Chapter 344: Chapter 344: 227: So Eager to Improve, Shooting Up Ninety Thousand Li_2

“It’s hard to say, but I heard they shot a Mid-Autumn-themed MV that received a good response,” Xu Hongjun continued, trying to offer his chicken feet, “Old Yan, you should try them too, these chicken feet are really good.”

“Sure, I’ve watched parts of that MV too,” Yan Daolang glanced at the two men, a smile appearing on his face, “It can’t be said it’s completely useless.”

Upon hearing this, Zou Lewei’s expression changed instantly, cautiously lifting his eyes for a moment to the old fox, Yan Daolang.

“Not very original, it looks pretty rough.”

“What can we do if group leader He has taken a fancy to it? If he becomes the chief director, I’m afraid…” Xu Hongjun held a chicken foot in his hand, “This isn’t something we can speculate about.”

“He’s simply not fit for it, I really want to see what he is capable of,” Zou Lewei’s face was somewhat contorted, his hatred nearly spilling out.

The other two silently sipped their chicken soup, without giving their opinions.

Zou Lewei was young and well-connected, with some achievements of his own. Having his proposal directly rejected by He Guojin, his youthful exuberance was understandable, just pretend not to have seen it.

“We’ll see tomorrow, the person will come over then,” Yan Daolang ladled soup, not looking up, “We’ll know whether it’s a mule or a horse when we take it out for a stroll.”

“What if it turns out to be a mule?” Zhou Lewei asked.

“If that’s really the case, it’d be tough for group leader He to convince the crowd,” Xu Hongjun said cheerily, holding a chicken foot, “Anyway… if he’s all talk and no action, he won’t pass our test.”

The next day.

Qingyan made his way to the designated location, where a sign hung on the door. The sign read: CCTV Chang’an Venue Preliminary Meeting Group Office, and the door was left slightly ajar.

He glanced at it, then entered an empty lounge next door. He looked down at his chat history, which had ended with He Guojin half an hour ago.

He Guojin was still in a meeting, asking him to wait in the lounge.

The preparation process for the Spring Festival Gala used to be competitive, with fierce internal competition. Candidates were produced among the personnel from the Literature and Art Center or the Opera and Music Department, with the final decision made by directors such as the head of the station.

Latterly, as competition became a mere formality, directing the Spring Festival Gala turned into CCTV’s private domain. Subsequently, this transitioned to an appointment system, such as the case with the prominent director Feng Mou.

Feng Mou was directly appointed as the director of the Spring Festival Gala, and he initially took it lightly, thinking it might be an interesting experience. He set a few guidelines, but was dumbfounded upon review.

So much so that upon meeting leaders, a common greeting would often be, “Comrade xx, what do you think of our program?”

That’s what it was like at the main venue of the Spring Festival Gala. The situation was quite similar at the Chang’an branch venue, although it was slightly simpler compared to the main venue which needed both dance and language categories.

Once the director group was confirmed, they would start building the dance group, stage group, lighting group, and backstage makeup and logistics.

Qingyan reckoned that He Guojin must have been from CCTV, transferred over here on appointment. But to Qingyan’s surprise, He Guojin was not the chief director of the Chang’an venue.

But whether he was or not didn’t matter, he would just observe and see how things went.

When it came to directing and planning, he was nothing but a workhorse. Collaborative strategizing and odd jobs he could handle, but trying to act as the lead when unsuitable would be a classic case of hubris.

So he sat there obediently playing with his phone, waiting for almost half an hour.

A thin middle-aged man around thirty with a pair of black-framed glasses and a gentle smile on his face knocked on the door, holding some documents and gesturing to him.

“Comrade Xu, sorry to keep you waiting. I’m He Guojin, please come with me,” he said.

Unsure how to address the man and not wanting to presume, he simply nodded.

“Okay.”

The two of them walked down the corridor, chatting intermittently. The topics were similar to those they had talked about on the phone, mostly related to creative work.

The atmosphere remained fairly relaxed until they bumped into an eye-catching middle-aged woman at a corridor corner, who greeted He Guojin.

“Hi, group leader He, who is this?”

“A very capable young comrade, asked to come over to exchange ideas with our director group,” He Guojin replied with a smile, turning to introduce Qingyan.

“This is Xiao Shujun, the head of the dance group.”

Upon hearing this, Xiao Shujun seemed slightly surprised and took another look at Qingyan. If it were just a normal interview, the conversation might have ended there, but the current situation seemed promising.

“Hello there, little brother,” she greeted.@@novelbin@@

“Head Xiao, hello, my name is Xu Qingyan.” He didn’t dare to call her “Sister Xiao,” to avoid giving the impression of being slick.

Moreover, with his controversial history online, entering a new setting called for listening more and speaking less. Naturally, he wouldn’t presume to know better and opted to observe and learn.

Becoming a sensation was a double-edged sword; if it were just about making quick money, or if all he wanted was to collect all the pieces of Bao Chijie, it wouldn’t have mattered as much.

But as Qingyan sought to leverage a bigger platform, his past could easily become baggage holding him back. Usually, it might not have an impact, but if it came down to a close call, it was another story.

After a brief stay, they moved on.

He Guojin presented a warm demeanor, not arrogant or impatient, and for some reason, carried a bit of a dejected air. As Qingyan walked beside him, he couldn’t help casting a sidelong glance.

To tell the truth, He Guojin was the kind of traditionally handsome middle-aged man in the Chinese sense.

Just the kind of son-in-law most mothers-in-law would adore, with a certain aura about him. His face was regular and gentle, and with black-framed glasses, he had a literary vibe, bringing to mind the idiom “a gentleman is as gentle as jade,” fitting him perfectly.

Due to the fact that he was a leader, Qingyan refrained from making too many assumptions, choosing to dismiss the momentary signs of dejection he thought he saw as an illusion or a figment of his own imagination.

He followed him into an elevator that eventually stopped on the nineteenth floor, and was led to a room marked with a door plate.

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