I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema!

What's more, Neon is the one that cares most about appearance.

Moreover, after becoming a data clerk and having my salary reduced, I probably can’t continue to live in this old and shabby apartment.

This is an apartment in the core area of ​​the Tokyo metropolitan area before the economic bubble burst.

Living here is equal to identity.

If I can't pay the mortgage and leave the apartment, it would be like fleeing Tokyo in disgrace in front of my friends and family, becoming a loser.

This is an even more humiliating outcome.

In ancient times, I would have committed seppuku...

"However, if Hashijitaro can be of use to me, perhaps it wouldn't be a big deal to lend a hand. It can also make Senior Suzuki Seito owe me a favor." Nohara Hiroshi touched his chin.

I couldn't help laughing at what happened tonight.

It's really neon-esque.

Chapter 89: To take back "Anzhiju"! The hypocritical crocodile is here!

The hangover headache was like a dull, rusty chisel, hammering at Hashijita's temple again and again.

He slowly opened his eyes.

What came into view was the familiar yet unfamiliar ceiling of his own bedroom, and the air was filled with an unpleasant smell mixed with alcohol and sourness.

The fragments of memory were like shattered mirrors, scattered in his mind.

He only remembered that he drank a lot of alcohol, smashed a lot of things, and cried and screamed like a madman.

And then... I don't remember anything.

"you're awake?"

A tired voice came from the side.

He turned around and saw his wife, Minami Hashimoto, sitting quietly by the bed with a glass of warm water.

Her eyes were red and swollen, and her face, which should have been gentle, was full of the haggardness after staying up late. However, the eyes that looked at him did not contain the blame and disgust he expected, but only a worry that made him feel ashamed.

"Ichiro, drink some water." She gently handed the cup to his mouth.

Hashijitaro struggled to sit up, his throat was so dry that it felt like it was on fire. He took the cup of water and drank it all in one gulp. The warm liquid slid down his esophagus, but it couldn't warm his already cold heart.

"Minami...I..." He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found that his voice was hoarse as if it had been polished with sandpaper.

"Yesterday... Mr. Nohara came." Hashimoto Minami didn't look at him. She just lowered her head and gently placed a fine-textured off-white business card next to the pillow at the head of the bed.

On it, printed in gold-plated font, was a name that he would never forget in his life.

——Nohara Hiroshi.

"Nohara...Sensei? Nohara Hiroshi!?"

Hashijitaro's body trembled violently. He looked at the business card, then at his wife, confusion emerging in his hollow eyes: "He...what is he doing here? Why would he..."

"I called Suzuki-sensei."

Hashimoto Minami's voice was soft, but it was like a heavy hammer, striking Hashimoto Ichiro's heart hard:

"You were so scary last night. I... I didn't know what to do. I could only think of him, so I called Mr. Suzuki. And Mr. Suzuki... he also heard you crying last night, so he was very worried about you."

Suzuki Sensei...

This name was like a key, instantly opening the floodgates of Hashijita Ichiro's memory.

The senior who always had a stern face but would silently shoulder all the responsibility for him when he made a mistake; the mentor who promoted him from the Kanto local station when he was at his lowest point and gave him the Tokyo dream...

The guilt that he had suppressed in the deepest part of his heart with jealousy and ambition, burst out at this moment like a flood that broke through the dam!

“Wow…Wow—!”

He could no longer hold on. This man who had struggled in the workplace for half his life, clinging to the last bit of pitiful dignity of a man, buried his head deeply in his arms like a child, and let out a suppressed and painful cry.

In that cry, there was regret, unwillingness, hatred for one's own stupidity, and boundless despair for the future.

Minami Hashimoto didn't say anything, but just reached out her hand and gently stroked his back, which was trembling due to the violent twitching.

The mature, beautiful but tired face had red eyes and tears welled up in them.

She knew that Hashimoto had indeed done something wrong.

and……

She almost made a mistake.

Fortunately, Hashijitaro met a good mentor, and she also met a true gentleman.

Finally the crying subsided.

Hashijitaro raised his tear-stained face and slapped himself twice with a force that was almost self-abuse.

"Crack! Crack!"

The crisp sound was particularly harsh in the quiet room.

He picked up the phone, his fingers trembling, and dialed the number that he was once most familiar with, but now seemed to carry a great deal of weight.

The call was quickly answered.

"...Suzuki...Teacher." He choked and only called out the name before he couldn't say anything else.

