After her sick leave ended, Ying Shi asked for several more days off. With the production now in its pre-shooting preparation phase, she simply couldn’t stop worrying about it.
After all, she was crossing the river by feeling for stones—with no one to lead the way, she had to figure out all the rules herself.
Thanks to the combined efforts of her and the system, departments were filled, employees took office, and the company was finally starting to look somewhat decent.
The screenwriter for the “Little Sweetheart” script was also incredibly diligent, churning out pages at a rapid pace. To save time, Ying Shi discussed it with the director and screenwriter and decided to adapt the script as they filmed.
With the production crew assembled, Ying Shi took the director and screenwriter and began scouting for actors, the three of them wandering around various arts academies.
Ultimately, they settled on two fresh graduates.
The female lead was named Zhou Qingning. During breaks, she had worked as an extra at a film and television base, but most of the time, she focused on her studies. Of course, it wasn’t that she chose not to take leave and miss class for acting roles—it was simply that the competition was fierce, and the projects that would allow a student to get official leave never fell to her.
The male lead was a small-time actor already signed to a production company, named Shen Xiao. His agency could be considered an established company with plenty of resources, but he himself was a nobody—barely eighteenth-tier—and couldn’t get any of the good roles. That was why they were able to sign him so easily.
Ying Shi didn’t handle the casting for the other roles herself. She only asked that the candidates be submitted for her review before any final decisions were made.
This “review,” in practice, meant having the system screen each actor’s moral character. She didn’t want a project she’d worked so hard to launch to be delayed because of issues with the cast.
Although the system mentioned it had a feature that could seamlessly replace an actor in already-shot footage without a trace, after seeing the steep point cost for that exchange, Ying Shi decided it was much more reliable to be strict during the selection process.
Two days before filming began, Ying Shi had the company’s publicity team set up an official Weibo account for the drama. Taking advantage of the lingering attention from her own stabbing incident, she shared a post on the first day of shooting.
[Procrastinating Drama Watcher v: Reposting//@Ying Shi Entertainment v: #Web Drama Little Sweetheart# Shooting begins today//@Web Drama Little Sweetheart v: Leaning by the door, looking back—yet catching the scent of green plums…[1]The line “Leaning by the door, looking back—yet catching the scent of green plums” is a reference to a classical poem, evoking a shy, nostalgic, or bittersweet romantic mood, often associated … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2022736_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2022736_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });]
The incident where Li Yinan’s fans stabbed Ying Shi had caused an uproar online and indeed attracted the attention of relevant authorities, who summoned several celebrities whose fans frequently engaged in online fights.
Li Yinan was also affected, but since the deranged fan wasn’t acting on his instructions or instigation, his studio played up the sympathy card, and he put on a show of remorse. As a result, many of his die-hard fans still pitied him.
In the end, that obsessive fan was dealt with strictly according to the law. After a few news cycles passed, the matter gradually faded from public attention.
Ying Shi wasn’t too upset, since none of this was unexpected.
But at least Li Yinan had paid a price—he lost a wave of reasonable fans and his appeal to the general public dropped significantly.
The fans he had left were all unhinged, constantly believing their “brother” was being persecuted. Ying Shi was sure more problems would surface later. She planned to gather more dirt on him and, when the time came, join the crowd kicking him when he was down.
For now, she copied the Weibo link and shared it in her dorm group chat.
[Ying Shi Nayou: #Link sharing……]
[Ying Shi Nayou: Behold the empire I’ve built!]
[Ji Ming Qie Zhe: !!!]
[Ji Ming Qie Zhe: Is it what I’m thinking?]
[Jiang Cha You Dian Tian: Ying Shi Entertainment? Is that your company?]
[Jin Xi He Xi: Little Sweetheart is super good-looking!]
[Ji Ming Qie Zhe: Is that the point here?]
Ying Shi’s eyes curved into a smile.
[Ying Shi Nayou: This is the reason I’ve been taking leave recently. I said I’d tell you once things were settled.]
[Ji Ming Qie Zhe: So you were the secret rich second-gen playing poor all along…]
[Ying Shi Nayou: Just good luck. A wealthy distant relative overseas left me an inheritance. I only recently found out I even had such distant relatives.]
[Ji Ming Qie Zhe: Sour Lemon.JPG]
[Jin Xi He Xi: So can we come check out your company this weekend?]
[Jin Xi He Xi: I just want to see what a TV production company looks like QAQ]
[Ying Shi Nayou: Sure.]
