CHAPTER 400: CHAPTER 226 SCRIPT

In the bottom right corner of every page, there were records of when the notes were taken.

Fu Yang calculated and realized that these notes were from about ten years ago, when he had been only four years old, but Fu Siyu was the right age for high school then.

So, the foundation of these notes was actually left by Fu Siyu.

However, what made Fu Yang stunned at that moment was not this fact, but the way Fu Siyu took notes.

Even in the same class, notes taken by different students could be completely different because everyone thinks differently.

Fu Yang charged into the study and rummaged around in a pile of old, discarded books for a long time. He finally unearthed a few tattered, yellowed notebooks that the housekeeper had gotten for him many years ago.

Initially, the housekeeper had said that the notes came from an excellent student and had specifically instructed Fu Yang to learn diligently from them. Of course, Fu Yang hadn’t listened and simply threw the pile of notes into a bookcase and never looked at them again.

Fu Yang opened the notebook; inside it contained core knowledge points from middle school, and the handwriting was clearly Fu Siyu’s. As for the time the notes were recorded, it was surprisingly three years ago.

Fu Yang casually flipped through a few more pages, and a faint cloud of dust drifted out from the pages as if carrying the imprints of time. Those carefully written notes, although shelved away for years, now seemed to find their rightful place.

Fu Yang sat quietly on the carpet flipping through the notes, his eyes and brows shrouded in shadows, making it hard to see his expression clearly.

An hour passed, and he had only flipped through less than ten pages of notes.

Footsteps came from outside, prompting Fu Yang to close the notebook and put everything back the way it was.

Soon, the door was pushed open and Fu Siyu walked in.

Seeing Fu Yang in the study surprised Fu Siyu a bit. He sat at his desk, turned on the computer, and started talking to Fu Yang, "How’s it going at school lately?"

"Just ask about Shu Wan directly, stop beating around the bush."

"...." Fu Siyu paused for a moment before replying, "Alright, go ahead and say it."

"I see you’re headed for" Fu Yang was about to tease Fu Siyu about ending up lonely, but he didn’t finish his sentence. Glancing at the corner of a notebook peeking out from the bookcase, Fu Yang smirked, "If you don’t step up, suitors for Shu Wan will start showing up at the Estate, right?"

"Who?" Fu Siyu frowned slightly, his mind quickly reviewing those names.

"Figure it out yourself, I’m heading down."

Saying that, Fu Yang turned and left.

In the study, after responding to work emails, Fu Siyu was about to go look for Shu Wan, but before he could stand up, a notification icon in the corner of the screen started blinking.

Fu Siyu clicked on the icon; it was a team invitation.

After a moment’s thought, Fu Siyu decided to sit back down and played with his teammates for a while before leaving the study.

Next door in the master bedroom, Shu Wan was selecting scripts.

The filming for "Qingcheng" was nearly complete, and Shu Wan hadn’t yet decided on the theme for her next script.

Given her performance in "Yun Ni" and that flawless face of hers, scripts had been piling up.

However, very few scripts truly captivated Shu Wan.

After all, the current entertainment circle operated on a "packaging" process.

Regardless of the script’s quality, first gather a group of popular stars to generate buzz, then have trolls flood promotions post-production, and by the time it airs, irrespective of whether the audience likes it or not, stir up topics on various platforms to create an illusion of popularity.

In this context, an actor’s popularity was of utmost priority, pushing concerns like scripts, screenwriters, and directors to the back.

This was also why Shu Wan, although not at a very high level yet, could still receive several scripts for S++ grade TV dramas.

Shu Wan was pondering when suddenly someone knocked on the door.

Sensing who it might be, Shu Wan’s heart instinctively skipped a beat before she spoke, "Come in."

It was indeed Fu Siyu.

He had changed into more casual home attire, which made him seem more approachable than he did in the office.

"I brought you some snacks."

As he spoke, Fu Siyu placed a box on the table.

Shu Wan opened the box to find fried chicken and beer.

Her gaze flickered slightly, evidently remembering that this was the content from a short video she had shared with Fu Siyu two days ago.

Because of a popular TV show, there had emerged a trend that "when it snows, one should eat fried chicken and drink beer," which would flare up on social platforms every snowfall.

