Chapter 61
Shen Juanyi spent an hour reading through the script for Want to Remember. Then he looked up at Bi Zhou, who was gradually getting a bad feeling, and said: “I want to do this one.”
Bi Zhou’s face contorted into an expression of sheer horror.
Though his artist was usually a flaky mess in daily life, he was always serious and decisive when it came to work. If he said he wanted to do this, he was already one hundred percent set on it.
Bi Zhou now only wanted to drag the staff member who’d organized the scripts out back and beat them.
Even though he knew that once Shen Juanyi made up his mind, there was almost no changing it, Bi Zhou still wanted to put up a fight. Like pleading with an ancestor, he shoved the other four scripts into his arms. “Don’t decide so fast! You haven’t even read these yet! Maybe there’s one you’ll like even more!”
Shen Juanyi thought about it — fair point — so he didn’t refuse and went through the other four as well.
After reading them, he picked up Want to Remember again and waved it at Bi Zhou. “Decision made. This one.”
Bi Zhou: “…………”
Were the four scripts he’d so carefully selected really inferior to this stray that had somehow slipped through the cracks? It couldn’t be that he was biased just because the young director was his fan, could it?
Bi Zhou took the script with a grave expression.
Want to Remember was an imperfect love story.
A wild, unruly boy growing up in the rural countryside met a girl who’d come to stay because of her parents’ work. She was different from anyone he’d ever known — soft and beautiful, quiet and well-behaved, like a little daisy blooming in the breeze across the fields, her dimples filled with sunshine.
His greatest joy each day was climbing the tree, scaling the wall, sneaking past the women hanging laundry in the yard, and placing the most beautiful flower he’d picked from the steepest cliff on the girl’s windowsill.
Then the boy, like a wild cat, would hide in the lush jujube tree outside the wall. He’d watch the girl in her white dress push open the window, pick up the flowers with curiosity and delight, bring them to her nose, and smile — soft and obedient.
And then he’d be in a great mood all day, whistling as he slipped down from the tree — even losing a fight to the village leader’s kid from the next village over wouldn’t bother him.
Later, the girl moved away with her parents. The boy ran after the car for a long time.
The car stopped on the muddy road between the wheat fields. The girl rolled down the window, her eyes red as she looked at him.
He was out of breath, but he grinned — and took the flowers tucked into his waistband to hand to her. The petals still held the morning dew. The boy waved and said, “Don’t forget me — and this place.”
He thought to himself, he would always go find her.
When he grew up, when he had money, he’d buy her the most beautiful dress in the world and give her the most beautiful flowers.
But when they met again years later, the girl had completely forgotten him. Forgotten the fields where they’d run hand in hand. Forgotten the flowers that always bloomed on her windowsill.
She was sick — a condition that made her lose all her memories at regular intervals.
The sudden death of her parents had left her with an incurable stress-induced trauma. Every so often, she was forced to face a completely unfamiliar world — each time having to relearn everything, enduring endless, recurring fear of the unknown.
The once quiet and gentle girl had become sensitive and fearful. She didn’t remember who he was — didn’t even remember who she was.
The boy stayed by her side.
Every time she forgot, he made her fall in love with him all over again.
He brought beautiful flowers back into her bleak, hopeless life. Every morning when she woke up, all she had to do was turn her head — and there, by the bedside, was a bouquet still wet with dew.
Until the boy discovered an inoperable brain tumor. He wasn’t afraid of dying — but he was terrified that after he was gone, his girl would fall back into darkness.
But he had no way out.
Life and death were never within one’s control.
He didn’t tell the girl he was dying. He used the remaining days of his life to arrange everything for her future — even without him, she would live comfortably and without want.
He thought: after he died, not long after, she would lose her memory again.
And then, she would forget the grief of losing him, and start a new life.
She was so soft and beautiful — surely, in the long years ahead, she would meet someone willing to care for her. She would live on — without pain, without sorrow.
Forget him — just as she’d forget the winter that had just passed.
And so the boy died — in the season when spring bloomed and flowers blossomed. The flowers on the cliff were at their most beautiful then. In years past, he’d always climb up and pick the most gorgeous one for her.
What he didn’t know was that the girl hadn’t forgotten him.
After his death, she remembered everything.
Every encounter they’d had. Every trick the boy had used to make her fall for him again. He was always grinning — like the fiercest summer sun, chasing away the winter in her life.
She remembered everything about them — even the faint, shadowy figure in the jujube tree outside the wall when she was young.
She’d known all along that someone was hiding up there.
She had tried so hard to remember him. And now, finally, she did.
But she had also lost him — forever.
………
A fresh, romantic love story. A heart-fluttering youth encounter. No earth-shattering twists and turns — like the gentlest breeze across the fields, brushing the clouds, stirring the warm spring sunshine, lifting dandelions into the air — yet ending on a tragic note that left readers lingering in regret long after the last word.
Compared to the crowd-pleasing commercial films Bi Zhou had chosen, this one was clearly aiming for the art-house route.
Done well, it could be a classic. Done poorly, it would be a shallow, melodramatic romance.
And art-house films didn’t fare well in the current domestic market anyway — audiences preferred lighthearted popcorn flicks, let alone one with a tragic ending.
Art-house box office returns were notoriously weak. Add a tragic ending, and it could flop even harder.
Bi Zhou was silent for a long while. “…The script is indeed good.”
