`Chapter 24

Chapter 24

“You want to hire me as your assistant?”

Tian Tian’s eyes widened, pointing at her nose: “I didn’t hear wrong, right? Or have you been staying up late memorizing lines until your brain fried?”

“That’s right, it’s you.” Shi Yin counted off her fingers, praising her with a rainbow of compliments, each word sincere: “Comrade Tian Tian, after careful evaluation by the organization, it’s unanimously agreed that your emotional intelligence is high, you’re alert to information, reliable in handling tasks, and very familiar with the crew—truly a rare talent. Being my assistant is more than enough for you.”

Tian Tian felt like she was floating, cupping her heated cheeks with both hands: “Am I really that good? Oh my, hearing you say that, my thick skin can hardly hold up…”

“Of course,” Shi Yin said gently and affirmatively, “I sincerely invite you.”

“But…” Tian Tian scratched her head a little embarrassedly, her voice softening, “Sisters settle accounts clearly, so let’s be upfront. At the beginning, the salary isn’t high; I can only offer four thousand, and it will increase slowly later. Are you willing?”

The air paused for two seconds.

Tian Tian choked a little in her throat. How could she not understand? Shi Yin might need an assistant, but it didn’t have to be her, Tian Tian. Shi Yin herself was just starting out, yet she still reached out to pull her up. They were both broke—these four thousand yuan were probably saved from every little bit she could spare.

“I’m willing!” She turned her face away to hide her reddening eyes, her voice bright and cheerful, “Forget four thousand, I’ll do it for two thousand! Or even one thousand eight, rent is fifteen hundred, three hundred left for food, that’s fine!”

“No,” Shi Yin smiled, refusing, “let’s keep a pure employer-employee relationship. Four thousand, and we’ll sign a contract. I found a very capable lawyer.”

Tian Tian quietly clenched the corner of her clothes. In this industry, she had already tasted both warmth and coldness from others, knowing well that helping in times of need is harder than adding icing on the cake. Shi Yin’s kindness could not be measured by money; the only way to repay it was to put ten times the effort into being the best assistant possible.

Turning her head, Tian Tian’s eyes shone like two small flames: “If I can’t be an actress, I’ll be your most capable assistant! Think about how I used to handle those difficult business deals so smoothly? Don’t worry, I’ll serve you comfortably, you’ll be satisfied~” She cupped her throat and coquettishly flicked an imaginary handkerchief, “Salute to the young master—”

Shi Yin lifted her poised chin and waved: “Rest easy, little Tian.”

“Chah—” Tian Tian twisted and performed a grand salute.

Their eyes met, and they couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter together.

Hiring an assistant wasn’t as troublesome as finding a manager. After consulting Lawyer Ge, Shi Yin finalized the contract that same day. Tian Tian’s contract with Feng Yang had expired months ago without renewal. The next day, she came to work, backpack on, full of energy.

Filming for The Reverse Scale in Tan City was nearing its end. That day, after finishing filming, Shi Yin had just sat down on a rest chair when Tian Tian seamlessly delivered a triple service: handing her chilled lemon water, following up with a small fan blowing cool air, and naturally positioning herself to block the glaring sunlight from the set.

Confirming no one was around, Tian Tian leaned in mysteriously, lowering her voice: “Boss, I just heard a hot gossip.”

Shi Yin nonchalantly sipped water: “What gossip?”

Tian Tian took a deep breath, speaking deliberately: “I suspect… Ye Dahuahua and Liang Tiancai… might have slept together?”

“Pfft—” Shi Yin sprayed water out of her mouth, choking and coughing, “How, how did you figure that out?!”

Good heavens! Shi Yin was shocked. She had only guessed this through the system’s gossip and by chance seeing Ye Peiqian enter Liang Yicheng’s room late at night. Tian Tian had only been here a few days—how could she have such sharp insight?

Even the real Mrs. Min took several days to catch her target in the act!

