Die Adlige im Herrenhaus des Marquis

Kapitel 1

Chapter 1

Art is pain; life is suffering.

(Art is pain, life is suffering.)

...

This is the most beautiful sunset in Yancheng in nearly a week.

On the rooftop terrace of Zhonghao Media, a slender figure leans against the railing, gazing at the twilight.

He was so thin that you could clearly see his shoulder blades hidden under his white shirt from behind.

Her hair, which hadn't been styled in a long time, was casually tied into a ponytail at the back of her head, and the stray hairs on her forehead directly covered her eyes, revealing her pale and thin chin.

Click.

A cheap lighter flickered and caught fire.

He brought the cigarette in his mouth closer to light it, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled...

Then she clicked her tongue softly: "It hurts so much."

His tone was so calm, as if he were saying that a few more leaves had just fallen from the tree, with a hint of self-deprecation, but his hands gripping the railing were so strong that his knuckles were protruding.

The glass door was pushed open, and a seemingly refined young man hurriedly walked towards the man, his face full of worry.

"Teacher, are you alright?" The young man pushed up his round glasses and asked cautiously.

The man took one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out and saying, "So eager?"

The young man sighed helplessly, "The production company said we shouldn't waste Pei Shao's... cough, Mr. Pei's time." He pursed his lips, but still couldn't help saying, "Teacher Wen, I think we should just give up on this job! I really can't stand seeing you being chased and bullied by that idiot consultant that Pei Shao brought."

Hearing this in the twilight, Wen Yuhan chuckled softly and then asked, "Xiao Yang, did you bring me stomach medicine when you went out?"

"Oh, I brought it!" The person called Xiao Yang hurriedly took out a small white bottle from his pocket, poured out two pills, and handed them to Wen Yuhan.

Wen Yuhan took it and swallowed it without even drinking any water. Then she turned around and gestured with her chin towards Xiao Yang:

"Go back to the meeting."

“Teacher Wen!” Xiao Yang exclaimed instinctively, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I always felt that Pei Shaocheng was deliberately making things difficult for you. To put it bluntly, he just wanted to replace the screenwriter with one of his own people. Why did you have to return the favor…”

The words "bringing shame upon himself" rolled to his lips, but he swallowed them back.

"If we leave now, are we going to be starving together tomorrow?" Wen Yuhan put his hands in his pockets, his tone relaxed. "At least we need to get this money back first."

Just then, a gust of wind happened to blow across the terrace.

The wisps of hair on Wen Yuhan's forehead were suddenly blown up by the wind, revealing a pair of smiling eyes hidden beneath.

Xiao Yang was stunned for a moment, and her face involuntarily turned red.

He was about to try to persuade her again when he was startled by a tall figure that suddenly appeared behind Wen Yuhan.

"Pei... Pei...?"

Almost simultaneously, Wen Yuhan's eyes darkened, and he lowered his head, intending to slip into the room along the wall, but he only felt his arm being grabbed and pulled backward.

"Teacher Wen," a deep voice came from above, "you've been smoking for way too long."

Xiao Yang was terrified by Pei Shaocheng's offensive behavior and mustered up her courage to pull his hand away.

"Mr. Pei, Professor Wen, he..."

"Xiao Yang," Wen Yuhan said calmly to Pei Shaocheng, "you go back to the conference room first."

"Teacher Wen!"

"Go."

Xiao Yang frowned, glancing at Wen Yuhan and then at Pei Shaocheng. Finally, he nodded warily, then turned and hesitantly entered the revolving door.

For a moment, only Wen Yuhan and Pei Shaocheng remained on the terrace.

Wen Yuhan stopped smiling and narrowed her eyes at the other person: "There's a camera right above your head."

"Is that your new bed partner?"

The two spoke at the same time.

Wen Yuhan was slightly taken aback, a hint of anger flashing across his face. But that expression only lasted a moment before he quickly returned to calm.

He closed his eyes and smiled, and when he opened them again, his eyes were once again filled with the cunning and flirtatiousness that Pei Shaocheng remembered.

“Those of us who are involved in art need to keep ourselves in a state of excitement at all times.” Wen Yuhan paused, her voice rising at the end, “I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?”

Pei Shaocheng remained expressionless, but the force in his hand unconsciously increased.

Wen Yuhan frowned slightly as the other man gripped his hand so tightly, feeling as if his bones were about to be crushed. Yet, he remained calm as he met the other man's dark eyes.

He knew that Pei Shaocheng was angry.

However, just when Wen Yuhan thought she was about to be thrown off balance, Pei Shaocheng slowly loosened his grip.

He took out a cigarette case from his jacket pocket, lit it calmly, but still blocked the door, showing no intention of letting Wen Yuhan leave.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Pei Shaocheng said.

"You've changed quite a bit." Wen Yuhan straightened his wrinkled shirt and said casually, "The Pei Shaocheng of the past wouldn't have pried into other people's private lives like this... I mean, you didn't really come out for a smoke, did you?"

Pei Shaocheng exhaled a puff of smoke but did not reply.

“Mr. Pei…” Wen Yuhan felt a little tired, but patiently said, “You know the film and television industry has been sluggish in the past two years. To be honest, I went through a lot of trouble to win this project, and we went through three rounds of pitching alone… Do you have to make things so difficult for me?”

"When did you fall so low that you have to compete with others for food?" Pei Shaocheng scrutinized Wen Yuhan and said slowly, "It seems you didn't hold on to the powerful figures you had back then."

