It's just that they have money.

The next morning, after washing up, Fang Chen carried his parents' luggage into the car.

Large items that need to be kept should be stored somewhere, and all unused items should be sold as scrap.

Bring other necessary daily necessities to Jiangcheng, and move them back after the new house is built.

The car started, and Fang Chen took one last look at the old house in the rearview mirror before the two cars drove out of the town together.

It was almost 11 o'clock when we arrived in Jiangcheng.

I ate lunch at home.

Xiang Pingping insisted on cooking at home, saying she wasn't used to eating out.

But while cooking, I still mutter to myself as I chop vegetables that the vegetables in the supermarket are more expensive than those in my hometown, and they're not as fresh.

Over the next few days, Fang Chen showed his parents around the surrounding area.

She went on to explain where to buy groceries cheaply, where to take a quiet walk, and where it was convenient to take public transportation, mentioning each of these places: farmers' markets, supermarkets, parks, hospitals.

When Fang Chen wasn't home, the elderly couple would go downstairs by themselves. Xiang Pingping learned to use her phone for navigation, and Fang Yuan learned to use a payment app to buy groceries.

Since the two of them were not very old, they soon went out without Fang Chen accompanying them.

After settling his parents in, Fang Chen began to deal with his own affairs.

He met with the person recommended by Wang Zengping at a restaurant in Jiangcheng.

The person Wang Zengping recommended was Zhang Siyuan, 36 years old, who had previously worked as an assistant director.

Last year, this person self-funded and directed a movie, which received decent reviews, but barely recouped the production costs.

When Fang Chen arrived, Zhang Siyuan was already there, wearing a black jacket and black-rimmed glasses.

"Hello, Mr. Fang."

Fang Chen shook hands, sat down, and without any pleasantries, went straight to the point. "Director Wang said you've read the script?"

"I've seen it."

"How are you feeling?"

"The script is well-written, but there are a few parts I think could be better."

Fang Chen didn't speak, gesturing for him to continue.

"In the second episode, there's a scene where the female lead is researching information. The script has three pages of text where she goes through various files and discovers some clues. This scene can be cut in half."

Fang Chen looked at him.

"The audience doesn't need to see how many files she flipped through, they just need to know what she found." Zhang Siyuan drew a line on the table with her finger. "The flipping through the files themselves isn't the drama. The drama is in the expression on her face when she finds that document. The first page and a half are superfluous."

Fang Chen nodded but didn't reply.

Zhang Siyuan continued, speaking slowly but hitting the nail on the head.

"There's also the fourth episode, where the male lead meets the suspect in a coffee shop. That scene was written on four pages, and the two of them talked about very deep topics. It was very information-rich, but the pacing was off. At that point, the audience didn't know who to believe—the male lead or the suspect. If you let them talk for so long, the audience will get tired. It's not about how much information the audience buys into; it's about when the information is given, how much is given, and how it's given."

Fang Chen asked curiously, "Then how do you suggest I give it to you?"

Zhang Siyuan thought for a moment: "Cut two pages, save the key information for when the scenes between the two characters are most intense, and put the rest later. Delete what needs to be deleted."

"Then the script needs to be changed. You're quite bold, changing someone else's script on our first meeting."

Zhang Siyuan smiled and said, "We can film it without changing the script. But you didn't ask me to do that."

Fang Chen continued, "I watched a bit of your last film; Director Wang sent me the link."

Zhang Siyuan's expression remained unchanged as he waited for him to continue.

"That long shot at the beginning, the one that zooms in from outside the window, through the corridor, into the room, and then onto the protagonist's face—that long shot," Fang Chen asked, "how was it filmed?"

Zhang Siyuan thought for a moment. "I remember that scene was filmed many times. It wasn't that long takes were difficult to film, but that the actor's emotions had to match. The camera followed him, and even though he didn't look at the camera, the audience could feel that he knew the camera was following him. That feeling couldn't be acted out; if it was, it would look fake. So we filmed it over and over again until he got into that state himself."