Shen Juanyi raised an eyebrow at him. “Like idol, like fan. My fan’s impressive, right?”
Bi Zhou: “…Don’t get too cocky.” His expression turned serious. “The art-house market is tough. Investors look at box office. Aside from your fans, not many audiences are willing to pay for a tragic art-house romance like this.”
Shen Juanyi smiled. “That’s not necessarily true.”
Bi Zhou said, “Fine. Even putting that aside, this script could become a critically acclaimed film — but only if an experienced director is at the helm. The lighting, cinematography, angles — they’re demanding, aren’t they? She’s a fresh graduate, directing her first feature film. Do you really think she can produce a high-standard work?”
Experience and age were indeed one of the industry’s yardsticks for competence. This newcomer director Yue Li seemed unreliable on every front.
Someone with her background and experience would be better suited to working with fresh graduates just like her — yet she’d sent her script straight to a top-tier star. It was hard not to see it as unrealistic.
Shen Juanyi lounged back on the sofa, crossing his legs, and picked up the resume. “If she didn’t have some skill, she wouldn’t have dared send it to me. And we haven’t even shot it yet — how do you know she’s not a natural talent? Anyway, I really like this script, and it’s good for my career transition too.”
Bi Zhou was silent for a moment, then said seriously, “If you really want to do this, fine — art-house films do have award potential. But not with her as director. We buy the script from her and hand it to an established director.”
Shen Juanyi raised an eyebrow at him and let out a derisive laugh.
He pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the resume.
Bi Zhou could tell from his expression that his suggestion was dead in the water. He shut his mouth with a resigned sigh.
After a few rings, the call connected. A crisp voice answered: “Hello, who’s this?”
Shen Juanyi smiled. “I’m looking for Yue Li.”
A shriek erupted from the other end.
The shriek was quickly muffled — probably a hand clamped over her mouth — but her breathing was audibly quick and excited. After a long moment, a trembling voice finally came through: “Is… is it Juanyi-gege?”
Shen Juanyi raised an eyebrow. “You could tell from just that?”
She sounded like she was about to faint from excitement: “I’ve loved you for years, gege — I’d recognize you even if you turned to ashes!”
Shen Juanyi: “?”
Receiving her first call from her idol, the young fan didn’t see anything wrong with that statement. She fought to hold back her excitement and regain her composure: “Hello, gege! My name is Yue Li. Are you calling about the script?”
Shen Juanyi said, “Yes, I’ve read your script. I’d like to meet and talk in person. Are you available?”
Yue Li: “Yes yes yes yes yes! I’m free anytime! Just tell me when and where — do I need to bring anything to meet you?”
Shen Juanyi chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing. Just come to the company tomorrow morning. You know where it is, right?”
Yue Li: “I know I know I know! I’ve been there to check in before! I even have a photo of myself with your poster!”
Shen Juanyi: “…………”
So the next morning, Shen Juanyi met his talented young fan at the company.
She was short, with a bit of baby fat, big round eyes, and a pair of small dimples — cute as can be.
No one would associate such an innocent-looking girl with the word “director.” Bi Zhou had still held a sliver of hope before — now he could only describe his state as despair.
Shen Juanyi, on the other hand, was delighted and even complimented her: “You’re pretty cute, you know.”
Yue Li’s face flushed crimson from her idol’s single compliment. She secretly pinched her thigh to keep from losing her composure, took a few deep breaths, and then put on a professional demeanor: “Teacher Shen, you wanted to talk about the script — does that mean you’re interested?”
Shen Juanyi was straightforward: “Yes, I really like your script, and I’m considering taking the role.”
Yue Li’s eyes lit up with excitement.
The two talked at length about the script and about Yue Li herself. Though he’d told her not to bring anything yesterday, she’d still brought a USB drive filled with all her past work.
As Shen Juanyi had said earlier — she was indeed a natural talent.
She’d studied directing and screenwriting in university, and her first student work won the Silver Award at the National College Film Competition. The International Short Film Newcomer Award wasn’t some no-name accolade either — it carried significant weight internationally.
Her mastery of cinematography and technique was no less than any seasoned director’s. It was precisely because of that Short Film Newcomer Award that she’d had the opportunity to work as an executive director on Director Zhang’s film.
Though this was her first proper feature film, the script and every production detail had been revised and refined over three years.
Yue Li said: “I’m not thinking about box office or anything. I just want to tell this story well, tell it completely, and make people believe in love after watching it — cherish love, and believe in its beauty and eternity. That’s what I want to convey.”
Shen Juanyi smiled and asked, “What gave you the idea for this story?”
Yue Li smiled back, her dimples deepening. “It was inspired by my best friend. She went through some bad things before, struggled in the dark for a long time, and then met her boy. The process of them falling in love was also the process of healing each other. I thought it was so beautiful and moving — I really wanted to express it through film.”
Shen Juanyi nodded thoughtfully.
He’d already decided to do this film before meeting Yue Li. After meeting and talking with her, he was even more certain it wasn’t a decision he’d regret.
When Shen Juanyi called Bi Zhou in to discuss the contract with her, Yue Li felt like she’d been hit by a falling star — dazed and disbelieving.
It was that easy???
Was she the chosen one???
She must have saved humanity in her past life!
But the surprises didn’t stop there. Shen Juanyi smiled and asked, “Do you have a lead actress in mind? What do you think about Zhao Yu?”
Yue Li: “!!!”
Confirmed — she was the child of destiny!