Chapter 113

“I want to set up a dedicated Short Drama Studio under our company, using Langshan Village as the filming location. The idea is to shoot a rural legal awareness series of short dramas!”

Wei Sheng was dying to meet the mysterious screenwriter behind *Daji Reborn*.

But the guy only showed up to do his job and avoided all contact with the rest of the crew. Even the director had been threatened not to reveal his identity.

So what now?

Easy. If the only way to meet this elusive writer was through work, then Wei Sheng would just create the work himself. He’d invest in a legal awareness short drama and invite the screenwriter to join the scriptwriting team. When it came time to sign the contract, surely they’d have to meet in person, right?

“You’re seriously investing in a short drama just to meet someone? Do you even know how much it costs to produce one of those?” Zhou Mingxing looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Who said I’m paying out of pocket?” Wei Sheng gave him a strange look. “I plan to turn the untold poverty alleviation stories from our show into this short drama. I’ll invite that screenwriter to help weave in some rural legal education. If the script is good, we’ll have no shortage of sponsors!”

“Old Zhou, want to chip in? If you don’t, I’ll just find someone else to invest~”

Zhou Mingxing: “…” Damn, this guy’s even trying to fleece me now?

“How much are you thinking of putting in?”

“How about we each throw in a Fifty-Cent Army to test the waters?”

“Alright! I’ll transfer the money to you later.”

Zhou Mingxing didn’t know much about the short drama market, but he trusted Wei Sheng’s uncanny ability to attract money.

Besides, didn’t Wei Sheng say he was going to rope in—cough, *invite*—other investors too? He wasn’t going to be the only sucker in this, so what was there to worry about?

Wei Sheng was a man of action. With the housing expo wrapped up and nothing else on his plate, he took advantage of the next few days to get the short drama project off the ground.

As for the investment concerns Zhou Mingxing had? That was the *least* of Wei Sheng’s worries.

His good friend, President Li of Li Ji, had told him multiple times: if Wei Sheng ever had a new project, he had to give Li Ji the first look.

When Wei Sheng called, President Li thought it was some major venture. But when he heard it was just a short drama with a starting investment of only two million, he felt a little insulted.

“Teacher Wei, don’t try to fool me. I already heard from the grapevine that *Daji Reborn* is getting a sequel. We didn’t get in on the first one, so this time, no matter what, you’ve got to include us. The more we invest, the better~ You could totally go big with Part Two!”

Ever since teaming up with Wei Sheng and boosting Li Ji’s national brand recognition, President Li had lost interest in small two-million-yuan investments. If Wei Sheng was coming to him, it better be for a blockbuster starting at fifty million!

Wei Sheng was speechless on the other end of the line.

Who knew investors these days were so easy to fool? He was actually being *criticized* for setting the investment bar too low. What, did they think this short drama still in its infancy wasn’t worthy?

He quickly switched into sales mode, pitching the bright future of this rural legal awareness short drama to President Li.

“Two million is just the initial investment, President Li. Think about it—how many episodes has *Country Love Story* had by now?”

“We start small, shoot one season to test the waters. If it doesn’t perform well, we cut our losses. That’s being responsible to our investors.”

“But if it *does* do well and the returns are good, we keep investing in the next season. We make money *and* promote Li Ji’s products. Isn’t that killing two birds with one stone?”

President Li didn’t buy any of that “might not make money” nonsense. What he really wanted to know was: if the drama was set in a poor rural area, how the hell was he supposed to product-place Li Ji’s high-end product line?

He wasn’t a screenwriter, but even common sense told him that in places where families lived on a few hundred yuan a month, no one was going to spend over thirty yuan on a bottle of premium soy sauce.

In fact, he suspected many people in those areas didn’t even *buy* soy sauce—they grew their own soybeans and made fermented paste instead.

“I actually have an idea about that,” Wei Sheng said. “President Li, have you ever read *The Little Match Girl*?”

