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

Shen Weimin did not respond.

He stood beside the display shelf, his hands behind his back, his expression unchanged.

In her heart, however, she had already quietly torn off most of the "reliable" label she had just given Fang Yu.

They're still young after all.

After being flattered by several senior figures, he became quite arrogant.

From the moment I first heard the words "Forbidden City" until now, it's been no more than an hour.

How many sentences can you write?

Row.

But if these few lines were placed in his review meeting, they would be enough to wear down two boxes of tea leaves and break three pen holders for those CCTV's go-to lyricists.

Shen Weimin had no expectations.

But then again, we're not going to lose money today no matter what.

Regardless of whether the lyrics are up to par, Fang Yu's calligraphy alone is enough to make him a sure-fire winner if he takes one home for free.

The other people in the study were thinking much the same thing.

He Zheng crossed his arms and leaned against the long table, his thick eyebrows furrowing even more tightly, and the corners of his mouth tightening into a straight line.

The Bodhi beads in Zhou Yuanshan's palm stopped spinning; his thumb rested on the surface of the beads, motionless.

Liu Yifei stood beside the inkstone, taking in the expressions of these familiar faces out of the corner of her eye.

She knew all too well how illogical Fang Yu's writing could be.

Sometimes it's like taking a sip of water; you can just reach into your head and pull out something that will trend on social media.

But this time, it's definitely different.

A CCTV-level documentary.

The 600-year-old Forbidden City looms overhead.

This is a weight that cannot be caught by simply making a clever remark.

Fang Yu acted as if nothing had happened.

He looked down at the Xuan paper and picked up his brush.

Wrist lateral movement.

The first line of text unfolds—

—I begin to paint this landscape, and the bloodline of the nation stretches for thousands of miles.

The sharpness of the Slender Gold style calligraphy is like a knife tip slicing through silk.

That fierce, self-assured attitude pierced right through the lines.

The atmosphere in the study changed instantly.

He Zheng lifted his back off the edge of the table and stood up straight.

Chen Daoming's teacup froze in mid-air, his eyelids drooping to their maximum.

Fang Yu didn't stop.

Zihao continued walking.

—For six centuries, the descendants of the dragon have weathered many storms.

Shen Weimin loosened his hands, which had been behind his back.

He left the display shelf and strode to the long table.

The soul of the documentary "The Forbidden City" lies in these six hundred years.

From the relocation of the capital by Emperor Yongle to the Boxer Rebellion.

From the last emperor to the Palace Museum.

A city that bears the blood of dynastic changes and holds the roots of national memory.

Not a single word in these two lines of poetry is superfluous.

The moment he opened his mouth, he set the bar at the very top.

Fang Yu lowered his wrist, and the ink line drew a clean, sharp angle.

—This central axis of the capital region, like the unwavering integrity of a gentleman.

—The glazed tiles on the Nine Dragon Wall symbolize history's decline and resurgence.

The final stroke concludes the discussion.

The purple brush rests on the mountain of inkstones.

The four lines of poetry, written in the slender gold script, are placed right in the center of a four-foot-long sheet of Xuan paper.

Shen Weimin rested his hands on the edge of the table, his gaze fixed on the words "central axis," "Nine Dragon Wall," and "decline and rise," scanning them back and forth three times.

He has been making historical films for decades.

The reviewed documents, if stacked up, could fill half of this study.

He rejected the lyricists' manuscripts more than ten times more often than he nodded in approval.

Some are too superficial, piling up fancy words but lacking substance.

Some are too full, trying to cram in all sorts of allusions, making them more and more like encyclopedia entries.

Some have a grand vision, but their execution is weak and they can't control it.

These four lines are right in front of me.

It has stunned people with its six hundred years of history.

Shen Weimin stood up straight.

He didn't look at Fang Yu.

He didn't say yes.

Instead, she turned her head and stared straight at Chen Daoming.

That look in his eyes was hardly that of someone looking at an old friend.

It's clearly an interrogation of a suspect.

Chen Daoming was taken aback.

Old Shen, what's with that expression after getting such a great word?

The next second, he realized what was happening.

Shen Weimin suspected that he had leaked the questions in advance!

The internal outline for the documentary "The Forbidden City" was only passed on to the core team.

