Chapter 17: What Grudges Do You Two Have?

Film Emperor Xie wanted to introduce her to a job? And it was Director Meng’s new drama with a second female lead role?!

A pie falling from the sky—Jiang Wan felt both flattered and surprised. She quickly thanked him and accepted Meng Yan’s friend request.

Meng Yan didn’t waste a single word and directly sent over the script of his new drama, Spring Doesn’t Return.

Jiang Wan was just as straightforward. After reading it, she immediately asked when they could sign the contract.

The two arranged a time, and Meng Yan hesitated for a moment before reminding her that this script had already been rejected by Huaying Media. He subtly hinted that she should be cautious of people around her.

When she signed with the company, Jiang Wan had the good luck of being a rising star in the industry, so she retained the right to choose her own projects.

But the downside was that the scripts she got to choose from had already been filtered once.

Jiang Wan thanked him, then muttered to herself. She rested her chin in one hand, looking thoughtful. “Who’s trying to sabotage me…?”

Her family had never approved of her entering the entertainment industry. At worst, they had a huge fight and almost severed ties, but they wouldn’t go so far as to actively harm her.

[Cough cough!]

The system was being way too suspiciously quiet.

Jiang Wan suddenly remembered her character setting as a C-list, scandal-ridden actress and asked, “Was it you guys again?”

The system responded, guilty but still defiant.

[…It was necessary for the plot!]

Seeing that Jiang Wan was starting to get angry, the system quickly tried to appease her:

[Host, don’t be upset! The female lead has already entered the story, and the plot has begun, so these restrictions will gradually ease up. The butterfly effect will increasingly alter the storyline.

Because of your great performance on the variety show, Meng Yan’s preference for casting you skyrocketed. That’s why, even after being rejected by your company, he went to Xie Zhiyi to ask for your contact info. And because you made a decent impression on Xie Zhiyi during the show—and he’s someone who usually hates trouble—he was willing to help. The same goes for other storylines, including your ending. As long as you’re willing, anything can change.]

That speech finally made Jiang Wan’s tightly furrowed brows relax slightly.

She understood what the system meant.

Four words: Man makes the difference.

The plot would be there and exert its influence, but the real power of decision was in her own hands.

Sure enough—

When Sister Yang heard Jiang Wan wanted to accept Spring Doesn’t Return, she tried to talk her out of it. “This second female lead isn’t exactly a likable role. Although Director Meng usually focuses on ensemble casts, it doesn’t guarantee everyone gets equal screen time. Times are different now—we’re finally at a point where we can take lead roles. Maybe we should reconsider?”

But since Jiang Wan’s attitude was firm, Sister Yang gave in.

Oh well.

Even just shooting some “gorgeous visuals” in Director Meng’s drama wouldn’t be a bad thing. With the current buzz from Love for the First Time, their artist wasn’t going to lack popularity anytime soon.

Of course—

Before the contract was officially signed, Jiang Wan finally understood—

Even when a good role comes up, it’s never going to fall to her, the unlucky cannon-fodder supporting actress.

The audition ended.

Meng Yan was very satisfied with Jiang Wan’s performance and wanted to sign the contract on the spot.

But just as Jiang Wan was holding the pen in mid-air, her hand paused, and her expression gradually turned strange.

Meng Yan felt confused. “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Wan’s eyes slowly shifted away from a chalkboard in the distance. On it were the names of many popular actors—clearly the male lead had been chosen after much heated discussion.

Jiang Wan asked lifelessly, “Excuse me, who’s the male lead in this drama?”

Meng Yan replied smugly, “Already confirmed—it’s Wei Hao, the trending star who was nominated for Best Actor last year. I’m signing with him tomorrow.”

Wei Hao, ever since his nomination for Best Actor the previous year, had become one of the industry’s hottest talents—he had both popularity and acting chops. Countless production teams were fighting to cast him.

Jiang Wan’s heart sank completely.

In the original storyline—

Wei Hao, during an awards ceremony in the future, would make inappropriate advances toward Qiao Zhiyi, which would enrage Fu Siyue.

