Huayu: Starting from retirement, sweeping across the domestic entertainment industry

Chapter 246 Meeting the Parents

At the main table, after a round of toasts and laughter, the atmosphere gradually cooled down from its initial enthusiasm.

The other tables in the banquet hall were still making noise.

The camera crew was playing rock-paper-scissors at their table, while the props crew was singing a pop song off-key at their table.

But the main table fell silent first, probably because Zhang Yimou put down his wine glass and adopted an expression as if he wanted to discuss serious matters.

Zhang Yimou turned to look at Li Ran beside him, his tone casual but his eyes serious: "Li Ran, do you have any plans for the next part?"

Li Ran put the teacup back on the saucer and shook his head: "There are no plans yet. I'm going to take a break for a while."

"What's wrong, Director Zhang?"

Zhang Yimou smiled faintly, leaned back in his chair, and tapped his fingers unconsciously twice on the table, as if carefully choosing his words: "It's like this, I'm currently preparing a film set in the Southern Song Dynasty. There's a role that's quite suitable for you, and Shen Teng has already been confirmed to play it. You two are quite familiar with each other."

He paused, then added, "He also recommended you to me, and I'd also like you to come."

If it were any of the young actors in the crew, upon hearing Zhang Yimou's words about Shen Teng acting alongside him and Zhang Yimou personally speaking up, they would probably have agreed without hesitation.

But Li Ran didn't; he remained silent for a few seconds.

He knew what movie Zhang Yimou was talking about.

"Man Jiang Hong"

Shen Teng has been confirmed to star in the film, and the timeline matches up.

The film was the box office champion during the Spring Festival, achieving both critical and commercial success. The character Sun Jun, played by Yi Yangqianxi, was discussed repeatedly for several months, making it a rare and excellent script.

That role was exactly what Zhang Yimou wanted him to play.

"I'm sorry, Director Zhang." Li Ran looked up, her tone sincere, but her eyes didn't waver. "I'm going to take a break for a while now."

Zhang Yimou raised an eyebrow, not angry, but surprised.

He waved his hand, his tone tinged with a hint of jest: "Filming doesn't start until the second half of the year, so there's no need to rush to refuse. Are you planning to retire from acting?"

Li Ran shook his head.

He didn't play along with Zhang Yimou's joke; instead, he sat up straight, his expression becoming serious.

That solemnity wasn't nervousness or embarrassment, but rather the kind of solemnity one feels before announcing an important decision, a subconscious act of steadying oneself.

"Director Zhang, to be honest," he said, his voice not loud, but every word was clearly audible in the quiet area around the main table, "I am indeed preparing to put acting on hold for the time being."

He didn't pause for long, as if afraid of hesitating, and said the rest of his sentence in one breath: "I plan to go back to playing professionally for a few more years while I'm still able to play and before I get too old. Compared to my current life, I definitely prefer the feeling of being on the competition field."

Now it was Zhang Yimou's turn to remain silent.

He didn't respond immediately, but picked up the wine glass on the table, took a sip, put it down, picked it up again to look at the bottom of the glass, as if using this action to buy himself a few seconds to think.

As a veteran director who has spent most of his life in the film industry, he has dealt with countless actors, seen those who retired at the peak of their careers, those who changed careers to go into business, and those who married into wealthy families and retired from acting.

But he had never met a young actor who was on the rise, had solid acting skills, and whose box office appeal had already been proven, who would proactively tell him, "I want to go back to playing video games."

But he didn't say those words aloud.

Because he saw something very familiar in Li Ran's eyes, something called "passion".

It's not a momentary impulse, nor a rebellious act triggered by anything, but a steadfast decision made after repeated weighing and deliberation, ultimately choosing to follow one's heart.

He had seen this kind of thing in himself: when he first picked up a camera, when he slept in the sorghum field on set while filming "Red Sorghum," and when he stubbornly refused to change the ending despite pressure from investors.

He knew the weight of this stuff.

He has now largely given up on his former ideals, but hope still burns in Li Ran's eyes.

After a long silence, he spoke slowly, his voice lower than before, devoid of any jokes, carrying only the caution and concern of someone with experience: "Have you thought it through?"

Li Ran nodded.

There were no extra explanations, no lengthy defenses, just a simple nod.

