Chapter 1828: A Man's Name Casts a Shadow

Ning Wanchen was truly stunned.

What was going on? Why was even Zhang Yuan siding with that strange man?

"Director Zhang, this..."

Looking at Zhang Yuan, Ning Wanchen asked, somewhat bewildered.

Zhang Yuan gave a bitter smile, shook his head, then turned to Jiang Wen and asked in confusion, "Is he in a bad mood?"

Jiang Wen shrugged: "Maybe. My wife heard from his wife that Ma Xiaoyun went to his house a few days ago to discuss shares. He probably lost over a billion. How could he be in a good mood?"

"The Alibaba guy?"

Zhang Yuan was taken aback and asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Jiang Wen nodded. "He was planning to reduce his Alibaba shares and sell them to Americans or Japanese. Then Ma Xiaoyun came to him and asked to buy them. Who knows what he was thinking, but he agreed."

"No wonder."

Zhang Yuan nodded: "A loss of over a billion dollars—how could he be in a good mood? Even a billionaire at his level would feel the sting for a long time."

"You said it." Old Jiang agreed, then looked at Ning Wanchen: "You were just unlucky. You had to add a bunch of credits for yourself in the script, like 'head writer' and such. Hah, he saw that and was bound to be unhappy."

"Huh?"

Ning Wanchen looked completely baffled.

"He hates it when people haggle," Jiang Wen said to Ning Wanchen. "I thought you might have guessed who he was by now."

"Ah?"

Ning Wanchen was dumbfounded. What was happening?

"That man, could it be..."

At that moment, Ning Wanchen finally caught on. He stared at Jiang Wen in shock but dared not utter the name.

Jiang Wen nodded: "Let's leave it at that. I'll let Ye Jing know. The company will contact you. This script is sold to our company."

He paused, then added: "If there's a chance, we can work together again."

With that, Jiang Wen stood up and left the room, leaving only Ning Wanchen and Zhang Yuan.

"Brother Zhang, this..."

Zhang Yuan hurriedly got up to see Jiang Wen out. When he returned, Ning Wanchen, still in a daze, spoke to him.

With a wry smile, Zhang Yuan waved his hand: "It's nothing. This isn't your fault."

"Was that really...?" Ning Wanchen asked.

"Yeah, Zhao Fusheng, Chairman of Future Group. Tsk tsk," Zhang Yuan laughed. "To be honest, I didn't expect to see him here either."

That was the truth. When he walked in and saw Zhao Fusheng, even Zhang Yuan was startled.

After all, since Zhao Fusheng became increasingly wealthy, even people in the Beijing circle rarely saw him. He basically never attended public events, not even official gatherings.

Most of the time, it was Zheng Yao, Dong Chenxi, and others who represented him.

Nowadays, Zhao Fusheng was as mysterious as Wang Wei of SF Express, even more so, because his wealth surpassed Wang Wei's.

"It really is him!"

Though he had already guessed, confirming Zhao Fusheng's identity made Ning Wanchen gasp.

There was no way around it—the identity was simply too staggering.

It was like having dinner with an ugly man, only to be told later that the restaurant you ate at was his, the car you drove was made by his company, and the clothes you wore were from his brand.

The gap was too vast!

With a little money, one might still harbor resentment toward the rich. But when someone was wealthy beyond a certain point, resentment faded. People only admired and looked up to such a person as a benchmark.

Take a certain tycoon, for example—despite all his shady dealings, he still happily made money off the Chinese and went to live in the UK.

That was reality.

Ning Wanchen had been resentful moments ago, but now that resentment had vanished without a trace. He was even a bit terrified, realizing he had been somewhat ungrateful. Would Zhao Fusheng blacklist him because of this?

He shared his worries with Zhang Yuan, who smiled and shook his head.

"Fusheng isn't that petty. If he really held a grudge, Old Jiang wouldn't have said there might be a chance to work with you again. That's his way of compensating you."

Zhang Yuan was a smart man, after all—a standout among the sixth-generation directors, excelling in both talent and social savvy.

The way Zhao Fusheng and Jiang Wen had acted, especially Jiang Wen's reaction, said it all.

Clearly, as Jiang Wen had said, Zhao Fusheng wasn't targeting Ning Wanchen or him personally. He was just in a bad mood, and Ning Wanchen happened to be bargaining at the wrong time—walking right into the line of fire.

"Don't worry, Future Film won't do anything to you," Zhang Yuan said to Ning Wanchen. "And he did say you'd get the writing credit."