“I just went to the restroom and ran into them at the hallway corner.” Tian Tian blinked, lowering her voice further, “They were meeting under the guise of smoking. I’ll show you how it looked—”

She suddenly reached out, her fingertips brushing lightly against Shi Yin’s fair chin, winking mischievously: “Who meets for a light and starts touching like that? Their eyes were all over the place… definitely not innocent.”

Tian Tian clicked her tongue and commented sharply: “Sneaky, like they were having an affair.”

Shi Yin rubbed her forehead, muttering: “It’s not really an affair… it’s just, the husband didn’t show up today.”

Word had it that Mr. Min was away on business, absent from the set for two days. Unexpectedly, this “on-set couple” couldn’t restrain themselves, seizing every chance to sneak around.

“Stay away from them,” Tian Tian predicted expertly, “Feels like it’s only a matter of time before the whole thing collapses.”

“I’ll be done filming soon, just hope it doesn’t affect The Reverse Scale’s broadcast,” Shi Yin replied. She still had her main mission unfinished!

Thinking this, she gave Tian Tian a thumbs-up, full of admiration: “Agent Tian, you’re really amazing, I yield to your skills.”

~

A week later, filming The Reverse Scale in Tan City ended. “Chen Xiang” officially wrapped, and the crew immediately moved to Beijing and Shanghai without delay.

Shi Yin returned to Yue University for classes. She didn’t live on campus and had missed military training. Usually, she quietly appeared only in professional classrooms, completing public courses online. Coming and going like a gust of wind, she had yet to be recognized.

Shi Yin was naturally a person with a strong sense of order, used to keeping everything meticulously arranged. She deliberately chose a free afternoon to calmly study the system. The pale blue screen unfolded before her eyes, and like organizing notes, she sorted all completed tasks and rewards one by one.

First were the newbie tasks:

Participate in filming Songs of a Chaotic World, reward: [Gossip Blind Box Vending Machine]

Next, the mainline tasks:

Terminate the contract with Feng Yang Media, reward: [Explosive Drama Prophet]

Play “Lin Yutong” in Saints in the Fog, reward: [Accessory · Soft Light Brooch]

Play “Chen Xiang” in The Reverse Scale, reward: Unknown?

Then the recurring tasks:

Accumulate 1,000 hours of filming work (10 cycles in total), total reward: +50 lottery draws, current progress 82/1000.

Finally, the side quests (triggered randomly, rewards more diverse):

Successfully negotiate with Yang Tianming, reward: [Skill · My Eyes Are the Ruler]

Increase Wen Jinhe’s favorability, reward: [Popular Song Singing Technique (Beginner)]

Ask Li Xuan for help, reward: [Zhuang Wanyan Gossip x1] and [Sanda (Beginner)]

Increase Duan Wenting’s favorability, reward: +5 lottery draws

Refuse Liang Yicheng’s workplace sexual harassment, reward: [Wing Chun (Intermediate)], not yet obtained?

Having sorted everything out, Shi Yin realized something. The mainline tasks are strongly tied to her acting career, aimed at long-term professional advancement. The side quests are more like “instant supply,” offering a variety of rewards to help her deal with immediate challenges and social interactions.

“Xiao Assistant, you’re really thoughtful, as expected, a perfectly tailored helper for me.”

Shi Yin put on a sweet smile, not forgetting to flatter the system.

Little Assistant: …

In a great mood, she finally opened the [Gossip Blind Box Vending Machine] that she both loved and hated. Ever since the last ten draws had all come out blank, Shi Yin hadn’t touched this gold-devouring beast for three whole months, saving up diligently like a hoarding mouse. Now, after three months, she eagerly checked—

104 draws!

Alright, alright! Time to test the bloodline!

Shi Yin rubbed her hands together, ready for a major round.

She ceremoniously lit incense, repeatedly washed her hands, even bathed and changed clothes, putting on a T-shirt in an orange (gold) and red (small red hand) color scheme. Finally, she sat upright at her desk, hands clasped, paying respects to all the deities she knew.

After completing the set of mystical rituals, Shi Yin devoutly pressed “Ten Consecutive Draws.”

The screen lit up.

…White light dazzling, pure, and utterly untainted.

