opened the taxi door and got in. "The market accepts it, there's nothing we can do about it."

Old Xu got into the passenger seat and looked back at him: "That's a huge difference, isn't it?"

Yang Ning didn't reply, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes.

A hazy gray sky swept past the window over Beijing. In 2003, the salaries of Hong Kong and Taiwanese actors were two to three times that of mainland actors.

Nicholas Tse's asking price of 3.5 million was a 40% discount; last year, he would have dared to ask for 6 million.

This is the reality. The mainland market has taken off, but the power of discourse still lies with Hong Kong and Taiwan.

The car drove towards the studio. Yang Ning opened her eyes, looked at the familiar streets outside the window, and suddenly remembered herself squatting in front of China Film Group, eating a jianbing (Chinese crepe).

Back then, he begged others for a chance; now it's his turn to give others a chance.

But the prices of Hong Kong stars still can't be lowered.

---

As soon as the studio door was pushed open, a wave of heat mixed with the smell of smoke rushed out.

Liu Yong, squatting in front of the computer, turned around and called out "Director Yang" before turning back. Han Duoduo poked her head out from the inner room: "New photos have been sent from South Africa!"

Yang Ning hummed in agreement and walked to the whiteboard. Old Xu had already written down the schedule for the next three days: Li Binbin tomorrow, Deng Chao the day after, and Hu Jun the day after that.

Where is Xu Qin?

"I'm on the phone." Han Duoduo shrank back.

As they were talking, Xu Qin's voice came from the inner room, muffled through the door: "Miss Li, I understand your status, but you know what the market is like right now..."

Yang Ning leaned against the door and listened for a few moments.

"...1.5 million is the lowest price Huayi can offer. If you think it's too low, you can reconsider, but Ms. Xu, you know that we have already shown our utmost sincerity."

After hearing what was said on the other end, Xu Qin smiled and said, "Okay, it's settled then. See you at the studio tomorrow morning at nine o'clock."

The door opened, and Xu Qin came out, a nearly burnt-out cigarette between her fingers. Seeing Yang Ning, she paused, then asked, "You've arrived?"

"Just arrived." Yang Ning glanced at the cigarette in her hand. "Smoking so much again."

"It's settled." Xu Qin didn't reply, but stubbed out her cigarette. "Li Binbin, 1.5 million, come to sign tomorrow."

Yang Ning nodded.

"She originally wanted two million." Xu Qin walked back to her seat and sat down. "She only relented after I told her it was a film you directed."

"Oh?"

"Since your novel 'Purple Clouds' became a success," Xu Qin opened her notebook, "you're now highly sought after, and there are plenty of people willing to lower their prices."

Yang Ning smiled, a slightly smug smile: "What about Hu Jun's side?"

"Hu Jun quoted two million, I said one million two hundred thousand." Xu Qin flipped through her notebook. "He hesitated for a moment and said he'd think about it. He'll probably decide tomorrow."

Where is Deng Chao?

"An offer of 800,000, looking for a long-term contract." Xu Qin looked up at him. "What do you have to say?"

Yang Ning thought for a moment: "Three years, three films, 500,000 per film. That kid has talent, it's a good deal to sign him now."

Xu Qin wrote it down, then suddenly laughed: "You're good at doing the math. Five hundred thousand for a three-year contract, and in two more years his value will double. You'll make a killing."

"He can earn money too," Yang Ning said. "I give him acting roles, and he works for me. It's fair."

Xu Qin didn't say anything more and lowered her head to write.

Yang Ning stood there, suddenly remembering Nicholas Tse's 3.5 million. The difference between that price for a Hong Kong star and that price for a mainland actor was enormous.

"What's wrong?" Xu Qin looked up.

"It's nothing." Yang Ning walked to the window, lit a cigarette, and said, "I just feel like, when will mainland actors be able to charge that kind of price?"

"It will," Xu Qin said. "When the market gets bigger and our films sell more, the price will naturally go up."

Yang Ning didn't reply, looking out the window at the gray sky.

---

At 9 p.m., the people in the studio gradually left.

Liu Yong was bombarded with calls from his wife, urging him to come home. He grumbled as he packed his things. Han Duoduo left with a stack of documents. Old Xu's knee was bothering him, and Yang Ning told him to go to the hospital first.

The schedule on the whiteboard was still wet, and the markers smelled a bit strong.

Yang Ning stood there in a daze for a while.

Xu Qin walked over, carrying her bag: "Shall we go?"

"Walk."

The two went downstairs.

The parking lot was empty. Xu Qin pressed the car key, and the lights on the black Porsche Cayenne came on.

Yang Ning opened the passenger door and got in. There was a faint scent of perfume in the car, the same one Xu Qin wore.

He suddenly remembered that he had been wearing this scent for several years. He recalled that in his previous life, he also wore this perfume and had never changed it.

The car drove out of the parking lot and merged into the traffic flow on the Third Ring Road.

There were fewer cars on the road at this time, and the streetlights cast a dim yellow glow on the road surface. Xu Qin drove slowly, her hands resting on the steering wheel.

"Li Binbin can sign the contract tomorrow morning," she said first.

"Um."

There was a few seconds of silence.

"Hu Jun should be fine too," Xu Qin added. "Deng Chao's agent is overjoyed, saying he's offering a three-year contract for 500,000 yuan, which is exactly what they wanted."

Yang Ning didn't reply, looking at the lights flowing outside the window.

The car turned onto the North Third Ring Road. Rows of upscale apartments lined the roadside.

We've arrived at Liangma Mingju.

The car was parked in the underground garage. Xu Qin turned off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt.

Yang Ning didn't move, just looked at her.

"Do you still have the dumplings your mom made last time?"

Xu Qin was stunned for a moment.

"...Yes," she said. "It's freezing."

"Then let's go up."

Xu Qin looked at him.

He didn't say anything, but the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

---

Elevator access to each unit, one elevator per unit.

The entryway light turned on automatically when the door was opened.

The floor-to-ceiling windows face the night view of the East Third Ring Road. The traffic below meanders into a river of light, red, yellow, and white, stretching into the distance.

Every time Yang Ning comes, he feels that the view from this window is worth it—the house is over 180 square meters, and the view alone is worth the price of admission.

The main lights weren't on inside; several spotlights dimmed the light.

The most eye-catching thing is the dish cabinet—it stretches from the wall to the ceiling, with a walnut frame and glass doors, and the dishes inside are neatly arranged.

Classic Hong Kong films, such as "Comrades: Almost a Love Story," "Chungking Express," and "Days of Being Wild,"... Each disc has a homemade label on its spine, with neat and beautiful handwriting.

Yang Ning changed into slippers. The men's cotton slippers in the shoe cabinet were still there, gray-blue, new, with the tags just cut off.

He paused, looked at her, and felt a certain amount of guilt deep down towards the woman who had helped him the most.

Xu Qin went into the kitchen and opened the double-door refrigerator.

"Dumplings," she said, turning to look at him. "Or should we cook something else?"

"Dumplings will do."

The water was boiling. Xu Qin leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the fire.