“When I was a kid, I remember wondering—what did that roast chicken in the window taste like? I’ve forgotten most of the story now, but I’ve never forgotten that little girl who died without ever tasting that roast chicken…”

“You’re saying we should make Li Ji’s high-end soy sauce the ‘roast chicken’ that the little girl never gets to eat?” President Li mused.

“Exactly. President Li, over the past couple of years, I’ve met people from all walks of life, especially those at the very bottom. Their lives are hard, but everyone has a dream—something to look forward to.”

“Some want to save up to take their kids to the beach. Some want to finally get the wedding photos and gold rings they couldn’t afford before. Others just want to try one of those seafood buffets that cost hundreds per person.”

“I’m thinking the story could start with a box of donated Li Ji premium soy sauce. The kids at a poverty-stricken elementary school who’ve never tasted soy sauce before suddenly receive a box sent by a fan from a livestream. From then on, the whole school gets to eat soy sauce over rice—the kind they’ve only ever read about in essays…”

Wei Sheng shared a few of his experiences from Langshan with President Li. On the other end of the line, there was a long silence—so long that Wei Sheng thought maybe the phone had died. Then finally, he heard a heavy sigh.

“Do it. Two million, right? Bring me the project proposal and I’ll have someone start the approval process.”

“Oh, and those kids at Langshan Elementary… they really haven’t tasted our Li Ji soy sauce before?”

“Ahem—what I mean is, when are you going back there to film again? I’ll personally sponsor a few boxes of soy sauce. Take them with you and let the kids have a taste.”

At 29.9 yuan per small bottle, even that stingy Principal Jiang at Langshan wouldn’t buy it. Heck, most average families in the city probably wouldn’t either.

It’s just too expensive. Even if people had some savings, they wouldn’t splurge on something like this. That’s why the product placement of Li Ji’s high-end soy sauce was destined to become the ultimate symbol of wealth in the short drama—an unattainable dream for the poor villagers hidden in the dust of the mountains. Their fantasy of being rich would be: *One day, when I have money, I’ll buy two bottles of Li Ji soy sauce—one to eat, one to pour out just because I can.*

President Li: “…”

Well, that kind of product placement certainly leaves an impression. It’s practically a lifelong obsession—how could it *not* be memorable?

With Wei Sheng’s creative take on soft advertising, President Li actually started to get interested in the short drama. Wei Sheng promised to have the first season’s script ready in a month. If President Li liked it, they’d sign the contract. Otherwise, even spending two million would feel like a waste—and how would Wei Sheng get him to fork over another two million later?

Ahem—that last part, let’s not tell his good friend President Li. It might hurt their friendship.

With President Li secured, Wei Sheng turned his sights on Jin Yannan.

Time was tight. If he went door to door looking for investors, who knew how long it would take to raise enough money to start filming? Better to go straight to the top. Since Sister Jin knew so many deep-pocketed investors, surely she wouldn’t mind making a few introductions?

But to his surprise, after hearing his pitch for the short drama, Jin Yannan said, “I’ll cover the rest of the funding gap. Just make sure your drama ties in with our program later, okay?”

Wei Sheng: ???

Was this a reverse fleece job?

Still, having a short drama interact with a hit variety show could only help them, so after thinking it over, Wei Sheng readily agreed.

Jin Yannan moved fast. In less than two days, she pulled in a hundred Fifty-Cent Army investors—those same sponsors who’d gotten a boost from the Jiangdong Town miners’ dorm renovation episode.

And what had Wei Sheng been up to these past two days?

He’d been sweet-talking and pestering until he finally managed to arrange a meeting with the mysterious screenwriter of *Daji Reborn*.

“Liang… Uncle Liang?” Wei Sheng stared at the sharply dressed Liang Yi in front of him, utterly stunned.

Liang Yi looked equally exasperated. “Weren’t you the one bouncing off the walls trying to find me?”

“But—but I didn’t know Wang Wu was you, Uncle Liang!” If Wei Sheng had been wearing glasses, they’d have flown off his face by now.

Who would’ve thought that the mastermind behind those absurd, hilarious legal education scripts was none other than the prim and proper lawyer Liang Yi—a full-fledged partner at a law firm?

