Chapter 30: The Fallen Child Star (30) Part 1

Director Chen’s apology added a spark of excitement to the celebration banquet for “Sunken Dust.”

Eager reporters were itching to interview Director Chen about his heartfelt apology, but unable to reach him, they turned their attention to the other key figure involved in the incident.

Just as Xu Weiheng finished reading Director Chen’s Weibo post, he found himself surrounded by reporters, all clamoring for his thoughts on the apology.

“Unexpected,” Xu Weiheng replied candidly.

The reporters, however, weren’t satisfied with this brief response.

“Did Director Chen give you any hint about his intention to apologize beforehand?”

“No.”

“What’s your response to Director Chen’s remarks?”

Xu Weiheng smiled slightly. Amidst the noisy celebration, his voice remained calm and measured.

“I appreciate Director Chen’s praise and will continue to work hard.”

This was a flawless response. The reporters surrounding Xu Weiheng felt frustrated, wondering how such a young person could appear so seasoned in front of the media.

Realizing they wouldn’t get much more from him, the reporters swiftly shifted their focus to Yao Rong, seeking her perspective on the matter.

“To be honest, I’ve been waiting for Director Chen to post that Weibo for quite some time,” Yao Rong said softly into the microphone.

The reporters perked up: “So, some netizens speculate that you wrote ‘Sunken Dust’ to teach Director Chen a lesson. Is that true?”

“Of course not. I simply wanted to show Director Chen what today’s audiences prefer.”

The reporters internally scoffed: Isn’t that essentially teaching him a lesson?

“Director Chen has been in the industry for thirty years, creating numerous acclaimed and commercially successful films, winning various awards, and earning titles like ‘China’s Master of Sci Fi Films.’ However—”

The reporters leaned in, knowing something significant was coming after the “however.”

“I’d like to ask: since ‘2050,’ has Director Chen truly studied what contemporary audiences enjoy? When refining his scripts, did he consider market trends? When ‘2050 II’ suffered a severe box office failure, did he reflect on himself? Rather than saying I taught him a lesson, it’s more accurate to say that audiences are telling him—you’re out of touch.”

“Those who disrespect audience demands and market needs, catering only to their own aesthetic—in other words, self-indulgence—will inevitably be abandoned by both audiences and the market.”

Were these words cutting? If so, that was her intention.

One reporter’s mind raced, thinking about how to expand Yao Rong’s statement into an article: “What’s your take on Director Chen praising Xu Weiheng?”

“In this matter, Director Chen is being honest,” Yao Rong replied.

The reporter was taken aback: “…”

“Now that even Director Chen admits defeat, those who haven’t seen ‘Sunken Dust’ should head to the cinema. I believe it will exceed expectations.”

Yao Rong seized the opportunity to promote the film.

Frustrated reporters turned their attention elsewhere: “Is that Wen Qiu over there? Wen Qiu! Can you spare a few words for us?”

After the celebration banquet, this interview circulated online, eliciting laughter from many netizens who resonated deeply with Yao Rong’s sentiments.

[Over the years, those born in the ’90s and ’00s have become the main consumer force. The audience has evolved, yet Director Chen’s aesthetic remains stuck in the past.]

[Director Chen has the right to self-indulge, but audiences can choose not to buy into it.]

[Honestly, it’s not just Director Chen; this seems to be a common ailment among many prominent directors in our country. Spending money to waste two hours in a cinema without even understanding the story is infuriating. I admit my taste may not be sophisticated, but I watch movies for entertainment. Raising viewing standards means alienating viewers like me—and we’re probably the majority.]

Director Chen sat at his computer, having forcefully stubbed out half a cigarette in the ashtray.

Even before Yao Rong’s interview concluded, friends who attended the banquet had sent him the video. Since watching it, Director Chen had remained motionless for two full hours.

While others might only grasp the surface meaning of Yao Rong’s words, he understood the underlying threat they conveyed.

She was telling him: merely accepting defeat isn’t enough; he must acknowledge his mistakes as well.

She was dissatisfied with his vague Weibo post.

Indeed, in that post, he had only acknowledged Xu Weiheng’s acting skills without admitting to the unpleasant things he had done.

