A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

The Grave Robbers' Chronicles became a hit, an absolute sensation.

Walking down the street, even the old lady selling jianbing (Chinese crepes) was arguing with her customers about how heavy the young man's black gold ancient knife was, and how many funerary objects Wang Pangzi had embezzled.

The threshold of entertainment groups that people don't want to work has been practically flattened by brands waving their checks these past few days.

The outside world was in an uproar because of him, but at this moment, Lin Yan was sprawled on the sofa in the villa, wearing headphones and frantically pressing the controller on the screen.

"Hurry! Heal me! I can't carry this wave, I'm about to die!" Lin Yan yelled into the microphone.

Just then, the doorbell rang like a death knell.

Lin Yan impatiently threw off his headphones, slipped on his flip-flops, and walked to the video doorbell.

On the screen stood a middle-aged man with messy hair like a bird's nest and bloodshot eyes.

Zhang Dagang is a renowned fifth-generation director in China.

A few minutes later, in the living room.

Zhang Dagang picked up the glass of cold water on the table and gulped it down, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded: "President Lin, you have to save me, you absolutely have to save me this time!"

Lin Yan sat cross-legged on the sofa, still habitually holding the game controller in his hand, and raised an eyebrow.

"Director Zhang, what's going on here? I heard your historical epic 'Beauty in Troubled Times' just hit theaters, right? How were the box office results for the first week?"

It would have been better if this hadn't been mentioned, but as soon as it was, Zhang Dagang's face fell, and he almost couldn't hold back his tears.

"Don't even mention it! It's a complete disaster! A total disaster!" Zhang Dagang rubbed his face in despair. "We invested 300 million yuan, and the box office in the first week was only 40 million! The online criticism could drag my ancestors back eighteen generations and whip their corpses! The investors are now threatening to withdraw their funding, and the theaters are going to cut my screenings tomorrow. My reputation, built up over most of my life, is ruined by this one film!"

Lin Yan shrugged and didn't respond.

He had actually read the online comments. Zhang Dagang was trying to create an epic feel, but the result was a hodgepodge of forced sentimentality. The plot was fragmented and full of pointless whining, so it was no surprise that it flopped.

"So you came all this way to see me?"

"Mr. Lin, everyone in the industry knows you're a Midas touch expert!"

Zhang Dagang grabbed Lin Yan's arm as if it were a lifeline.

"I've read the script for 'The Grave Robbers' Chronicles,' the structure, the suspense—it's amazing! Do you have any other scripts on hand? Any subject matter is fine, as long as it can turn my life around, I, Zhang Dagang, will be your slave from now on!"

Lin Yan was dizzy from being shaken so much. "Let go, let go. Director Zhang, I'm a musician, and you want me to write a movie script for you? Isn't that a bit of a crossover?"

"Lin Yan! Ancestor Lin! Stop pretending!" Zhang Da started to shamelessly pester.

"You can write a top-notch symphony in two minutes, and you dare say you don't have a script? I've been camped out outside your house for three days now. If you don't give me an explanation, I'm sleeping on this sofa and not leaving!"

Seeing the stubborn old man looking like he was ready to sleep on the ground, Lin Yan rubbed his temples in exasperation.

He glanced at the clock on the wall; his teammates were still waiting for him to reconnect.

"Okay, wait a minute."

Lin Yan sighed, got up and went into the study.

Five minutes later, he casually tossed a stack of freshly printed A4 papers, still warm from the ink, onto the coffee table in front of Zhang Dagang.

"Here, the first draft, hasn't been polished yet. Take a look."

Zhang Dagang was overjoyed, his hands trembling slightly as he picked it up. He looked down at the cover: "A Chinese Odyssey".

"A Journey to the West theme?"

Zhang Dagang's cloudy eyes lit up. This is a mythological theme with the highest national popularity, a major IP, a sure thing!

But when he eagerly turned to the first page, after reading for less than five minutes, his brows furrowed tightly.

As he flipped further, his breathing became rapid, and his face turned pale and then flushed.

"How... how did Sun Wukong end up in a relationship with the White Bone Demon?"

"A talkative Tang Sanzang? He could even drive a little demon to suicide by nagging him so much?"

"What kind of rubbish dialogue is this? 'There was once a sincere love placed before me...' That's just insane!"

"Mr. Lin, are you sure this isn't a parody of a classic?!"

Zhang Dagang slammed the script shut, his eyes filled with incomprehension and resistance as he stared at Lin Yan.

As a traditional fifth-generation director, he has spent half his life emphasizing the grandeur, seriousness, and profundity of narratives.

This kind of "nonsensical" comedy, full of postmodern deconstructionism and completely unconventional dialogue, is simply a deviant and absurd in his aesthetic comfort zone.

"A prank?"

Lin Yan chuckled and leaned back on the sofa, his tone nonchalant.

"Director Zhang, your film 'Beauty in Troubled Times' was incredibly serious, but it still flopped so badly at the box office that even its own mother wouldn't recognize it!"

Zhang Dagang's face suddenly turned red, and he choked for a long time, unable to breathe.

"This is called nonsensical comedy. It's a comedy disguised as a story about fate and letting go."

Lin Yan tapped the script cover with his long, slender fingers.

"If Sun Wukong puts on the golden headband, he can't love her; if he doesn't wear the golden headband, he can't save her. If you can't understand this principle, then don't take this book, lest you waste it."

As he spoke, Lin Yan made a gesture as if to snatch the script back.

"Hey! Hey! No, no, no!"

Zhang Dagang's hand veins bulged, and he quickly pressed the script tightly against his chest like a protective guardian of food.

Although he couldn't understand this illogical reasoning at all, he knew very well that he was now at his wit's end.

Lin Yan's unerring accuracy is his last chance to salvage his career.

Screw traditional aesthetics, survival is the priority!

"I'll take the picture! I'll take the picture, okay?!" Zhang Dagang gritted his teeth.

"But Mr. Lin, this style is too avant-garde. I'm afraid I really won't be able to keep up with the pace. You have to be my producer, otherwise I'm really nervous."

"I'm busy, I'm going fishing." Lin Yan refused decisively, not giving him any face at all.

"Even just being an assistant director will do! Just having your name on it is enough! If you don't come to oversee things, the investors definitely won't dare to invest in this script!"

Zhang Dagang has completely abandoned his reputation as a famous director and has started to act shamelessly.

Lin Yan's head was throbbing from his noise.

Just then, Shen Qingqiu came downstairs carrying two cups of hand-drip coffee, giving the loudly shouting Director Zhang a cool look.

Lin Yan's eyes lit up, and he had an idea: "Okay, here's the plan. I'll have the No-Work Group cover all the investment, not a single penny from outside, so you won't be held back by those incompetent investors and have to make arbitrary changes."

He paused, staring into Zhang Dagang's eyes, and said, word by word, "But all casting decisions must be made by me."

No need to solicit investment and still have to put up with mistreatment? Zhang Dagang was overjoyed and patted his chest without even thinking.

"No problem! You're the big spender, so you call the shots. I'd even accept it if you cast a dog as the Bodhi Patriarch!"