"Don’t."
"The hero arrives," Huo Ting Cheng comnted, but his voice had lost its teasing edge. He was invested now, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
They read through the scene where Li Qian saves Su Wei, his quiet insistence that she wait until morning, that the water’s colder at night. The understated care in his words.
"He’s good," Tang Fei said softly. "Not overbearing. Not dramatic. Just... present."
"Like soone else I know," Huo Ting Cheng murmured against her ear, and she elbowed him gently.
"Keep reading."
The script unfolded like a gentle rain, the house by the hill, the unfinished paintings of Li Qian’s lost wife, the slow revelation that he’d been the firefighter who’d tried to save Su Wei’s brother.
Tang Fei’s breathing had gone quiet, absorbed. Huo Ting Cheng’s arms had tightened around her unconsciously, as if anchoring her while they journeyed through this story together.
When they reached the scene where Li Qian confessed he’d been there the night of the fire, Tang Fei made a small sound, half gasp, half sob.
"He saved her," she whispered. "He’s been carrying that guilt all this ti."
"And she’s been carrying survivor’s guilt," Huo Ting Cheng added, his voice unusually thoughtful. "They’re both trapped in the sa fire, just different rooms."
Tang Fei turned her head slightly to look at him, surprised by the insight.
He t her eyes. "What? I can be deep."
"Apparently."
They continued reading through the bridge scene, where Su Wei admits she sotis still thinks about jumping, through the exhibition titled From Ashes, We Bloom, to the final mont when Li Qian asks her to live long enough that he never has to see her on a bridge again.
When they finished, Tang Fei was crying again, quietly this ti, tears sliding down her cheeks without sound.
Huo Ting Cheng turned her slightly in his arms, his thumb brushing away the wetness. "This writer knows how to hurt people."
"In the best way," Tang Fei managed, her voice thick. "It’s about redemption. About two broken people learning that survival isn’t the sa as living."
He studied her face for a long mont. "You want this one too."
"Yes." No hesitation.
"Then we’ll get it." He pulled out his phone and typed a quick ssage to Huo Qi. "That’s two scripts purchased. How many more are there?"
Tang Fei wiped her eyes and checked the folder. "Three more."
"Then let’s keep going." He settled back into position, pulling her against his chest again. "But if the next one makes you cry, I’m implenting a tissue budget."
Despite everything, Tang Fei laughed. "Deal."
Script 4: Forbidden Love
She opened the fourth file, and imdiately the tone shifted, political intrigue, dangerous romance, the weight of class warfare wrapped in a love story.
Rain fell like silver threads over the capital, weaving the skyline in shimring veils.
From the marble balcony of the Imperial Conservatory, Lin Xi stood alone, her fingers tightening around the black umbrella as the city blurred beneath her.
"Political backdrop," Huo Ting Cheng observed. "This feels bigger scale."
"Pri Minister’s daughter and a musician from the Underground District," Tang Fei read ahead. "Roo and Juliet vibes, but, with class warfare."
They read through Lin Xi and Kai’s first eting, the violin in the rain, the secret music room, and the midnight concerts that beca their rebellion against the world that said they couldn’t exist together.
"He threw his violin into the fire," Tang Fei said when they reached that scene, her voice tight with emotion. "To protect her."
"Stupid," Huo Ting Cheng muttered. "Could have just run with her."
"It’s romantic."
"It’s impractical."
"You’re impossible."
"And yet you love anyway," he said it casually, but Tang Fei felt him tense slightly, as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them.
She didn’t respond directly, just kept reading, though her cheeks had ward.
The script built toward chaos, the Underground raid, the boat escape, the storm that carried them away from everything they’d known.
"Where will we go?" she asked.
"Sowhere they can’t find us," he said.
"And if they do?"
He reached out, brushing the wet hair from her face. "Then let them find ghosts."
"That’s a good line," Huo Ting Cheng admitted grudgingly.
"It’s a beautiful line," Tang Fei corrected.
The epilogue showed them years later, free, performing music for anyone who would listen, their love song called "The Forbidden One" becoming a legend.
Tang Fei closed that section with a soft exhale. "This one’s more action-oriented. Broader appeal. It could draw audiences who want romance with stakes."
"Political undertones might be risky," Huo Ting Cheng warned, "Depending on how it’s executed."
"That’s what makes it interesting." She turned to look at him. "Safe stories don’t change anything."
He held her gaze. "Neither do dead filmmakers. Be careful which battles you choose."
"I’m always careful."
"No, you’re not." But his tone was fond, exasperated. "Add it to the list. We’ll workshop the political elents before production."
Tang Fei smiled and moved to the next file.
Script 5: Beasts... Alpha and Oga
The mont the title appeared, Huo Ting Cheng raised an eyebrow. "Supernatural?"
"Looks like it." Tang Fei started reading aloud. "Werewolves, maybe? Or shifters."
The forest was alive with whispers.
Wind pressed through the trees, and moonlight scattered across the damp leaves like liquid silver. Sowhere in the distance, wolves howled, long, mournful calls that trembled through the night air.
"Definitely werewolves," Huo Ting Cheng confird.
They read through Aria’s introduction, the last Oga, hunted and alone, bearing the mark that betrayed her existence. Then Kael’s entrance, the Alpha who claid he would protect her.
"Because I’m your Alpha."
The wind howled through the forest again, as if the world itself shivered at his words.
"Destined mates," Tang Fei said, intrigue coloring her voice, "That’s a popular trope."
"It’s also overdone," Huo Ting Cheng countered. "What makes this one different?"
They continued reading, the bloodline.. . ... .
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