Wen Yuhan chuckled, only finishing the first half of his sentence, "Nonsense, if you're really starving, even handouts taste delicious." As he spoke, he reached for the cigarette case in his pocket, "Mr. Pei's salary should be at least ten times mine now, surely he wouldn't still be thinking about this little screenwriting fee, would he? Could you do me a favor and ask your consultant to be lenient? After so many years, wouldn't it be better to work together amicably?"

“Do you think I’m nitpicking?” Pei Shaocheng paused. “In terms of experience and portfolio, Professor Wu is far superior to you. I brought him in as a consultant because it’s good for the project itself.”

He looked Wen Yuhan up and down, then raised his lips, "Senior, even after all this, you're still so arrogant?"

Pei Shaocheng's words, though spoken in a tone that was neither too harsh nor too gentle, still stung Wen Yuhan with their swift, accurate, and ruthless force.

His face turned cold, and finally, unable to suppress his anger, he nodded and chuckled.

"Whether you're here to steal business or to help, you know the answer in your heart."

Pei Shaocheng, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, remained noncommittal.

“Pei Shaocheng, if I’m really outmatched today, I won’t say a word…” Wen Yuhan lit his lighter. “But you’ve acted in so many plays, can’t you really tell the difference between a good script and a bad one?”

Perhaps due to emotional turmoil, a sharp pain shot through her stomach again. Wen Yuhan quickly took a deep drag of her tobacco to suppress the nausea.

"Are you sick?" Pei Shaocheng frowned.

Wen Yuhan snorted, leaning against the wall and silently smoking most of a cigarette. He then brushed the stray hairs from his forehead and said calmly, "I know that for investors, Mr. Pei is far more valuable than I am. After all, for a third-rate screenwriter with a tarnished past, the fact that the production company even signed a contract with me is already quite generous..."

At this point, Wen Yuhan gave a dejected laugh. "Forget it, there's no point in talking to you about this." He leaned against the wall to sit up. "I'm not playing anymore. Let's discuss it at the meeting later. If you still plan to use my outline, then pay for this stage. If not, then scrap it and start over. As for the time wasted, I can only apologize."

What exactly is wrong with you?

"Alright, Mr. Pei." A hint of weariness flashed in Wen Yuhan's eyes. "You even try to steal my money for medical treatment and medicine, and you still care about what's wrong with me?" As he spoke, he blew a puff of smoke in Pei Shaocheng's face and said mockingly, "If you hear in the industry tomorrow that some down-on-his-luck screenwriter died at home because he couldn't afford medical treatment, remember to burn some paper money for me..."

Before he could finish speaking, Pei Shaocheng abruptly snatched the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out in the pot of lucky bamboo next to him.

Wen Yuhan licked her lips, avoiding his burning gaze.

"Honestly, if you hadn't used this trick on me before, I really would have let you go," Pei Shaocheng said in a low voice.

Seeing that Wen Yuhan did not answer, he continued, "Isn't this your usual method... Senior, I really want to know, what else is there that you won't use?"

These words were like a needle scorched red-hot, stabbing Wen Yuhan hard in the heart. All the past events, like an old water pipe with a broken valve, began to pour out relentlessly.

Wen Yuhan took a deep breath, promptly stopping her racing thoughts.

He chuckled softly, then looked up at Pei Shaocheng again: "So, playing the victim won't work on you anymore, is it?"

After that, both of them fell into a long silence.

The afterglow had faded, and the sky was gradually darkening.

It was probably because Xiao Yang told the people in the meeting room that Pei Shaocheng and Wen Yuhan were smoking on the terrace that everyone tacitly stayed behind.

After all, they had all noticed the discord between the two during the previous meetings. The film's later production was entirely dependent on Pei Shaocheng's efforts to boost box office and awards, and when they learned that he had taken the initiative to see Wen Yuhan, whether to discuss matters or to deliberately cause trouble, no one dared to stop him.

After an unknown amount of time, until it was completely dark, Pei Shaocheng, standing on the terrace, finally spoke first.

He stubbed out his cigarette and said to Wen Yuhan in a deep voice, "I can get the investors to keep the screenwriter, and I can also get Lao Wu to stop interfering with the creative process. Of course, it all depends on whether you're willing to listen to advice."

"What do you mean?" Wen Yuhan asked, scrutinizing Pei Shaocheng's gaze.

After accurately catching a hint of hidden danger in the other person's deep eyes, his expression changed from doubt to shock and then gradually turned into anger.

“Pei Shaocheng…” Wen Yuhan said each word clearly, her tone icy, “Do you think I’m a prostitute?”

...

A note from the author:

Art is pain; life is suffering. —John Wick: Chapter 3

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Chapter 2

As dusk settles, the bustling city never truly experiences darkness.

The colorful lights shone on their faces, making their expressions look somewhat unreal.

"You said yourself that you can enjoy food given with contempt," Pei Shaocheng said calmly.

This statement once again confirmed his intentions to Wen Yuhan.

To be honest, Pei Shaocheng was quite pleased to see Wen Yuhan's anger. Earlier at the creative meeting, Wen Yuhan's ever-smiling demeanor had utterly disgusted him.

He hated Wen Yuhan for smiling at others, and he hated even more that Wen Yuhan used such a hypocritical attitude to deceive him.

So much so that I've almost forgotten that there was a time when I was also captivated by the smiling eyes of that other person...

The air seemed to freeze for a long time after that, until Wen Yuhan finally let out a playful hum, his previous emotions completely gone when he spoke.

“Well… I just did the math, and it’s actually a good deal.” Wen Yuhan raised her chin and curled her lips. “Besides, you look much more interesting now than you did in college.”