The nod was a small gesture, but it landed with great force, as if he had bound his handprint onto an invisible document.

Zhang Yimou put down his wine glass, leaned forward slightly, clasped his hands on the table, and looked at Li Ran with a more complex expression.

He spoke slowly, each word seemingly drawn from experience, still carrying a lingering warmth: "Given your current status, going back to playing—and if you don't perform well, do you know what that means, given your influence?"

"I know." Li Ran's reply came quickly, almost as soon as Zhang Yimou finished speaking.

He spoke those two words calmly, but beneath that calm lay an extremely high level of understanding.

Of course he knew.

He is a two-time champion, a legendary player in the LPL, and the subject of countless esports viewers' hypothetical question: "What if he hadn't left?"

Returning to the stage in this capacity, if he wins, it's only natural; if he loses, all his past glory will turn into boomerangs, piercing back one by one.

Public opinion won't hold back just because you've won a championship. On the contrary, because you're Li Ran, they'll raise the bar to ridiculously high levels, to the point of being inhumane. If you lose even one game, people will have words like "outdated talent" and "disgraced" ready and neatly lined up at the top of the comments section.

But he still wanted to go.

It wasn't that he didn't know what was in front of him, but rather that even after clearly knowing, he still felt that the arena was worth risking everything for.

Zhang Yimou looked at him for a long time.

He didn't say anything like "think about it again," nor did he use his seniority to forcefully persuade him.

He simply reached out and patted Li Ran's shoulder, the force of which was neither too light nor too heavy. His palm landed on Li Ran's shoulder and lingered for two seconds before moving away.

"Now that you've thought it through," Zhang Yimou withdrew his hand, leaned back in his chair, and spoke with a tone of "I regret it, but I respect it."

"Then go, don't leave yourself with regrets."

"Besides, even if you take a few years to reflect, you'll still have to come back to acting eventually, won't you?"

Three days later, Li Ran and Zhou Ye set off for Huizhou once again.

The last time I came here was around this time last year, and the atmosphere was very harmonious then.

This time it's different.

He came here to confess.

When the car stopped in front of Zhou Ye's house, Li Ran sat in the driver's seat for several seconds without moving.

Zhou Ye turned his head to look at him, reached out and patted the back of his hand lightly, but his tone carried a sense of reckless abandon: "We're already here, there's no escaping now."

Li Ran took a deep breath, carrying the gifts he had prepared in the trunk—twice as much as last time, filling up all the available items—and followed her into the security door adorned with Spring Festival couplets.

Zhou Ye's parents were both at home.

Zhou's mother, wearing an apron, peeked out from the kitchen. When she saw the large and small bags Li Ran was carrying, her smile was even warmer than last time. While wiping her hands, she muttered, "You're here, why did you bring so much stuff?"

Zhou's father sat in a rattan chair in the living room, reading a newspaper while wearing reading glasses. Hearing the noise, he took off his glasses and placed them on the coffee table. He nodded to Li Ran, his expression similar to the last time—polite yet scrutinizing, with a hint of leeway.

Li Ran sat down on the sofa, and Zhou Ye sat down close to him, knee to knee, as if he was supporting him with his body language.

Before he spoke, he glanced at Zhou Ye. She winked at him and mouthed three words: "Tell the truth."

So he spoke.

Without beating around the bush or rehearsing in advance, he honestly laid out his situation to the two elderly people.

He talked about his romantic relationships—not just with Zhou Ye, but with others; he talked about the child, Liu Haocun and Wang Churan, and that the child in her womb belonged to the Li family; he talked about his family's attitude, that Zhou Ye already knew and accepted everything, and his attitude throughout the whole affair.

As he said this, Zhou's mother sat on a chair next to the dining table, her teacup on the table never being picked up again.

Zhou's father leaned back in the rattan chair, his hands folded on his knees. His expression was not very changeable, but his fingers were unconsciously clenched into fists.

After Li Ran finished speaking, the living room was quiet for about ten seconds.

Zhou's father opened his mouth, about to say something, but Zhou Ye cut him off.

"Dad~"

She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees, and spoke rapidly, "Let me tell you, Li Ran is really good to me. He always thinks of me and takes care of me on set."

