Upon seeing the person who came, they held back any words of reprimand, for the person approaching was none other than Wu Mo's son, Wu Yuan. He was the actor who would collaborate with Laila and the one involved in the skit for the Spring Festival Gala.
Laila was taken aback. "Who's this?"
The guide, somewhat embarrassed, explained, "This is Wu Yuan, the son of Director Wu, and he's also the creator and performer of the skit that Director Wu wants you to collaborate on."
Laila couldn't help but smirk. She had suspected that there might be more to it when Wu Mo initially proposed the collaboration. She had kept her thoughts to herself, thinking it was a convenient arrangement for both parties. Besides, collaborating on the skit seemed advantageous for them. Now she understood why Wu Mo made that offer – it was for his son.
Eastern society had a strong personal relationship aspect, and there was no harm in reciprocating favors. Moreover, she had gained benefits from this situation, so there was no reason to decline.
The guide turned red after hearing Laila's knowing "Oh."
Wu Yuan, on the other hand, remained oblivious and continued to shake Roy's hand enthusiastically.
"Sir, could you please release my boyfriend's hand?" Laila noticed that Roy's face was starting to turn dark and hurriedly intervened.
As soon as she mentioned "boyfriend," Roy's face brightened considerably, even showing a hint of a smile. If someone who knew him saw this, they would recognize that he was in a good mood.
"Haha, of course, of course. I'm just too excited!" Wu Yuan finally let go of Roy's hand and then took Laila's hand instead.
"I'm Wu Yuan, and we'll be working together on the skit. I'm so thrilled! You have no idea how I've always felt like something was missing in the skits. But when I heard your song, I knew exactly what was missing! A song, a great song, and a song that can truly touch the heart – only a genius could have written it! Miss Moran, I'm honored to meet you!"
He chattered non-stop, preventing others from interjecting, and once he had finished, he still held Laila's hand tightly.
"Wu Yuan! You should probably let go of her hand now!" the guide reminded him through gritted teeth. Didn't he notice that Mr. Seasonstar kept staring at their hands? Being so friendly in front of her boyfriend, was he here to make friends or provoke jealousy?
"Haha, I'm just so excited," Wu Yuan finally released her hand, realizing he had crossed a line.
Laila noticed that Wu Yuan was perfect for comedy roles and had a natural sense of humor. How could someone as composed as Director Wu Mo have raised such a cheerful child?
"Oh right! The script!" Wu Yuan suddenly remembered and patted his forehead. He pulled a thin, stapled booklet from his pocket. "Miss Moran, take a look at this. Please share your thoughts."
Laila received the script with a bemused look. "Here?"
Wu Yuan noticed that more people were crowding around them and was left in disbelief. "Why are so many of you here? Do you want to invite me to dinner or something? Even if you all want to treat me, you'll have to wait in line, won't you?"
His audacity knew no bounds. Both the guide and the translator tried to pretend they didn't know him, but it wasn't easy.
"How about we go back to the lounge we were in earlier?" the translator suggested to Laila. As for the others, he had no concern; in any case, he had lost face and didn't want to be seen in this situation. "Is that okay with you?"
Laila agreed with his suggestion. The group returned to the lounge where they had been discussing matters with Wu Mo.
Compared to Laila's company lounge, this one fell far short. While it had all the essentials, it lacked the luxurious sofas and abundant snacks and beverages.
"Actually," as soon as they entered, Wu Yuan cheerfully closed the door and locked it as if the room had suddenly become his personal space. This action raised a few eyebrows in the room.
"You may not know, but when we started preparing for the Spring Festival Gala, my dad was quite worried about the program. So I thought, why can't I, a talented individual, help him out? I came up with this skit, facing numerous obstacles along the way. I thought I was almost at the finish line, but I felt like it was missing something."
"Take a look at the program list – each act is so unique, and mine, although it carries the main theme, might not have the staying power. So my dad suggested that maybe your performance could complement mine, and we could all benefit from this. I thought it was a great idea, and…"
He rambled on, and it was challenging to interrupt him. With such a fast-speaking and lengthy monologue, there was no chance for anyone else to say a word.
"Alright, I think I've understood the background now," Laila finally found a gap to speak when he took a breath.
God be my witness; she had no desire to know the details. Collaboration was collaboration, and she didn't care how it came about or what personal connections were involved. If there were benefits to be had, she saw no reason to refuse.
However, Wu Yuan seemed to have a guilty conscience, as he had shared all the details from the start, almost revealing his father's entire background.
"Can we discuss the script directly?" To prevent him from continuing to veer off-topic, Laila placed the script on the small table in front of her. Then, she adopted an authoritative stance, making it clear she needed to read it carefully, and that everyone else should keep quiet.
Thankfully, everyone understood her intentions, and even the garrulous Wu Yuan finally kept his mouth shut, granting the lounge a moment of peace.
The skit was not long; typically, it would only last around ten to twenty minutes at most. Consequently, the script was thin, and it wouldn't take long to read through its contents.
Laila had no problems with her reading skills. She quickly went through the script. Meanwhile, the translator tried to translate the lengthy and tedious explanation that Wu Yuan had previously given to Roy.
It was a daunting task, as Wu Yuan's words were rapid, and he didn't seem to take a breath. His impressive lung capacity allowed him to deliver a lengthy monologue without stopping. His speed was such that nobody could interrupt him, and the translator struggled to translate the endless verbosity.
After listening to the translation, Roy couldn't help but give the translator a thumbs-up. He said, "You have an excellent memory." How could he remember such a long conversation word for word?
The translator wept silently.