Chapter 34: A Moment of Confusion in the Heart

On the way there, while Yang Wei was held back by Xiao Han, who was so excited that her face turned red, Xiao Ran finally had time to think about his own matters. Yang Wei’s behavior earlier seemed to show quite some affection for him, something Xiao Ran certainly couldn’t miss. Of course, he didn’t deny Yang Wei’s delicate beauty; it’s just that he knew his own feelings well—he didn’t have any feelings for her. If there was any feeling at all, it might have been from the moment they first met…
This troubled him greatly. It wasn’t bad to have someone like him; at least Xiao Ran enjoyed that feeling. Yet, there was another shadow in his heart—a shadow of someone breathtakingly beautiful. Of course, Xiao Ran wasn’t a child, so he wouldn’t foolishly fall in love with a woman he had only met once. Still, he thought perhaps it would be better if Yang Wei didn’t like him.
Lin Qingxia’s new home was huge! That was Xiao Ran’s first thought—there was a swimming pool and a garden, which made him extremely envious. But with his current wealth, not to mention buying a house in Saigon, he probably wouldn’t even be able to afford one elsewhere.
As soon as he entered Lin Qingxia’s house, Xiao Ran saw several acquaintances—by “acquaintances,” he meant people he had seen before or known. Several big names from Xinyi City, such as Xu Ke and Mai Jia, as well as Huang Baiming, were there, with Zhang Manyu chatting happily with others.
Xiao Ran greeted these people briefly before going straight in. Inside, he saw Lin Qingxia talking cheerfully with someone. When she saw Xiao Ran and the others enter, she immediately showed delight. After excusing herself, she came over to Xiao Ran and the others, glanced at Yang Wei from head to toe, then said to Xiao Ran in a suggestive tone, “A Ran, your girlfriend is really beautiful!”
Xiao Ran gave a bitter smile but said nothing. Of course, Lin Qingxia had no idea why he was smiling like that. She simply reached out and pulled Xiao Han aside to whisper a few words. Then she told Yang Wei and the others to find a place to sit casually, before taking Xiao Ran to meet some other acquaintances.
“Everyone here today is quite influential, A Ran. You need to seize this opportunity!” Lin Qingxia stared at Xiao Ran with a strange expression, seemingly aware of his desire to become a director. “It might be very helpful for you in the future!”
Before he could finish speaking, Lin Qingxia led Xiao Ran to a plump middle-aged man. After some introductions, Xiao Ran learned that this man, Lin Guiyun, was one of Taiwan’s most powerful film producers, buying rights to many Hong Kong films every year.
As for these film rights, Xiao Ran was well aware of them. Even before a new film was released or even filmed, some people would pay to acquire certain rights to it—these were the film rights. It had to be said that such producers had immense influence, and selling film rights was a very common practice in Hong Kong at that time.
Under normal circumstances, producers didn’t interfere with films. But that was only under normal circumstances. Often, producers would specify certain actors for a film, with more famous actors being more likely to get the roles. In fact, Xiao Ran knew well that it was precisely because of such producers’ demands that countless poor-quality films were produced. Sometimes, it was even the producers who directed the filming, starting production without a script or any preparations—so it would be strange if such films didn’t turn out bad.

The trailer system was a testament to the golden age of Hong Kong cinema. At that peak, even before a film was shot or even had a basic outline, as long as the film company told the distributor that a certain star would star in the new movie, the distributor would immediately agree to pay upfront. In truth, most Hong Kong film companies during that era relied on funds from distributors to produce movies, almost like the air force fighting against the army. In this cycle, distributors made profits, and film companies also earned huge sums, resulting in a large number of poor-quality films and the decline of Hong Kong cinema. However, according to Xiao Ran, trailers shouldn’t be sold at all, or rather, not in this way—investors shouldn’t be allowed to influence film production. Only good quality could ensure better sales for films. Thus, the trailer system didn’t necessarily need to be abolished, but it must change. Lin Guiyun, on the other hand, was easy-going, which won Xiao Ran’s favor. After chatting for a while, Lin Qingxia led Xiao Ran to another middle-aged man, the editor-in-chief of Ming Pao Weekly, also a powerful figure who couldn’t be offended under any circumstances. After touring around with Lin Qingxia and meeting famous talented women like Yi Shu and Lin Yanni, as well as other notable people, Lin Qingxia went to greet others. Xiao Ran wasn’t very fond of such an environment. When Lin Qingxia left, he found a place to sit down, had something to drink, and took a break. Clearly, others probably didn’t want to approach him, the junior screenwriter. Lin Guiyun, however, came over curiously and sat down, saying, “Mr. Xiao, why are you sitting here alone?” “Mr. Lin, just call me Aran!” Xiao Ran actually disliked being addressed formally; it felt overly pretentious. “I sometimes feel very tired, so I just rest here.” “Hehe, you’re not used to parties like this, right? It’s okay; you’ll get used to it as you come more often!” Lin Guiyun really didn’t have the airs of a big businessman and instead chatted amiably with Xiao Ran. “Well then, I’ll call you Aran, and you can call me Gui Ge. Too many formalities can be awkward!” Xiao Ran smiled slightly and glanced around. Everywhere were men and women holding glasses, chatting animatedly. Just then, a man and a woman entered from the door—the man was handsome and stylish, while the woman was breathtakingly beautiful! At that sight, Xiao Ran was stunned. Wasn’t that woman the one he had glimpsed stunningly at the hotel entrance before? Seeing Xiao Ran’s expression, Lin Guiyun followed his gaze and immediately showed a understanding smile. He coughed lightly twice before suppressing his laughter and saying, “Aran, what do you think of this woman?” “Her?” Although Xiao Ran had a thick skin, he couldn’t help feeling embarrassed acting so out of place in front of others. “She’s quite nice… very beautiful!”

