Shattering the talent show script, sweeping the world film scene

Xie Xingyan dried her hair with a towel, called her agent back, and then waited quietly in her room.

His gaze swept over the documents on the table.

The open document bore the words "Director Noel's new film..." written in red pen.

Since she started participating in acting-related variety shows, Xie Xingyan has also learned about some of the explicit rules of the film and television industry.

"So it was this director."

Noel, a world-renowned director, one of the top ten.

Are there any directors like this in China? Of course there are, Zeng Ling, the chief director of "Snow Covers the Mountain," is one, but his most famous work was more than a decade ago. In other words, in the past ten years, few Chinese films have gone abroad, and few Chinese directors have become world-renowned.

Xie Xingyan came here not to stop Jiangxi Heng from going abroad—he had no reason to—but simply to set a new milestone for their relationship.

Knock knock, the half-closed door was knocked twice.

Jiangxi Heng brought in a cup of ginger tea and met Xie Xingyan's gaze.

Both of them were now completely without makeup, like crabs with their shells peeled off. They both knew what the other wanted to say and were waiting for the other to say something.

Xie Xingyan took the cup. The cup was a little hot, so hot that his fingertips turned red and trembled. But when he took a sip, he found that the temperature of the ginger tea was just right.

He turned to look at Jiangxi Heng, only to find that Jiangxi Heng was also looking down at him.

The man's eyes were softer than the dim yellow light.

"How does the ginger tea taste?" He remembered that Xie Xingyan didn't like spicy food. Although this kind of spiciness was not the same as that kind of spiciness, the taste of ginger tea was indeed stimulating for some people.

Xie Xingyan was no longer listening to any of the advice.

Under such gazes, the one who is moved first will surrender.

He nodded hesitantly, his gaze shifting downwards before slowly rising again, and their eyes met once more.

Jiangxi Heng smiled, laughing at himself for being trapped in his own web, laughing at his slow realization.

For a moment, many romantic movies he had watched or filmed flashed through his mind, but he quickly dispelled these images, leaving only a pair of clear and straightforward eyes.

Those eyes questioned why he was being so kind to her.

Jiangxi Heng tried a million reasons, but in the end, he asked his own heart, and his heart told him that it was because he couldn't help himself.

Jiang Yingdi is not someone who pays much attention to the appearance of younger people, but when he first saw Xie Xingyan, the words that came to mind were "widow's peak, fox eyes, smiling lips, clear and cold beauty".

But even the most handsome people are not uncommon, and Jiang Yingdi is no exception.

He merely witnessed someone grow from a naive youth to a mature adult after three years, and what he once thought was a budding romance transformed from a gentle stream into a vast ocean.

Jiangxi Heng did not become a nightingale willing to sacrifice herself, nor did he become a boy who would die for a rose.

For a nightingale flew to his side and sang for him all night long, and a rose grew in the center of the planet and bloomed for him.

Jiangxi Heng picked up the hair dryer, pressed Xie Xingyan's shoulder, and made him sit in a chair.

Xie Xingyan hadn't come to his senses yet. After sitting down blankly, he felt a warm breeze blowing from the back of his head. Long, slender fingers ran through his hair, and the warmth of his palms blended with the breeze, covering his head.

It's so warm it makes you want to cry.

He probably realized that Jiangxi Heng, who seemed to be all-powerful, had a kind of theoretical knowledge about love and affection. When he expressed his love for someone, he would use all his strength to take care of him, accommodate him, and tolerate him.

Resources, money, and reputation are all things he can offer up.

Everyone whom Jiangxi Heng considered a friend was encased in an unbreakable armor, forged from Jiangxi Heng's flesh and blood, containing negative emotions that had never been vented.

"Jiang Xiheng," Xie Xingyan opened his eyes, his fingers grasping the other's palm. He tilted his head back, looking up at the other, "Don't go abroad alone."

Don't try to shoulder everything alone.

You already have partners who can keep up with you, and friends who can support you from behind, so don't be alone anymore.

Xie Xingyan guessed that it was probably because Jiang's parents, who had done too many things on their own since he was a child and had never given him any help, that Jiang Xiheng developed the habit of taking on everything on his own.

But he knew that such a feeling, seemingly invincible, was actually bitter to the point of being astringent.

Jiangxi Heng is like a precious and ancient clock. At some point in the past, the second hand stopped ticking. It seems that the hour and minute hands are still moving normally, but in fact, this clock is broken, so broken that it is not even aware that it is broken.

"Are you saying you want to go abroad with me?"

Jiangxi Heng turned off the hair dryer and asked with a smile.

To everyone's surprise, Xie Xingyan shook her head without hesitation: "I can't go, I can't go."

He didn't say "I don't want to go," but rather "I can't go."

This is what Xie Xingyan meant when he said, "Chase the sun, but don't forget the path beneath your feet."

Jiangxi Heng frowned and sighed, "I thought you would be angry with me, and that I would take Ling Wushuang away, so you would be all alone."

Xie Xingyan was silent for a moment, then bit her lip and smiled, "Everyone has to go through a period of time alone. Maybe it won't be long. How long?"

He raised his eyes, his eyelashes trembling slightly, and asked with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

He worried that the waiting time would be too long, long enough for Jiangxi Heng's emotions to regress to square one, long enough for the goal to be achieved without any answers.

Jiangxi Heng looked at him, but did not mention the time. Instead, he said, "There are four major international film awards: the three major European film festivals, Cannes, Berlin, and Venice, and the Hollywood Oscars in North America. I want to win all four of these awards."

Xie Xingyan did not see any outward ambition on Jiangxi Heng's face.

When the other party said these words, it was as if the awards were already in his grasp. Therefore, Xie Xingyan became more and more certain that Jiangxi Heng's so-called "awards" meant that he wanted to win the world Grand Slam.

Jiangxi Heng is a towering tree that never competes with the shallow grass for the spring sun.

But how long will it take for the trees to block out the sun?

Five years, ten years, or half a lifetime?

He didn't doubt that Jiangxi Heng was a genius, but in the world of film, geniuses are as numerous as carp crossing a river. At just over twenty years old, he had to compete with those monsters who had been vying for supremacy for more than a decade.

"Why are you so red-eyed? You should trust me more. Let's set a time."

Jiangxi Heng used his other hand to wipe Xie Xingyan's eye corner.

He calmly replied, "Then let's make it five years."

Xie Xingyan looked up suddenly, somewhat incredulous. Four awards in five years—what a huge boast! Suddenly, he remembered what Jiangxi Heng had said at the Beijing Film Festival: "The tide turns every ten years, and the opponent changes every six months."

"It will be very tough," he muttered. "Actually, ten years is also possible. A world Grand Slam Best Actor in his thirties is unprecedented and will likely never be repeated."

"Will there be no one like him? Not necessarily," Jiangxi Heng said thoughtfully, smiling casually. "It doesn't matter. I like to challenge myself with difficult tasks. Five years is fine too. I enjoy it."