Fang Yu's four lines of poetry are so perfectly matched.

It was so precise, like writing an essay based on a detailed outline.

Anyone who saw this would think it was a pre-arranged scheme.

Chen Daoming was so angry he laughed on the spot.

"Old Shen, you need to tone down that look you give when you're interrogating a prisoner."

He raised his hand and pointed to the words on the paper.

"I called Xiao Fang over today on a whim."

"I haven't uttered a single word about the documentary."

Shen Weimin remained silent, his gaze fixed on his face.

Chen Daoming was helpless.

He had no choice but to turn his head and look at Fang Yu.

"Xiao Fang, tell everyone the truth."

"Did you really come up with this word on the spot?"

All eyes in the study turned to Fang Yu.

Fang Yu's expression remained normal, and his tone was relaxed.

"Teacher Chen, Director Shen."

"I don't have any other hobbies, I just love to stroll around the Forbidden City."

"The more you travel and see, the more images you naturally store in your mind."

"As a musician, I'm easily reminded of things I see, and I can easily come up with a few rhyming lines."

He shrugged.

"That makes sense, doesn't it?"

Chen Daoming nodded.

He Zheng nodded in agreement.

Zhou Yuanshan chuckled as he fiddled with the beads.

"That makes sense; art imitates life."

Liu Yifei stood to the side.

Her face still held that aloof, dignified, and otherworldly expression.

I rolled my eyes inwardly.

Reasonable?

That's a load of rubbish.

Since she met Fang Yu, he has never mentioned the Forbidden City on his own initiative.

Forget about saying things like "I often go out to collect folk songs when I have nothing to do".

Whether this person can accurately pinpoint which subway line and station is the Forbidden City is a question mark.

However, she didn't undermine him.

They're protecting their own man's territory, they can't even keep up with the demand.

拆？

nonexistent.

……

Shen Weimin stared at Fang Yu for a long time.

His expression shifted from doubt to scrutiny, and finally to calm.

That kid spoke so frankly.

Moreover.

His decades-long friendship with Chen Daoming speaks for itself; there's no need for him to use a project of this caliber to promote a young man.

If they had really set things up beforehand, they wouldn't have done it so obviously.

Shen Weimin's gaze returned to the Xuan paper.

The characters are top-notch.

The words are words that are flawless.

Whether he had it in his pocket beforehand or actually wrote it on the spot.

The quality is clearly stated in black and white.

A moment of silence.

Shen Weimin spoke up.

"The word is too much."

Several pairs of eyes turned towards them at the same time.

Shen Weimin added another sentence.

"No need to change it, not a single word needs to be altered."

These words were spoken.

Zhou Yuanshan paused the Bodhi beads in his hand at his fingertips and took a light breath.

The way He Zheng looked at Fang Yu was completely different from how he looked five minutes ago.

Shen Weimin doesn't like to flatter people.

But he personally stated, "Not a single word needs to be changed."

These six words are heavier than a hundred "Well written! You're amazing!"s combined.

Shen Weimin did not hesitate at all.

He immediately took out his phone and made a call.

"Old Liu, write a note."

"Yes, the areas of the Forbidden City that are not open to the public."

"I took a group in to gather material, and the paperwork was expedited."

After hanging up the phone, Shen Weimin turned to look at Fang Yu.

"I'll grant you access; you can go and explore those palaces that aren't open to the public."

"Fill in the rest of the words, and send them to me when you're done."

"No, it won't work. Send it back for rewriting."

Fang Yu grinned.

"Don't worry, Director Shen, I'll revise it again if it's rejected. I won't hesitate."

Zhou Yuanshan's Bodhi string finally moved again, a smile on his lips, but he didn't say anything.

Areas of the Forbidden City that are not open to the public.

These words are not something you can touch just because you have money.

Many famous directors in the industry want to film in the Forbidden City, but the approval process alone takes half a year, and in the end, they can only film a small corner of it.

just now.

With just one phone call, Shen Weimin granted special permission to a new singer who had only been in the industry for six months.

This is a formal recognition of a young person.

He Zheng also looked at Fang Yu, his lips moving beneath his stubble.

He just laughed in the end and said nothing.

This kid's future is really hard to predict.