Quickly hire more people.

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The shortage of personnel was an urgent matter, and the problem wasn’t just the crew being understaffed—Zhengzheng Films, led solely by Yu Zhi, was running on a shoestring.

Though job postings could be made on recruitment platforms, a flurry of events had converged recently, leaving Yu Zhi little time to address this.

The three directors had almost confirmed their participation; only contracts remained to be finalized.

This part posed no difficulty, as the screenwriter app could provide all necessary support.

She arranged hotel rooms for Lang Qingwen and Zhai Duo, who happily checked in.

Late at night, Yu Zhi sat indoors, clutching her laptop as she mapped out a mind map, reviewing and refining her current plans.

“The crew still needs screenwriters, but that should be settled by tomorrow,” she mused. “At least Zhengzheng needs to hire an HR, plus a few people ready to jump in whenever needed.”

With an HR on board, Yu Zhi could delegate recruitment and focus entirely on building the crew.

As for those ready to work at any time…

Yu Zhi thought for a moment and decided to contact her three roommates.

At school, two courses for this semester ended in April.

Another course finished in June, with assignments already given—a 2,000-word essay due by the 10th of next month.

The first and second years’ courses were packed, seemingly designed to free up time in the third and fourth years for them to focus on life.

This summer, they had an internship course; after the new semester started, they needed to submit internship certificates and reports before the thesis proposal.

Originally, Yu Zhi planned to find a place to get a stamp and fake it.

But now, she even had a company with an official seal!

The field even matched somewhat—management was a versatile choice, perfectly suitable.

Yu Zhi asked in the dormitory group if anyone needed an internship stamp; she could provide one.

Someone excitedly exclaimed, “Mom, thank you for saving my life!” and the group chat instantly buzzed with activity.

Yu Zhi added, “Anyone wants to work? For the next while, until summer ends? Internship stamp provided, meals and accommodation included, six thousand yuan a month.”

The other three roommates responded with a chorus of question marks.

Yu Zhi explained, “My novel got picked up for investment; you’re my trusted circle. Mainly, you’ll work with me, act as my assistants, run errands, that sort of thing.”

They knew her well and were all good people. At this critical time when she needed help, Yu Zhi’s first thought was them.

The roommates were stunned.

[Chestnut]: If fortune favors you, don’t forget me!

[Hungry and Want to Eat]: Fine, fine, I knew sooner or later I’d be able to lean on my roommate’s thigh!

[Speak Up, You]: I don’t even want money! Just give me the stamp!

[Chestnut]: Ugh, dragging away, no price gouging!

Yu Zhi’s relationship with them was good; they were kind young women who looked out for each other.

Over the past two years, they had come to understand each other’s family backgrounds and pasts.

Yu Zhi had applied for campus loans and never went home during breaks; even without prying, it was clear her family relations were strained.

Later, during late-night chats, Yu Zhi apologized for keeping everyone up with her writing and mentioned the counselor’s rule against staying out in the first semester freshman year, promising to find a new place soon; she also calmly shared her childhood experiences.

They all felt deeply for her and would often bring her milk tea, snacks, and treats.

They were tolerant of her late-night writing, saying, “As long as it doesn’t bother us, keep writing.”

When Yu Zhi said she planned to move out, they tried hard to persuade her, “It really doesn’t affect us.”

But it did—no matter how silent the keyboard, typing late at night made faint noises.

Busy with classes during the day, Yu Zhi had to stay up late to write; when stuck, she’d endure six or seven hours of frustration.

Even though she bought snacks, meals, and gifts for her roommates, she always felt uneasy about disturbing them.

After moving out, everyone was relieved, but Yu Zhi still kept her belongings in the dorm and returned during lunch breaks.

Only in the third year, with fewer classes, did she stay mostly outside.

Of the three roommates, two planned to find jobs after graduation, one planned to take the graduate school entrance exam. The former had an easier time, the latter was busier.

They knew about Yu Zhi selling the copyright because she treated them to a big meal!

They mistakenly thought the crew Yu Zhi mentioned was the old one.

Yu Zhi said, “It’s settled then! Bo Qiao and Xu Huang, send me your ID numbers; I’ll buy your train tickets.”

