Shen Qi had cryptically told her that she would know in a few months’ time, but Ji Fanyin had simply tossed that matter to the back of her mind on the very same day. She was too lazy to bother.
It was around six months later when she finally understood what his words meant.
That day, her assistant knocked on her door to deliver food to her. She brought with her a box of gifts from her movie fans.
Ji Fanyin wouldn’t just accept any gift from her fans.
She turned down all expensive gifts, be it houses, cars, cheques, watches, accessories, electronic devices, and so on.
She also rejected handmade food and drinks, given the messy nature of the entertainment industry. There were precedents of enemies posing as fans sending spiked food to actors and singers.
Last but not least, she didn’t accept things that were dangerous or disturbing in nature.
It was her studio’s job to sieve out the appropriate presents and reject everything else, so the gifts that eventually reached Ji Fanyin’s hand were all opened and checked beforehand. They collate all of the gifts and deliver them to her in a box once in a while.
As her assistant placed the food in her refrigerator, Ji Fanyin leaned against her dining room table and casually took out a white envelope from the box. Ji Fanyin’s name was written at the top of the envelope, but her thumb happened to be covering the signature below.
She moved her thumb away, only to stiffen up when it revealed the name ‘Chen Yunsheng’ underneath.
… But this isn’t a unique name. There are at least a few hundred people with that name on the internet.
Two seconds later, Ji Fanyin tore open the envelope and retrieved the letter.
The letter started off with a formal ‘To Miss Ji Fanyin’ before proceeding to explain that he was her new movie fan. He mentioned that he had watched all of her movies recently. There were a few more sheets of paper that contained his personal thoughts about those movies.
His writing feels mature. It doesn’t seem to be from someone young.
Yet, at the bottom of the letter where he signed off with his name, he childishly drew a circular object.
“I’m done packing everything in your fridge. I’ll come back in three days. Drop me a call if you need anything,” the assistant said. She was particularly lively as it had only been a few years since she graduated from school.
Ji Fanyin was still looking at the same letter. She rubbed the corner of the letter before suddenly asking, “Has it been a long time since I last held a fan meeting?”
“Er…” The assistant was stumped for a moment. “I think so. You told us that you were lazy and it’ll suffice to just host a few online meetings here and there. Are you planning to hold a physical fan meeting? Your fans will be overjoyed to hear that! How should we pick out the participants for the fan meeting? Lucky draw?”
“You can decide,” Ji Fanyin replied with a smile as she folded the letter up. “But I want a slot for myself.”
“… Ah?”
Their studio had never hosted any physical fan meetings for Ji Fanyin for a single reason: She was too lazy. Her change of mind was welcomed by everyone in the studio, and they quickly did up the announcement post and released it lest she suddenly backed out on it.
There were fifty slots in total, but only 49 of them would be picked fairly. Ji Fanyin was going to choose the last one by herself.
“Y’know, they say ‘the great dao is complete at fifty, fate accounts for forty-nine, and the final one comes up to humans’,” someone said abstrusely. “Friends, I think that there’s something fishy going on with the final slot.”
“You don’t say? We can tell as much!”
“What nonsense are you spouting…”
“I’ve looked at the information submitted by Chen Yunsheng, but he looks normal.”
“… Is that sour grapes I hear? Normal, you say? Just his face is more than enough for him to debut on the silver screen!”
“I never heard of him before… Is he Boss Yin’s relative or something?”
Shen Qi had cryptically told her that she would know in a few months’ time, but Ji Fanyin had simply tossed that matter to the back of her mind on the very same day. She was too lazy to bother.
It was around six months later when she finally understood what his words meant.
That day, her assistant knocked on her door to deliver food to her. She brought with her a box of gifts from her movie fans.
Ji Fanyin wouldn’t just accept any gift from her fans.
She turned down all expensive gifts, be it houses, cars, cheques, watches, accessories, electronic devices, and so on.
She also rejected handmade food and drinks, given the messy nature of the entertainment industry. There were precedents of enemies posing as fans sending spiked food to actors and singers.
Last but not least, she didn’t accept things that were dangerous or disturbing in nature.
It was her studio’s job to sieve out the appropriate presents and reject everything else, so the gifts that eventually reached Ji Fanyin’s hand were all opened and checked beforehand. They collate all of the gifts and deliver them to her in a box once in a while.
As her assistant placed the food in her refrigerator, Ji Fanyin leaned against her dining room table and casually took out a white envelope from the box. Ji Fanyin’s name was written at the top of the envelope, but her thumb happened to be covering the signature below.
She moved her thumb away, only to stiffen up when it revealed the name ‘Chen Yunsheng’ underneath.
… But this isn’t a unique name. There are at least a few hundred people with that name on the internet.
Two seconds later, Ji Fanyin tore open the envelope and retrieved the letter.
The letter started off with a formal ‘To Miss Ji Fanyin’ before proceeding to explain that he was her new movie fan. He mentioned that he had watched all of her movies recently. There were a few more sheets of paper that contained his personal thoughts about those movies.
His writing feels mature. It doesn’t seem to be from someone young.
Yet, at the bottom of the letter where he signed off with his name, he childishly drew a circular object.
“I’m done packing everything in your fridge. I’ll come back in three days. Drop me a call if you need anything,” the assistant said. She was particularly lively as it had only been a few years since she graduated from school.
Ji Fanyin was still looking at the same letter. She rubbed the corner of the letter before suddenly asking, “Has it been a long time since I last held a fan meeting?”
“Er…” The assistant was stumped for a moment. “I think so. You told us that you were lazy and it’ll suffice to just host a few online meetings here and there. Are you planning to hold a physical fan meeting? Your fans will be overjoyed to hear that! How should we pick out the participants for the fan meeting? Lucky draw?”
“You can decide,” Ji Fanyin replied with a smile as she folded the letter up. “But I want a slot for myself.”
“… Ah?”
Their studio had never hosted any physical fan meetings for Ji Fanyin for a single reason: She was too lazy. Her change of mind was welcomed by everyone in the studio, and they quickly did up the announcement post and released it lest she suddenly backed out on it.
There were fifty slots in total, but only 49 of them would be picked fairly. Ji Fanyin was going to choose the last one by herself.
“Y’know, they say ‘the great dao is complete at fifty, fate accounts for forty-nine, and the final one comes up to humans’,” someone said abstrusely. “Friends, I think that there’s something fishy going on with the final slot.”
“You don’t say? We can tell as much!”
“What nonsense are you spouting…”
“I’ve looked at the information submitted by Chen Yunsheng, but he looks normal.”
“… Is that sour grapes I hear? Normal, you say? Just his face is more than enough for him to debut on the silver screen!”
“I never heard of him before… Is he Boss Yin’s relative or something?”
