Chapter Eight: The Weight of Trust

Chapter Eight: The Weight of Trust

Sensing the doubt in Manager Zhao’s eyes, Chen Qi hastily explained, “It’s like this—I’m worried that the directors might not fully grasp my creative vision, so the final result may not be perfect, which is why…”

“Impossible!”

Before Chen Qi could finish, Manager Zhao cut him off decisively.

“Do you know anything about filming? Do you understand how to handle the colors and angles between different shots? Do you know how to make a scene look fuller and more pleasing to the eye? Do you…”

Halfway through his tirade, Manager Zhao suddenly stopped short.

He remembered the general manager’s instructions.

Chen Qi looked at him, bewildered.

The story about ‘misunderstood intentions’ was, of course, just an excuse. His real aim was to get closer to the industry, meet more people, and learn as much as he could.

Naturally, his claim about directing the shoot was a stretch, and he fully expected the manager to turn him down.

His true goal was simply to be on set and observe, to broaden his horizons.

He couldn’t even remember where he’d picked up this little trick: when making a request to a superior, start with an unreasonable demand, wait for it to be refused, and then follow up with a much smaller, more reasonable request. The stark contrast would make it much more likely to be approved.

“That…” Manager Zhao spoke again, his tone a bit unnatural, “The company doesn’t really have a precedent for this, but since you have a good idea, I can try applying to the general manager for you.”

“???”

The sudden turn caught Chen Qi completely off guard; he nearly lost his composure.

He’s… this easygoing?

His actual, much smaller request—just to observe—was already on the tip of his tongue.

Manager Zhao smiled at him and said, “Head back for now. I’ll talk to the general manager.”

“Oh…” Chen Qi replied in a daze, turning to leave, his face full of confusion.

Is Blueprint always this friendly to its employees?

As soon as Chen Qi left, Manager Zhao collapsed into his chair, a look of pain twisting his features.

His head throbbed.

If not for the general manager’s sake, he would have chewed Chen Qi out until he regretted ever stepping foot in the office.

A grown man—couldn’t he have a little self-awareness?

Couldn’t he get a clearer sense of his own place?

Where did he get all these absurd ideas?

Directing the shoot? Just listen to that—directing! Anyone would think he was some kind of prodigy!

A creative type wanting to direct? Never mind whether he could do it—how was the rest of the team supposed to see him if he meddled in their work?

This put him in a very difficult position.

Manager Zhao felt utterly exhausted.

He realized Chen Qi was not someone who would ever let him rest easy.

After half an hour massaging his temples in the office, he called Chen Qi back in.

The bit about consulting the general manager was, of course, a fiction. He had the authority to handle such a trivial matter himself—borrowing someone from another department was no big deal. Who didn’t have a few under-the-radar subordinates to spare?

If he really brought this up to the general manager over something so petty…

He’d just be asking to get scolded.

Forget it—let Chen Qi do as he pleased. He wouldn’t interfere anymore.

He didn’t even care what Chen Qi’s creative idea was.

“Manager?” Chen Qi knocked and entered half a minute later.

Manager Zhao immediately put on a severe expression: “I spoke with the general manager just now. He said he’s willing to give young people like you a chance to try, but you’ll only get one person and one piece of equipment.”

Chen Qi, having already braced himself for rejection, widened his eyes in surprise.

What? They agreed to even these excessive terms?

This was bad—he’d outsmarted himself!

This outcome was not at all what he’d expected!

“The person and the equipment are yours for five days. During that time, he’ll follow your instructions completely—shoot what you want, do what you need, so your vision won’t be compromised at all…”

Midway through his explanation, Manager Zhao noticed Chen Qi’s astonished expression and assumed he was dissatisfied again. Irritated, he demanded, “What? You still have an issue?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no.” Chen Qi snapped back to himself and forced a delighted smile. “Thank you, Manager. I’ll make sure this commercial is done well.”

He had dug this pit for himself—now he’d have to fill it, tears and all.

Still, he suspected that Manager Zhao misunderstood his use of the word “direct.” What he’d really meant was to stand on the sidelines and offer the director a few tentative, amateur suggestions. But from Manager Zhao’s tone, it sounded like his word would be law on set.

“Alright, off you go. Someone will bring the equipment to you soon,” Manager Zhao waved him away, clearly eager to see the back of him.

At that moment, Chen Qi hesitated, as if about to say something more.

“What now?” Manager Zhao was on the verge of collapse.

Connections really were hard to manage.

“Manager, um…” Chen Qi looked embarrassed, “Who do I ask for the shooting budget?”

He really did feel awkward—it was rare for a freshly hired employee to be given discretionary funds. What if he just took the money and disappeared?

He was only able to ask because he was thick-skinned. Anyone else would have been too shy to open their mouth.

But embarrassment aside, he still needed the money.

He was already prepared—if Manager Zhao refused, he could use it as an excuse to bow out of directing.

“You want funding too?” Manager Zhao stared at him in disbelief. “I’ve already given you a person and equipment—why do you still need a budget?”

“I need to hire two actors and rent a small venue,” Chen Qi replied, his face a picture of misery.

Manager Zhao was silent for two seconds before forcing himself to speak as calmly as possible, “The company has several contracted models. If you need one, I can help you get them.”

“I’ve checked, but those models aren’t suitable.”

Again, Zhao was silent for a long moment before asking, “What’s your budget?”

“...Five thousand?” Chen Qi ventured tentatively.

“Fine.” With a deep breath, Manager Zhao yanked open a drawer, scribbled out a voucher at lightning speed, and handed it to Chen Qi. “Go to finance and collect the money!”

Staring at the voucher, Chen Qi was dumbfounded all over again.

People, equipment, and now money—all granted without hesitation?

He reached out and took the voucher on autopilot, his mind still spinning.

At that moment, Manager Zhao added, “This five thousand is yours for now. If your commercial gets selected, the company will reimburse it. If not, it comes out of your salary.”

“Oh…” Chen Qi had no objection to that.

To him, just getting the five thousand approved directly was plenty.

This trust… it was heavy indeed.

Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

By any normal logic, it wasn’t supposed to play out like this.

He’d dug himself a hole so deep—no one could compare!

He could have just handed in his idea, watched them shoot, and earned a hundred thousand. Now he had to find his own actors, too.

Still, since he wanted to get deeper into the industry, he could treat this as practice.

He comforted himself with this thought.

…

(By the way, the signed contract has already been sent out. If anyone still wants to invest, hurry—status will be updated in a couple of days.)