A Scummy Alpha Director is Always Breaking Character - Chapter 5

Action follows thought.

Chu Yu immediately grabbed her laptop and began searching for “Char Siu recipe tutorials.” After watching a few videos, it seemed simple enough, so she brought the laptop into the kitchen, setting it aside to follow along step-by-step.

She hit her first roadblock immediately: she had no idea how to operate the dazzling array of appliances in the kitchen.

For a girl who relied solely on takeout or microwaveable ready-meals, these high-end, multi-functional gadgets were like something out of a fairy tale.

Chu Yu: “…”

The original Chu Yu clearly didn’t cook, yet she had prepared such a fully equipped kitchen. It was hard to tell if this was a case of a “bad student having too many fancy pens” or if she should just pity the exploited Su Qingqing.

Chu Yu had a personal habit: regardless of the appliance—from the fridge to her phone—she would keep all the manuals in a single box and place that box on top of the refrigerator.

She wondered if this Chu Yu shared the same habit.

Testing her theory, she reached toward the top of the fridge and actually felt a small box. She took it down and opened it; sure enough, it was filled with manuals.

Chu Yu dazed for a moment.

Identical habits, a familiar-looking box and manuals… were they truly people from two completely different worlds? She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

So, she stopped thinking about it. She didn’t have the time to spare, anyway.

With the tools sorted, the next step was the ingredients. The pork shoulder Su Qingqing bought was indeed top-tier. Not only was it fresh, but it had beautiful marbling. Anyone seeing this meat would feel it was a crime not to turn it into delicious char siu.

As a safety measure, she divided the meat into two portions, planning to do a test run first.

It turned out she was right. Especially when, after an hour of hard work, she took the first bite and felt she should personally apologize to the pig.

Chu Yu wanted to cry. She had followed every step of the tutorial perfectly, so why was the result worlds apart?

Luckily… she had outside help.

Chu Yu’s eyes lit up. She ran to the living room to find her phone. She hesitated for a moment, but just as she was about to give up and go grab afternoon tea instead, she hit the call button.

Su Qingqing took a deep breath. As expected, all the change was fake. A capitalist is always a capitalist.

She picked up: “Director Chu, what are your instructions?”

“S.O.S!” Chu Yu cried. “Qingqing, teach me how to make char siu!”

“Eh?” Su Qingqing said. “I can come back and make it now.”

“No!” Chu Yu said immediately.

This was the dinner meant to bridge the gap between her and Lin Yi. She had to cook a meal with her own hands; it was a matter of sincerity. So, Chu Yu said earnestly, “Just tell me which step I got wrong.”

She sent photos of her semi-finished product and the steps she’d taken to Su Qingqing.

“The seasoning ratio is wrong,” Su Qingqing noted. “Halve the dark soy sauce and add an extra spoonful of char siu sauce.”

“Got it! Thank you!”

After hanging up, Su Qingqing once again looked like she’d seen a ghost. The mental preparation she’d done to view her boss as a “wicked capitalist” again was not only wasted, but the boss had changed even more drastically.

The boss was actually… cooking with her own hands!

The world had gone mad. Even if Chu Yu announced tomorrow that she was leaving the film industry to become a monk, Su Qingqing would probably just immediately start looking for the most peaceful temple for her.

With the help of her “foreign aid,” the process remained bumpy and Chu Yu wasted half the meat, but she finally produced a small plate of delicious char siu.

She cut the pork into even slices and began plating them…

By the time she snapped out of it, she had arranged the slices into a heart shape. The “puppy” flushed red, feeling a surge of inexplicable nervousness.

Is this too ambiguous?

Lin Yi surely knew about the original owner’s unrequited obsession and how it had turned into resentful hate. She must loathe that kind of affection. If Chu Yu laid it out so plainly on a plate, she could already see the image of Lin Yi turning and walking away without a second thought.

The puppy panicked. No, no, no!

She rearranged the heart-shaped pork into two neat, orderly rows. Simple, ordinary, and… safe. She pursed her lips.

She used to think that if you liked someone, you should pursue them bravely. Even though she was “solo since birth,” every movie she’d seen and story she’d read said so.

But now, thinking of Lin Yi, the puppy realized that when you truly like and care for someone, you instead become afraid and timid. Even a tiny detail like how to plate char siu made her worry about scaring the other person or making them unhappy.