Shu Wan felt that the snow scene in the video was beautiful, so she shared it with Fu Siyu, but she didn’t expect Fu Siyu to remember even the content.

Shu Wan looked up and smiled at Fu Siyu, "Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

Fu Siyu glanced at the script in front of Shu Wan. "You’re looking at a script, I have something I need to discuss with you."

"Go ahead."

Fu Siyu poured some beer into his cup and then began, "Actually, the current state of the entertainment circle is unhealthy, prioritizing profit over sustainability, which inevitably leads to a lack of good scripts."

Although Fu Siyu hadn’t previously paid attention to the film and television industry, ever since Shu Wan began acting, he would occasionally keep an eye on it.

From his purely commercial perspective, he was not optimistic about such an industry ecology.

"Indeed," Shu Wan nodded in agreement with Fu Siyu’s view, "unless you first spend a high cost to incubate a batch of good scripts, starting from the source to—"

Speaking so, Shu Wan’s voice suddenly softened as she looked at Fu Siyu, her eyes sparkling, "You haven’t already done it, have you?"

Based on her understanding of Fu Siyu, he was someone who practiced what he preached; any idea he spoke of would ultimately become reality.

Why she was so certain about the script situation was mainly because Shu Wan felt that Fu Siyu might have completed this task ahead of time due to her influence.

Sure enough, Fu Siyu nodded, a smile appearing in his eyes, "When I initially planned the Film and Television City, I planned not only the shooting locations but also a script incubation area and a post-production workflow line."

Of course, the construction of the facilities wasn’t complete yet, but the basic framework had already been set up.

As for the scripts, six months ago, Fu Siyu had formed a dedicated team, hiring screenwriters from around the world with high salaries to produce the finest scripts.

These scripts were primarily tailored for Shu Wan.

Previously, because the scripts were not polished and their relationship was as calm as water, Fu Siyu was worried that giving the scripts to Shu Wan might cause her displeasure, so he held onto them.

Now seeing Shu Wan worried about the script, Fu Siyu smoothly brought it up.

"Can I see the scripts?"

"Of course, I’ll go get them."

Soon enough, Fu Siyu returned with several scripts, "You take a look first."

Among these scripts were Martial Arts, Fantasy, and modern genres. Just reading the first page, Shu Wan’s eyes lit up—these were completely different from those she had seen before.

Shu Wan read seriously, and Fu Siyu did not disturb her.

It wasn’t until Shu Wan had roughly finished flipping through three scripts that Fu Siyu finally spoke, "Which one do you like?"

"To speak solely about the script, I like the Martial Arts one, but its theme overlaps somewhat with ’Yun Ni’."

"Indeed."

"I’ll go with the Fantasy one then," Shu Wan lifted the script in her hand, "From a commercial standpoint, this should be the most successful."

Given the solid content of the script, Fantasy’s costumes and special effects are quite appealing to the audience.

Shu Wan wasn’t yet considering the idea of elevating her acting by tackling minor roles.

She knew she was beautiful, suitable for playing stunning characters within ancient and Fantasy dramas—genres audiences enjoyed watching. Using her strengths made sense.

"Hmm." Fu Siyu nodded, "Good scripts actually also need a good production team."

At this remark from Fu Siyu, Shu Wan understood his implication and let out a resigned smile, "Tell me what else you’ve prepared."

"Liu Qing is good for school dramas, but not suitable for Fantasy. I’ve contacted a production team for you and, regarding the special effects and post-production, I’ve also made some contacts—if you don’t need them, just pretend I never said anything."

"Of course I need them." Shu Wan wasn’t pretentious; Fu Siyu had prepared the best teams, and it would be foolish not to accept.

Besides that reason, there was one more: Shu Wan was confident in herself, and she wouldn’t allow Fu Siyu, her boss, to lose money.

"If you agree, I’ll go contact them. You take some time to delve into the script."

"Okay."

However, while Shu Wan knew the team Fu Siyu had found for her wouldn’t be subpar, she never expected it to be that extravagant.

It was no exaggeration to say that the top configurations of the entertainment circle were all in her next film.

Although she had always been a much-discussed focal point, never before had she been watched by so many, stirring particular attention across the industry.