Professor Song, Min Ren, is Jiang Xin's wife. In truth, most people in the entertainment industry know Jiang Xin but not Song Min Ren. That's because she doesn't operate in entertainment circles. Instead, she is a renowned professor in the field of biology, celebrated for her significant achievements in academia. Both Song and Jiang turned to Zhou Yun with mild surprise. Zhou Yun, slightly embarrassed, smiled and explained, "Two years ago, you gave a lecture at B University. I happened to be a student there at the time and had the privilege of attending."
Song Min Ren's expression turned even more curious. "You studied at B University? What was your major?"
"I majored in chemistry," Zhou Yun replied.
Song Min Ren smiled knowingly. "That explains it. No wonder you recognized me. This is the first time I've been called Professor Song by someone from the entertainment industry."
Song laughed lightly. "Good thing I brought Zhou Yun with me today, or I might have made a faux pas."
Song Min Ren waved a hand dismissively. "I'm used to it. With this one's fame," she gestured to Jiang Xin, "most people just call me Mrs. Jiang when we're out."
Jiang Xin's refined face showed an apologetic smile.
The stark contrast in the couple's personalities was evident.
"Director Jiang, Professor Song, let's sit down and chat," Song offered as he pulled out chairs for both of them. His demeanor was every bit the respectful junior.
A staff member entered to pour tea, saving Zhou Yun the trouble. It was Song's event today, and Zhou Yun didn't dare speak out of turn, fearing she might overshadow the host. Fortunately, Song Min Ren's lively nature filled any gaps in conversation.
"Song, I must apologize. I had no idea he had arranged this meeting with you until we were already in the car. I just tagged along for a free meal," Song Min Ren said with a casual tone that belied her age. Despite being over fifty, she wielded the term "free meal," which younger generations often use, with surprising fluency—likely picked up from her students and younger colleagues.
"Please don't say that," Song replied earnestly. "It's an honor to have you here for dinner."
"Alright then, pretend I'm not here. You all discuss your business," Song Min Ren said, pulling out a tablet and portable keyboard from her bag and setting them up on the table. She quickly immersed herself in her work.
Turning to Jiang Xin, Song began, "Director Jiang, my team already sent you the materials for Questioning the Heart. What do you think?"
Jiang Xin responded with a faint, apologetic smile. "I read the first three episodes of the script. It's exceptionally well-written—one of the best TV scripts I've seen in years. But I haven't directed a TV series in a long time. A project like this would take at least one to two years to complete, and I already have five other projects in the pipeline. I simply don't have the capacity to take it on."
Jiang Xin's words were a polite but firm refusal. Zhou Yun was momentarily taken aback and at a loss. Was this a direct rejection?
In truth, what Jiang Xin said was reasonable. Directors of his caliber often have their schedules booked years in advance. Questioning the Heart was a TV series, a much larger commitment than a film. Zhou Yun glanced nervously at Song.
But Song, as if anticipating this response, nodded calmly. "Director Jiang, I understand your concerns, and I truly appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to join us for dinner. Questioning the Heart is a project I've personally championed. I acquired the rights years ago and have been refining the script ever since. To be honest, my ambition is to grow as an actor, which is why I specifically wanted you to direct this series. You're aware, I'm sure, that Questioning the Heart isn't aligned with the trending TV genres today. Compared to current market preferences, it might even seem outdated. But it's a brilliant script. If executed well, it could become a masterpiece. To achieve that, I truly believe only you could do it justice."
Jiang Xin's face showed hesitation.
It wasn't that he had no interest in the project. If that were the case, he would have declined outright long ago. But Jiang Xin had no shortage of options, and Questioning the Heart was just one among many. The main reason he came tonight was out of respect for Song.
Song wasn't just any top-tier celebrity; he was unique among the elite. Unlike many who debuted as idols, Song's journey began in acting—though he initially aimed for an idol career, which never took off. Instead, his first role, in a youth-oriented campus film, became a massive success, grossing over a billion yuan, a feat unheard of for the genre at the time. Song, as the undisputed lead, became the film's biggest beneficiary. While his acting skills weren't extraordinary then, his genuine performance resonated with audiences, embodying the handsome, free-spirited youth many remembered from their own pasts. That same year, he received multiple prestigious Best Actor nominations, though largely thanks to the film's success and massive box office earnings.
From there, Song's career seemed charmed. Every project he took on—whether film or television—became a hit, earning widespread acclaim. His fan base grew steadily, primarily composed of viewers who appreciated his works rather than typical idol fans, and tended to skew older. His consistent success solidified his reputation, overshadowing many of his contemporaries in the industry.
Over the years, Song starred in seven projects, each a blockbuster hit, making significant profits for investors and cementing his legendary status. The entertainment industry is notoriously superstitious, and Song's proven box office pull, coupled with solid acting, made him a top choice for any suitable role. Scripts invariably landed on his desk first.
Jiang Xin, as a veteran director, had always been attentive to promising talents.
It's human nature: some grow more insecure with age, fearing their position will be usurped by the next generation and going so far as to suppress emerging talent. Others, however, grow reflective and empathetic, appreciating the struggles of youth and seeking to nurture rising stars. Jiang Xin belonged to the latter group.
He had watched many of Song's works—how could he not? Song's projects were omnipresent, with rave reviews and frequent appearances at major award shows. Having seen enough, Jiang Xin trusted his own judgment. He genuinely wanted to meet Song in person. As an experienced director, he understood the rarity of an actor like Song—someone capable of appeasing producers, captivating audiences, and fulfilling artistic vision all at once.
At that moment, the server knocked and entered, beginning to serve the dishes.