But even this kind of worry felt sweet.

The puppy smiled, wagging her non-existent tail happily as she set the plate on a warming mat to keep it hot. She prepared rice, some seasonal vegetables, and—under the guidance of online tutorials and her professional consultant Su Qingqing—simmered a pot of delicious soup.

As dinner time approached, she was so nervous she could hardly sit still. But there were still two hours to go; pacing around would only drain her energy. So, she sat at her desk, picked up the Eden storyboards and script manuscripts, and began to work.

Coincidentally, in the real world, Chu Yu had also studied directing. However, her career there hadn’t been nearly as successful as this version of Chu Yu. She’d never had the chance to direct an independent film. In a crowded industry dominated by capital and connections, she could only find work as a director’s assistant or a script supervisor.

While “director’s assistant” sounded fancy, she rarely got to touch a camera. Most of her time was spent on the director’s personal errands—like walking their Bichon Frise or buying milk tea for everyone.

…Just like Su Qingqing.

That was why she eventually preferred being a script supervisor. She told herself that after completing a hundred projects, she would finally get the chance to film her own movie.

Fortunately, she hadn’t reached a hundred before transmigrating. Now, she was a major director with massive resources. She could film whatever she wanted!

The original owner’s manuscripts weren’t foreign to Chu Yu at all. She soon became immersed in the work.

Eden was a modern literary film based on religious themes. It told the story of an Alpha who loved freedom by nature and a “good girl” Omega she rescued from a psychiatric hospital. The two ran away together. It was a literary road movie.

Chu Yu flipped through the storyboards drawn by the original owner. Most of the frames had blank dialogue and seemed like meaningless shots. Two girls lying on the grass, looking at the sky. A very, very blue sky. Then one girl suddenly turns her head to look at the other.

Or, on the road. The girl in the passenger seat is sleeping peacefully. The girl in the driver’s seat quietly turns down the music on the CD player.

The story ended abruptly there. The original owner hadn’t finished the script.

Chu Yu thought for a few seconds, then picked up some colored pencils and began to draw. She sketched several drafts in one go, drawing all the way to the final scene of the movie.

The end of the movie was a long shot. Two girls sitting side-by-side on a mountaintop. Before them was the rising sun. So grand, so dazzling, so bright…

The Omega turns to say something to the Alpha, only to find the Alpha has fallen asleep. They had stayed up all night on this high, cold peak, waiting for the sunrise… but when the sun finally rose, one girl was too cold and tired and fell asleep.

The other girl looks at her sleeping face with a gentle expression and a faint smile… but when she turns back to the sun, she suddenly looks lost and full of longing.

Everyone is chasing the sun.

She finally seems to make a decision. She stands up, gives the sleeping girl one last tender look, and then turns and runs toward the sun.

The Alpha, who yearned for freedom, stayed on the mountain.

The Omega, who had always been “good,” ran toward the sun.

The movie ends with that long shot—a continuous shot of her running, toward the sun, toward Eden, toward Utopia. Don’t look back. Don’t ever look back.

It seemed like a sad story, but anyone looking at those final storyboards wouldn’t feel sad. You could feel the deep bond between the two girls through those colored pencils and that long, long shot.

When the girl on the mountain woke up, she wouldn’t be angry or resentful. She would only be happy that her lover could run toward the sun.

When Chu Yu’s phone rang, she snapped out of it like waking from a dream, only then realizing that two hours had flown by.

She pressed answer: “Sister.”

That beautiful voice came through the line: “I’m outside your gate. What’s the password?”

“Your birthday,” Chu Yu said without thinking.

The other end went dead silent.

Chu Yu grew nervous, waiting quietly for Lin Yi’s voice. For a moment, only the sound of their breathing filled the line. She stared at the storyboards scattered across her desk. The girl chasing the sun constantly overlapped with that beautiful figure in her memory…

She unconsciously gripped the paper tighter. She thought to herself: The lead role for Eden can only be Lin Yi. No one else will do. It has to be Lin Yi.

“Sister…” the puppy whispered tentatively, “Do you… not like that password?”

After a long silence, Lin Yi said, “No.”

Chu Yu heard the sound of the gate opening.