"...It's Ichiro." Suzuki Seito on the other end of the phone let out a long sigh full of pain.

He didn't scold or blame.

"Ichiro, everyone makes mistakes in their life. Making a mistake isn't scary. What's scary is not even having the courage to stand up and start over."

"Nohara-kun...he went over last night. He told me that if I was willing to bow my head, he would be willing to give me another chance."

"Call Nohara-kun. He asked you to meet him in his classroom."

The call was disconnected and Hashijitaro's tears silently slid down his cheeks.

He looked at the business card on the bedside table. The name on it seemed to carry a burning heat that made him dare not look directly at it.

In the end, he reached out and picked up the thin business card that would determine the fate of his second half of life.

……

"So, Section Chief, are you really going to forgive that traitor?"

In the office of [Nohara Hiroshi · Special Production Team], Minamimura Hoshi's voice was filled with disbelief and indignation.

Beside him, the faces of Hasegawa Roku and Kitagawa Yao were filled with the same confusion and unwillingness.

Just now, they heard with their own ears that their omnipotent section chief said to the traitor they hated in a calm tone on the phone: "Come to my office in an hour."

That shameless Hashijita who called Hiroshi Nohara!

"He betrayed you! He betrayed Section Chief Suzuki! He sold all our hard work to that bastard Iwata!"

Hase Luzui also stood up excitedly: "This kind of person is not worthy of forgiveness at all!"

"That's right!"

Beichuan Yao also clenched her fists, her big eyes, which were always bright, filled with indignation: "We finally managed to defeat Iwata's classroom, and now you bring him back, what if he betrays you again?"

Nohara Hiroshi looked at the three indignant young men in front of him, but only showed a helpless smile on his face.

He put down his coffee cup and motioned for them to sit down.

"You guys are still too young." His voice was gentle, yet it carried a kind of composure that seemed to see through everything. "Do you think that when I let him come back, it was just a simple forgiveness?"

"Isn't it?" the three of them said in unison.

"Of course not." Nohara Hiroshi leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, making a rhythmic sound. "Let me ask you, what is Hashiichi Ichirō's ability like?"

The three of them looked at each other. Although they were unhappy, they still had to admit it.

"...Not bad," Nancun Xing said reluctantly. "After all, he's already a Level 4 director at the age of 35, so his basic skills are quite solid. Back in Suzuki's classroom, he was the one who handled a lot of the execution."

Nohara Hiroshi nodded. "That's right. He's capable, but he's been blinded by jealousy. And now, he's experienced a fall from heaven to hell. He's been ruthlessly abandoned by his new boss and cursed by everyone in the TV station. What do you think will happen to him if I bring him back under these circumstances?"

The three were stunned again.

"Will he... be grateful to you?" Beichuan Yao asked tentatively.

"That's it. I'm willing to give him a chance."

Nohara Hiroshi's lips curled up meaningfully. "Because apart from me, there won't be another TV station in all of Japan that would dare to hire a director with a track record of betrayal who failed miserably in producing such a popular IP. He has no way out."

"and……"

Nohara Hiroshi's eyes became sharp:

"Have you forgotten the contract we signed with the TV station? If the third season of 'Anzhiju' fails, the exclusive production rights for the next two seasons will be forcibly reclaimed for one yuan."

"I'm planning to restart production on the fourth and fifth seasons of 'Anzhiju.' Hashiichi Ichiro, who participated in the entire production of the first two seasons, is familiar with all the processes, and is loyal to me, is undoubtedly the best choice for executive director of this project."

"As for you three..."

He looked at the three faces that had changed from shock to realization, and his smile grew even wider: "Your mission is to follow me and supervise Hashimoto Ichiro to re-produce the fourth and fifth seasons of "Anzhiju"!"

These words were like a key, instantly unlocking all the confusion in the hearts of the three people.

They looked at the young section chief in front of them with admiration as he was in control of the situation.

They finally got it.

Their section chief has never been a soft-hearted pushover.

He was just playing a game of chess at a level they couldn't understand, a game that was enough to decide everyone's fate!

……

An hour later, when Hashiji Ichiro's distraught figure appeared at the office door.

Everyone subconsciously stopped what they were doing.

The looks cast at him were cold and contemptuous, like invisible knives, cutting his pitiful self-esteem to pieces.

He didn't look at anyone, but just lowered his head and took heavy steps, step by step, until he came to the young man who was looking at him calmly.

Then, under everyone's stunned gaze.