Guan Yingying broke her promise.

She had already prepared to celebrate Wang Zhuo's brilliant performance at the Hongmen Feast by playing Landlords, but ended up catching a cold herself.

Qi Fei avoided another disaster yet felt no joy - she knew this charade couldn't last forever. After all, these two troublemakers were cut from the same cloth.

"You come here-" Guan Yingying spoke through her congested nose on the phone, laughing at Wang Zhuo. "My temperature is 38 degrees now. I feel like my mouth has a fireball in it."

Wang Zhuo instantly felt tempted but hadn't even begun to move before Qi Fei snatched the phone and snapped, "Can you two behave properly for once? You're sick and still making trouble. Don't you care about spreading germs?"

"I never said to put ice water in your mouth..." Guan Yingying giggled mischievously.

"Brat!" Qi Fei's voice sharpened as the two began squabbling.

Wang Zhuo hung up with a helpless smile, mentally vowing to let them keep bickering while he had to take Siyuan to school.

The little monster dragged her feet at the parking lot, clinging to Wang Zhuo with such intensity that would make any man shudder. She got out of the car leisurely, but Wang Zhuo's spirits plummeted - he swore someday he'd teach this demon girl a lesson and make her behave.

Driving out from the campus, Wang Zhuo headed straight for his father's villa in the suburbs without hesitation. He had finally had enough of this impractical sports car that couldn't even accommodate a quick romantic encounter. Except for being flashy to look at and fun to drive, it was completely useless.

Who said sports cars were heroes' vehicles? It was nothing but a money pit.

Wang Zhengdao owed his wealth to his son's success and had been released from prison early in midlife before enjoying the life of a wealthy man. In his forties - the most magnetic stage for any man - with handsome features, towering stature, and naturally silvering thick hair that didn't need dyeing, he could easily charm women ranging from sixteen to sixty.

And indeed he did (though he politely declined those over sixty). For women three or five years older than himself whom he had never managed to pursue in his youth, he made it a point to fulfill all his unfulfilled desires...

In recent months, Old Wang had developed new tastes and began pursuing celebrities. Somehow he had acquired quite the strategy: first hiring struggling writers from online fiction platforms at monthly wages of several thousand yuan, then having them collaborate on scripts.

With these scripts in hand, he leveraged a female acquaintance who managed extras at Hengdian Studios to connect with two underperforming directors. Seeing his wealth and his status as the son of an IPO-listed company CEO, they mistakenly assumed he was just a wealthy dilettante and immediately fawned over him.

Thus armed with his team of directors and scriptwriters, and funded by his spare cash, Wang Zhengdao began making grand gestures at Hengdian and Jiangzhou - casting actors, holding media events - putting on the appearance of producing a blockbuster youth idol drama. Somehow he had even tangled up with Guo Jianding, learning all sorts of publicity tactics from him.

Wang Zhuo had just learned this week that many people were actually interested in investing in his father's new project.

Suspecting his father was becoming a fraudster, Wang Zhuo called to ask, "Are you planning to eat steamed buns again?"

But Old Wang shot back with one sentence: "How do you know my play won't be successful?"

That was infuriating. Wang Zhuo almost choked at the thought but couldn't help his father - after all, he was still his dad.

So today, while exchanging cars with his father, he planned to talk it over.

Wang Zhengdao's villa sat on the outskirts of Qingjiang District in Jiangzhou, a typical rural area surrounded by southern Chinese water villages. The property was built along a protected wetland - no one knew how the developer managed to get the permits.

Incidentally, this villa had originally been Wang Zhuo's real estate investment. After hearing about it during casual conversation, his father insisted on seeing it and eventually got the keys for occasional stays.

But once he moved in, he became de facto owner. Now the property staff only recognized Mr. Wang as owner - not Wang Zhuo, the legal title holder. When Wang Zhuo arrived at Lotus car, security had to contact his father first before letting him enter.

Chuckling bitterly while driving into the villa complex, Wang Zhuo suddenly realized something: his father's PR skills were surprisingly strong. He'd never noticed this before, but now saw how easily his dad could charm anyone wherever he went.

