Zu Cheng
The next day, I started preparing the dough and fillings according to our plan. Yu wasn't here again… but it couldn't be helped.
Two hours ago, he received a call from R&Loves that he got the role and he needs to sign the agreement for those commercials... and obviously he left.
However, the look he gave before leaving—completely helpless.
I agreed to do all preparations on my own before he returns. And start once he does.
But he returned much earlier than I expected.
"…You're actually early," I said, glancing at the clock before looking back at him.
"I said I'd help," he replied as he stood at the kitchen entrance, rolling up sleeves.
I was simply observing him if he ate something wrong out or—
"What? I just want dumplings," he said flatly.
…Right. He is a dumpling fan. I should've expected this much.
We didn't talk much. Just the quiet rhythm of preparation: the soft thud of the chopping board, the faint rustle of wrappers being separated.
"…You're really bad at this, no? " Yu asked.
I didn't look up. "I know the process."
"That's not what I asked. But figures... looking back at the last attempt."
"Not like that." Yu Ming reached over, stopping my hand mid-motion. "You're overfilling it."
"It's fine."
"It's not. Look—"
He picked up another wrapper, movements smooth and almost automatic.
"You don't need this much," he said, adjusting the amount with quick precision. "Otherwise it won't seal properly."
"…It sealed. I know it looks bad, uneven, and broken, but it won't taste bad."
"Food isn't just about taste,"
He continued, "Presentation matters too. Same principle as film."
"…I know."
"…Too much always ruins the shape." I looked down as I murmured those words.
"Huh… finally, Mr. Workaholic. We can try a few more times. Don't be all gloomy."
He glanced at me briefly.
"You always overthink when things matter. It shows."
When we put them on plates, his ones looked presentable, but mine... at least not a complete disaster… Still uneven.
Later that night, I lay down on the bed the moment I entered my room.
A flood of thoughts ran through my mind...
Things have already started to change...
I was already in PKU, studying directing.
Met Yu Ming again.
None of that was supposed to happen.
I didn't even know he had returned to China around this time.
And then… Mr. Qin, Xian Fei.
Too many things had changed.
This time, I'm neither caged by my family's rules nor having to face bullying.
I never thought about this before... but was it really right to just drift away from Father? And leave Zu Yang alone in that family?
… Will he be fine?
Can I actually live better… This time?
Then, why do I feel like I'm forgetting something…
My phone buzzed, cutting through the silence. It's Ray.
"Zu, I need your help. Only you can help!!" Ray almost shouted through the phone.
"Alright, calm down first," I said, sitting up slightly. "Tell me what happened."
It was rare to hear Ray this shaken.
"Oh… right." He took a breath before continuing. "I've been trying to find someone who can save my brother's club."
"The street dance one?"
"Yeah." His voice dropped. "It's dying."
I frowned. "What happened? Wasn't it doing well in Wangfujing?"
"It was before." He let out a tired laugh. "But now everyone only cares about 'professional' performances and opera-themed places. Hardly anyone visits our club anymore. Sponsors pulled out too."
I stayed silent, letting him continue.
"If this keeps going, we'll have to shut it down."
"…And?"
Ray hesitated.
"We can't afford to keep supporting the kids if that happens."
My expression stiffened slightly.
Right. The orphans.
Years ago, Ray's older brother, Jarreth, had opened two businesses almost at the same time—the cybercafe I used to work at and the 'Open Street' dance club.
Most people only saw it as some loud hip-hop venue filled with reckless teenagers.
But the kids there finally had somewhere to belong.
Most of them were orphans he'd taken in himself.
If the club disappeared now...
The cybercafe alone wouldn't be enough to support them all.
"How can I help?"
Ray exhaled. "My brother was saying… if we could use social media, maybe we'd still have a chance. But even if we start now, it'll take too long. We don't have that kind of time."
I leaned back slightly. "So?"
"That's when I thought of you."
"…You want me to make something," I said.
"Yeah."
"…You want a short, film-style ad," I said. "Something that pulls people in first."
Ray didn't hesitate.
"Exactly."
"…Even if I handle the story and the actors, we don't have a technical team."
"We've thought about that."
I tilted my head.
"You and I can handle the editing," he continued. "Liam and Aryn can take care of filming and lighting."
"…You already planned this?"
"We had to." His voice steadied. "We just needed someone who could actually make it work. It's you."
"Why do I feel you're more confident in me than I am?" I said, half-amused.
"I heard from Aryn," Ray replied. "About your film. And the rankings."
I exhaled quietly.
"…If this fails, those kids lose more than just a club."
"…I'll help. But don't expect too much. I'm not good at saving things halfway."
A brief pause.
"Also, I can't promise anything when it comes to the actors or the script," I added. "I'll do what I can."
"That's enough. We need to try at least."
The call ended soon after.
… I should talk to Yu first.
I stepped out of my room.
Yu was in the living area, scrolling through his phone.
"I need your help," I said.
He didn't look up. "With a new dish or something else?"
"Filming."
That got his attention. He glanced over.
"…What kind?"
"A short promotional piece. Unpaid. We start tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"…Details? Script?"
"We don't have one yet. No story either. I'll call Mei."
He frowned slightly.
"The thing is…" I explained the situation: about the club and the orphans.
"I see." He leaned back, checking his phone.
"…It's tight."
I didn't respond.
Another second passed before he exhaled quietly.
"…Fine. I'll help."
I hesitated. "You're sure? That commercial—"
"Call me after twelve."
I nodded.
"Call Mei first," he added. "See if she's free."
I dialed her number.
She picked up after a while.
"Yo—what's this? The great director finally remembers a peasant like me? What a great honor."
"Yeah, yeah. Listen."
"Oh?" Her tone shifted. "Serious? Hold on."
I heard the faint rustle of fabric.
"…Alright. Go ahead."
I shared the situation.
"So," she said after a while, "you want a story by tomorrow."
"I know, in one day—"
"Nope."
I blinked.
"That's not how this works," Mei said flatly. "If you rush it, it'll look rushed."
"…But," she added, "you're lucky."
Mei continued. "I have an idea about a guy who wants to become an idol, but it's only an idea." She clicked her tongue softly. "Didn't work back then."
"…Didn't work?"
"It was incomplete," she said. "Or maybe I just didn't like where it was going."
She added, "But… I can give it another try. Even so, I can't promise it'll be good."
I exhaled. "...Okay, I understand. Meet me at the 'Open Street' café, Wangfujing."
"Noted."
The call ended.
…We'd need more than one actor.
If possible, it'd be better to use the dancers themselves.
Less cost, more authenticity.
…If they can.
I picked up my phone again.