Seeing Xiao Ran’s embarrassment, Lin Guiyun developed a strange fondness for the young man in front of him. In his eyes, those who could understand embarrassment were clearly not bad people—at least they were worth getting to know. He smiled and nodded, saying, “But she’s someone neither of us can afford to provoke. These two are siblings—the man is Fang Ruohai, and the woman is Fang Ruoxin. Their father is a wealthy Chinese-American; we’re not of a status to associate with them!”
Xiao Ran wasn’t a fool and naturally understood that Lin Guiyun was trying to help him, subtly advising him not to get entangled in this situation, as their status was beyond his reach. Yet, knowing one thing didn’t mean emotions could be controlled. At least for now, Xiao Ran felt completely immersed—since meeting Fang Ruoxin, he had become as shy and easily flustered as on his first love. This was what feelings were like…
“Ahem! Aran, what good scripts have you written as a 20-million-dollar screenwriter lately?” Seeing Xiao Ran’s gaze fixed on Fang Ruoxin, Lin Guiyun shook his head slightly. In his view, young people were just that—easily caught up in emotions.
Xiao Ran turned to look at Lin Guiyun in surprise. He hadn’t expected that his nickname as a 20-million-dollar screenwriter was already known in Taiwan’s industry. He wasn’t aware of this—after all, the film industries in Hong Kong and Taiwan had always had close ties, and since Lin Guiyun was a film producer, if even he, a newly rising famous screenwriter, wasn’t known, then there was no point in continuing.
The entertainment industry valued talent above all, but it also emphasized qualifications. For example, screenwriters who wrote blockbuster or award-winning scripts like Xiao Ran were naturally very popular. Yet, qualifications were what truly mattered. Take Liu Songren from TVB—although he wasn’t as famous as Zhou Runfa, he had absolute authority at TVB, even surpassing the words of the higher-ups.
Qualifications meant experience, and experience meant strong connections. Director Wang Jing had produced countless films mocking various big stars and directors. Even industry giants like Cheng Long and Wang Jiawei had been thoroughly ridiculed in his works.
If someone else had done this, their name might have disappeared from the industry forever. But Wang Jing had powerful connections—his father was an outstanding director from the older generation, so naturally no one dared to confront him. This was the importance of connections.
Xiao Ran currently had talent, but lacked experience. As for fame, he was quite well-known. So it wasn’t surprising that Lin Guiyun knew him. Of course, Xiao Ran didn’t think this far ahead. He reluctantly pulled his gaze away and said, “I do have a few scripts, but this time I plan to direct myself!”
Lin Guiyun was stunned. He was very impressed by this young screenwriter. Though he didn’t know whether this confidence came from intuition or something else, he simply had that feeling. It was as if in human interactions, sometimes trust could be given to strangers without a single word.

So, Lin Guiyun’s inquiry was simply to learn about Xiao Ran’s writing progress so she could buy time to plan for the trailer of his new film. But when Xiao Ran said he intended to direct himself, it left Lin Guiyun in a dilemma.
In this era, it’s absolutely unheard of for someone who’s good at writing to also direct—of course, those from TVB are exceptions, as they are both writers and directors. By “writer-director,” I mean someone who can both write and direct. Xiao Ran, having received no training in writing or directing, still wanted to direct himself, which Lin Guiyun found hard to believe.
One could wait until the film was shot before deciding whether to buy it! Surely some people thought that way! Unfortunately, Hong Kong movies are very popular in Southeast Asia right now, and if a distributor hesitates even slightly, the film might be taken by another distributor. This is why in the early 1990s, distributors rushed to acquire films. Although it’s not as severe now, films written by Xiao Ran are still quite sought after.
Just as Lin Guiyun was at a loss, Xiao Ran politely stood up, excused himself, and walked over to Fang Ruoxin. Facing her dazzling face, he couldn’t even maintain his smile. He forced a weak smile on his stiff face and said, “Miss Fang, hello. May I sit here?”
Fang Ruoxin nodded politely with a smile. Xiao Ran’s palms broke out in sweat as he cursed himself for acting like a novice. Yet he tried his best to make his smile softer. “Miss Fang, it’s an honor to meet you here! My name is Xiao Ran, and I’m a screenwriter.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, he wanted to slap himself. Fang Ruoxin, unaware of anything, smiled gracefully and said, “Pleasure to meet you, twenty-million-dollar screenwriter!”
Xiao Ran was drenched in sweat. While still surprised, a cheerful female voice rang out beside him, “Who doesn’t know the name of great screenwriter Xiao Ran? Ah Ran, I bet you don’t know that ‘Dream Lover’ was funded by Ruoxin!”
To avoid being impolite, Xiao Ran turned slightly to look. It was Yishu who had spoken; he didn’t know when she had sat down. Yishu clearly understood Xiao Ran’s intent and chuckled lightly, “Ah Ran, it seems like Ruoxin is the only one in your eyes. I’ve been sitting here the whole time!”
No matter how thick-skinned he was, Xiao Ran still couldn’t help feeling embarrassed…