Director Chen tightly closed his eyes and leaned back heavily in his chair.

After an internal struggle that felt like an eternity, he slowly picked up his phone.

His phone was inundated with messages, mostly from fellow directors he knew.

All of them mocked him for being slapped in the face by a young screenwriter.

After reading through all those messages, Director Chen suddenly laughed.

If he was outdated, what did that make these directors?

Were they not also part of that same outdated group?

He found these people laughable.

Yet he feared that in Yao Rong’s eyes and those of many viewers, he was just as ridiculous as they were.

Director Chen exhaled deeply, finally reaching a decision.

He deleted all the chaotic messages and dialed a number: “Contact the media. I want to hold a press conference tomorrow night… Where? At the same venue where we held the ‘2050 II’ press conference.”

The news of Director Chen holding a press conference spread rapidly throughout the industry like wildfire.

The following evening, nearly all entertainment reporters who could make it were present at the press conference.

Director Chen stood up and delivered a lengthy speech.

The essence of his address could be summarized into two key points:

First, he apologized for his irresponsible remarks at the ‘2050 II’ press conference and expressed willingness to make amends to Xu Weiheng.

Second, he announced that for the next three years, he would not take on new projects. Instead, he would re-familiarize himself with current trends and audiences before returning with better works.

“Ms. Yao said something profound: this world ultimately belongs to the young. If one doesn’t want to be left behind, one must respect ever-changing aesthetics. She didn’t teach me a lesson; rather, I learned a great deal.”

With a slight smile, Director Chen took a step back and bowed deeply to the audience.

This gesture signaled the conclusion of his speech.

For some reason, after delivering those words, Director Chen felt remarkably relieved.

In thirty years, it was his first moment clearly recalling who he had been three decades ago.

Back then, he sat on ridges chatting with farmers about the movies they yearned to see; he walked through streets, asking both fashionably dressed and plainly clothed people what they hoped to watch in cinemas…

But later, he stepped away from the crowds, sitting behind cameras for so many years without returning to mingle among them again.

He realized how long he had distanced himself from his audiences.

All attending reporters stood up in shock, repeatedly calling out questions.

“Director Chen! Please say more!”

“Why did you hold this press conference? Is it because of what Yao Rong said yesterday?”

“Director Chen! What’s your take on what Yao Rong said yesterday? Can you respond?”

Director Chen ignored these reporters, turning away from the podium and hurriedly leaving them behind.

The reporters tried to rush after him but were stopped by security guards.

Seeing no hope of getting further comments from Director Chen, they began leaving the press conference venue.

Such big news, of course, needed to be published as soon as possible!

Soon after, related news began appearing on various media platforms’ Weibo accounts.

#DirectorChenHoldsPressConferenceToApologize#

Xu Weiheng, who had just boarded a plane, naturally saw this news too.

After staring at his phone screen for a while, Xu Weiheng turned his head to look at Yao Rong, who was sleeping in the seat beside him.

Though unsure how she had orchestrated it all, he suspected this matter must have something to do with Ms. Yao.

Xu Weiheng’s eyes curved slightly in a smile. He put his phone back in his pocket, stopped a passing flight attendant to get a blanket, and gently covered Yao Rong with it.

Yao Rong stirred awake at this motion.

“It’s nothing, go back to sleep. The plane is about to take off,” Xu Weiheng said.

“Then you should sleep too. It’s over three hours to D City,” Yao Rong said sleepily.

“Alright.”

“Has Director Chen’s press conference finished?”

“Yes, it has.”

“Mm. Then don’t worry about him anymore.”

“Okay. I’ll keep looking forward.”

Yao Rong smiled, shifted her position, and closed her eyes again.

Not long after, “Sunken Dust” successfully obtained an extended screening permit.

With a regular 30-day run plus an additional 30 days, “Sunken Dust” concluded its theatrical release with an impressive box office of 7.3 billion yuan, not only shocking everyone but also demonstrating the vitality of naked-eye 3D technology.

Undoubtedly, “Sunken Dust” achieving such remarkable results was inseparable from the boost provided by the innovative naked-eye 3D technology.