Fang Chen looked at Zhang Siyuan.

He's not handsome, not flamboyant, and when he speaks, he doesn't look at you; he looks at the table.

How much did you invest in your last film?

Zhang Siyuan picked up his water glass, took a sip, put it down, and replied somewhat awkwardly, "Less than three million."

"Did you break even?"

"No, I lost a little, not much."

"Then why did you still film it?"

Zhang Siyuan looked at Fang Chen, this was the first time he had looked Fang Chen directly in the eye since he entered the room: "Because if I don't film, no one will ever know that I can film."

Fang Chen looked at him, and the two stared at each other for two seconds.

Zhang Siyuan first looked away and looked down at his teacup.

It's not that I'm trying to avoid it, it's that I'm not used to it.

"Then why did you still film it?"

Zhang Siyuan looked at Fang Chen, this was the first time he had looked Fang Chen directly in the eye since he entered the room. "Who wants to be an assistant director for the rest of their life? If you don't direct, no one will ever know you can direct."

The private room fell silent.

After a moment of silence, Fang Chen asked, "If I were to let you act in my film, what conditions would you need?"

Zhang Siyuan thought for a moment: "I need to review the revised version of the script again. As for this version, I think some parts can still be polished, not major changes, but minor adjustments. Adjust the parts that can be adjusted, and film the parts that can't be adjusted as before. I'll decide on the casting; I'll write down the requirements for you, and you can make your decision after reviewing them. The filming period is one and a half months, no less."

Fang Chen didn't speak.

What Zhang Siyuan said weren't any unreasonable conditions; they were just a director's basic requirements for a film.

"Okay, I'll discuss it with the company."

Zhang Siyuan nodded, took a business card out of his pocket, and placed it on the table.

The business card was very plain, with white background and black lettering.

Zhang Siyuan, director, followed by a phone number, but no company name or title.

Fang Chen took it, glanced at it, and put it in his pocket.

Have you ordered yet?

Zhang Siyuan was taken aback. "No."

"That's enough. Let's eat and chat."

Fang Chen called the waiter in and handed him the menu.

Zhang Siyuan didn't accept the order, and Fang Chen didn't refuse either. He flipped through the menu, ordered a few dishes, and the portions were just enough for the two of them.

The waiter left, and the private room became quiet again.

"Director Zhang," Fang Chen called out.

Zhang Siyuan raised his head.

"How much is still owed on the final payment for your last film?"

"More than 200,000."

"What about the rest of the crew? Have they all been paid?"

"It's settled, I paid for it myself. The production costs went overboard, and the marketing and distribution weren't keeping up, so the returns weren't enough. Everyone else got paid first, but I didn't get my salary and even had to pay part of it out of my own pocket."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'll settle the two hundred thousand or so for you first."

"Mr. Fang, that's the money from the last movie, it has nothing to do with you."

"I know it has nothing to do with me." Fang Chen shrugged. "I'm an investor. When I see a good director lose money making a film, I feel uneasy. When I feel uneasy, I can't sleep. When I can't sleep, I try to find a way to make him feel at ease."

Zhang Siyuan looked at him.

"It's not that I pity you, it's that I don't like my director making my films while he's in debt, because it affects your creative work."

Zhang Siyuan remained silent.

He lowered his head, picked up the water glass and drank the rest of the water in one gulp. When he put the glass down, he did so with a bit too much force, making a dull thud.

"Mr. Fang, I'll take your role."

Fang Chen looked at him and smiled.

"Didn't you just say you'd answer?"

"What I was talking about earlier was taking jobs, now I'm talking about risking my life." Zhang Siyuan raised his head. "You need to pay off my debts; I can't just make one film for you."

Fang Chen picked up his water glass and clinked it against his: "It's only two hundred thousand. Even if you continue working as an assistant director, you'll pay it off in a few years."

Zhang Siyuan also picked up his water glass, clinked it against his, and spilled a little water: "That's different."