A private room at the Yan Jing Grand Hotel.
"Xiao Shen, thank you so much. I haven't had a single good day or night's sleep in over a month. I've been kicking myself for letting things get this bad, for getting so caught up in chasing money. But after hearing your song, 'Father's Prose Poem,' I finally feel completely released. Even though I still can't sleep, my heart feels so much lighter..."
Qian Guosheng, quite drunk, kept pulling Shen Lang closer and rambling, "It's a shame you're so young—just a few years older than my daughter. Otherwise, I'd definitely become sworn brothers with you."
Shen Lang had been toasted several times by Qian Guosheng. Fortunately, he held his liquor well, or he would have been passed out on the table by now. "President Qian, I'm deeply honored by your kind words. As a singer, writing and performing songs is simply my duty. Your appreciation is the greatest fortune and happiness I could ask for."
"Modest! Such admirable character!" Qian Guosheng slung an arm around Shen Lang's shoulders, hiccuped, and drunkenly picked up a bottle of wine. As he poured, he slurred, "Stop calling me 'President Qian.' It's too formal. I'm a good decade or two older than you—'Brother Qian' would be fine."
Shen Lang smiled wryly. "Brother Qian, this is the last drink. We've had enough."
"Good!" Qian Guosheng raised his glass with a grin. "Cheers!"
Shen Lang watched him drain his glass and finished his own.
Staring at the several empty bottles of Five-Star Maotai on the table, Shen Lang thought, "They really drank their fill."
To be fair, good liquor was indeed different, with a richer taste and more complex flavors.
Afterward, Shen Lang booked a room at the nearby Yan Jing Grand Hotel, settled Qian Guosheng in, and returned to his basement.
Now that he had some money, he could afford better housing.
But he wanted to save more, aiming for a one-step upgrade to a Siheyuan or even an entire building.
Back in the basement, he took a shower to wash off the lingering smell of alcohol.
Shen Lang lay comfortably on his bed, replaying the day's events in his mind.
It had been truly unexpected.
In his previous life, he had read news stories about Coal Bosses—their extravagant spending and forays into various industries, basking in temporary glory.
He never imagined he would experience it firsthand.
Now, his bank account held an additional 200,000 yuan, courtesy of Qian Guosheng for the song purchase and music video production.
"This is a headache..."
Shen Lang gently massaged his temples.
How should he approach this music video?
Even half the budget, 100,000 yuan, would be more than enough to produce a standard music video.
Of course, it all depended on the vision.
If he aimed to hire top-tier celebrities like Jackie Chan, Jet Li, or Stephen Chow, even adding two more zeros to that sum wouldn't suffice.
Qian Guosheng wasn't after fame; he wanted to capture the emotional depth of the song. Hiring ordinary directors, screenwriters, and actors would have sufficed.
But here was the problem: where could he find them?
This was where the importance of connections became clear.
The entertainment circle was a microcosm of society. While talent was undoubtedly crucial and the foundation of success, personal connections could also significantly impact one's career. These networks not only opened doors to more opportunities for artists but also provided essential support during challenging times.
The next day, Shen Lang found a suitable time and called Zhou Xun.
This was his connection.
Zhou Xun had recently finished filming the music video for her song "Drifting" and, with years of experience in the industry, she surely had recommendations for directors, screenwriters, and actors.
"Hello? Who is this?" A languid voice answered.
It was already past eleven. Could she still be in bed?
"Xun Jie, it's me, Shen Lang. Am I disturbing your rest? Should I call back later?" Shen Lang wondered if she had worked late the previous night.
"No, I'm just bored at home with nothing to do, too lazy to get out of bed." Hearing it was him, Zhou Xun instantly perked up, her drowsiness vanishing. She playfully hummed, "You haven't contacted me in ages. Do you only have Yuanyuan in your heart, and no room for your jie?"
"Things got a bit hectic after the National Day holiday, and I left Yanjing Music Radio," Shen Lang said, skirting the issue.
"I know about that. I heard that episode—your song made me cry buckets! You owe me!" Zhou Xun grumbled.
"Uh..." Shen Lang rubbed his eye corner. "It's easily settled. But, Zhou Xun, I actually wanted to ask you for a favor."
"I knew it! You only think of me when you need something," Zhou Xun pouted, a strange sense of displeasure rising within her. Still, she said, "Spit it out. What do you want me to do?"
"Well, it's like this..." Shen Lang explained his need for a music video.
"I thought it was something serious! A director, a screenwriter, a few actors—I'll handle it," Zhou Xun declared, taking on the task without hesitation.
"Thanks, Zhou Xun," Shen Lang said gratefully.
"Wait a minute. Are you implying you don't want me in the MV?" Zhou Xun asked sharply.
"The budget's tight, Zhou Xun. You're a Best Actress—I can't afford you! Besides, there's only one female role, the mother. Since the focus is on fatherly love, I was planning to use mostly side shots and back views," Shen Lang explained.
"Would I ever ask you for money? Of course it's free. I just want to know if I can play the mother role," Zhou Xun said.
"You definitely can, but..." Shen Lang started to protest.
"No buts! My new film doesn't start shooting until the end of next month anyway. I'll be bored otherwise. Just give me the mother role. That's settled," Zhou Xun interrupted firmly.
"Alright, whatever you say, Sister," Shen Lang relented. He figured he might as well do it and add another favor to the list.
"Okay, I'm getting up now. I'll call you later," Zhou Xun said and hung up abruptly.
Shen Lang closed his phone, shaking his head with a smile. "That Young Master Zhou really does march to the beat of her own drum."
He went out for a quick lunch.
Then he rode his 28-inch rod brake bicycle around the neighborhood.
He wasn't just killing time.
He needed to gather props mentioned in the song "Father's Prose Poem": harvested crops, an outdoor movie screen, a blue polyester shirt, round biscuits, a sewing machine... everything had to be prepared.
Since he had taken Qian Guosheng's money, he had to do it right.
October 12th, Wednesday, clear and bright.
Beigong Forest Park.
The path was lined with trees in gradual shades of autumn colors, ginkgo, smoke trees, and maple trees painting the landscape with vibrant hues.
"Xun Jie, you're incredibly efficient."
"The director who shot the 'Drifting' music video is also in Yanjing. I contacted him directly."
Zhou Xun hadn't wasted any time. "He also wrote the script for your song's music video. Take a look and see if it works."
Shen Lang quickly skimmed it. It largely followed his requests. "It's fine. No problem."
Zhou Xun's large eyes, framed by delicate, thick lashes, fluttered as she asked, "When should we start filming?"
After a moment's thought, Shen Lang replied, "Since everyone's here, why not start tomorrow?"