Chapter Forty-One: Inner Monologue

After waiting for more than thirty seconds, Gu Zhi was about to hang up the phone.

“Hello?”

At last, a gentle call came from the other end, the voice a little indistinct.

Tang Wei had been roused from her sleep.

There were no classes that morning, so she had been luxuriating in bed, still fast asleep at ten o’clock, determined to doze until noon.

Just as she was engaged in certain unspeakable activities with someone in her dream, the urgent ringing of her phone by the bedside abruptly invaded her reverie, persistently disrupting the fantasy.

In a haze, Tang Wei grabbed the phone, nearly flinging it across the room.

Fortunately, her frugal instincts, honed by years living in Beijing, stopped her in time.

After all, this was a brand-new phone bought only three days ago!

It was the latest 2000 model from Luji, the world’s first slider phone, model 8110, which had shone brilliantly in the recent release of “The Matrix,” becoming a classic case of product placement.

Walking down the street with the 8110 in hand, Tang Wei attracted a hundred percent of passing glances. Of course, she no longer dared to go out idly; the aura of celebrity was both a joy and a burden.

“Sorry, the school’s courses have been overwhelming lately. I’m not taking any interviews at the moment. You should go talk to Gu instead—he’s got all the juicy stories. I’m just a freshman and have classes to attend,”

Tang Wei recited mechanically into the phone, not waiting for the caller to speak. She’d repeated this excuse dozens of times already.

Ever since “Butterfly Effect” premiered, entertainment reporters had been calling her nonstop, requesting interviews. Yet this was a newly purchased phone with a freshly registered number, and she couldn’t fathom how they managed to track her down.

At first, she’d been thrilled, eagerly accepting interviews, but after a few, she couldn’t take it anymore.

Afraid she might say something wrong and accidentally spark a scandal that would affect box office results and disrupt her studies, she refrained. She understood the importance of a solid foundation in acting, and having finally been admitted to the Central Academy of Drama, she didn’t want to jeopardize her education for a single film.

A formal education was something many actors who stumbled into the industry envied greatly.

Later, Tang Wei decided to divert all interview requests to Gu Zhi. Reporters sought him out in droves anyway, so slipping him a few extra would likely go unnoticed.

“It’s me…”

A familiar voice suddenly reached Tang Wei’s ears, and she sprang upright in bed like a startled cat.

Oh no!

Gu!

She’d let it slip!

He’d found out!

What should she do… Would he be angry…

“Uh, I—no, I—”

“Miss, are you still sleeping?”

He’d caught her again…

“No, not at all! I was practicing vocal exercises, didn’t hear the phone ringing,”

As she spoke, she recalled scenes from her dream, and her face flushed hotly, her delicate hands trembling so much she nearly dropped the phone.

She silently thanked her stars Gu Zhi wasn’t there in person, or she’d have died of embarrassment.

On the other end, Gu Zhi chuckled softly at her, but didn’t linger on these trivialities.

“Have any production companies approached you recently?”

He got to the point, his tone becoming more serious.

“Yes, Aunt Wang Jinghua from Huayi came to see me two days ago. She wants me to sign under her and promised to fully nurture my career.”

They even sent Wang Jinghua!

Gu Zhi was surprised to hear that name.

At present, Huayi had two pillars: one, well-known to all, was Feng Xiaogang; the other was Wang Jinghua.

Huayi’s dominance in the film industry stemmed from its roster of mainland and Hong Kong A-list celebrities—Fan Ye, Li Bingbing, Chen Daoming, Tony Leung, Carina Lau, Rosamund Kwan, and many more. Such formidable talent was signed to Huayi thanks entirely to Wang Jinghua.

Most agents later active in the entertainment circle were her protégés.

Wang Jinghua’s importance to Huayi was self-evident. In 2005, when she left, she took dozens of A-list stars with her, dealing Huayi a heavy blow and causing its talent department, which accounted for half the company’s strength, to collapse.

Her management style was “nanny-like,” almost familial, forging close ties with her artists and making them loyal to her rather than to Huayi.

Now, while Wang Jinghua and Huayi were still enjoying their honeymoon period, her personal approach to Tang Wei showed a level of attention perhaps rivaling Gu Zhi’s own.

Given Wang Jinghua’s nurturing methods, if Tang Wei truly joined her, she would surely be developed with great care. For a newcomer, this temptation was immense.

Huayi was playing their cards well, targeting both directors and actors.

Since they couldn’t win at the box office, they simply poached the film’s creative team, turning them into their own and settling the matter once and for all.

Gu Zhi guessed that in a few days, he too would receive a contract offer from Huayi.

“Besides Huayi, Universal and Tianyu contacted me, and several record companies called as well,”

Tang Wei was still delighted when speaking of this—being courted by so many entertainment companies right at the start of her career was exhilarating beyond measure.

“Have you thought it through? Which one will you sign with?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Huayi seems sincere, they’re famous, and Director Feng is on board, so there are plenty of resources. What do you think?”

Tang Wei listed Huayi’s merits on the phone, while Gu Zhi paused for a moment in thought.

Finally, he drew a deep breath and made his decision:

“Why not sign with none of them—come with me.”

“With… you?”

The moment Gu Zhi spoke, Tang Wei’s heart fluttered wildly, like a fawn leaping about.

This “come with me”—did he mean a contract, or was it something more personal, or even… her heart?

“Yes, with me. I’ve written a movie, and next year I’ll write a TV drama. The roles in the film aren’t quite right for you, but in the drama, you can pick whichever part you like, lead or supporting.

“If you trust me, I can promise that, in time, the resources I’ll offer you will surpass those of any production company.”

After hearing this, Tang Wei fell silent, though she felt a faint disappointment inside.

So that’s all he meant by “come with me…”

No sound came from her end for a while, and Gu Zhi felt a sinking in his heart.

“Well, it’s fine. There will be chances to work together in the future, anyway.”

If she didn’t want to, he wouldn’t push.

“Who says I don’t want to! I do, and I trust you.”

Tang Wei, hearing his willingness to give up, quickly rallied with her answer.

Gu Zhi’s talent was plain for all to see, and he was still so young—he would surely make his mark in the film world. Tang Wei knew he intended to cultivate her, and was glad to start anew with him.

Besides, she was happy to be with Gu, whether as colleagues or friends.

Gu Zhi burst out laughing: “Mwah~”

Then immediately switched to a serious tone.

“This year, focus on your studies at the Academy. Build a solid foundation; your acting is still a bit unnatural, and your command of lines is average. By spring next year, make sure you’re ready. The drama is a period piece, and your performance must be flawless. Prepare in that area, and also work on your form…”

“Blah blah blah blah blah,”

Tang Wei rolled her eyes skyward and said impatiently,

“Got it, Master Gu.”