“Hmm, normal, newbie protection period is over anyway,” Shi Yin calmly reassured herself.

She clicked for another ten draws.

…Still a field of holy white light, as if purifying her soul.

“Probability is tricky, can’t say for sure, the next one will work…” Shi Yin’s smile began to stiffen.

She pressed the third set of ten draws. The white light remained stably blinding, making her heart numb.

Shi Yin’s face was expressionless, unable to speak.

…

80 draws passed in an instant.

Shi Yin puffed her cheeks, feeling her blood pressure steadily rising.

“Xiao Assistant!” she couldn’t help but complain, “Be honest, did you secretly change my drop rates? Am I that unlucky? I warn you, change it back immediately, right now!”

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, steeled her heart with a tragic determination, and initiated another ten draws!

[Obtained Jiang Yanhan’s gossip (white) x1]

[Obtained Xu Xiangning’s gossip (white) x1]

…

[Obtained Qu Zhiqiang’s gossip (purple) x1]

[Obtained Guan Xi’s gossip (white) x1]

Draw 89! Combined with the ten draws from three months ago, a total of 99 draws, and only one purple came out!

Shi Yin was so exasperated that she laughed: “Haha, this isn’t card drawing, this is clearly a cruel ultimate guarantee!”

She felt a mix of bitterness and tears as she clicked on the single, faintly glowing purple orb.

[Haijiang tycoon Qu Zhiqiang is committed to representing his hometown through capital. Six months ago, on a whim, he decided to co-produce a crime action film with Korea. The script was revised eight times, the crew assembled three times, but just before shooting, the investor suddenly slammed the table: “Why are all the lead actors from Korea?”]

[Project temporarily shelved. Boss Qu stroked his double chin in deep thought: “Yes, good martial arts actresses are hard to find. There aren’t any in Haijiang, but I am from the proud ancient Kung Fu nation of China—can’t I find at least one girl who can scale walls and leap across rooftops? This female supporting role—no, this female lead—must be Chinese!”]

[Qu Zhiqiang is casting a wide net, earnestly seeking a Chinese actress who can both act and fight (real martial arts, no stunt doubles).]

Real martial arts? Shi Yin’s heart skipped a beat. She only knew beginner Sanda, but if she could get intermediate Wing Chun, would that be enough? …This opportunity could be worth a try! However, Haijiang and Honggang have their own circles, separate from the mainland entertainment industry, so maybe she could find an excuse to leak the info to Wen Jinhe and let her probe the situation.

Four draws remained. Following the principle of “they won’t hatch anyway if I keep them,” Shi Yin clicked without hope.

Just when she thought it would be another white light—

[Obtained unnamed golden gossip x1]

A brilliant golden glow instantly filled the screen, fireworks exploded, birds sang, and flowers bloomed.

“Go-golden legend!!”

Shi Yin leaped up excitedly, hopping several circles in place before finally calming her heartbeat. She looked carefully and saw a line of small text under the gold orb: “This gossip will be presented via immersive holographic projection. Content can be customized before use.”

Specifically, this is a fixed format: a piece of gossip about [xx].

In the blank box, you can enter a keyword of no more than ten characters.

Shi Yin’s heart soared—if used correctly, this could be an overpowered information source!

However…

“Xiao Assistant, what exactly does ‘immersive holographic projection’ mean?” she asked tentatively.

Little Assistant remained silent as always.

Shi Yin blinked slowly, and a ridiculous thought popped up: what if she typed “Ye Peiqian’s gossip on the The Reverse Scale set,” the system would project her directly to… under the bed, to watch a mosaic little movie?

Shi Yin shook her head sharply, dispelling the absurd thought.

“Impossible…” she muttered softly.

For now, there were no secrets that needed immediate unveiling, so Shi Yin prudently closed the page.

“Think later, no rush.”

~

Shi Yin found time to meet Wen Jinhe and Tian Tian together.

The meeting place was the private room at Empty Mountain Café, quiet, private, and reasonably priced.

“Wen Jie, this is Tian Tian, my new assistant. She’ll be working with me from now on,” Shi Yin introduced with a smile.

