Chinese 2006 starts with the Beijing Film Academy Art Examination

"Mom, look, the movie that Uncle Wang shot at that time had a box office of over 100 million." Liu Yifei shook her phone while holding back her laughter.

"Don't look at your phone while eating." Liu Xiaoli said unhappily.

"It's okay to admit that you have a bad taste." Liu Yifei pouted and whispered.

Liu Xiaoli heard it, slapped the table, and then met her daughter's smiling eyes, and instantly lost her momentum, so she said: "Well, Yang Lingyue is indeed better than I thought, are you satisfied?"

"That's right, I'm his fan, and I'll be his fan in the future." Liu Yifei grinned happily.

"Your mother is almost worried to death, and you're still laughing." Liu Xiaoli sighed.

Liu Yifei pouted, but didn't say anything else.

It's enough to have enough money to spend. Her mother insisted on investing, and under the financial crisis, everything was lost.

But she suddenly thought of something.

Liu Yifei said, "Mom, don't do finance. Take advantage of this time to buy some Internet or technology company stocks. Just like after the Internet bubble seven or eight years ago, they will definitely soar."

"Nonsense, huh? Who told you this?" Liu Xiaoli habitually said a word, then reacted.

"Ah, listen, I figured it out." Liu Yifei was a little flustered.

The words she just said were the original words Yang Lingyue replied after she told Yang Lingyue that her mother took money to do finance on Wall Street. Now this paragraph is still lying in the email.

In fact, more than one financial expert has said this, just like the millennium said that the Internet bubble will inevitably rise again, there are always people who say it, but there are always people who sneer at it.

But at that time, compared to this, she cared more about what Yang Lingyue said about the delicious food in Xiamen.

Looking at her daughter hesitating, Liu Xiaoli's heart was alarmed. These views and these words, her daughter will not be able to say them even if she lives another 20 years.

The faces of some people flashed through Liu Xiaoli's mind quickly. It's impossible. They lost more miserably.

Liu Xiaoli just stared at Liu Yifei.

Liu Yifei was like a deflated ball, gradually collapsing. Based on previous struggle experience, she would eventually be found out. She bit her lip and said:

"Yang Lingyue told me."

Fortunately, fortunately, it's not an old man.

Liu Xiaoli's heart instantly fell to the ground, and then it was pulled up again. She asked a series of questions very quickly:

"Huh? How did you and him talk about this? No, you have been in contact with him? You are now..."

"We are pen pals, and we will send emails from time to time, that's it." Liu Yifei told the truth dryly.

"That's it?" Liu Xiaoli would be a ghost if she believed it.

"That's it." Liu Yifei looked directly into her mother's eyes and nodded.

Liu Xiaoli looked at her daughter's eyes. Although she was still suspicious, she believed it for the most part, so she asked:

"When did Yang Lingyue tell you about the investment? Did he invest?"

Liu Yifei pouted and said, "How do I know whether he invested or not? It was in August that I mentioned your investment, and he also mentioned it when he replied to me the next day."

"Why didn't you tell me at that time?" Liu Xiaoli looked regretful.

"Well...my dear mother, if I tell you, will you believe it?" Liu Yifei bit her chopsticks and blinked.

"Uh..."

Liu Xiaoli was startled, and then she felt like pinching her daughter. This feeling hadn't happened for several years.

Looking at her mother's appearance, Liu Yifei felt a little happy in her heart, and the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curl up. This was too wrong. Mom lost money, haha!

Then Liu Xiaoli decisively took action and pinched her daughter's arm. It felt good!

Liu Yifei wrinkled her nose. Mom was angry, but it felt good.

After a bit of tidying up, the mother and daughter went out to talk about things.

Liu Xiaoli suddenly said seriously: "Ask Yang Lingyue if he has voted, and what he has voted for?"

"Mom~" Liu Yifei frowned.

"Okay, okay, Mom said it wrong, sorry."

Liu Xiaoli broke down, it seemed inappropriate, but from this we can also judge that her daughter and Yang Lingyue are indeed not too deeply related.

In fact, at her age, it is time for her daughter to fall in love. Am I a little overprotective?

Yang Lingyue is a good choice. Liu Xiaoli has a good impression of this young man she met in Chengdu.

I didn't pay much attention to him, I just know that he is still in school.

Check it out. If there is no problem, she will be happy to turn a blind eye.

She doesn't believe that Yang Lingyue also regards her daughter as a pen pal.

Ha, pen pal.

Time passed quickly, and it was the afternoon of November 15th. In the studio, Yang Lingyue was chatting with a man who was about 27 or 28 years old, wearing black round-framed glasses, with a round head and round face.

This man's name is Zhang Ji. He is currently a freelance writer. He also works as a copywriter in a cultural company and is a department manager. The company has some business dealings with Huajuan Film and Television. Liu Wenhan poached him and recommended him to Yang Lingyue.

Because Liu Wenhan found that this man's writing style is very similar to Yang Lingyue's, and his personality is also quite tough, that is, he is more durable. What a good tool person.

Yang Lingyue chatted and found that, as expected, he was very suitable. He was not a professional, but he taught himself to write screenplays.

At this time, they were talking about a semi-finished script that Zhang Ji adapted last month based on a news of a "missing child notice". The protagonist of this news was called Sun Haiyang.

Liu Wenhan is awesome. He unexpectedly found the future screenwriters of "Dear" and "Chinese Partners".

"Not bad, polish it slowly. Now the company has found three screenwriters of your age. You will be in charge of the screenwriting department in the future."

Yang Lingyue nodded with satisfaction.

"Okay, I'll try my best. Director Yang, then our main task now is to complete this script of bipolar disorder, right?"

Zhang Ji was also very satisfied with this young boss. He paid him generously and didn't have to punch in to work. For writers, what's the point of punching in? Isn't it enough to complete the task on time?

"Don't try your best. Trying your best can't write a shitty script. If you have inspiration, write more. If you don't have inspiration, look for inspiration. The work content is indeed like this at this stage. This is the information I collected and sorted out. It is 100% true. There is also an outline. You can do it." Yang Lingyue smiled and said.

"Okay, then I will go back to the company to handle the formalities." Zhang Ji felt very comfortable listening to it.

When Zhang Ji returned to the company to complete the formalities, his direct supervisor Liu Wenhan said: "Old Zhang, let's not be polite. The boss's script is your first job after joining the company. Complete it as soon as possible with quality and quantity."

Zhang Ji: Go!

Yang Lingyue felt much more relaxed. Of course, this does not mean that he will give up on the script. That would be too presumptuous. The script is no less than a movie in his mind during the creation process.

That night, Yang Lingyue went to Courtyard No. 8. He did not go there today. He has been there almost since the day after the celebration banquet.

Because Jiang Rong found that there were reporters squatting near Courtyard No. 5. Of course, they were not regular media, but gossip tabloids.

But it was obvious that the other party had made a wrong idea. Since returning from Shenzhen, Jiang Rong has served as Yang Lingyue's special assistant, and the security and privacy precautions have been qualitatively improved.

After learning that the other party did not take any substantial content, the big men had a long and friendly talk with them and let them go.

Yang Ling stepped out of the elevator and saw that the neighbor to the east had moved away. Well, this would be Zeng Li's residence from now on.