After Lin Bei took on Tang Tang’s script-writing gig, she thought her career was about to take off. But on the very first day, she nearly blew it.

Here’s what happened: Tang Tang sent her a mountain of briefs, including her character positioning, audience profile, data analysis of past viral videos, and a detailed “persona taboo list.”

Lin Bei opened the list and saw dozens of items crammed together:

Words you mustn’t say: fat, old, ugly, poor, dead, break up, unemployed, fail an exam.

Topics you mustn’t touch: politics, religion, gender conflict, regional bashing.

Movements you mustn’t show in the video: giving the middle finger, rolling your eyes, smacking your lips while eating.

Expressions you mustn’t use in the video: rolling your eyes, pouting, looking impatient.

Backgrounds you mustn’t include: other brands’ logos, sensitive words on street signs, or your bare face reflected in the mirror.

“This and that—nothing is allowed,” Lin Bei groaned, propping her phone up in front of Su Chen. “How does she remember all this?”

Su Chen glanced at the list. “Her team probably has someone专门 responsible for vetting it.”

“But she’s making me write the whole script by myself! I’m not part of a team!”

“So you’d better be extra careful,” Su Chen said, handing the phone back. “What should we start with?”

Lin Bei thought for a moment. “How about outfit styling?”

“You?”

“Why? Even though I dress casually, I’ve got an eye for style!”

Su Chen gave her a quick once-over. Today, Lin Bei was wearing a pilled hoodie and a pair of faded knee-length jeans, with the same flip-flops on her feet.

“Are you sure?”

“…Fine, I don’t know,” Lin Bei conceded. “Then what should I write?”

“Write about what you’re best at.”

“Saving money?”

“Exactly. Tang Tang’s fans are mostly young girls, and their biggest concern is how to live stylishly on a shoestring budget. Write from that angle.”

Lin Bei’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! I can write a ‘Guide to Chic Living for Students’—like how to decorate your desk for ten yuan, or how to whip up Instagram-worthy breakfasts using supermarket discounts—”

The more she talked, the more excited she got. She sprang off the sofa, dashed into her room, grabbed her laptop, and started typing away.

Su Chen watched her sudden burst of energy and couldn’t help but smile. This girl, who usually just lies around like a puddle of goo, suddenly lights up when the topic is saving money.

Forty minutes later, Lin Bei finished her first script.

She rushed over to Su Chen, all fired up. “Take a look at this for me!”

Su Chen took the laptop and began reading line by line. For the first two minutes, his expression was still fairly normal. By the third minute, his brow had begun to furrow. By the fourth minute, his lips were twitching. And by the fifth minute, he slammed the laptop shut.

“Lin Bei.”

“Mm?”

“Do you know what the average age of Tang Tang’s fans is?”

“No.”

“Nineteen.”

“And then?”

“This script of yours—‘How to redeem free laundry detergent with supermarket points’—nineteen-year-olds don’t care about laundry detergent.”

“So what do they care about?”

“They care about how to look pretty, how to date, and how to post photos on WeChat Moments without getting roasted.”

Lin Bei froze. It suddenly hit her: her mindset about saving money was still stuck at “as long as I’m alive,” while Tang Tang’s fans wanted to “live beautifully.”

“Then I’ll rewrite it,” she said, grabbing the laptop back and deleting everything she’d just written.

Su Chen was a bit surprised to see her delete over a thousand words without hesitation.

“Don’t you feel bad about it?”

“Why keep something that doesn’t work? Is it supposed to be a diary?”

Su Chen didn’t reply, but a faint smile played on his lips.

Lin Bei rethought the theme: recommendations for affordable items that boost happiness within a hundred yuan. She listed ten things: aromatherapy candles, dried flowers, Instagram-style lamps, storage boxes, tablecloths, mugs, phone cases, hairbands, nail polish, and journals.

Each item cost no more than ten yuan, but together they could make a rented apartment feel cozy and inviting.

“How about this time?” she asked, handing Su Chen the second draft.

Su Chen read it for five minutes.

“This one’s good.”

End of Chapter 20: The First Day as a Part-Time Screenwriter