Who Needs a CEO? I Choose Stardom

Chapter 348: Chapter 281: Quite Interesting

Whether a person is beautiful or not is rarely a matter of dispute.

Because humanity’s standards for beauty and ugliness are, relatively speaking, not that different.

But whether a screenplay is good or not—that’s a huge debate.

Those who like it feel it’s one of a kind, searching for and finding something to love about it, then hyping it to the moon!

Those who dislike it think it’s a pile of dogshit. They can always find something to nitpick, making the author jump up and down in anger.

The key is, this sort of thing is subject to huge individual differences.

Everyone has their own set of criteria and doesn’t really approve of anyone else’s.

Alan’s script was properly formatted; it was clear he’d put in the effort. Ni Bingyan had no language barrier, so she read through it quickly.

The story was simple: a tale of a little boy who missed his father, a story about love and peace.

His mother always took Adrian to the bank to withdraw money. Each time, she would tell him, “Your father is working very hard in a faraway place to support us. It’s not easy for him at all!”

When Adrian first appeared in the story, he was still being held in his mother’s arms. Slowly, he began to walk, and eventually, he grew to the height of her shoulder.

He was always asking, “Why doesn’t Dad come back?”

His mother would find all sorts of excuses, telling him about the family’s various hardships and how his father had to work this hard to support them.

At first, he believed her and felt proud of his father. He would often pat his chest and promise his mother that when he grew up, he would be a man just like his dad, working hard for his family’s happiness.

Each time, his mother would look at him, her eyes glistening with tears, and nod her agreement.

As Adrian grew older, he wasn’t so easy to fool anymore. He began to think for himself and would ask his mother:

“What kind of work does Dad do? Why doesn’t he work in our city?”

His mother told him his father worked on a ship at sea, traveling the world every day.

He believed this at first, too, until he heard a classmate say her father, a seaman, was finally coming home on leave again.

Adrian grew very uneasy. On his birthday, he went to his mother again, persistently asking why his father never took leave.

He kept searching for an answer until he had grown into a young man. Only then did his mother tell him:

“My dear Adrian, you’re older now, and I have to tell you. Your father… he died in the war when you were one year old. Every time I take you to the bank, we’re collecting the survivor benefits from the government. They will help me raise you in your father’s place until you’re an adult.”

Although he had long harbored an ominous feeling, hearing this news still made Adrian break down, sobbing uncontrollably.

He covered his face and ran, breathless, through the stone-paved alleys of the small seaside town in the afterglow of the sunset, all the way to the bank’s entrance.

He had to ask the people in the bank if the money his mother had been taking him to withdraw all these years was really survivor benefits, or if it was money his father had sent back from afar.

But when he reached the bank’s entrance, he didn’t dare to go inside.

The story had an open ending. The final scene was Adrian standing at the entrance of the bank as the encroaching night slowly swallowed him.

After some careful thought, Ni Bingyan started with praise. “The theme is excellent. War destroys peace, it destroys ordinary families, and it leaves children without their fathers…”

Alan’s eyes clearly lit up with joy. He looked at her with an encouraging expression, hoping she would say more.

“A happy childhood can warm a person for a lifetime, but an unhappy one takes a lifetime to heal. That final scene, I think it’s truly brilliant. It would definitely be a tearjerker in a movie theater.”

“Yes! In my mind, that scene is where the entire short film transcends. It leaves so much to the imagination and has a strong visual impact.”

“You could film it in a beautiful little seaside town. The sunset would create a special atmosphere, and the beautiful visuals would add a lot.”

“Yes, yes, yes! That’s what I was thinking too!”

After reading the script, Ni Bingyan’s biggest impression was that the storyline was too simple and there were too few characters. It felt a bit thin to support a full-length film.

‘It needs some more substance,’ she thought, ‘but I can’t just say, ‘I think…”

‘When an author asks for opinions with a seemingly humble attitude, they usually have only one goal: to prove that their own ideas are right, not to genuinely hear what others think.’

So, Ni Bingyan began to discuss the plot with him from the beginning, guiding him to reflect on the various details in the script.

“What does Adrian’s mother do for work? Is her job easy or difficult? Are there any elderly family members at home? Is her burden heavy? How important is the money she withdraws from the bank each month to her family?”

Alan was a bit stunned at first. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“That’s a real shame. When I try to imagine the mother’s character, it’s hard to form a three-dimensional image of her in my mind.”

“Adding some character details would probably make it much better.”

Alan took out a laptop, opened it, and started typing away furiously, refining his ideas.

He was by nature a meticulous person who could endure solitude. He could spend a week meticulously polishing a piece of jewelry, and he could spend just as long poring over a script.

He thought it was great to have finally found a friend with good taste to discuss it with.

“How can I make Adrian’s father more three-dimensional? If his presence were stronger, the moment the mother reveals the truth would definitely be more heart-wrenching.”

“Maybe I could try to depict the war in more detail? I could also make the father’s identity more specific. War is just so cruel. No one likes war…”

Seeing Alan get into the zone, hugging his laptop as he started making changes, Ni Bingyan also opened a document and began to jot down her own thoughts and ideas.

For example, what about Adrian’s upbringing? Was he bullied by other children? When other kids went on trips, did he get to go? When other kids walked down the street holding their fathers’ hands, was he envious?

[He unconsciously follows his classmate Ammon and his father, watching as the big hand holding the little hand gradually disappears into the distance. He stands on the street, looking around in a daze, not knowing where to go.]

‘This story is really wonderful.’ Since Alan was busy, Ni Bingyan had nothing to do, so she wrote down some of her own ideas, hoping to give him some inspiration.

[His mother has been following him the whole time. Just as he turns around and starts walking home, dejected, he sees her. She’s standing beside a bush of climbing roses, which symbolize longing, her eyes full of tears. She looks at him gently and gives him a small wave. When he reaches her side, she softly pats his head and chides him lovingly, “Why are you so late? You had me looking for you for so long.”]

Ni Bingyan was moved by the scene she’d imagined, and tears welled up in her eyes without her realizing it.

When she was young, she had fantasized countless times that her mother would secretly watch her on her way home from school. When she noticed, her mother would smile gently at her and say:

“Excuse me, miss, are you lost? Why aren’t you heading home?”

Alan, who was in the middle of an excited rewrite, saw her lower her head to wipe away tears. He couldn’t help but feel a secret thrill, feeling his script was a success, but he also felt a little embarrassed.

“Sigh, I thought it was pretty good before, but after hearing what you said, I feel like there’s so much room for improvement. This is going to be a huge project. I’ll have to work on the revisions slowly after you leave. You’ll have to give me more feedback later.”

“I’m sorry, I was just moved by the scene I was imagining. You’re truly amazing, Alan. To be able to write such a good script… you’re a natural-born screenwriter! I’m looking forward to the final product, looking forward to seeing it at a film festival. Really, for a moment there, I even thought that if it were made into an animated short, it could absolutely be submitted for an Oscar!”

“Oh! Oh! Good heavens! To stay calm, I think we should go get something to eat first. We have to have a proper talk about this later!”

“No problem! I’m very happy to witness you unlocking a new identity: Mr. Alan, the screenwriter.”

Alan was so excited by her words that he clutched his chest dramatically. “My god, the next time someone tells me that Easterners are all reserved, I’m going to strangle them!”

Ni Bingyan waved her hand. “I’m just telling the truth. The details of this story really moved me, even if you haven’t truly finished it yet.”

‘Could I possibly admit that I’ve already revised this eighty times and that this is the final draft? No, of course not! I still have untapped potential for improvement!’