If it hadn't been for He Guojin's reminder, Xu Qingyan would have even forgotten that "My Leader, My Regiment" had already been broadcast for quite a while, mainly because he, as the screenwriter, had barely participated.
He had taken the money and left, and with He Guojin's connection, he didn't need to be so deferential.
Moreover, as time went on, Xu Qingyan got busy. The company opened three situational comedy series simultaneously; there was no time to care about a series that couldn't make him any money.
It's worth mentioning that he received the publishing fee. Since he only provided the script, and the subsequent editorial changes were handled by Zhao Mingyuan, a portion of the manuscript fee was shared.
The money wasn't much, but it was the principle that mattered—he had to claim it in name.
"He Guo, what's the good news?" Xu Qingyan leaned against the second-floor corridor, looking at the street that hadn't changed much over the year, lush trees remained as ever.
