Half an hour later, they arrived at Donghang Apartments.
Jiang Yue took them to see the two apartments first.
Both were small one-bedroom units on the same floor, directly facing each other.
The living rooms weren't large, but they were fully equipped with a sofa, TV, refrigerator, and washing machine. Outside, the balconies looked out over the streetscape of Donghai City.
Chen Fei stood at the doorway, staring at the computer desk and empty bookshelf inside, unable to find his words for a long moment.
He had already looked up rental prices before coming to Donghai.
His original plan was to make do by sharing a six-person apartment.
Now, he had bypassed all of that and got his own place with a private bathroom.
For a soon-to-be corporate drone who hadn't even graduated yet, this kind of treatment was practically the ultimate jackpot.
Su Qing placed her bag on the entryway cabinet and turned to look at Jiang Yue. “Boss, I'll change the door lock passcode myself in a bit. I've also noted down the utility meter numbers so it'll be easier to do the bookkeeping later.”
Jiang Yue nodded. “Sure. Get whatever daily necessities you need and keep the receipts. I'll buy the work computers and hard drives, and we can log them as company expenses once the studio is registered.”
After seeing the apartments, the last lingering worries in the minds of the two recent college graduates completely vanished.
By the time the two were settled in, night had already fallen.
Jiang Yue took Jiang Kaiwen to a well-regarded local Shanghainese restaurant nearby and booked a small private room.
Inside the room, Jiang Kaiwen filled two glasses of beer and clinked his against Jiang Yue's.
“Third Brother, we've finally got our team together. Once the background checks on their materials are complete and we finalize the registration address and scope of business, we can start the process of applying for the business license.”
He took a sip of beer and asked, “Have you thought of a name for the business license?”
Jiang Yue's chopsticks paused in mid-air.
Establishing a studio indeed required an official name.
It couldn't be chosen carelessly.
They would have to use it for all future contracts, invoices, and external business dealings.
He couldn't exactly call it “Jiang Yue's Get Rich Quick Media Studio.”
That would be a bit too on the nose.
Jiang Yue grabbed his phone, opened the notes app, and typed two characters on the screen.
“Yuchuan.”
Jiang Kaiwen leaned over to take a look and read aloud softly, “Yuchuan Media Studio.”
“Yu corresponds to the Yue in my name, meaning to cross or transcend,” Jiang Yue explained. “And Chuan represents the Jiang in my surname, meaning river.”
“Yuchuan—crossing rivers and seas. It's a good omen.”
Jiang Kaiwen's eyes lit up, and he raised his glass.
“That's a great name. It rolls off the tongue and sounds professional. Even if we make it big in the future, hanging this name on an office building won't feel embarrassing at all.”
“Alright, let's get down to business.” Jiang Yue clinked his glass against his and drained it in one gulp. “Tomorrow, take them to buy two high-performance work computers, along with hard drives, a scanner, and a printer.”
“Also, organize the policy documents, registration procedures, and the materials needed for the cultural and tourism license.”
“Put it on my card for now. Keep the receipts, and we'll log them as company expenses once we're registered.”
Jiang Kaiwen nodded, his voice filled with excitement. “Got it. I'll get right on it tomorrow.”
With the team assembled and the name finalized, the newly formed, ragtag crew of Yuchuan Media had officially set sail.
By the end of April, the temperature in Donghai City had warmed up, and the breeze on the streets carried a hint of dry heat.
Inside Donghang Apartments, Chen Fei stared at the material verification page on his computer screen and suddenly stood up.
His chair slid backward, hitting the wall with a dull thud.
He didn't even bother to steady the chair. He just stared at the green “Passed” notification and turned to look at Su Qing.
Su Qing pressed F5. The page spun for half a second before a green notification popped up on her screen as well.
“We passed.”
She leaned back against her chair and let out a long breath.
Over the past few days, the two had practically cut off all social contact.
They had verified the checklist of materials three times, and the policy documents were highlighted so much that the paper was starting to fray.
Empty packets of instant black coffee were piled on the desk, and the trash can was overflowing with discarded printouts.
Passing this step meant they had finally cleared the most bottlenecked hurdle—the personnel materials—for establishing the studio.
At two in the afternoon, the two of them took their printed receipts and knocked on the door of Jiang Yue's apartment.
Jiang Yue scanned the certificate numbers and verification results on his phone. Once he confirmed everything was valid, he picked up two pre-prepared agreements from the coffee table and slid them over.