[Ying Shi Nayou: The production crew will be starting up soon, and I’ll be back for class too. The company building is local, so you can drop by anytime.]
[Ying Shi Nayou: I’ll show you my super luxurious lounge!!!]
In the group chat, she made sure to convey that she was also quite shocked by her sudden wealth.
Ying Shi wasn’t sure if they would drift apart because of her sudden wealth, but for now, she wanted to keep things as they were.
The news that “Little Sweetheart” had started production indeed generated some buzz.
The attention was mainly focused on “Ying Shi Entertainment” and “Procrastinating Drama Watcher,” since the entire cast and crew were complete unknowns. The only ones with any visibility at all were the promotional accounts helping to spread the word.
[Just as expected. Get a little attention and immediately start drumming up hype. What is this nobody crew? They actually dare to ride on Li Yinan’s coattails?]
——[Procrastinating Drama Watcher reply: Not riding on anyone’s coattails. I really was stabbed by his fan, you know. Accusing me of drumming up hype is slander.]
[What kind of crew is this? Can’t even do proper promotion and has to hire an influencer?]
——[Procrastinating Drama Watcher replied: First of all, I’m a film and television blogger. Promoting a TV drama is perfectly normal, isn’t it? Secondly, I invested in this web series myself. Why can’t I promote it?]
[Disgusting! You piece of *! So it really was just for attention!]
The comment was reported and deleted shortly after, but Ying Shi still reposted it with a screenshot.
[Procrastinating Drama Watcher V: @Li Yinan @Li Yinan Studio (image) // #This Weibo has been deleted……]
The attached image was her screenshot of that fan’s comment.
Of course, there were also plenty of neutral netizens just following the drama for fun.
[Haha, has Guanjun always been this unhinged?]
[This is what it looks like when someone gains enlightenment after a life-or-death experience. Being polite doesn’t pay—might as well go crazy (world-weary.JPG)]
[She even said “oh” (facepalm)]
[She really, really hates Li Yinan]
[Anyone who’s been harassed by his delusional fans and then stabbed in real life would hate him too. If the celebrity offered a sincere apology and actually tried to control his fans, that would be one thing. But look at him now—has he done anything to rein them in?]
[Not only does he not control them, he secretly posts on his alt account saying he feels sorry for his fans (it’s complicated.JPG)]
[Li probably thinks his fans are adding glory to his reputation.]
[Wait, did no one notice Guanjun’s comment saying she invested in this drama?]
[I noticed, but I checked the drama’s official page. The only investor listed is Ying Shi Entertainment…]
[So is it what I’m thinking?]
Soon, Ying Shi replied.
[Procrastinating Drama Watcher V: Ying Shi Entertainment will bring everyone more outstanding film and television works!]
The official Weibo account of “Ying Shi Entertainment” quickly reposted her post.
[Ying Shi Entertainment V: If the boss says it is, then it is! // @Procrastinating Drama Watcher v: …]
This response pretty much blew up Weibo.
Just recently she was a shady marketing account that got stabbed, and now suddenly she’s the owner of a film and television company.
Most people were rationally following the drama, but there were also plenty with ulterior motives mixed in.
[I’m starting to feel a bit sorry for Li Yinan. The crazy fan incident has had such a huge impact on him. Now that someone else has gained attention, they’re immediately using it to hype up their company.]
[Come to think of it, even if his fan did the stabbing, it doesn’t really have anything to do with him, does it? It’s not like he sent someone to do it.]
[It had nothing to do with Nan Nan to begin with. She forced him to apologize! Clearly she had bad intentions all along!]
[See? You really need to let the dust settle. Looking back at this whole series of events now, it’s really suspicious.]
[Does she really think critiquing a few dramas means she can make one? Grabbing a few random nobodies and daring to invest in a project—it’s definitely going to flop!]
Ying Shi had expected all these comments. She didn’t let them bother her.
The injury incident had already been officially reported by the police, and the fan conduct supervision was real. Most netizens remained rational. Compared to conspiracy theories, more of the casual onlookers were curious about her actual identity.
Her classmates and teachers had heard vaguely about her taking leave due to an injury. Now, combined with the company name, it didn’t take long for people to figure out who she was.
Even though Ying Shi wasn’t some big celebrity, the journey from film and television blogger to entertainment company owner—from being stabbed by a delusional fan to assembling a crew and producing a web series—was nothing short of “spectacular.”
