It's just that they have money.

"What's wrong?" Fang Chen asked with concern.

"It's nothing," Zhao Xiaole sighed, "It's just that this industry is getting harder to do now."

Which one?

"The production crew's logistics." Zhao Xiaole stroked his chin. "You wouldn't believe it, back when there were many long-running dramas, there was work to do all year round. Now? There are fewer and fewer long-running dramas, and platforms are cutting budgets. Even someone as veteran as my dad can't hold on anymore."

Fang Chen didn't respond, waiting for him to continue.

Zhao Xiaole picked up his glass and took another sip: "Let me tell you, this time last year, I was juggling three film crews at the same time. Catering, extras, transportation—all three were running simultaneously. And this year? Only the one in Fengtian is left, and it almost fell through."

Why is it less?

"The platform is out of money," Zhao Xiaole said. "In the past, video platforms burned money to acquire content, investing hundreds of millions of yuan in a single drama without batting an eye. Now that's no longer the case. Everyone is focused on reducing costs and increasing efficiency. Long dramas have long production cycles, large investments, and high risks, so platforms are unwilling to invest in them. If production companies don't get funding, projects can't be launched."

He paused, then lowered his voice: "It's already a miracle that my dad's show has survived this long without being canceled."

Zhao Xiaole's expression didn't seem fake; he was genuinely annoyed.

"What kind of drama is it?"

"It's a period drama," Zhao Xiaole said. "It's not a serious drama, more of a commercial one. The director was signed, the script was finalized, and the locations were all scouted. But at the last minute, the investor ran away. My dad has been running around trying to find someone to fill the gap these past few days, and he's even turned a few hairs gray."

"What about the short drama?" Fang Chen asked.

Zhao Xiaole was taken aback: "Short dramas? You mean those that are only a few minutes long per episode?"

"Yes. I've seen the data; the short drama market has grown rapidly in the past two years. It requires less investment, has a shorter production cycle, and generates quick returns, so platforms are willing to promote it."

It's hard for Fang Chen not to know that you can see short dramas everywhere these days.

Zhao Xiaole thought for a moment and nodded: "You're right. Short dramas have indeed taken off. My dad also told me that many production companies are now shifting to making short dramas, but..."

"But what?"

"But the barrier to entry is too low," Zhao Xiaole said. "Anyone can shoot with a mobile phone, the quality varies greatly, and the competition is chaotic. Moreover, the profit model for short dramas is not yet stable; some make money, some lose money, it's hard to say."

"If someone wants to vote for you, do you have connections?"

Zhao Xiaole's eyes lit up: "You want to vote?"

Fang Chen glanced at him: "Let's see, it's not certain."

Zhao Xiaole put down his chopsticks and sat up straight. He stared at Fang Chen for two seconds, then smiled, a smile much more genuine than before.

"If you really want to invest, I can help you make connections. My dad has been in the industry for so many years and knows a lot of short drama production teams. I can pick a reliable one for you."

"No rush." ​​Fang Chen picked up his chopsticks. "Let's eat first."

Zhao Xiaole didn't mention it again.

The two drank another round and chatted about all sorts of random things.

When Zhao Xiaole talked about those things in Fengtian, his tone returned to its usual playful and joking manner, as if the seriousness he had shown just a few minutes ago had never happened.

Fang Chen listened, occasionally humming in agreement.

When it came time to pay the bill, Zhao Xiaole insisted on paying, but Fang Chen, as the host, didn't let her.

He didn't argue, stood at the door waiting for Fang Chen to come out, and lit a cigarette.

"Where to?" Zhao Xiaole exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Let me take you out to play."

Fang Chen called a designated driver and sat in the back seat with Zhao Xiaole.

As the car drove out of the parking lot, Zhao Xiaole leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and held a cigarette between his fingers, not smoking it anymore.

"Brother Chen."

"Um?"

"You were serious when you asked me about the short film?"

Fang Chen glanced at him: "When have I ever not been serious?"

Zhao Xiaole opened her eyes, turned her head to look at him, remained silent for two seconds, then stubbed out her cigarette in the crack of the car window and said, "Okay, then I'll go back and ask for you."

Fang Chen didn't reply.

He took out his phone, opened the chat window for Xuwen, and said, "Conduct a survey on the short drama market."

"Okay. When do you need it?"

Fang Chen thought for a moment and replied, "No rush, within three days."

"receive."

Fang Chen put down his phone. The street scene outside the window had changed from a bustling city to a tree-lined riverside avenue.

Zhao Xiaole was replying to someone's message, her fingers typing rapidly.

"You're quite busy with your work," Fang Chen said.

"It's not business." Zhao Xiaole didn't even look up. "I met someone else in the team in Fengtian. She said she misses me."

Fang Chen couldn't help but laugh.

The first place Fang Chen took Zhao Xiaole to was a horse farm on the outskirts of Jiangcheng.

It's not one of those tourist attractions where you just walk around on a horse for a photo opportunity; it's a legitimate equestrian club.

Zhao Xiaole stood at the entrance of the clubhouse, looking at the horses pacing on the grass in the distance, then turned to Fang Chen: "You still play this game?"

"Occasionally."

Since the system started distributing money, Fang Chen has only registered as a member here and has only come here once or twice.

Zhao Xiaole didn't believe it.

He glanced at Fang Chen's attire: casual pants and a dark polo shirt, which definitely looked like something for horseback riding, much more suitable than his own trendy hoodie.

"Did you plan this all along?"

"Didn't you ask me to make the arrangements?" Fang Chen walked inside, his tone casual. "Horse riding this afternoon, dinner tonight, and if you're energetic tomorrow, I'll take you to do other things."

The receptionist's eyes lit up when she saw Fang Chen enter: "Good afternoon, Mr. Fang. Your horse is ready, is it the same one as last time?"

"Um."

Zhao Xiaole listened from the side, her eyes darting around.

He approached the front desk, rested his elbows on the counter, and gave what he thought was a perfectly timed smile: "Miss, do you have any horses here? This is my first time here, so I don't know much about horses."

The receptionist glanced at him and smiled politely: "Yes, sir. I'll arrange a docile horse for you."

Zhao Xiaole nodded, then asked, "Will you teach me? I'm afraid I'll fall."

"We have professional coaches."

"The coach isn't as good a teacher as you."

The young woman's smile froze for a moment. She took half a step back, her tone still polite: "Sir, we have a regular coaching team; they are all professionals. I'll go arrange it for you."

After saying that, she walked away quickly.

Zhao Xiaole leaned against the table, watching her back, and clicked his tongue.

Fang Chen had already changed into his gear, walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Let's go, don't embarrass yourselves here."

"How did I embarrass myself?" Zhao Xiaole retorted, "I was just socializing."

"That's called harassment."

The two walked along the corridor toward the stables, passing a huge floor-to-ceiling window that led to the indoor training ground.

The sandy ground had been leveled, and several pillars supported a high dome, with lights shining down from above, illuminating the entire site.

Zhao Xiaole stopped and looked at a girl practicing in the training field.

The girl, dressed in black riding attire with her hair tied in a low ponytail, was riding a dark-colored horse, slowly walking along the edge of the arena.

Her posture wasn't perfect; her back was slightly leaning forward, and her hand movements were a bit stiff, but she exuded a seriousness.

"This girl is nice," Zhao Xiaole said.

Fang Chen glanced at them and said, "They're practicing; it's not polite for you to stare."

"What's wrong with looking at it? It's not like it's illegal."