Chestnut’s real name was Xu Huang; she loved roasted chestnuts, hence the nickname.

Hungry and Want to Eat was actually Bo Qiao, whose greatest hobby was eating delicious food. During the first two years, she attended every academic forum on campus, savoring the volunteer meal tickets with delight.

She even secretly brought back some snacks from the event’s refreshments for Yu Zhi and the others.

The last roommate, Speak Up, was a bit fiery and frustrated, preparing for graduate exams, her real name was Ping Cong; she found comfort in food.

Yu Zhi herself loved food, perhaps because of her difficult childhood; she liked everything and wanted everything.

The four of them were all foodies.

Ping Cong regrettably couldn’t come; Xu Huang and Bo Qiao were free and said they could arrive tomorrow—Yu Zhi just needed to give an address, and they would come on their own.

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Yu Zhi: “You’re saving lives here!”

In the group voice chat—

Xu Huang chuckled, “No way, six thousand yuan! Which intern gets that much? It’s lucky we’re not paying out of pocket!”

Bo Qiao added, “My mom wants me to intern with my older aunt; I don’t want to go. She used to freeload me to babysit her grandkids—so annoying.”

Ping Cong: “I want six thousand yuan too!!!”

But Ping Cong had to stay to study for her exams.

Yu Zhi reminded them again, “It might be tiring since our schedule isn’t fixed, and there’ll be late nights. The details aren’t clear yet; we’ll figure it out as we go.”

Xu Huang: “Sounds unreliable, but I’m unreliable too, so it suits me perfectly!”

Bo Qiao generously said, “Six thousand yuan, I’d give you my life!”

Ping Cong: “In our major, graduates don’t even make six thousand. Six thousand for an internship? That money can really save lives.”

Yu Zhi: “Not that bad, it should improve once we get going.”

They all howled a few times; Yu Zhi laughed and hung up, leaving the three poor souls to their excitement.

Xu Huang and Bo Qiao could only help with minor tasks. The work was exhausting and tedious, so Yu Zhi set the salary at six thousand yuan.

She understood that amount wasn’t small in this industry.

But she also knew the work would be dull and draining.

Filling in “2” under assistants in the document, Yu Zhi stared blankly at the note “Salary: six thousand.”

She recalled herself in middle and high school, wracking her brains for money; then, she was as small as a grain of sand, easily blown away by the wind.

The future was uncertain, prospects dim, life hopeless.

Yet now, just five years later, this once helpless girl who had to threaten herself to study just to pay tuition was already able to pay others’ salaries.

Yu Zhi tugged at the corner of her mouth, a smile playing on her lips. “It’s wonderful.”

In the dorm, Bo Qiao and Xu Huang were going crazy over the “six thousand yuan” future, while Ping Cong agonized over whether to give up on grad school. The three bounced around excitedly.

Yu Zhi set aside her thoughts and continued with the next task.

She had planned to create an account on a recruitment website to post job openings.

But while registering, a prompt caught her eye, making her suddenly realize something she had overlooked.

“Where is my office space?”

Right, company registration requires an address. When she registered on the screenwriter app, she hadn’t filled out that information in detail—only her personal info: name, phone, ID.

She hurriedly pulled up the electronic business license and saw the company’s registered address was in Maple City.

Yu Zhi: “???”

One glance showed: 24 Lakefront Street, Tanxi Road, Maple City.

Yu Zhi: “So the company really has a physical location!”

Why wasn’t I told earlier!

[Random Task] Congratulations on discovering a new side quest!

“How can a company have only one person? Although you already have two assistants (pending entry), that’s not enough. Finance, HR, operations, legal—all needed! Our goal is the stars and the sea!

First, assemble a ten-person team for your company!”

[Task Reward] Fully furnished office (new task triggered)

Yu Zhi: “…”

So if I hadn’t checked this, would the company have been taken away?

“What does ‘task triggered’ mean?” she wondered.

·

Early the next morning, Yu Zhi woke up just after six and went to check out her office space.

At 24 Lakefront Street, Tanxi Road, Maple City, she found a high-rise office building.

It was quite tall; not in the city center, so the location was a bit remote, but not far from the airport, right between the high-speed rail station and the airport.

She asked the property manager downstairs and was told the building wasn’t for sale and already had an owner.

