Chapter 97: Healing Through Conversation, Therapy by Words

After entering the room, Mo Fei and Wu Miao took off their masks. The arrival of a group of adults made the already cramped room feel even more confined.

Old Deng glanced around and saw that the five guests had filled up the seldom-used sofa, so he simply sat cross-legged on the floor. “Let me be clear: letting you in doesn’t mean I agree to work with you.”

“This is for your own good, too. If the story I write touches any forbidden line, you’ll all be implicated with me.” When speaking of his profession, Old Deng’s tone was still bitter.

These days, literary creation is fraught with sensitive areas. It was once a time of flourishing diversity, but now, cuts come from all directions. Unfortunately for Old Deng, everything he used to write lands squarely in the cut zones.

More than ten years of writing, and not a single representative work—after all this time, he’s still a newcomer. If he doesn’t follow trends online, he can’t even make a living; if he does, he can’t let go of his golden pen; and when he finally puts it down, he realizes the online literary world is no easier to navigate.

It’s simply hopeless.

His overly pessimistic attitude made both Director Wang and the screenwriter uneasy. Everyone unconsciously turned their gaze to Mo Fei. After all, it was because he spoke up at the door that they were allowed inside.

It’s up to you now, brother!

Mo Fei felt the weight of everyone’s expectations pressing down on him. Bearing the hopes of the whole village—it was truly a heavy feeling.

He cleared his throat and spoke to Old Deng in a gentle, steady voice: “Everyone in our crew has years of experience. Don’t worry about crossing any lines—even if you do, we’ll catch it in time and fix it. There’s nothing to fear.”

As he finished, Director Wang and the screenwriter nodded repeatedly at the side. What a good tongue—persuading without provoking, making it sound so agreeable.

Old Deng shook his head. “It’s useless. It’s as if I’m cursed. Whatever I write always ends up banned for one reason or another.”

“Political issues, criminal themes, violence and gore, sensitive content… too much to count.”

“But you haven’t tried working alongside others yet,” Mo Fei looked at him earnestly. “Just like those underdog protagonists, grab every chance to turn things around. As long as you don’t die, keep striving—you might just pull off a miracle.”

Old Deng was silent for a moment, then asked, “Are you giving me motivational platitudes?”

Mo Fei shook his head slightly. “Not entirely. At the very least, things won’t get worse than they are now, right?”

“If you try, the worst that happens is Director Wang’s effort goes to waste, and you still get your payment. The best is both you and Director Wang win.”

“And besides, Director Wang is paying—guaranteed income, rain or shine. If you have to butt heads with someone, don’t let it be money.” Mo Fei gestured at Director Wang.

Director Wang unconsciously straightened his back.

Old Deng looked at Mo Fei, then at Director Wang, and finally at the screenwriter. From the face of this old friend, he saw hope.

Old Deng exhaled deeply. “Tell me what you want written.”

“Yes!” Wu Miao cheered, clenching his fist, his eyes brimming with admiration as he looked at Mo Fei.

Such a reliable grown-up!

Director Wang and the screenwriter visibly relaxed and began discussing the story they wanted to film.

This time, their story was about a police officer going undercover to investigate a case, only to discover the biggest boss is his childhood friend. After a series of inner struggles, the officer ultimately kills the criminal.

The story hinges on the police officer’s conflict between reason and emotion, and the criminal’s stark contrast—appearing gentle but in truth ruthless and devoid of humanity.

Director Wang was confident in Wu Miao and Mo Fei’s acting when it came to this.

His biggest concern was the story’s boundaries. If the officer comes across as too hesitant, it might be accused of slandering the police. If the criminal is depicted as too savage, it might fail approval for excessive violence.

Balancing the tone is an art.

Luckily, Director Wang’s designated editor had the experience to handle this.

And Old Deng, once a legend, was indeed remarkable. Just hearing Director Wang describe his inspiration and the outline, he was able to flesh out a nearly complete plot, full of twists and turns. Wu Miao listened, completely absorbed.

Mo Fei now understood why Director Wang, despite his pride, came in person to invite Old Deng out of retirement.

It was cheap, certainly—given Old Deng’s living conditions and previous setbacks, his fee was probably a quarter or even less than that of others at his level.

This made Mo Fei think of himself.

Equally affordable and useful.

With this thought, he looked at Old Deng with a sense of kinship.

Both attracted strange fortunes.

Director Wang was so excited he could barely resist pulling out a contract for Old Deng to sign on the spot.

Though Old Deng’s knack for getting his work banned was uncanny, he was cheap! Since the crew already had Mo Fei, the “jinx,” what’s one more? Maybe two negatives would make a positive!

With this in mind, Director Wang’s smile grew ever more genuine, his expression toward Old Deng full of sincerity.

Old Deng could tell when someone was being genuine or not. Seeing Director Wang’s sincere attitude, he was moved.

A man will die for the one who understands him—he was determined to help.

With these professionals around, he refused to believe his work would be banned again this time!

In the harmonious atmosphere, Wu Miao quietly tugged at Mo Fei. “Mo Fei, have you been working with the authorities lately?”

Mo Fei raised an eyebrow and retorted, “What makes you say that?”

“The trending topic,” Wu Miao explained in a low voice. “My sister said, unless you’re a serial killer identifying a crime scene, you must be some official big shot.”

“She’s only ever seen this kind of situation with top scholars.”

“No, no!” Mo Fei hurriedly waved it off. “I wouldn’t dare pretend to be a scholar. I’m just doing some minor things with the police.”

Wu Miao looked doubtful. “Is that so?”

Though young and seemingly easy to fool, Wu Miao had survived in the entertainment industry for years—he was actually quite shrewd. Sensing Mo Fei wasn’t telling the whole truth, and that this involved the authorities, Wu Miao didn’t press further, instead asking about some cardplay tactics.

Old Deng, the screenwriter, and Director Wang continued their lively discussion, occasionally glancing at Mo Fei and Wu Miao and nodding approvingly.

Old Deng commented with admiration, “The two of them really seem like close brothers. Maybe we should tweak the script a bit.”

“Two fraternal twins, separated in their youth by circumstances—one adopted by the police and grows up to be an officer, the other struggles to survive among criminals and is eventually chosen as the successor by the gang boss.”

“When they reunite as adults, they feel a deep bond, but one is a cop and the other a thief—destined to clash.”

Director Wang slapped his thigh in excitement. “Brilliant! That’s a great idea!”