Holding the core technology, Tiangong Vision, a previously unknown special effects company, suddenly rose to prominence. Every day, numerous TV drama and film crews contacted Tiangong Vision to discuss potential collaborations.

Pei Rou and her colleagues couldn’t contain their excitement and made a video call to Yao Rong, exclaiming, “It’s incredible! Sister Yao, you have no idea how elated we are!”

Yao Rong smiled gently: “You’re this excited now? Wait a bit longer, and even foreign teams might reach out for collaboration.”

No matter how far ahead foreign special effects technology had been before, the naked-eye 3D technology had allowed China to successfully overtake them on a curve.

Pei Rou chuckled, showing her utmost admiration for Yao Rong.

After ending the call with Pei Rou, Yao Rong’s phone rang again.

Many film and television production companies had obtained Yao Rong’s contact information through various channels, eager to commission her to write scripts for their projects.

Additionally, several companies proposed acquiring the film and television rights for “Starry Sky” and “Light Years,” but Yao Rong, after evaluating their overall capabilities, temporarily declined them all.

The last person to call Yao Rong was the head of Blue Shadow.

“I expected this call to come earlier,” Yao Rong said directly, as they were acquainted.

The head of Blue Shadow laughed heartily: “I knew many people would be reaching out to you. I thought it best to let you hear other offers first so you could better appreciate Blue Shadow’s sincerity.”

Blue Shadow had benefited tremendously from “Sunken Dust.”

Apart from receiving billions in box office revenue share, their stock prices had also soared consistently.

Compared to other film and television production companies, Blue Shadow was most aware of who had brought them all this success.

Therefore, the head of Blue Shadow didn’t beat around the bush and got straight to the point.

“We want to acquire the film and television rights for ‘Starry Sky’ and ‘Light Years,’ and we’d like to invite you to be the screenwriter for these two films again. The terms will definitely be the best in the industry. What do you think?”

“I have no objections,” Yao Rong replied, but she also put forward her own request, “I hope the production team for ‘Starry Sky’ and ‘Light Years’ will be the same as ‘Sunken Dust.’ What’s your take on that?”

“If you’re on board, then I certainly have no issues!” the head of Blue Shadow said happily.

The original team from “Sunken Dust” – this name alone was worth several hundred million yuan at the box office.

Even if Yao Rong hadn’t suggested it, he wouldn’t have considered changing the production team.

“Then you can start preparing,” Yao Rong said, ending the call.

As the spring rain began to subside, there came a gentle knock on the door.

Yao Rong went to open it.

Xu Weiheng stood outside, holding a Wangzai milk drink in one hand and a box of freshly washed cherries in the other.

He handed everything to Yao Rong: “I heard you’ve been on calls all night.”

Yao Rong ate a cherry, casually mentioning: “Blue Shadow bought the film and television rights for ‘Starry Sky’ and ‘Light Years’ from me.”

“They have good taste,” Xu Weiheng praised.

Yao Rong was amused by his reaction and spat out the cherry pit.

The moonlight broke through the clouds, and starlight spilled out from behind Xu Weiheng, illuminating his clear features.

Yao Rong suddenly remembered something.

Counting the days, it would be Xu Weiheng’s coming-of-age ceremony in half a month.

“Your 18th birthday is approaching. On that day, let’s have a birthday livestream.”

“A birthday livestream? Wouldn’t that be too showy?”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

Yao Rong was usually open-minded and would communicate everything with Xu Weiheng. If he truly didn’t want to do something, she wouldn’t force him.

This was the first time she had so strongly insisted on doing something.

“This birthday livestream must happen.”

Perhaps feeling her reaction was a bit too intense, Yao Rong calmed her emotions before explaining.

“This is your coming-of-age ceremony. On such an important day, your fans would definitely want to participate personally.”

“Everyone will wish you a happy birthday and give you their best wishes.”

For some reason, perhaps because of Yao Rong’s expression or her tone, Xu Weiheng’s eyes suddenly reddened.

This emotion came unexpectedly, yet it left him unsettled for a long time.

It was as if…

As if on this day in the past, no one had ever wished him happy birthday, no one had ever given him their best wishes.

As Xu Weiheng’s 18th birthday drew nearer, he began to have frequent dreams.