If he’d known *Daji Reborn* was written by Liang Yi, he wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble. He could’ve just stormed over to Grandpa Liang’s house, thrown a tantrum, and maybe the script would’ve been done by now~

Liang Yi hadn’t planned on revealing his secret identity, but he’d secretly looked up Langshan, the location mentioned in Wei Sheng’s short drama. What he found was worse than he expected. Not only were the locals living in poverty, but their awareness of the law was shockingly low. Even when faced with blatant crimes, many didn’t know they had legal rights, let alone how to defend themselves.

Case after case popped up on his screen, each more mind-boggling than the last, and Liang Yi was so furious he nearly gave himself a stroke.

Take Jiang Cancan’s father abandoning her, for instance. If just one person in the family had any legal sense, they wouldn’t even need to pay for a lawyer. They could’ve gone straight to the local Women’s Federation for legal aid, sued that shameless excuse of a father, reclaimed years of unpaid child support, and publicly shamed him in the process!

Then there were the women kicked out of their in-laws’ homes for not bearing sons, girls forced into marriage by their own families, elderly parents driven to suicide by ungrateful sons…

Liang Yi knew this wasn’t entirely the local government’s fault. Official legal education campaigns usually amounted to handing out flyers or painting slogans on walls. Sure, people might learn that certain actions were illegal and that they were victims—but how to actually protect their rights?

Sorry, for that, you need a professional lawyer.

In a place as poor as Langshan, if the locals could afford lawyers, would they be jumping into rivers out of desperation?

No way! He couldn’t take it anymore! Just reading those cases had already sparked ideas for how to turn them into legal education scripts.

What Wei Sheng didn’t know was that Liang Yi wasn’t just a part-time screenwriter—he was also a well-known contributor on a certain website. Under his pseudonym, he logged in almost daily to answer users’ questions, using storytelling to demystify complicated legal jargon.

The original concept for *Daji Reborn* actually came from a legal education series he’d been posting on that site. He used familiar mythological and literary figures as stand-ins, making it easier for readers to relate—and allowing him to sneak in legal lessons under the guise of wild, whimsical fiction.

Who would’ve guessed that this off-the-wall web series would catch a director’s eye, get purchased, and adapted into a film? Not even Liang Yi saw that coming. A distinguished lawyer like him, moonlighting as a screenwriter—what a twist.

Even more unexpected was how those offhand, half-made-up legal stories became a box office hit. After *Daji Reborn* blew up, everyone in the industry wanted him to write scripts. Liang Yi was overwhelmed and had to beg the director to keep his pseudonym under wraps.

To protect his Wang Wu identity, he even stopped updating his series for a while. Now he didn’t even dare open the site’s backend—it was flooded with demands for updates and angry rants.

It’s not like he wanted to stop updating! But just imagine if his aunts and uncles found out he was Wang Wu. Worse yet, they’d all gone to see *Daji Reborn* just to support Wei Sheng’s movie. The mere thought made Liang Yi want to die of secondhand embarrassment…

To stop Wei Sheng from digging up his pseudonym and blabbing about it, Liang Yi had no choice but to come clean and beg this little troublemaker to keep his mouth shut.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Liang, I’m great at keeping secrets,” Wei Sheng quickly raised his hand in a solemn vow, then handed over a stack of printed background materials. “I’ll leave the script in your capable hands, Uncle Liang!”

“Oh, and when would you be free to go to Langshan for a little field research? I can come with you.”

Thinking of his stalled updates, Liang Yi nodded. “In the next few days should be fine. The firm doesn’t have any major cases right now—might be good to get some fresh air.”

Really, it was just a desperate act of self-rescue by a writer on hiatus.

He planned to visit Langshan for inspiration, then claim he was going into seclusion to write. Afterward, he’d turn some of the local cases into new material, revive his stalled series, and help boost Wei Sheng’s short drama in the process. After all, thanks to *Daji Reborn*, he was now a semi-famous web author.

All thanks to *Daji Reborn*—
(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻

(End of chapter)