Though Wei Hao’s company was strong, no amount of resources could withstand the wrath of a true powerhouse. Fu Siyue spent significant time and effort, but in the end, every scandal and black mark in Wei Hao’s history was thoroughly exposed.

Fu Siyue only meant to teach Wei Hao a lesson, but he hadn’t expected him to crumble so easily—his entire career collapsed into ruins.

So, while the other three dramas in Meng Yan’s Spring–Summer–Autumn–Winter series all achieved decent success, Spring Doesn’t Return never even aired due to the male lead’s scandal.

But in truth—

In terms of production quality, Spring Doesn’t Return was the best of all four.

No matter how good the script was, how much she liked the role, or how much effort she put in—this was a drama that wouldn’t even make it to broadcast. Joining it would be nothing but a waste of time.

Seeing Jiang Wan’s increasingly odd expression, Meng Yan’s gossip senses flared. “Do you guys have some grudge or drama? Come on, tell me!”

Jiang Wan let out a long sigh.

She had no grudge with Wei Hao.

But if Meng Yan signed him, and the drama got shelved after his inevitable downfall—then they might have a problem.

Facing Meng Yan’s curious gaze—

Jiang Wan decided to drop a subtle hint. “I’ve heard some rumors… Teacher Wei’s private life seems a little messy.”

The system couldn’t help but complain:

[That wasn’t subtle at all, okay!]

But Meng Yan didn’t believe it. He even chuckled. “Where did you hear that nonsense? Sounds way too far-fetched.”

Clearly, he didn’t buy it.

And you couldn’t blame Meng Yan.

Wei Hao’s rise to fame was peculiar in its own right.

He hadn’t started as an actor, but as a small-time gaming streamer. When his mother was diagnosed with cancer and needed money, he began showing his face on camera. He did look good, and thanks to a bit of luck, one of his videos went viral. A talent scout picked him up.

Even after rising to fame, the public still viewed him as the poor, kind-hearted, and filial son who dropped out of college to support his ailing mother.

No one suspected that he had abandoned those values so quickly.

Of course—

Not many people knew that the real reason he was expelled from university was because he skipped classes all the time to play games and failed his finals. His mother’s illness just happened to give him the perfect excuse to craft a heartwarming persona.

Naturally—

Jiang Wan could ask Fu Siyue for help, and they could dig up solid dirt on Wei Hao.

But according to the original plot—

It took Fu Siyue a good ten days or so to collect enough evidence to go toe-to-toe with Wei Hao’s company. And with the production about to begin, there simply wasn’t enough time.

Though Meng Yan didn’t fully believe her, he did understand Jiang Wan’s “concerns” and tried to reassure her. “He doesn’t have many scenes with you anyway. Our set has great security—if he dares lay a finger on you, we’ll call the cops immediately!”

Jiang Wan didn’t respond.

Instead, she asked a different question. “Besides Wei Hao, did you consider anyone else for the male lead?”

Good question.

Meng Yan scratched the back of his head, eventually deciding to be honest. “Actually, our first choice was Jiang Qi. He even came in for an audition. The screenwriter, producer, and I debated it for a long time. To be honest, Jiang Qi fits the role better than Wei Hao, but… there’s a romantic storyline in the script. We just couldn’t go with him.”

What Meng Yan said wasn’t sugarcoated.

He truly preferred Jiang Qi, but the man was so laughably bad at romantic acting—it was a dealbreaker.

After much hesitation—

Jiang Wan still couldn’t bring herself to give up on the role.

Spring Doesn’t Return was one of the rare female-led period dramas in recent years, striking a balance between personal growth and national responsibility. If aired, it would surely receive critical acclaim and great reviews.

Of course, those were just polite words.

What truly mattered to Jiang Wan was that the role of Princess Fengwu had serious character appeal.

If the show aired, she’d definitely gain fans.

Jiang Wan made up her mind.

She looked at Meng Yan and said directly, “Director Meng, before you sign with Wei Hao tomorrow… can I meet with you first?”

Meng Yan: “…Huh? Uh… sure.”