In Shencheng’s social circles, Yu Jialin was an oddity. Unless it was a very important occasion, he rarely went out and hardly socialized at all. Over time, everyone came to know that Yu Jialin was socially anxious.
As the universally adored female lead, Yan Ranran was naturally different. As long as it was her request, no matter how uncomfortable Yu Jialin felt, he would appear immediately. No one knew why Yu Ranran liked Yan Ranran so much.
But Shang Lu knew—it all stemmed from an experience in their childhood.
To put it simply, it was a cliché story of a beauty saving a young man. When Yu Jialin fell ill, it was Yan Ranran who saved him. A young man meeting his goddess would naturally regard her as his white moonlight.
But Shang Lu knew that things weren’t that simple.
Only after hearing Shang Lu’s explanation did Tan Le have a sudden realization.
“So that’s how it is. No wonder Jialin is so devoted. But in that case, how can you persuade Jialin? A bond formed in youth isn’t something that can be broken with just a few words.”
“If it were real, of course, such a bond couldn’t be shaken. But what if it’s fake?”
In the novel, Yu Jialin was a minor supporting character with limited screen time. To write him out smoothly, the author specifically arranged another love interest for him—the girl who truly saved him.
And Shang Lu had already found that girl.
“You can call Yu Jialin now. If I’m not mistaken, that girl should have already revealed everything.”
Shang Lu was merely the catalyst, guiding that girl along.
As for Yan Ranran, who falsely claimed credit for the rescue—whether she did it intentionally or unintentionally—having taken advantage for so long, she should pay some price, right?
After all, that girl’s identity was anything but simple.
Tan Le scrutinized Shang Lu carefully. “Lulu, I’ve been feeling like you’ve changed a lot lately. Before, you were tough on the outside but fragile on the inside. But now, you’re completely different from before—even scheming?”
The original host valued family ties deeply, and even when dealing with Yan Ranran, she always considered their kinship. But Shang Lu had no feelings for the Yan family and felt no psychological burden when taking action against the female lead, making her naturally different.
After Tan Le made the call, it turned out just as Shang Lu had said. Yu Jialin agreed to cooperate with Shang Lu, but he had one condition: Shang Lu had to discuss it with him in person.
“No problem. I was planning to return to Shencheng anyway, and I still need to cast actors. Meeting him in person will help clarify everything thoroughly. As for you…”
Shang Lu was considering whether to bring Tan Le back now or wait until closer to the start of filming to call him back.
Tan Le immediately waved his hands. “I’m used to living alone. I don’t want to go back to Shencheng. Just call me when you’re about to start filming.”
Alright, dragging a homebody out of his comfort zone was indeed too difficult, and Shang Lu didn’t want to force it.
Without further ado, Shang Lu returned to Shencheng that same day. As a workaholic, her efficiency in getting things done was always admirable.
The meeting with Yu Jialin also went smoothly. Although it was brief, Shang Lu’s straightforward and direct communication style eased Yu Jialin’s social anxiety.
However, the girl beside him, Shen Qixiao, caught Shang Lu’s attention.
Previously, the two had only communicated through social media and had never met in person. Unexpectedly, she turned out to be a tall, mature woman—a completely different type from Yan Ranran.
“I should thank you. I had actually forgotten about this matter long ago, and it was your reminder that brought it back to mind. I never expected someone would falsely claim credit for it.”
Shen Qixiao came from a military family and had a somewhat tomboyish personality. She found such behavior utterly incomprehensible.
Shang Lu spoke just as directly, “Yan Ranran has a performative personality. She loves being the center of attention, and being seen as someone’s savior feeds her vanity. Perhaps after pretending for so long, she even started believing it herself.”
A personality like Yan Ranran’s is shaped by both nature and nurture.
It was precisely because too many people indulged her that she became so self-centered, craving even more adoration. Even when she lied to achieve it, she never felt it was her fault.
Yu Jialin still wasn’t comfortable meeting outsiders, so Shang Lu didn’t stay long. Before leaving, she obtained what she needed—not only a professional team but also secured investment.
She wasn’t yet capable of assembling her own team, so for now, she had to rely on others’ resources.
Whether it was Sun Ruhui or Tan Le, they were both her first steps toward success. She was confident that once she achieved results, others would be scrambling to fund her projects!
The only remaining issue now was casting.
This time, she needed five leads, all of whom had to be attractive men and women. Recruiting newcomers from schools was the most cost-effective option. She could also ask Huayi Film and Television to help with casting, but she wanted to decide the lead roles herself.
In China, idol dramas were considered lowbrow, and few directors were willing to film them.
Those that were produced were often shoddily made, with rigid plots—usually just two people meeting and falling in love, lacking even troublesome antagonists or supporting characters to stir up drama. There was none of the sensationalism!
This time, Shang Lu wanted to film a story about one woman and four men. The outline was already set, and Sun Ruhui was still polishing the script.
Meanwhile, Shang Lu opened “Actor’s Home,” planning to search online. There were plenty of attractive candidates, so she sent out invitations one by one, intending to interview them personally.
The location was set at Huayi Film and Television.
As soon as Shang Lu’s name appeared, the actors who received the invitations were thrilled. They were either extras or newcomers, but they all knew Shang Lu’s reputation!
Liu Tingxiang and Xing Qi were once ordinary extras, but after being promoted by Shang Lu, they could now play supporting roles in nationally broadcast dramas! For extras, this was nothing short of a meteoric rise.
Just then, Pang Wei called her, asking her to come to the school urgently, as the situation seemed pressing.
But as soon as she arrived at the school gate, she ran into two unpleasant people.
A luxury car was parked at the entrance of Shencheng Drama Academy, where Yan Ranran and her older brother Yan Yunjiang stood talking about something.
Yan Yunjiang looked concerned, playing the role of the caring older brother.
Yan Ranran sat in a wheelchair, holding her brother’s hand and acting coquettishly—a picture of harmonious sibling affection.
Shang Lu had no intention of engaging with them, especially since she had urgent matters to attend to. But Yan Ranran couldn’t resist speaking up. Not only did she spot Shang Lu, but she also called out to her, “Lulu!”
Yan Yunjiang followed the sound and looked over, his brow slightly furrowed.
Shang Lu wore a white shirt layered under an embroidered sweater, paired with loose striped cropped pants, a wide belt around her waist, and short boots.
This polished, capable look was something Yan Yunjiang had never seen on her before.
So much so that he couldn’t help but lecture her, “Dressed like that, how can you still look like a student?”