Was it just about money? Obviously not - there were plenty richer than him who couldn't pull off such antics. And considering Wang Zhengdao hadn't actually spent much money at all, there was clearly some deeper strategy here.

As soon as the car entered the garden-like villa courtyard, Wang Zhengdao emerged with a radiant smile, flanked by seven or eight young people that seemed to make him look several years younger - maybe late thirties.

Wang Zhuo forced a smile but got hugged enthusiastically.

"Son, it's been so long since you visited your father," Wang Zhengdao said in his magnetic voice full of male charm.

"How come I feel like you'd rather I never came back at all?" Wang Zhuo smiled wryly.

"Nonsense!" Wang Zhengdao said solemnly. "I was worried about interfering with your work."

Wang Zhuo went silent - his father could really play the role well in front of others. Maybe he should have been an actor instead and might eventually win some Best Actor award.

"Come come, let me introduce you," Wang Zhengdao pulled his son's arm toward a pretty girl nearby.

These young men and women were completely unknown to Wang Zhuo, but from Wang Zhengdao's mouth they suddenly became popular stars, idol girls, big-name directors - with himself as the chief screenwriter and producer.

A thirty-year-old big-name director? Wang Zhuo wanted to ask that acne-faced mustachioed man if he'd ever been a underground filmmaker before.

Having appeared in commercials made them popular stars? Looking at those two greasy-haired pretty boys who looked like F4, Wang Zhuo thought even Hou Zong's popularity beat theirs.

Only the two idol girls had striking features and figures that impressed even picky Wang Zhuo with their refreshing presence. He really wanted to ask his father where he'd tricked them from - and more importantly, if they were already "treated" yet.

Noticing his son's surprised reaction to the beauties, Wang Zhengdao concealed his pride behind a slap on the shoulder: "Come inside. We'll talk there."

Sitting in the living room after drinks and fruits were served by the idol girls (who clearly had been with his father for some time), Wang Zhuo finally asked about the script.

"I've already requested it once," he said, waving his hands. "You refused to send it online because you feared leaks. You wouldn't give me anything at all."

"Xiaolu! Hurry up and bring our script!" Wang Zhengdao called out.

Wait, now his son becomes a Mr. Wang? Understanding the implication immediately - his father was trying to recruit him as an investor!

The actress named Xiaolu resembled Guan Yingying somewhat but with dimples in her smile and slightly shorter stature. She quickly descended from upstairs with a thick photocopied manuscript to hand Wang Zhuo.

Script structure differed from novels, divided into episodes each containing 10,000-20,000 words that could be read through in about ten minutes for basic plot comprehension.

Though his x-ray vision let him absorb entire pages at once, processing the content still required several minutes of digestion - an ability he'd developed during second visit to Tao Yuan while sketching.

This script told a story of a young man released from re-education who faced countless hardships in society - from being bullied by (urban management officers), extorted by hooligans, and forced to eat for free at government restaurants. His girlfriend became the mistress of an old rich man, his mother as a cleaner was left in vegetative state after a hit-and-run accident, yet he still maintained positive attitude through daily diligence roasting skewers without resentment or social grievances...

Such melodramatic plot would definitely tank online but could become a ratings smash on television. Just like how all those Qiong Yao dramas with their endless suffering and emotional rollercoasters captivated audiences - the housewives watching TV were essentially masochists, after all.

After reading it through, Wang Zhuo asked in disbelief: "This is what you had those struggling writers write?"

"Temporarily struggling," Wang Zhengdao corrected cheerfully. "With 800 million people in the middle class, there must be struggling writers waiting to become famous too. I'm just the one discovering their talent."

"But this script..." Wang Zhuo pointed at the thick manuscript and smiled. "Even if you make it into a film, how can it get approved? Our society really is that grim? The main character gets tortured to death in first episode alone. Do you think the censors will let something like this pass?"

"Even high-speed rail can abandon China for foreign technology," Wang Zhengdao said with a faint smile. "A little television drama needs some PR - what obstacles could we possibly not overcome?"