Tian Tian stepped forward half a step, slightly bowing, her tone sincere yet lively: “Hello, Wen Jie! Thank you for giving me the opportunity. I will do my best to take care of Shi Yin properly and won’t let her down.”

Wen Jinhe silently assessed her. The first impression was fine, so she didn’t express any objection.

“You picked her yourself, so you know. Has the confidentiality agreement been signed?”

She turned to Shi Yin, her expression slightly more serious: “Although I only handle your film and TV contracts, I have to remind you: an assistant takes care of you closely, and most of an artist’s secrets are in her hands.”

“Don’t worry, Wen Jie. My mouth is sealed,” Tian Tian replied crisply, gesturing a zipper motion with her fingers, then pretending to “drop” a key.

Her mischievous demeanor made both women laugh, and the slightly formal atmosphere in the private room relaxed.

Wen Jinhe took out a document from her bag and pushed it toward Shi Yin: “There’s a new project. A public audition will be held in Shanghai in a week. Two kids under me will participate. You should try too.”

As she spoke, she also placed a USB drive and several bound booklets on the table. Shi Yin looked at the rapidly growing “pile of materials” in front of her, eyes widening slightly.

“This is the script for the first six episodes. I heard the screenwriter is still making revisions,” Wen Jinhe said calmly, pointing at each item. “This is the current list of actors confirmed for the audition, with their past performance materials attached. This,” she tapped the USB drive with her fingertip, “contains audition videos and reviewer comments for some of the roles that have already been cast.”

With every sentence Wen Jinhe spoke, Shi Yin’s heart skipped a beat. The script was one thing, but the other two files… especially the insider evaluation materials for other roles—were top-secret information in any production!

Shi Yin didn’t touch the script immediately; instead, she looked at Wen Jinhe, hesitating to speak.

Wen Jinhe saw through her thoughts immediately and spoke plainly: “No need to guess. All of this was obtained through Hengxing’s contacts and background. This time, the company has two new actors: one auditioning for supporting male four, and one going all out for the female lead. Their goal is just to show their face, no direct competition with you.”

Using Hengxing’s resources to help Shi Yin was risky, especially since her own artists might compete on the same stage. Even though they weren’t contesting the same roles, word could still get out, and there would be suspicions of favoritism.

Shi Yin pressed her lips together; Wen Jinhe was truly considerate of her.

Seeing her lost in thought, Wen Jinhe tapped the table with her fingers: “Don’t look so touched. I gave you the opportunity. Whether you seize it depends on your own ability.” She pushed the script forward. “Start by reading the script.”

Shi Yin focused, lowered her head, and skimmed through a few pages. She quickly understood why Wen Jinhe valued this opportunity so much.

“Jianqiao 1937” is a rare youth revolutionary historical drama in the country. The vast sky serves as the backdrop, and the story focuses on the growth of the first batch of Chinese pilots. It begins with the founding spark of the Central Aviation School in 1928 and ends with the bloody sunset of aerial battles in 1938, depicting a century-old epic of young blooded patriots pursuing ideals and sacrificing themselves for the nation.

This is an ensemble drama; many roles carry significant weight, but the greatest brilliance and highlight undoubtedly belong to the main cast.

“The screenwriter is Yan Wen, the director is Xu Qingsui,” Wen Jinhe stated succinctly. “A recognized top-level screenwriter paired with a Flying Sky Award-winning director—a top-tier combination. You’ve played two villains in a row; you need a lead role to balance your reputation. Jianqiao is definitely going to air on a major channel. Red-themed dramas have a stable audience; this is your chance to build nationwide recognition.”

“Has the male lead been decided?” Shi Yin asked.

The male lead in this drama is extremely important—the soul of the story, in fact. His growth connects the entire patriotic storyline.

Wen Jinhe said three words: “Zhong Li Yu.”

Shi Yin inhaled softly. Even Tian Tian, silently observing beside her, widened her eyes in surprise.