Ning Wanchen finally breathed a sigh of relief and nodded gently, the heavy weight lifted from his heart.

He was genuinely scared!

Future Film!

It was the leading private film and television company, backed by one of China's wealthiest tycoons, with connections and capital to spare. If such a company publicly blacklisted him, Ning Wanchen felt that even his talent would be useless.

Could talent put food on the table in the entertainment industry?

Clearly, when faced with capital and talent, anyone would choose capital. No one cared about talent.

This was no joke!

Even renowned directors and Oscar-winning actors had to bow their heads before capital, because they knew that their future depended not on the quality of the script or box office returns, but on whether capital was satisfied.

For example, you might see an actor with terrible acting skills star in countless movies with low box office returns.

But as long as the investors were happy and liked him, he'd never have to worry about not getting roles in the next project.

In short, whoever the investor daddy liked became the darling of the circle.

And now, Zhao Fusheng wasn't just the investor daddy—he was the investor daddy's daddy.

Who could withstand that?

Fortunately, when Zhang Yuan stepped out earlier, he had exchanged a few words with Jiang Wen and confirmed that Zhao Fusheng didn't intend to blacklist Ning Wanchen. That finally put his mind at ease.

As for the script, compared to his own future, missing out on a good script was acceptable.

He could always buy another one later.

After all, screenwriters without the right to claim credit were as numerous as carp crossing the river in China's screenwriting circles.

"Brother Zhang, thanks to you today. Want to come over to my place tonight?"

With the weight off his mind, Ning Wanchen's expression relaxed. He looked at Zhang Yuan and raised an eyebrow.

Zhang Yuan paused, then caught his meaning. He chuckled and nodded: "Sure."

For two kindred spirits like them, some things were understood instantly.

...

...

Zhao Fusheng naturally had no idea what happened between Zhang Yuan and Ning Wanchen after he left, nor did he care to speculate on the thoughts of two minor figures.

He waited in the car for a while, and soon Jiang Wen got in.

"You didn't like that Ning Wanchen?"

Jiang Wen asked as soon as he sat down.

What he had said to Zhang Yuan and Ning Wanchen earlier was pure nonsense. Having known Zhao Fusheng for years, he knew him well—if Zhao Fusheng acted that way, it was because he looked down on someone.

Zhao Fusheng didn't beat around the bush. He nodded and said directly: "That guy does drugs. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

Jiang Wen was a genuine man of the world; if he couldn't spot that, Zhao Fusheng would have despised him.

"I noticed a bit."

Hearing Zhao Fusheng's words, Jiang Wen didn't deny it. He nodded and said: "Anyone who hangs out with Zhang Yuan is bound to dabble in that stuff."

Then he suddenly asked: "Is that why you've always been cold to Zhang Yuan? Because he does drugs?"

It had just dawned on him.

In fact, Zhao Fusheng genuinely admired many of the sixth-generation directors. When some of them lacked funding for their films and approached Future Film for investment, Zhao Fusheng had Ye Jing invest a portion.

Most of those investments ended up losing money.

But with Zhang Yuan, Zhao Fusheng rarely interacted, and in recent years, they had completely lost touch.

Now it occurred to Jiang Wen that this might be the reason.

"Exactly."

Zhao Fusheng didn't hide it from Jiang Wen. He nodded: "Some things are off-limits."

In many people's eyes, this might be forgivable, but in Zhao Fusheng's view, it was unforgivable.

Moreover, with the media so pervasive, Zhao Fusheng didn't believe such things could stay hidden forever.

If that day came, being too closely associated with these people would drag him down too.

"You have a point."

Jiang Wen nodded, fully agreeing with Zhao Fusheng.

Then he held up the script and asked: "But do you really think this will work?"

Zhao Fusheng smiled: "What, you don't think a sitcom can be a hit?"

"It's not that."

Jiang Wen shook his head: "'I Love My Family' and 'Stories from the Editorial Board' were both sitcoms, and they were hits. What I mean is, is it the right time for a sitcom now?"

As a veteran in the industry, Jiang Wen believed that timing was everything. A few years ago, sitcoms might have had a market, but now, with the internet growing rapidly and even TV stations feeling the impact, making a sitcom was a risky venture.

"Not the right time?"

Zhao Fusheng repeated Jiang Wen's words to himself, then smiled: "Want to make a bet?"

A bet?

Seeing Zhao Fusheng's expression, Jiang Wen's heart stirred.

He suddenly realized that this guy was setting a trap for him again!