She soon noticed that even the teachers were paying much more attention to her in class. For a moment, Ying Shi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
…
The film studio where “Little Sweetheart” was being shot wasn’t too far away, so Ying Shi would visit the set when she had time.
Most of the crew members on set had been brought in by the director.
Unlike screenwriter Song Zhizhi, director Lin Chongshan came from a well-off family and, after graduating from university, had found a good mentor.
His mentor often took him along to various film sets. By now, Lin Chongshan was able to handle some minor unit shoots and could even get his name credited in the director’s column.
Ying Shi had invited him mainly as a trial.
She watched a recent xianxia romance drama that he had been involved with. The show had poor reviews and was widely mocked online at the time; the male lead even got knocked out of the ranks of “Ancient Costume Beauty” because of it.
That drama was directed by Lin Chongshan’s mentor.
Ying Shi looked up Lin Chongshan’s short film work from his student days and quickly identified the parts he had directed.
It was a supporting role scene—a fairly clichéd plot about a female demon who falls in love with a human and then turns dark after being betrayed.
But Lin Chongshan toned down the ferocity of her dark transformation and highlighted the sadness and sorrow within her.
It wasn’t the sadness of being deceived by a lover. It was a kind of grief that comes from realizing how easily people’s hearts change and how unfair the world can be. Some people with deep loyalty and affection remain trapped in old feelings and old circumstances, while others were cold and heartless yet gained wealth and honor.
She wasn’t just grieving and hating—she was also thinking, teetering on the edge of losing control.
The storyline shifts the female demon’s focus from her own romantic pain toward a realm approaching spiritual awakening.
This also serves as foreshadowing for her eventual decision to pull back in time and use her demon core to save the innocent people she had accidentally harmed.
In the end, the female demon is reborn and begins her cultivation anew. This time, she will do good deeds, accumulate virtue, and ascend to immortality.
Ying Shi really liked this story—because the logic held together, and because it made people think.
Later, after Lin Chongshan joined the “Little Sweetheart” crew, he often complained to Ying Shi that the xianxia romance drama had only turned out that way because the male and female leads had invested their own money to get on the show, leaving his mentor with no real say in the production.
He had witnessed with his own eyes how the male and female leads refused to listen to his mentor’s direction, arbitrarily cutting lines and changing the plot on their own, insisting on shooting everything their own way. In the end, the characters of the male and female leads were completely ruined.
Ying Shi still remembered Lin Chongshan’s exact words—
“My mentor is already a director with some reputation in the industry, yet he still has to bow down to actors for the sake of investment. He had no say at all during the shoot. Back then, he often told me that in the future, he’d rather shoot projects with smaller budgets but more creative freedom than nod his head and join some so-called S+ production just for the prestige.”
Ying Shi replied, “So that’s why you’re always trying to get me to invest more?”
Lin Chongshan, confident even without a valid reason, said, “Investors like you—who put up the money but don’t interfere with the filming—are way too rare. Who knows if I’ll ever get another chance like this? Of course I have to milk it while I can.”
Ying Shi: “…”
It’s worth mentioning that she discovered the original author, Xia Chan, frequently appearing on set as well. Eventually, she even joined the production team full-time, discussing hidden plot details from the novel with screenwriter Song Zhizhi.
Initially, when Ying Shi extended the invitation, Xia Chan had declined, citing her unfamiliarity with scriptwriting. She also mentioned that she might stop by for a visit depending on the situation.
Who would have thought she’d end up getting this invested?
All in all, the filming process went smoothly. The actors’ performances were solid, the costumes, makeup, and props were exquisite, and the directors and screenwriters were brimming with enthusiasm.
Just as Ying Shi was steadily keeping up with her studies, someone had to come along and stir up trouble.
[Jin Xi He Xi: @Ying Shi Nayou, get on Weibo quick. Li Yinan is being all fake and passive-aggressive again!]
When Ying Shi saw the message, she was just leaving the set to head back to the company.
She replied with a “Got it,” then opened Weibo. Sure enough, she saw the trending topic “Li Yinan Comforts Fans.”
Clicking into it, she found that Li Yinan had posted a Weibo.
[Li Yinan V: Don’t be upset. The hard times are behind us.]
Meanwhile, a fan had posted a lengthy Weibo in the “Li Yinan” supertopic. It essentially rehashed the “brainless fan stabbing incident” from start to finish, hinting and outright suggesting that the entire thing had been a setup.
Ying Shi found this hard to comment on. Why would anyone want to keep digging up their own scandals and putting them on display?
She didn’t understand it, but she respected it.
References[+]