Yu Zhi: “May I ask the owner’s name?”

The manager smiled, “Sorry, that’s confidential.”

A bold idea popped into Yu Zhi’s mind: Could this entire building be waiting to be unlocked?

Good heavens, what a fortune!

Dizzy, she walked out and glanced back at the building by the roadside. Wow, it was really expensive—or rather, really tall!

Looking back at the “new task triggered” message on her screen, Yu Zhi was one hundred percent sure it was a mission to unlock the company building.

Clenching her fists, she said, “Bring it on!”

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Who could refuse a building bearing their own name?

It’s like handing two hundred million yuan right to your face and asking if you want it!

She decided to find all ten team members on the recruitment app today!

·

At seven in the morning, Pei Zhao was coordinating schedules, waiting for the screenwriter.

Yu Zhi, just back from outside, couldn’t hide her excitement and ran eagerly.

By eight o’clock, another screenwriter arrived—Cai Yanni.

She had prior experience but had a falling out with the chief screenwriter who had taken credit for two of her works; now she was job hunting.

She was in dire financial straits and couldn’t even pay rent, so she urgently needed a new job.

Yu Zhi noticed that the screenwriters the app found were all living in urgent circumstances, but that was normal—life often was.

And faced with Yu Zhi’s offer, most leaned towards her.

Cai Yanni was very nice, brought a portfolio, had a bit of OCD, and was especially able to stay up late.

Yu Zhi happily went downstairs to welcome her.

Cai Yanni was overwhelmed by the warmth and felt flustered.

Yu Zhi: “Let’s head to the conference room first.”

Though she lived in a suite with a reception area, Yu Zhi didn’t like strangers invading her private space.

Thus, the conference room was free, paid for by the screenwriter app—why waste it?

Such a grand place always made newcomers feel pressured.

Seeing the empty room, Cai Yanni was almost breathless.

She said, “So big!”

Yu Zhi led her to sit down, and Cai Yanni shrank into herself.

Pei Zhao and Lang Qingwen also arrived; Zhai Duo was reportedly still asleep.

Yu Zhi gave Cai Yanni a novel excerpt to convert into script format on the spot, and she quickly completed it on the computer.

Regarding professional matters, she handled it skillfully, no longer shy or timid as when they first met.

Cai Yanni spoke rapidly: “Since you said not to correct wording yet, I just reformatted it as fast as possible. Also, because the context wasn’t clear, I marked doubtful parts; they’ll need confirmation later.”

Scripts have a specific format; they guide the crew’s operation and aren’t as free as novels.

A line like “The female lead practices swordsmanship by the lake” is unacceptable in a script; it must include location, time, season, surrounding environment, weather, how big the lake is, time of day—daytime, night, dawn, or dusk? What is the female lead wearing? What type of sword?

Moreover, many novel scenes aren’t feasible to reproduce in reality and require major revisions.

Pei Zhao nodded repeatedly after reading: “Not bad, solid fundamentals.”

Lang Qingwen also thought highly of it.

Yu Zhi looked at Cai Yanni: “Welcome aboard! Do you have any requirements? Salary, accommodation, food, assistant—anything.”

Nervous Cai Yanni froze: “Assistant?”

Do screenwriters even have assistants?

Oh, chief screenwriters do, but I’m just a junior screenwriter, right?

Yu Zhi guessed and gave examples: “Do you need someone to print for you, get coffee to keep you awake, or conduct research?”

She looked at Pei Zhao: “Is that unnecessary?”

Pei Zhao didn’t answer directly but thoughtfully said, “…Your crew seems like a good place to be.”

Yu Zhi: “???”

Huh?

Cai Yanni awkwardly said, “Well, I do have one request…”

Better to have a request than none!

As long as it’s reasonable, it can be fulfilled!

Yu Zhi looked at her with bright, encouraging eyes.

Cai Yanni hesitated slightly, voice low: “Can I get an advance on my salary?”

Yu Zhi loudly replied, “Of course!”

Zhengzheng’s hundred thousand yuan fund was barely touched!

Plus the nearly two hundred million from the screenwriter app!

Yu Zhi: I am rich!

Cai Yanni brightened up: “Then I have no problem!”