Chapter 51: The Crimson Trench Coat

On the first and second days of the Lunar New Year, Zhao Zejun borrowed Su Yun’s small Santana and drove his parents around Jianwu for two days. Since it was the peak of the New Year, with migrant workers returning to their hometowns, the sprawling provincial capital suddenly fell quiet. There were very few people on the streets, giving it a somewhat desolate feel. Zhou Ya even remarked that the provincial capital was far less lively than Yijiang.

If one were to visit major metropolises like Beijing, Shanghai, or Guangzhou at this time, the streets would be even more deserted, practically resembling ghost towns. In later years, Zhao Zejun discovered a rule of thumb for determining whether a city was truly a major metropolis: look at the pedestrian flow during the Chinese New Year. If a place was usually quiet but suddenly became bustling during the New Year, it was undoubtedly a small town. Conversely, if a place looked like a ghost town suitable for filming horror movies during the New Year, it was generally a major city.

While Jianwu might not rank in the top three or top ten nationwide, it certainly held a spot within the top twenty. Though it lacked the bustling prosperity of Beijing, Shanghai, or Guangzhou, it offered ample room for Zhao Zejun to grow and develop.

After having a few meals on the pedestrian street and taking the whole family to a movie, Zhao Zejun’s family drove over to Binhu Park on the afternoon of the second day of the New Year, where his uncle Zhao Bo was on duty.

During the New Year holiday, most of the amusement facilities in the park were closed. A Ferris wheel, hailed as the tallest in the province, stood prominently in the center of the park.

Judging by current standards, the park was quite well-developed, featuring a pirate ship, go-karts, a wacky worm roller coaster, a miniature roller coaster, and several large water-surfing attractions. A small pier had also been built near the lake in the distance, offering speedboats and leisure boating. Although these attractions might seem a bit dated by 2016, at this moment, they still held a strong appeal for visitors.

However, none of them were open. In the scenic area behind the hill, a small horse-riding track was still operational. Calling it a horse track was an overstatement; it was merely an enclosure of an acre or two where a few listless horses were tethered to fences for people to take photos or ride. Zhao Bo knew the old man tending the horses and, abusing his position slightly, let Zhao Zejun ride for a few rounds while Zhou Ya snapped pictures with her camera.

In modern society, people rarely had the opportunity to come into contact with horses. Although the mount beneath him was far from a world-renowned steed—looking like an ordinary Mongolian horse—once it started running, Zhao Zejun still found the experience quite thrilling. The wind rushed past his ears, his body bounced with the stride, and as he squeezed his legs together, the horse ran faster and faster.

After two days of leisure, on the third day of the New Year, Zhao Zejun returned to Zheyue. Someone was on duty in the office, so Zhao Zejun logged into the website’s administrator backend and searched for the author name "Zhao Lian."

While Zhao Lian had been too embarrassed to say what books he had written, it was simple enough for Zhao Zejun to find out. The search result was a fantasy novel with a signed status and less than 150,000 words.

After opening it and reading a few chapters, he felt it was mediocre—not terrible, but certainly miles away from being "good."

The administrator backend clearly displayed the promotional schedule for each book. Next week, this book was slated for a category-wide premier recommendation, which was the highest-tier promotion available on the secondary page.

After a moment of thought, Zhao Zejun used his supreme authority to cancel this recommendation and randomly replaced it with another signed fantasy novel.

With Zhao Zejun’s discerning eye, he could tell at a glance that even if Zhao Lian’s book could make money, the earnings would be extremely limited, likely amounting to little more than a token condolence payment upon publication.

The crucial issue was that Zhao Lian was still too young. At fifteen, a young person’s mindset was not yet fully mature. What he needed at this stage was to focus on his education, experience life, gradually integrate into society, and grow into a mature adult. Novels could be written at any time, but a person only had one youth—the most precious period for personal growth. Even if he could earn ten or twenty thousand a month during this phase, it would do more harm than good to his entire life.

