Reborn, my online friend is the real me.

In late June, Su Yu went to Singapore.

He didn't tell anyone at the company, only telling Su Ting, "Sister, I'm going away for a few days."

Su Ting asked where he was going, and he said Singapore. Su Ting didn't ask any further questions.

After returning, Su Yu didn't mention the World Cup to anyone, nor did he tell anyone how much money he won, but it was indeed a large sum.

On June 25th, Su Yu printed out the two scripts, placing one stack on the table and the other stack on the table.

He called Wang Boxue and Lu Yang to the company. When the two arrived, Su Yu was sitting in the conference room with two stacks of A4 paper in front of him, the covers of which were titled "A Little Thing Called First Love" and "Uncle".

Wang Boxue first picked up "A Little Thing Called First Love" and flipped through it.

He reads very quickly; people in the photography department read scripts like they read storyboards, automatically generating images in their minds.

"Su Yu, when did you write this notebook?"

Su Yu leaned back in his chair, crossed his hands behind his head, and smiled: "I started writing it at the beginning of the Lunar New Year, revised it several times in April, and only finalized it last week."

Wang Boxue lowered his head and flipped through "A Little Thing Called First Love" again, then picked up "The Uncle" which Lu Yang had read and flipped through it. He looked up with a complicated expression.

"Two scripts, one a romance, the other an action film. Did you write them all by yourself? Do you have two brains?"

Lu Yang sat opposite him and said something that put Su Yu at ease for a while: "The script for 'Uncle' has commercial appeal."

Su Yu's lips slowly curled up into a smile. "Can we film it?"

Lu Yang nodded and said one word: "Yes."

"Let's get started then, shoot both at the same time."

.......

On the first day of July, Beijing experienced a light rain.

Su Yu stood at the entrance of the China Film Group building, holding an umbrella. He folded the umbrella, shook off the water, and pushed the door open to go inside.

The air conditioning in the lobby was on full blast, and the cool air mixed with the smell of disinfectant hit Su Yu. He sneezed and rubbed his nose.

The receptionist recognized him and smiled, pointing to the elevator entrance: "Hello, Director Su, Mr. Han is waiting for you on the eighth floor."

He was the only one in the elevator. Su Yu leaned against the elevator wall, holding a canvas file bag in his hand.

The elevator reached the eighth floor, the doors opened, and the corridor was covered with a dark gray carpet that made no sound when you stepped on it.

Su Yu walked to the door of Han Sanping's office. The door was half open, and he could hear Han Sanping talking on the phone inside. His tone was not good. He was talking to someone about film scheduling. His voice was very low, but you could hear the irritation in his voice.

Su Yu stood at the door for a while and heard Han Sanping say, "Don't mention 'The Promise' anymore," and then the phone hung up.

Su Yu reached out and knocked on the door frame. Han Sanping looked up and saw Su Yu, and the expression on his face softened.

He put down the phone, beckoned to Su Yu, and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Come in, close the door."

Su Yu went inside and closed the door.

There was an extra stack of documents on Han Sanping's desk compared to last time, with the top one bearing the cover of a report on "The Promise".

Su Yu pretended not to see it and sat down in the chair opposite the desk.

Han Sanping took a cigarette out of the cigarette pack, lit it, took a big drag, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

He leaned back in his chair, squinting at Su Yu. "Is the new script finished?"

Su Yu took out two stacks of bound scripts from the file bag and handed them over with both hands.

Han Sanping took the two scripts and looked at the cover first. He raised his eyebrows slightly, placed them side by side on the table, and held the cigarette between his fingers without smoking it, leaving a small pile of ash.

"Two?" Han Sanping's voice carried a hint of uncertainty.

Su Yu nodded, leaning forward slightly. "Two. One is a youth film, and the other is an action film."

Han Sanping put a cigarette in his mouth, squinted, and quickly flipped through "A Little Thing Called First Love," probably just looking at the story outline. After finishing, he nodded, put the script on his left, and then picked up "The Uncle."

This time he translated much more slowly, and when he saw the description of the action scenes, his brows furrowed.

The office was quiet for a while. Su Yu sat opposite him, his fingers tapping lightly on his knees.

Han Sanping closed the book "Uncle", took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

He placed his glasses on the table, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and leaned back in his chair to look at Su Yu.

"Youth films are no problem; seven million, China Film Group can invest half of it." Han Sanping's voice was unhurried. He paused, rubbed his temples, then picked up the thermos on the table, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip of water.

"Su Yu, to be honest with you, China Film Group is a bit tight on funds right now." He put his thermos on the table. "The 'The Promise' project has lost a lot of money. The board of directors is looking at the budget recently; it's a 30 million project, and I can't make the decision on my own."

Su Yu's fingers stopped on his knee, and he looked into Han Sanping's eyes without looking away.

Han Sanping took out another cigarette from the pack, and the smoke drifted between the two men. He flicked the ash, which fell outside the ashtray, but he didn't wipe it up.

"For action films, China Film Group can only invest a maximum of five million; that's the limit I can negotiate."

Su Yu's eyebrows twitched slightly. Of the 30 million budget, China Film Group only invested 5 million, less than one-sixth.

Seeing his reaction, Han Sanping stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He leaned forward half an inch, placed his hands on the edge of the table, and lowered his voice, as if he were confiding in Su Yu.

"It's not that I don't think highly of you. I'm telling you this directly because I do. If it were someone else, I would have just said, 'Central Motion Pictures isn't investing,' and you could go find someone else. But you..."

He stretched out his finger and tapped it on the solid wood table, "I think your project has potential. China Film Group will contribute five million, and you can figure out the rest yourself."

Su Yu turned his gaze back to Han Sanping, "Mr. Han, five million is fine too. Thank you."

Han Sanping was taken aback, probably not expecting Su Yu to agree so readily.

"Do you have someone in mind for the male lead role?"

Su Yu took out a folded A4 sheet of paper from the inner compartment of the document bag and pushed it in front of Han Sanping.

"Collin Chou, actor/action director, best known for films such as *The Matrix*, *Fearless*, and *Hail the Judge*. He speaks fluent English, has solid martial arts skills, and a cool, edgy image; I plan to release this film in the North American market."

Han Sanping picked up the paper and glanced at it, his eyes conveying a sense of "you've already paved the way."

"Collin Chou? You know him?"

"I don't know him. I'd like to ask China Film Group to help me make contact. He's the most suitable candidate right now, in terms of cost-effectiveness. Action actors from Hong Kong and Taiwan are either too old or not well-known enough. Collin Chou has worked in Hollywood and has international experience, and his salary is within budget."

"Okay, I'll have someone contact them; wait for my news." Han Sanping looked at Su Yu, his expression more relaxed than before. "Su Yu, you're quite daring. At twenty-one, you're starting two films at the same time, an action movie with a budget of thirty million. Aren't you afraid of it going wrong?"

"Mr. Han, those who are afraid of crashing will never be able to drive on the road."

Han Sanping looked at him, his lips slowly curving into a smile, and he burst out laughing.

He waved his hand, his tone returning to its usual indifferent tone: "Alright, alright, stop joking around with me; go back and wait for news."