If Ming Zhe is considered a rising top star, Zhong Li Yu is in a ruling-class tier. The youngest recipient of the White Magnolia Best Actor award, he’s only thirty-one. Though he rose to fame through popularity, his acting is not inferior to traditional leading men. He’s professional, humble, commercially savvy, resilient—by comprehensive ability, he sits solidly among the top three of the mid-generation.

“Zhong Li Yu’s fame and star power are evident. With him as the flagship, the viewership base is secure,” Wen Jinhe analyzed sharply. “His team doesn’t promote CPs or tie actors to popularity, and they dislike female actors riding hot trends. With him involved, the production won’t pick a famous diva, but rather a skilled actress with less public recognition. This is your chance—work hard and aim for a seat at the table.”

Wen Jinhe picked up a file: “Now let’s talk about your competitors. First, Zhen Xue. Do you know her?”

Shi Yin nodded: “Yes, very popular these past two years. She starred as the female lead in an Xianxia drama, nicknamed ‘Little Shen Wei.’”

—Shen Wei is an established award-winning actress, and the nickname is somewhat provocative. Zhen Xue has often been criticized by Shen Wei’s fans. Still, in terms of facial features and temperament, there is some resemblance.

“Zhen Xue is an artist with Xinghe Pictures, backed by Shanghai capital, heavily promoted by Peach TV as a ‘princess.’ She’s been cast in two S-level dramas already,” Wen Jinhe shifted tone. “But her acting is a weak point. She’s fine in Xianxia or idol dramas, but in serious dramas, many flaws show.”

After discussing Zhen Xue, Wen Jinhe pulled another booklet from the pile.

“The other competitor, Lou Xiyu, is a film star, hailed as the ‘Post-05 Light.’ At sixteen, she won Best Supporting Actress at the Golden Horse Awards for Sinful Angel.”

Shi Yin almost bit her tongue: “She… she’s competing too?”

Wen Jinhe picked up a pen and circled key points in Lou Xiyu’s file.

“Lou Xiyu started high, plus Golden Horse support, so her value naturally rose. But subsequent resources didn’t follow, and her current situation is awkward—good scripts don’t pick her, ordinary productions don’t suit her. She doesn’t fight for top billing, and she doesn’t mind taking TV dramas. Honestly, she’s your strongest competitor.”

Shi Yin inhaled sharply and summarized: “One has strong backing, one has solid skill. This… is not easy to chew.”

She knew well that this wasn’t like Song of Turbulent Times, where if Xia Xia didn’t take the role, she could step in. Jianqiao is a top-tier resource that countless people are eyeing; a tough battle is inevitable.

“You’re strong too,” Tian Tian whispered, cheering her on.

“Tian Tian is right,” Wen Jinhe added, “you have one biggest advantage they don’t.”

“What?”

“Cost-effectiveness.”

Wen Jinhe spoke bluntly: “Zhen Xue and Lou Xiyu have companies behind them with fixed pay standards. You can deliver the same or even better acting for a lower fee—that’s your core competitive edge.”

Shi Yin caught the key point sharply: “The budget for Jianqiao… is very tight?”

“This drama has extensive flying sequences and explosive effects. Guess how much is left after hiring Zhong Li Yu?” Wen Jinhe asked, then added seriously, “I’ll be upfront with you: to maximize your chance, once you enter the candidate list, I’ll negotiate with the investors—your pay might only be a third of theirs. Can you accept that?”

Shi Yin pecked like a little chick: “Yes!”

“Good. Hold on a bit longer,” Wen Jinhe’s tone softened. “After The Reverse Scale airs, then win Jianqiao—the situation will improve.”

Shi Yin continued pecking like a little chick, then suddenly realized something was off: “Wait, Wen Jie, you haven’t said… which role am I auditioning for?”

Wen Jinhe looked at her intently: “This time, I want you to fight for the female lead—Ge Huijun.”

Author’s note: Alternate setting; the Golden Horse Awards have not declined.

The three major Chinese-language film awards are: Golden Rooster Award, Hong Kong Film Award, Golden Horse Award. The five major awards add: Hundred Flowers Award, Huabiao Award.