Chapter Fourteen: Career Is Secondary, Dreams Are Paramount

“You have such a good figure—it’s obvious you’re an amazing dancer.”
There was still time before the movie, so Tang Zhichu chatted idly with Chen Siyang.
“You can tell that just by looking?”
Tang Zhichu grinned. “You underestimate me!”
In truth, Tang Zhichu had seen Chen Siyang dance before—during the girl group auditions, she had been quite well known for her dancing, though she specialized more in traditional styles.
There was one photograph Tang Zhichu remembered especially well:
A young girl, posture as elegant and proud as a crane, head held high, gazing toward the light.
...
In Hall Four, Tang Zhichu and Chen Siyang’s seats were toward the back.
The theater wasn’t crowded—even as the movie began, only about half the seats were filled.
Chen Siyang, arms wrapped around a bucket of popcorn, paused in surprise when she saw the title flash across the big screen.
“Realm Within the Painting!”
Wasn’t this a film produced by her own company?
She glanced at Tang Zhichu beside her. Was this another deliberate arrangement, or had he just picked a film at random?
Tang Zhichu seemed to catch her puzzlement and said, “There are only a few movies showing right now. Judging by the reviews, this one and a disaster film are the only decent choices. We couldn’t very well go see a disaster flick, could we?”
Chen Siyang murmured softly, “It’s not like I said I didn’t like it…”
Tang Zhichu smiled. He was starting to get a sense of Chen Siyang’s personality.
She reminded him of himself in his last life, during a low point—overthinking, underacting, always reasoning through everything, not realizing that this only made the pressure mount.
Realm Within the Painting was rumored to be the big move of Tianhe Entertainment in recent years—Tianhe being the company Chen Siyang now worked for.
One of the top entertainment companies in the country, Tianhe dominated music with its famous “Tianhe Trio” and had built its empire on television dramas.
This film, Realm Within the Painting, was Tianhe Entertainment’s ambitious collaboration with renowned director Lin Chi—a bold foray into the film industry.

The story’s premise was grounded and relatable:
A minor screenwriter returns to his hometown to pay respects at his family’s ancestral grave. In the old house, he discovers an ancient painting, thinks it might be valuable, and takes it back to the city, intending to sell it.
But as soon as he returns, he gets an offer— a director wants to collaborate with him on a new story.
That painting becomes his secret weapon. What he thinks are dreams turn out to be gateways: through his dreams, he enters the world within the painting, constructing a complete story and an entirely new world inside.
Thanks to these “dreams,” his stories become rich in detail and perspective, his characters vivid and compelling, and his career takes off.
This wasn’t much of a date movie—more like one of those strange urban films.
But for movie lovers, it was certainly intriguing.
What was the true nature of the painting? Was it the dream that controlled everything, or the painting itself?
Especially in the middle of the film, when a watch is given a close-up shot. At first, no one thought much of it.
But then, when the scene shifted, someone gasped—the watch only existed in the protagonist’s dreams, didn’t it? He only wore it there.
Yet when he returned to reality, the watch remained on his wrist, and he hadn’t even noticed.
Chen Siyang watched intently, sometimes leaning in to whisper to Tang Zhichu, “I think maybe he hasn’t woken up—he’s still dreaming, or maybe he’s still in the painting?”
Tang Zhichu replied, “Or maybe the things he creates in his dreams can materialize in reality, and he just hasn’t realized it?”
Chen Siyang shook her head. “No, if that were the case, the story couldn’t progress. You can’t have two worlds by the end, can you? From a screenwriter’s perspective, that wouldn’t work—it would be hard to handle.”
Tang Zhichu said, “But the movie’s called Realm Within the Painting, so maybe there really are two worlds?”
Chen Siyang answered, “There’s definitely a world within the painting, but I don’t think things can materialize. If they could, the plot would be too trite. Once the protagonist discovers this ability, he could just conjure up money, and that would be it. I think the story will either have the protagonist remain forever in the painting’s world, without even realizing it, or the painting somehow alters his memory, so he brings something back to reality…”
Chen Siyang was genuinely engaged, analyzing the plot from a screenwriter’s or director’s perspective—her area of expertise.
When she watched movies, she didn’t just guess at the characters’ motivations—she tried to deduce the intentions of the screenwriter and director as well.
When Tang Zhichu fell silent, Chen Siyang snapped back to herself. She thought for a long moment, then tugged at Tang Zhichu’s sleeve.
Tang Zhichu leaned in closer.
Chen Siyang whispered, “I… I didn’t mean to dismiss your idea. Of course, maybe it really is about things materializing—if the focus is on the protagonist, maybe this power is just meant as his special ability. That logic works too.”
Tang Zhichu smiled. This silly girl even had to be scrupulously honest when comforting someone.
He pressed the dried plums in his hand into hers and said softly, “You’ve already convinced me, but now you’re giving me a different theory. Which one am I supposed to believe?”

Chen Siyang pouted. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
Tang Zhichu countered, “But you’re the expert here. Of course I trust you.”
Chen Siyang froze. For some reason, her nose tingled and her eyes stung. Yes—this was her area of expertise.
“If you played the investor in this film, you’d be even more impressive than the actress who does,” Tang Zhichu added.
“I’m not as good as you say.”
“You’re even better than I say.”
“Why?”
“It’s just a feeling. Like right now, watching this movie with you—the way you focus, the way you analyze films, it’s different from everyone else. That’s where you shine. Think about it, Chen Siyang—five foot eight, refined features, cool elegance with a hint of edginess, a stunning figure. Imagine you in a business suit—how striking would that be? And in period costume? Just picturing it, I think it would be beautiful…”
Chen Siyang quickly grabbed his arm, both embarrassed and annoyed. “Stop it.”
“Why shouldn’t I say it? In my eyes, you’re just waiting for the right opportunity. When it comes, all those so-called rising stars in the industry won’t stand a chance… Hey, why are you covering my mouth—okay, okay, I’ll stop.”
If it weren’t for the darkness in the theater, Tang Zhichu would have seen her face flushed as crimson as blood, her eyes shining like autumn water.
Was it embarrassment? The thrill of being acknowledged? The bitterness of long-suppressed self-doubt? Or just the simple comfort of hearing, “You’re the expert, of course I trust you”?
Time passed like this for a long, long while.
At last, Chen Siyang spoke again. “Tang Zhichu.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think a woman’s career is important?”
Tang Zhichu paused, silent for a moment, then replied, “Career isn’t important. Dreams are.”
Once again, Chen Siyang felt her nose sting and her vision blur. Two warm tears slipped down her cheeks.