As for Yu Zhe back then, that was an unavoidable situation. There is a vast difference between a high school senior and a junior high school student. Furthermore, everyone has selfish motives. After all, Zhao Lian was his cousin, and his eldest uncle had only this one son. If Zhao Lian ruined his future by writing novels, and his uncle eventually found out that the website belonged to Zhao Zejun, not only would it ruin his relationship with his uncle's family, but it would also put his parents in an awkward position.

Suppressing Zhao Lian for now was the right move. In a few years, if he still had the interest to pursue it, Zhao Zejun could strongly support him then.

On the morning of the fourth day of the New Year, as his parents and his uncle’s family were chatting at home, Zhao Zejun, having nothing better to do, called Zhou Yuanyuan and headed to the arts school.

Despite the New Year holiday, there were still quite a few people at the arts school. Well-dressed, attractive young men and women moved in and out of the school gates, while a long line of luxury cars was parked along the road outside. Young female students could be seen getting in and out of cars from time to time.

After waiting at the entrance for a while, a fiery red figure appeared outside the school gate and waved at Zhao Zejun.

Zhao Zejun’s eyes lit up slightly.

Zhou Yuanyuan was wearing a very stylish, vibrant red trench coat, which looked dazzling and eye-catching against the muted tones of the winter day.

"Is it too flashy?" Zhou Yuanyuan asked, looking down at her red outfit.

"It looks great," Zhao Zejun smiled and said.

Bright red was a notoriously tricky color. When women wore bright red, it either ended up looking very tacky, or they failed to carry off the vibrancy, allowing the color of the clothes to completely overshadow them. Therefore, bright red usually required heavy makeup, but that would inevitably mask a person's natural features and temperament.

Before the age of thirty, few women could pull off head-to-toe red; they lacked the life experience and inner depth to anchor the look. Conversely, if one's natural demeanor could hold its own against bright red, the result was nothing short of brilliantly stunning.

Normally, a girl of Zhou Yuanyuan’s age definitely wouldn’t be able to carry off a fully red outfit, but after taking a few looks, Zhao Zejun didn't find it jarring at all.

"You know about these things too?" Zhou Yuanyuan asked in surprise.

"A friend of mine works in wedding beauty and styling, so I just happened to hear about it," Zhao Zejun casually replied, then asked, "Do you have the script? Let me take a look. First off, I'm not a professional songwriter, so I can't guarantee I'll be able to help you."

"I know you're busy, so I'm already deeply grateful that you could come over in person."

Zhou Yuanyuan handed the prepared script to Zhao Zejun. It wasn't long, and he finished reading it quickly.

To Zhao Zejun, the story felt a bit cliché: a young girl from an impoverished background comes to the big city to chase her dreams. After enduring a series of setbacks, she stays true to her original aspirations and ultimately wins both career and love through her kindness and hard work.

It seemed that all inspirational stories for young girls shared this exact outline.

Closing the script, Zhao Zejun pondered for a moment and asked, "Are you the lead actress or the director?"

"The director, screenwriter, lead actress, and the songwriter—I'm handling all of it myself..."

"I thought your arts school only taught singing and dancing. You study directing too?" Zhao Zejun asked in surprise.

Zhou Yuanyuan smiled sheepishly. "Our graduation projects require us to raise our own funds. I scraped together money from all sorts of places, investing everything I've saved over the past year into this film. The budget is so tight that I have no choice but to do everything myself. That’s why I wanted to ask a talented guy like you to help write a catchy theme song. This is my debut work. If it has enough appeal, it will be a huge help when I look for jobs or seek out investment in the future."

"For a short film like this, how much is the budget roughly?" Zhao Zejun asked casually.

Zhou Yuanyuan hesitated for a moment before saying, "Well, a little over thirty thousand."

"I see," Zhao Zejun nodded, handed the script back to Zhou Yuanyuan, and gazed out the window in quiet contemplation.

Thinking he was mulling over the song, Zhou Yuanyuan said, "There's no rush. We still have two or three months before the project is due. You can take the script back and think about it slowly."

"Let's do it today. Take me to the recording studio," Zhao Zejun said, turning back to her.

Zhou Yuanyuan was startled. "You've already figured it out this fast?"

"More or less," Zhao Zejun smiled.