Chapter 13: Tonight Decides Life or Death

“Director Huang, you’re really asking too much!” Liu Susu sneered. “This microfilm script contest has been running for two months. The five shortlisted scripts were all written by the company’s most senior writers and have been polished repeatedly. The competition is tomorrow—are you really asking Shen Baizhou to join now? Do you expect him to write a script overnight? And on top of that, he has to beat at least four other scripts to get into the top two? That’s completely ridiculous!”

“Liu, didn’t you say he’s talented?” Huang Liang shrugged.

“Well, if our Teacher Baizhou is that talented, he should be able to write an earth-shattering script overnight to prove me wrong! I’m giving him the chance, so if he can’t seize it, it’s not my fault…”

“Wait!” Shen Baizhou suddenly interrupted.

“Director Huang, you just said that if I make it into the top two in this microfilm script contest, I would get to direct my own script?”

“Exactly!”

“Fine, I accept the challenge,” Shen Baizhou said.

“You accept?” Liu Susu stared in disbelief. “You plan to write a whole script in one night?”

She had only argued for Shen Baizhou’s talent out of principle. She had read the three online dramas he’d made—they were terribly written. And she knew exactly who the five competitors were—there was no way Shen Baizhou could outperform them overnight, even given a year.

“I accept,” Shen Baizhou repeated. “If I lose, I don’t want my salary, my bonus—nothing. I’ll leave the company quietly and won’t release any recordings that could harm the company. But if I make it into the top two, the company must let me direct my own microfilm!”

He spoke decisively. The offer was too tempting—win, and he becomes the director.

Before traveling to this world, Shen Baizhou had been an assistant director. He knew how hard it was to become a director. There’s a vast gap between an assistant director and a director. An assistant director is basically a runner—no matter how you dress it up. But a director is a completely different species, responsible for the entire crew and the investment. Even with a great script like Crazy Stone, who would hand over an entire production to an unknown kid like Shen Baizhou?

Becoming a director on Blue Star required a huge opportunity. And now Huang Liang had handed him one on a silver platter—Shen Baizhou couldn’t pass it up.

As for writing a stunning microfilm script overnight… yes, it was extremely difficult. But a time-traveling Shen Baizhou had some tricks. After all, there were many excellent scripts from Earth in his memory.

“Two ways,” Shen Baizhou thought:
One, adapt a segment from Crazy Stone into a microfilm. That would be fastest, but the multi-threaded storytelling of Crazy Stone might not work in the short microfilm format.
Two, find a famous Earth microfilm script and rewrite it from memory overnight. This had the highest chance of success but was extremely time-constrained—he might not finish in one night.

Regardless, it was worth the gamble. This was the most crucial opportunity since he traveled here—he couldn’t miss it.

Shen Baizhou pondered while the others watched him like he was a fool. If he lost, he would leave quietly with nothing. If he won—well, that was obvious.

“This guy’s handsome but dumb…” Jiang Yichen rolled his eyes. “He agrees to such a hopeless challenge? He’s an idiot.”

“Shen Baizhou making a good script overnight? And beating four senior writers who’ve been at it for two months? Even China’s men’s soccer winning the World Cup seems more realistic!” Sheng Jiong chuckled.

Liu Susu held her head. Shen Baizhou, I said you were talented just out of courtesy! And you actually believed it? Writing a mind-blowing script overnight is ridiculous!

“Did everyone hear that?” Huang Liang pointed at Shen Baizhou. “Liu, he said it himself. I didn’t force him, right?”

Ignoring Liu Susu’s scowl, he pulled Sheng Jiong aside. “After work, make everyone leave immediately, especially Shen Baizhou. Don’t let him stay in the office.”

“Why?” Sheng Jiong was puzzled. Usually, they forced people to work overtime. Today they’re doing the opposite?

“There are too many scripts online he could reference. If he stays at the office, he might actually copy something. But at home, it’s different,” Huang Liang said ominously. “At home, he won’t have company scripts to copy. The commute alone eats two hours—there’s no way he’ll finish.”

“Oh~” Sheng Jiong’s eyes lit up. “Clever! Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

Back at his desk, Wang Xiaopang and Zhang Xiaomei were anxious.

“Zhou-ge,” Wang Xiaopang whispered, “will they compensate you properly?”

“Don’t mention it,” Shen Baizhou shook his head, lost in thought. His mind was consumed by the microfilm script—what approach should he take?

Finally, he decided against using Crazy Stone. Its narrative was too complex for the short format. Instead, he chose another classic from Earth—The Piano Tuner.

The Piano Tuner was a short, lesser-known microfilm under fifteen minutes. Simple story, but profoundly striking. Every minute was essential; its ending was shocking. On Earth, it had won France’s César Award for Best Short Film and scored 9.2 on Douban. In the microfilm realm, it was top-tier.

“No matter the other five scripts, if the judges are fair, I’ll probably win with this one.”

Shen Baizhou opened a blank document and began writing. He was completely immersed, oblivious to the office around him.

By near the end of the workday, he realized the task was far bigger than expected. The original dialogue had a foreign tone and couldn’t be copied verbatim—it needed rewriting. Plus, he remembered only the gist, forgetting many intricate details. This was essentially a second creation.

“I definitely won’t finish before dawn… and I still need to make a PPT!” Shen Baizhou panicked. No time, and no place to write—tonight was critical.

He couldn’t go to an internet café; his creative focus was too fragile for a noisy environment.

“No worries, if there’s no place to stay, I’ll work overnight at the office. I can grab food quickly and save time.”

He calmed down and began restructuring the story.

At clock-out, Sheng Jiong strode over to Group 1’s desks.

“Everyone leave! No overtime today. No one stays!”

Everyone gasped in delight, rushing to pack up.

“What?” Shen Baizhou felt a pang—this was targeted at him!

“Why?” Sheng Jiong smirked and pointed. Cleaning staff were approaching with disinfectant.

“The building’s being disinfected! You won’t be able to work here. If you don’t want to die, leave now. The entire floor is off-limits!”

Shen Baizhou turned pale. No office, no time—what now?

“Pack up,” the cleaning uncle reminded, “we’re spraying disinfectant.”

Shen Baizhou grabbed his two rolling suitcases. His first thought: Su Hongdou.

Despite no messages from her yet, she had a good personality. She wasn’t the cold, arrogant rich-girl type. Yesterday, she had been honest and straightforward. Surely, with her sense of justice, she’d let him stay at her place?

He sent a message explaining the situation—but a warning popped up:

“The recipient is not your friend…”

“What?” Shen Baizhou was dumbfounded. She blocked me?

He was confused. Last night’s chat went well. Perhaps she found it awkward afterward—but still, why block him?

With no time to waste, he called her.

“Ring…” The call connected, and she immediately hung up.

Shen Baizhou froze. She clearly didn’t want to talk.

If I can’t find a place to write The Piano Tuner, it’s all over…

At Wind-Rise Music Company, CEO Tang Tang’s office:

“Absolutely no messages! We can’t lower ourselves!” Tang Tang grabbed Su Hongdou’s hand.

“Give me your phone. I’ll check what messages he sent.”

“But…” Su Hongdou hesitated. Tang Tang snatched the phone.

“No buts! Reaching out first is too cheap!”

He quickly blocked Shen Baizhou on Su Hongdou’s WeChat.

“Women can’t make the first move,” he muttered, drinking lemon water. If he doesn’t reach out, neither do we. That’s basic dignity!”

Su Hongdou’s phone rang—“Shen Baizhou”—but Tang Tang rejected it and blocked the number.

Tang Tang smiled coldly: You dare play games? I’ll beat you at your own game.