“Sign them. Starting today, you are officially on probation.”
The base salary during the probation period was eight thousand yuan.
Upon graduation, this would transition into a formal employment contract with a base salary of ten thousand yuan, full social security and housing fund contributions, and project bonuses calculated separately.
Chen Fei gripped the pen with sweaty palms and signed his name in the Party B column.
Su Qing signed faster than he did.
After signing, she double-checked the page numbers, date, and appendix list before finally putting the cap back on her pen.
A week later, in an old but highly secure creative park in Changning District, a 120-square-meter loft became their new headquarters.
Four desks were set up on the first floor.
Su Qing managed the accounts, contract filing, and receipts.
Chen Fei claimed the spot by the window, his computer loaded with editing software and hard drives full of raw footage.
The second floor served as Jiang Yue's private office and meeting room.
Standing on a stepladder, Jiang Kaiwen hung the wooden plaque for Yuchuan Media Studio, adorned with gold-leaf lettering, on the right side of the entrance.
He hopped down, brushed the dust off his hands, and stared at the sign for a few seconds before grinning widely.
Their ragtag crew was officially open for business.
Jiang Yue stood at the door and glanced at the plaque.
From stepping in as a last-minute replacement on a film set to now having his own team, the journey hadn't been long, yet it felt as though an eternity had passed.
Fortunately, the first step had successfully landed.
As May arrived, Jiang Yue turned down several scripts that had come his way.
The scripts weren't unreadable, but the roles were highly repetitive—mostly gloomy villains or high-IQ psychopaths.
The production companies wanted to ride the wave of Shen Xu's popularity, but the stories they offered lacked any real novelty.
Cashing in on the same archetype worked once, but continuing to do so would only pigeonhole him.
Over at Yuantu Technology, Li Hai was leading the team to run projects in other provinces, so Jiang Yue only occasionally reviewed core data remotely.
The rest of his time was spent commuting between his apartment and the studio.
He would draw the curtains and turn on the projector.
Professional acting textbooks were piled on the coffee table next to handwritten notes.
Jiang Yue analyzed films frame by frame.
He would rewind a single shot a dozen times to study the subtle changes in an actor's breathing. He would also stand in front of a mirror, repeatedly adjusting the tension around his eyes, jaw, and neck.
While his system traits raised the ceiling of his skills, it was this day-in, day-out practice of muscle control and emotional resonance that laid a solid foundation.
By mid-May, the promotion and distribution work group for 《The Grand Game》 began buzzing with frequent notifications.
To secure a prime slot for the summer release, the production company had poured massive funding into paving the way.
The timeline Xu Pingqiu had previously hinted at remained unchanged, and everything was moving forward according to plan.
The first wave of promotional material was a thirty-second ensemble cast teaser.
Along with it, individual character posters for the main cast and authorization for behind-the-scenes footage were released.
On the first floor of the studio, Chen Fei looked at the material list sent by the crew's promotion coordinator in the work group and sent a message in their internal group chat.
[Boss, the crew just sent out a notice. All actors are required to repost the announcement on Weibo with the designated hashtag today at 2:00 PM.]
A dozen seconds later, Jiang Yue came down from the second floor.
“How do you plan to post it?”
Chen Fei turned his computer screen toward him.
“Just posting the poster is too dry.”
He opened his editing software. The timeline was packed with dense audio tracks and video clips.
“The crew gave us authorization for behind-the-scenes footage, so I picked a few unused cuts from your night scenes and action scenes to edit a one-minute behind-the-scenes video.”
Jiang Yue pulled up a chair, sat down, and clicked play.
The footage was raw and unpolished by filters.
The first shot showed him huddled on a folding stool in a corner, wearing his costume, head down as he made notes on his script with a serious expression.
In the next second, the scene cut to the courtyard of the hostage prince's residence.
Purple robes billowed.
Snatching the sword, twirling it, and slashing downward—the entire sequence was clean and crisp.
As the blade came down, the stuntmen waiting on the sidelines instinctively took a step back.
In the final shot, the director called cut.
Jiang Yue immediately stepped out of Chu Yan's character, took a towel, and thanked the staff for their hard work.
The video was fast-paced and perfectly synced to the beat.
After watching it, Jiang Yue patted Chen Fei on the shoulder.
“Let's post this.”
He pulled out his phone and logged into his Weibo account.
He wasn't particularly addicted to social media, but since he was in this line of work now, meeting the fans' expectations was part of the job.
Rate on N.U.
