Chapter 0652: Little Happiness

Zhao Fusheng had always felt that making a big show of being high-profile was not a good thing. The principle he adhered to was subtle influence, moistening things silently.

To put it bluntly, it was about making a fortune quietly.

Just as he had never expected those he had helped to repay him.

Zhao Fusheng did things only for peace of mind, not for repayment.

Because repaying kindness was a very narrow-minded idea; as it went on, it could easily change flavor and gradually breed all sorts of messy things.

Kindness and enmity were two different things. The goal of revenge was clear and would not cause any psychological resistance, unless one developed Stockholm syndrome; basically, no one who sought revenge failed.

He spent the whole day watching movies at home, all rented from the video store near the neighborhood.

He found that the movies in this world were really scarce; at least many classic films in his memory were all absent here. But fortunately, those stars were still around, and some of their works still existed.

It was just that many classics were missing.

In the evening, Fan Baobao returned home with a tired body. In her own words, in the crew now, women were used like men, and men were used like beasts of burden.

To this, Zhao Fusheng said that it was actually a form of training.

Movie stars making films back then were not as delicate as later ones. Compared with those traffic stars, even celebrities at this time were purer and more dedicated.

Staying up late to shoot was common; working around the clock was not a problem. Everyone understood that everything they had came from their works; without works, they were nothing.

Later on, this kind of thinking gradually disappeared. Perhaps because the theory that hype could make one a star was put into practice, more and more artists stopped focusing on the quality of their works and only cared about whether they had topics of discussion.

So a star solving a few equations or taking the Central Academy of Drama exam could trend, while their Mary Sue acting skills were hardly noticed.

"I feel like I'm falling apart..." Fan Baobao lay on the bed with a look of utter despair.

Zhao Fusheng smiled; he didn't feel much about it. To be honored in public, one must suffer in private—that was the fate of being a star.

Not to mention a newcomer like Fan Baobao, even Jiang Wen and Yu Feihong had to endure the same, even having to drive through the night to shoot.

"Hard work, just get a good sleep and you'll be fine." Zhao Fusheng patted Fan Baobao on the back.

Fan Baobao grunted, then said, "But seriously, I didn't expect Director Lu Chuan to be so amazing, knowing almost everything. Today he even adjusted the lights himself."

Zhao Fusheng laughed. Lu Chuan was a top graduate from the Directing Department of Beijing Film Academy; knowing how to adjust lights was no big deal.

As a director, even if one couldn't master lighting, art, editing, and cinematography, one should at least know a little; otherwise, when shooting, one couldn't communicate well with the crew.

No matter what one does, when an amateur directs an expert, the best results can never be achieved.

If Lu Chuan didn't have this ability, Zhao Fusheng would find it strange. After all, in his previous life, he was a famous director who made a name for himself. Although there was indeed suspicion of relying on his father in the early days, it must be remembered that his father could only give him opportunities; whether he could seize them depended on himself.

"What are you laughing at?" Although Zhao Fusheng laughed very carefully, Fan Baobao still noticed his smile and asked curiously.

Zhao Fusheng smiled and said slowly, "Nothing. Lu Chuan is still very talented. Don't think that he got where he is today just because he has a good father, as Old Jiang and the others say."

Fan Baobao nodded, turned over, and looked up at the ceiling: "I know what you mean. Family background is only one aspect; what really matters is one's own efforts, right?"

Zhao Fusheng showed a smile: "Exactly. What determines each of our destinies is not chance, but choice."

Fan Baobao nodded: "I understand. You can have enemies with bottom lines, but you cannot have friends without bottom lines. I read the diary you wrote in high school..."

"You read my diary?" Zhao Fusheng looked speechless, then helplessly shook his head. Childhood sweethearts were really annoying; the two knowing each other too well was the downside.

Just as Fan Baobao knew when he first wet the bed, he also knew when she first got her period.

So damn awkward!

"Oh, don't be mad. I'll show you all my old diaries during winter break." Seeing Zhao Fusheng's expression, Fan Baobao knew he was sulking. She climbed up and lay on him, grinning.

Zhao Fusheng sighed helplessly; he had no way to deal with this girl.

Many times, people like to keep doing something, even if they fail repeatedly. In a sense, that's not stubbornness, but petulance—meaningless petulance.

So Zhao Fusheng wouldn't be so boring as to get angry with Fan Baobao over this. He wisely made the choice most beneficial to himself.

Leaning close to Fan Baobao's ear, he whispered a few words to her. Fan Baobao's face suddenly turned red, like a big apple.

"You, where did you learn so many bad ideas?"

Glaring at her boyfriend, Fan Baobao said indignantly.

Zhao Fusheng chuckled but said nothing.

Loyalty often comes from butchers; ingratitude often comes from scholars.

There were many truly principled intellectuals in this world, but in this era, they were becoming fewer and fewer. They either sought attention or chased fame.

It is said that reading history reveals the rise and fall. Those who have read history books know that it is often these intellectuals who mess things up the most. How much cultural knowledge do common people have?

Of course, Zhao Fusheng would never admit to being an intellectual.

In his view, the term 'intellectual' was equivalent to cursing.

"I don't care. We'll talk after dinner." Fan Baobao glared at Zhao Fusheng and buried herself in the blanket. Clearly, she was really shy.

After all, the request that guy Zhao Fusheng made was really too much.

Zhao Fusheng blinked, grinned, and silently got up to cook.

To take, one must first give. To get something, one must first give something—that's only natural. Thinking about what Fan Baobao would do later, making her dinner now was nothing.

Humming a tune, a delighted Zhao Fusheng walked into the kitchen.

Outside the window, the moon quietly hid itself, as if unwilling to witness someone's shameless behavior.