My cousin asked me to go to Wuha, and Hanikezi stuck to me.

Hanikezi never brought up the eleven-page draft again.

The kraft paper envelope lay quietly in the drawer of the study, pressing down on the old diary, covered with a thin layer of dust from the coming year.

Three days after his birthday, Chen Yi invited Xiao Fang to his studio.

The office was rearranged once, but the layout remained largely unchanged; all the desks and chairs were replaced with dark walnut wood.

Two movie posters hang on the wall: one is the release date announcement from the year Lin Yu won the award, and the other is the program booklet from the Venice premiere of his second feature film.

Xiao Fang arrived a moment earlier than the agreed time.

He was carrying two Americanos, and he pushed open the door and placed one of them on Chen Yi's table.

"What are we talking about today? Will the production budget for Wednesday be brought forward?"

"It's not a budget issue."

Chen Yi moved the chair away from the table and leaned back against the chair with his legs crossed.

Let's talk about the next ten years.

Xiao Fang unscrewed the lid of the coffee cup and blew on the steam.

"How many decades?"

"Ten Years of the Studio".

Chen Yi got up and pulled out a stack of handwritten papers from the bottom shelf of the cabinet. There were about seven or eight pages in total, with neat penmanship and each page marked with a serial number.

He pushed the stack of papers in front of Xiao Fang.

Xiao Fang flipped through the pages one by one.

The first two pages describe the content production rhythm: producing two to three high-quality projects per year, alternating between feature films and short films, emphasizing quality over quantity.

The third page discusses a new talent support program, which signs two to three young directors or screenwriters each year, providing them with creative space, distribution channels, and room for trial and error.

Page four onwards outlines the overseas strategy, with plans to establish independent distribution channels in Europe and Southeast Asia in stages, using content as a stepping stone and quality as a moat.

When they turned to the fifth page, Xiao Fang looked up.

"What kind of organization is this 'Creators' Alliance' you've created?"

"We'll connect the new directors we've supported, sharing resources. We won't tie them to agents; we'll only collaborate on content. If someone's script is ready, we'll help them get started; if someone's film passes censorship, we'll help with distribution. Profit sharing will be on a project-by-project basis, without binding anyone to us."

"This is completely different from the traditional label model."

"Traditional labels make money by signing artists; once the artists leave, the label is gone. What I want to do is not to tie people to the label, but to tie the label to the work. Ten years from now, what will remain on the books of this studio should be a list of films, each one worthy of being shown on the table."

Xiao Fang pressed the stack of papers onto the table, his index finger pressing down on the corner of the last page.

"To be honest, this approach won't be very profitable."

"If it's not high, it's not high. Being able to support the team, maintain quality, and survive long enough is more worthwhile than anything else."

"You used to talk about money all the time."

"It's normal to worry about money when you don't have it. Now that you have enough to eat and wear, you should start thinking about the long term."

Xiao Fang tilted his head back and took a sip of his Americano. The coffee was slightly hot, and he swallowed it with a deep breath.

"I have no objection to the direction, but the execution needs to be broken down into detailed steps. The standards for signing new employees, the project selection process, and the list of partners for overseas distribution all need to be built from scratch."

Chen Yi tapped the table with his fingers.

"That's why I'm talking to you; you're better at these things than I am."

Xiao Fang put down the cup and sat up straight.

"Are you really saying this, or are you just flattering me to get me to work overtime?"

"Both."

Xiao Fang chuckled softly, then quickly composed himself and became serious.

"Okay, I'll draft an implementation plan first, and we'll meet next Wednesday. There's one thing I need to clarify: what is your role in this ten-year plan?"

"For the first five years, I was both a director and producer. For the next five years, I gradually moved behind the scenes and handed over the front-line work to newcomers."

"Retreat behind the scenes? You're only thirty this year."

"Thirty is not young anymore. In five years, the young people who emerge in the industry will understand the audience better than I do. My value lies in my judgment and resource allocation, in my oversight, and in helping newcomers avoid detours. Working closely with actors on the front lines to hone their skills is not my forte."

Xiao Fang paused for a few seconds.

He has been with Chen Yi for almost ten years, from a flustered assistant who used to pick him up at the airport to a partner in the studio.

The way this person spoke was not much different from ten years ago; it was still brief and left no room for negotiation.

What has changed is the content of the words.

Ten years ago he said, "I want to stand at the front," but now he says, "Let others stand at the front."

"I'm glad you've thought it through. I'll just mention one thing: we need to start working on overseas distribution channels in the second half of this year. If we wait until we have enough films before we start working on distribution channels, it'll be too late."

"You set the rhythm, I trust your judgment."

Xiao Fang gathered the stack of papers on the table, aligned them page by page, and stuffed them into the folder he carried with him.

"Is there anything else to explain?"

"The last one."

Chen Yi picked up a pen, wrote a line on a blank sticky note, and pushed it over.

Xiao Fang looked down.

Not working at all for at least one month each year.

He stared at the line of text for a few seconds, then raised his eyebrows.

"Are you serious?"

"Seriously. My daughter has grown so fast these past two years, and if I don't make time for her soon, she'll be starting kindergarten. Once she's in school and has friends, she won't care about her dad anymore. I'll spend as much time with her as possible while she still lets me braid her hair."

"Your ponytail, your sister-in-law was complaining to Sister Hong last time, saying it was crooked to the side of your ear."

"Whether it's crooked or not, as long as she's willing to let me do it, that's fine."

Xiao Fang closed the folder and leaned back in his chair.

The sunlight streaming through the window shone directly into the room, landing on the document cover.

Over the years in the industry, he has seen countless planning documents, some written in great detail, but less than 30% of them actually come to fruition.

Chen Yi is different.

The words on the paper were restrained, without any grand pronouncements or slogans such as "listing in five years and dominating in ten years".

It was all a series of simple execution lists, like laying bricks, one layer on top of another.

Xiao Fang stood up and tucked the folder under his arm.

"One last question for you."

Chen Yi twirled the pen between his fingers, turning the pen barrel halfway around.

"Ten years ago, when you left Chen Chichi's house to report to the program crew, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of getting a good meal after signing the contract."

"And now?"

"Now I want to leave behind what I've done. It's not enough for just my name to spread; when people mention this studio, they should think of the work first, and they should think of the group of people who created it."

Xiao Fang pushed open the office door and paused at the threshold.

You've changed.

Chen Yi put the pen back where it belonged.

"It's gotten better."