Chapter 66: Lunar New Year Film Season? Brace Yourself for a Crushing Blow!

“We were just saying that Producer Chen is underestimating us—a mere four hundred million seems to belittle our acting skills,” Shen Teng joked, clearly trying to brush off Chen Ling’s earlier words as nothing more than a jest.

“I think so too. Given how well our film turned out, four hundred million is really selling us short. My goal is to break the box office record set by ‘Earthquake’.”

The lively mood that had just taken hold in the courtyard vanished in an instant at Chen Ling’s remark; the silence was so complete that you could hear a pin drop. Everyone turned to look at Chen Ling, wanting to see if he was joking.

They had confidence in their film, but not that much.

Glancing around at the faces full of shock, Chen Ling raised his voice, “Have a little more faith in your own acting, will you? Just wait until the film is released—your careers will soar!”

Having tossed out this seemingly playful comment, Chen Ling let the subject drop. The idea of a road comedy shattering box office records was clearly beyond everyone’s expectations.

Comedies are naturally suited for the Spring Festival window, and this film, ‘Heart’s Wild Journey,’ is an outstanding entry even among comedies. Its endless stream of catchphrases will spread like wildfire—it’s no joke.

But to break box office records? That was a stretch, especially when the market had yet to mature. The overall scale of the film industry was still small and predictable.

If things went the usual way, ‘Heart’s Wild Journey’ could certainly do well at the box office—four hundred million wasn’t out of reach—but to see it explode and go head-to-head with ‘Earthquake’ would be tough.

‘Earthquake’ achieved its astronomical numbers with government-sponsored screenings—something Chen Ling had no way of replicating. But he had a plan for some clever publicity stunts, a trick he hadn’t shared with anyone.

Let his peers brace themselves for a blow from the future.

...

At everyone’s request, the wrap party was held as a bonfire night, and Director Chen Ling was unanimously urged to take the stage and sing—a treat worthy of a Golden Melody Award.

By the sea, they ringed a spot in the yard with fresh flowers to serve as Chen Ling’s stage, flanked by two expensive speakers.

Nearby, someone was ready with drums for accompaniment—in Dali, musicians were never hard to find, and all it took was a bit of money and a confidentiality agreement to stop them from taking random photos.

At six o’clock, the sun was about to set, staining Erhai Lake crimson with the evening glow. A gentle breeze set the water shimmering.

Warm orange lights flickered to life in the courtyard, creating a wonderful atmosphere.

In this setting, Chen Ling appeared in a white shirt and faded jeans, strumming a guitar, a pair of quirky sunglasses perched on his nose. Amid the laughter and cheers, he walked to the microphone.

“Good evening, everyone!” Chen Ling raised the mic toward the thirty or so crew members across from him.

“Good evening!” came their enthusiastic reply. A few of the girls, forgetting their image, raised their beer bottles in a toast.

In front of the crowd stood plates piled high with skewers, fruit, and beer; a few cooks tended a barbecue at the side of the yard, so no one had to handle it themselves.

“First of all, thank you for all your hard work this past month. Eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves tonight—no one goes home until they’re tipsy!”

“Wuhu!”

“Quiet, quiet—” Chen Ling waited for the cheers to die down before continuing.

“Up next, the first song of the night: ‘Brightest Star in the Night Sky.’”

“A live Golden Melody Award performance! I think this is the first time Director Chen has sung on stage, aside from the awards show.”

“He once sang for his girlfriend.”

“But that was in a classroom, not on stage.” So much for keeping secrets—Chen Ling’s past had been completely uncovered.

“‘Brightest Star in the Night Sky’? That’s my ringtone!”

“I pray for a transparent heart, for eyes that know how to weep,
Grant me the courage to keep believing,
To cross lies and embrace you,
Whenever I can’t find my purpose, whenever I’m lost in the night,
Brightest star in the night sky, please guide me closer to you...”

Chen Ling launched straight into the chorus, igniting the crowd. A good singing voice is important, but for Chen Ling, the setting and atmosphere mattered even more.

Singing for Jing Tian in a classroom, or here in this cozy courtyard—these little stages always came alive. Some of the girls even started snapping photos with their phones.

At this time, variety shows weren’t yet popular, and a bonfire party was still a major draw.

After the song, everyone was elated, as if the fatigue of the past month had vanished.

“What do you want to hear next?” Chen Ling took a few steps to the side of the stage and handed the mic to Liu Yifei and the other girls.

Why not to the men? Was that even a question?

Tonight, the girls all wore shorts and skirts, their long legs dazzling Chen Ling’s eyes.

“‘By Your Side, Always By Your Side’—that’s what I want to hear!” Sure enough, Lin Zhiling, with her long legs, was first to snatch the microphone.

“All right, the next song is ‘By Your Side.’”

...

At first, Chen Ling sang earnestly, but before long, the crowd began to egg him on. He even did a duet with Lin Zhiling, and after that, things became a blur.

He remembered drinking a lot, feeling very happy, and letting go of all the pressure that had built up during the shoot.

He’d always thought he could hold his liquor, but tonight he’d had more than enough—too many people toasting him, too many to refuse. The occasion called for it, and he was happy to oblige. In a haze, he vaguely recalled someone helping him to his room.

He couldn’t remember exactly who, only that their perfume smelled wonderful.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, warming Chen Ling’s face. He shielded his eyes from the glare, took a moment to collect himself, and realized—oh, he was at the inn, in his own room. Last night’s wrap party had gotten a bit out of hand.

He tried to piece together his memories and checked his phone; it was already past nine.

The aftermath of a hangover: headache, thirst, and hazy memories. He felt light-headed and couldn’t quite recall if he’d made a fool of himself last night.

Directing and starring in the same film is a heavy burden—not only must you manage the whole crew, but you have to worry about your own performance as well. The stress was considerable.

“Next time, I’ll just do one job—either direct or act, but not both. Give myself a break.”

He got out of bed and downed a glass of warm water, feeling a little more human.

He remembered seeing several unread messages on his phone.

A quick check made him shake his head. Some people, already in a hurry to catch other jobs, had left messages to say goodbye—like Lin Zhiling and Liu Yifei.

Shen Teng and a few others had sent him countless videos and photos. At first, they were normal, but as the night wore on, he was clearly beginning to show signs of drunken antics. Fortunately, nothing too outrageous.

He’d arranged for a photographer to record the party, planning to keep the memories for the future. He’d ask for copies later to see if anything truly embarrassing had been captured.

...

His flight was booked for the afternoon. All the crew members returning to Beijing had their tickets arranged by the crew. By the time the plane landed in the capital, night was falling, and Chen Ling invited everyone to one last dinner.

Only then did the crew officially disband, each heading their separate ways. Before parting, Chen Ling made plans with Liu Yifei and Liu Yan to meet again when they had time. After more than a month together, they had all become good friends.