Taking Liu Yifei back to Northeast China for the Chinese New Year has sent the entire internet into

Sister Hong conceded a step.

"Okay, you're not in a rush with the music, I'll go along with you."

"But we can't lose the core audience of actors."

She picked up the stack of printed documents on the table and slammed them down between the two of them.

"Having not joined a production for more than half a year, and with the gap period extending further, their commercial value will definitely shrink."

As soon as she finished speaking, Sister Hong pulled out three scripts from the stack of documents and pushed them out to Liu Yifei.

"These three books are all top-tier productions."

"Top-notch production team, all the male leads are young and promising actors from the serious drama circle, with solid acting skills, tough style, and no scandals."

Sister Hong bent her index finger and tapped it loudly on the top cover of the script.

"The romantic storylines in these three books are clean and concise."

There are no kissing scenes.

"Without any unnecessary physical contact."

"I even shut down the marketing plan in advance, and I will never promote the real-life couple of the male and female leads."

She raised her chin, her tone firm and resolute.

"Everyone on the internet knows you're taken now, so I've done my job to clear out any potential problems for you."

"These notebooks are absolutely safe."

Liu Yifei leaned back in her leather chair, resting her chin on her hand, her gaze fixed on the table.

She stretched out two fingers and picked up the top book, "Sword Breaks Through the Nine Heavens".

Turn to the first page.

Character biographies and plot outlines filled two A4 pages.

The climax of the outline reads—

The male protagonist, sword drawn, eyes bloodshot, roars at the world: "If these people want you dead, I will slaughter them all!"

Liu Yifei frowned.

Here we go again.

What have the common people done to deserve being dragged out and slaughtered every day?

Snapped.

She closed the notebook.

I opened the second book, "The Record of Splendor".

The climax scene includes a line of dialogue: The male lead corners the female lead against the wall, tears welling in his eyes as he whispers—

"No one but me can even glance at you. You can only be mine."

Liu Yifei immediately felt acid reflux.

She shoved the three scripts together and pushed them back to the center of the table.

"I won't answer."

Sister Hong's expression froze, and her voice rose eight octaves.

"Yifei, do you know how crazy the demand is for these notebooks outside?"

"I beat out several other agents to secure this priority selection right for you!"

"If you don't act, plenty of others will! Tomorrow, our rival will be getting the lead role!"

Liu Yifei picked up the glass beside her, took a sip of warm water to soothe her throat.

The bottom of the cup hit the table with a crisp sound.

"The plot is exaggerated and the emotions are forced."

"The male and female leads have just met, and the next day they're willing to die for each other."

She crossed her hands on her knees and spoke in a flat tone.

"This kind of industrial saccharin will only damage our reputation if we act in it."

Sister Hong was speechless for a long time after hearing the words "industrial saccharin".

She leaned back, crossed her arms in front of her, and looked the person opposite her up and down.

"The script's logic is insufficient; the screenwriter can revise it on set after we join the crew."

"When you took on historical romance dramas before, I never saw you being this picky about logic."

Sister Hong tapped the script cover with her knuckles again.

"These days, as long as you have a good persona, stunning makeup and styling, and the platform provides adequate promotion, fans will naturally buy in."

Liu Yifei didn't respond.

She turned her head and looked at the empty white wall of the conference room.

Only she herself knows that the root cause is not in the script's logic at all.

Now, as she looks at these lines of text, her mind begins to automatically rehearse—standing in front of a green screen, face to face with another male actor, exchanging glances, and pouring out their hearts to each other.

The acid in my stomach kept rising upwards.

Forcing out those sticky, sweet words to a face you have no connection with.

Can't do it.

Even if the kissing scenes are cut.

They wouldn't even touch it with their fingers.

Even just the way they looked at each other made her feel incredibly awkward and her scalp tingled.

Many things have changed since I visited Mohe.

She had eaten at the grand feast prepared by Fang Yu.

I've seen him singing with a guitar under the aurora borealis.

I once rode in a bright red sedan chair that he had personally crafted.

The favoritism shown by that man from Northeast China was deeply rooted and genuinely rooted in the everyday life of the people.

Having grown accustomed to unreserved honesty, reading those forced "deep emotions" in a script feels like chewing on a lump of dry wax—utterly tasteless.

Liu Yifei looked away.

"I want to make a love story that is vivid, realistic, and imbued with a sense of destiny."

"I'm not interested in these assembly-line plots that any actor could just throw in."

Sister Hong's lips twitched, and she chuckled twice.

"A sense of destiny?"

She pointed to the door of the conference room.

"Go outside and take a look at the current film and television market! It's in a downturn!"

"What does capital want? Fast food, traffic, and quick fixes—filmed in thirty days and released in sixty!"

"A script that's been polished for three to five years? Where do you find that? Who's going to fund it? Who has the time to write it?"

"Then we'll wait patiently."

Liu Yifei stood up.

"Better to have nothing than something bad."

She pushed the glass back to its original position, turned around, and strode out.

Sister Hong watched that retreating figure, her lips moved slightly, but she didn't say anything and let her go.

The conference room door opened and then closed.

Click.

The empty room was left with only Sister Hong and the three S+ scripts costing tens of millions of yuan on the table.

She remained leaning back in her chair for a full three minutes without taking a breath.

Raise your hand and pinch the space between your eyebrows, then rub it vigorously twice.

Having taken care of Liu Yifei for so many years, she knew the girl's temperament all too well.

They talk about having a sense of destiny and being flesh and blood; these professional terms can certainly impress people.

But how could her agent not see through it?

This girl is completely hooked.

They've fallen quite deep.

Liu Yifei used to have a lot of requirements when accepting scripts.

Choose character arcs, choose cast and crew configurations, choose release dates, and choose platform scale.

Now, things are much better; the problem is being blocked at the source.

No kissing scenes.

Zero hands held.

As things have evolved, even exchanging loving glances from a distance has become a minefield.

Sister Hong stared at the scripts on the table and let out a long breath.

If this outrageous trend continues, this national goddess may only be able to make documentaries in the future.

She leaned forward and reopened the book, "Sword Breaks Through the Nine Heavens".

The focus is on the intricate and complex relationships between the male and female protagonists.

There was a pause of a few seconds.

Then it closed again.

An utterly absurd thought popped into my head without warning.

What if—

What if the person acting opposite her was Fang Yu herself?