"I knew about those things a long time ago. It wasn't that he hid them from me and I found out; he told me himself, right when we first got together. He's never lied to me. He's also very good to the other people, not in that way—"

"Alright, Xiao Ye," Zhou's father raised a hand to stop, his expression switching back and forth between "annoyed" and "amused" several times before finally settling on a helpless look of being exasperated by his daughter.

"Can't you let this kid talk for himself? Is he mute? He was quite talkative last time he came, wasn't he?"

Li Ran reached out and gently tugged at Zhou Ye's arm, her voice soft and her tone steady: "Alright, Coconut, I'll say it myself."

Zhou Ye was pulled back by him, turned his head and glared at him, a glare containing extremely complex elements—seven parts worry,

Two parts aggrieved, one part reproachful: "I'm speaking up for you, and you're stopping me."

She leaned back on the sofa, lowered her head, and muttered softly, "I was just worried you'd get yelled at—"

The sound wasn't loud, but there were only a few people in the living room, so everyone heard it.

Mr. Zhou picked up the teacup on the coffee table, took a sip, and glanced at his daughter over the rim of the cup.

The emotions in that look were so rich—helplessness, heartache, and a deep sense of sorrow, like "the little cabbage I've raised for over twenty years has grown legs and run away, and I'm even turning back to speak up for the pig."

This little darling is so sweet, but she's not the one being sweetened to him.

However, to Li Ran's surprise, Zhou's father did not get angry.

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his wicker chair in silence for a long while, and then sighed.

The sigh was long, as if it had compressed a long emotional journey into a single breath.

"I can't and don't want to interfere in the affairs of you young people." He said this in a calm tone, but it wasn't the indifference of "being too lazy to care," but rather a kind of clarity.

He glanced at Li Ran, his eyes no longer holding the sharp scrutiny of their last meeting, replaced by a gentler yet heavier gaze. "I only have one thing to say: don't let my daughter suffer. The rest is up to you."

In fact, it's not impossible to find out about Li Ran's background. Zhou's parents were already mentally prepared for his situation.

Li Ran stayed at Zhou Ye's house for two days.

Zhou Ye didn't go with him; she said she wanted to stay home a few more days and spend time with her parents.

In fact, Li Ran knew that she wanted to stay and smooth out the aftershocks that might occur when he wasn't around.

Li Ran did not go directly back to his hometown in Changsha.

After leaving Huizhou, he made a detour and went to Hu Lianxin's place.

Hu Lianxin lives in Shenzhen, which is not far from Huizhou.

Li Ran stayed at Hu Lianxin's house for a day.

Compared to the need to carefully manage the situation with Zhou Ye's parents, the atmosphere on Hu Lianxin's side was so relaxed that it was almost as if they weren't discussing the same thing.

During dinner that evening, Li Ran tentatively brought up her relationship with Zhou Ye to gauge Hu's parents' reaction.

Mrs. Hu placed a piece of steamed sea bass into Li Ran's bowl with her chopsticks, speaking casually as if she were discussing the weather: "I don't worry about what you young people do. As long as you're happy. If Hu Lianxin is happy, I'm happy."

Hu Lianxin sat next to Li Ran, her cheeks stuffed with rice, and mumbled in agreement, "That's right, that's right."

Then, she secretly nudged Li Ran's calf under the table with her toe, as if to show him her approval: See, I told you, my mom won't make things difficult for you.

Looking at her smug expression, Li Ran suddenly recalled Hu Lianxin's past life—that love-struck little fox with a romantic history rich enough to make a TV series.

She seems to be the kind of person born for love. All rationality, calculation, and weighing of options are ineffective in the face of emotions. Once she sets her sights on someone, she will wholeheartedly treat him well, to the point that she will not listen to the people around her who feel sorry for her.

Fortunately, he was the only one she loved in her life.

Thinking of this, Li Ran reached under the table and grasped the ankle of the woman who was still restlessly touching his calf, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Hu Lianxin almost choked from being pinched, and turned to look at him with wide eyes, a grain of rice still hanging from the corner of her mouth.

He reached out and wiped the grain of rice from the corner of her mouth, the movement as natural as if he had done it countless times.

Mrs. Hu took in their subtle actions, a slight smile playing on her lips, but pretended not to see anything.

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