Chapter 35: The Bet

“Jingjing, you’ve got twelve cities to go today…”
“Oh… Yutu, I’ve been learning the pipa in the team…”

Yutu couldn’t take it anymore.
“The pipa, huh? Plucking strings, twisting notes—playing palace and commerce?”
“I’ve played guitar before—I should be able to handle this too.”

No day off today. Yutu left early, and when he did, Jingjing was still asleep, her lips curled in a faint smile—maybe she was still caught in the lingering echo of music…

The screening was just across the street at Broadway. Linglei couldn’t help but count on her fingers with Xiao Zhu: “Five hours saved—five whole hours!”

On screen, that fierce, beautiful girl endured loneliness, bloomed in love, then vanished for love’s sake. The male lead built his empire by day, but by night, he was left hollow, haunted.

After the screening, many guests specifically mentioned Jingjing. Her debut from small screen to big—this level of performance? Unbelievable.

At the end, the veteran director summed it up: “Jingjing’s versatility and dedication are truly impressive. The future is bright…”

For the first time, Jingjing saw the full film in one go. Linglei was speechless with praise. Xiao Zhu jumped up and down. But Jingjing quietly told Yutu, “I realized movies and TV aren’t the same thing at all. I need to think this through carefully…”

By the time they hit Changsha, *Black Eyes* had joined the tour. Director Lü hadn’t seen them in half a year—leaner than ever, but glowing with energy.

Of course. Getting the slot itself was already a major industry seal of approval. And because of the subject matter, official channels—especially the Disabled Persons’ Federation and education departments—had thrown their support behind the project.

Privately, Lü told Linglei, “We might have a shot at an A-list festival. Still working on it.”

The first screening ended. Silence filled the room for a beat—then thunderous applause that wouldn’t quit.

The next day, a celebrity journalist wrote what would later be called a “benchmark” review. The headline: *“Stone Breaks the Sky—‘Jing’”*

It started with “eye technique”: traditionally, blind characters were portrayed with blank, lifeless eyes. But Yang Tongtong, as played by Qiao Jingjing, emphasized body language, movement, expression—everything. Together with the atmosphere, it painted a vivid, three-dimensional portrait of blindness—from despair to quiet confidence.

Objectively speaking, this also reflected the actress herself. Beauty has always been Qiao Jingjing’s signature. But in *Black Eyes*, her character radiated something far more powerful: vitality.

Even more striking? That vitality wasn’t just carried by the story—it was created by her. She didn’t just play life; she brought it to life.

That night, both crews squeezed in a quick dinner. The veteran director called Jingjing over during Lü’s toast: “Sure, the Spring Festival lineup will inevitably be judged by box office—but little Lü, Jingjing—you two are incredible.”

Linglei said she’d start lighting a candle every day from now on, praying Jingjing would win Best Actress.

Any festival? Doesn’t matter.

But Jingjing’s focus wasn’t there. She was deep in debate with Yutu about which character was more beautiful—again, flipping opinions like pancakes. “A Nian’s still the most stunning. Especially that shot—she rides out of the imperial city, turns back, and the desert wind swirls behind her. The mood—perfect.”

“But I *love* Tongtong’s scene at Harvard defense. She wore that white suit—the exact one I wore giving my speech at Tsinghua. You’ve seen it. Total game-changer.”

Another sleepless night. On Lunar New Year’s Eve, Yutu’s team handed in their report by morning. Finally, they could go home.

As the deputy director signed off on the supervisor line, he smiled warmly at Yutu: “Xiao Yu, I called Academician Zhang yesterday. Said your performance in this joint testing and integration was outstanding—really stepped up as a backbone.”

“Thank you, Director! Any other tasks?”

Yutu was eager to leave. “None, none. After all this hard work, you deserve a break—just enjoy the holiday.”

The plan? Launch another project after the holidays, and personally pull Yutu in again. Then, once the old academician finally snapped—deal with it then.

Yutu rushed to the airport, flew to Hangzhou. If everything went smoothly, Jingjing should arrive around 10:30 p.m.—just enough time to settle her in the hotel and wait.

But the genius miscalculated. The flight was delayed. When he landed in Hangzhou, it was Jingjing who was waiting for him.

“Yutu, Wang driver took us on a few loops—otherwise we’d’ve been mobbed by fans.”

“Thanks, Wang. Thanks, Linglei. Thanks, Xiao Zhu.”

Yutu politely acknowledged everyone—then zeroed in on the most reliable one: “Linglei, next time, don’t wait. Just go rest. I can handle it alone.”

Linglei rolled her eyes. “Then Jingjing’ll throw a boss tantrum and dock everyone’s pay.”

“Exactly!”

Truth was, Jingjing was utterly drained. The trip from Nanjing to Hangzhou included two live interviews—pushed down to the minute.

Now that she saw Yutu, her brain shut down completely. She just nodded vaguely. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. Uh-huh.”

Back at the hotel, shower, blow-dry, crawl into bed—snug under the covers.

Newly minted Assistant Yutu? Flawless execution.

Well… almost. Sorting through Jingjing’s bottles and jars? That was a mess. His knowledge base was weak here. He had to read labels carefully just to recognize anything. To reach Jingjing’s effortless grab-and-go skill? Impossible.

Assistant Yutu sighed. This one was tough. How did she even do it?

This was the eleventh city. The hotel sat in Liu Ying Lane—green shadows deep even in winter. Walking toward Hangzhou Department Store, they passed tourists strolling with ease.

Jingjing sighed with envy. “I’ve always wanted to ride a bike around the lake. First, no one would come with me. Then, never had the chance.”

She glanced at the man beside her. Yutu responded instantly, just like he’d answer a professor’s question: “Right. First, it was my fault. Then, it was because Miss Qiao was just too popular.”

Today was the first time Yutu had seen either film. He sat with Xiao Zhu while Linglei met with investors—apparently, they wanted a bet-on-performance deal. But Jingjing wasn’t interested.

Yutu explained the basics and examples briefly. High-stakes, fast-paced growth—definitely not what Miss Qiao was after.

“Hey, Xiao Zhu, stop leaking stuff all the time,” Yutu muttered, finally getting a moment alone with Jingjing after dinner.

“Jingjing, I’ve got a hunch—you’re gonna win Best Actress. Probability-wise? *Black Eyes* has the edge.”

“But I’m just starting on the big screen. Can luck really hit that fast?”

To be honest, Jingjing was already thrilled—deeply, genuinely thrilled.

“So here’s a deal,” Yutu said, grinning. “If you win Best Actress, we register in Yixing. If not, we do it in Shanghai.”