Chapter 46: Blueprint

Chapter 46: Chapter 46: Blueprint

"Don’t just drink tea. Try the specialties here. Auntie Miao’s cooking rivals any restaurant." Unlike her earlier persuasive tone, Irene was relaxed now, like a host.

Chen Shiyu watched Irene deftly remove the fine bones from the fish with chopsticks before eating it. He’d only seen that skill from his grandmother.

"Embarrassing to admit, but my chopstick skills aren’t one-ten-thousandth of yours, Director Irene. I’m disappointing my ancestors." Chen Shiyu avoided the steamed fish and reached for the crispy suckling pig.

Seeing his awkward movements, Irene didn’t comment. She said gently, "Practice makes perfect."

After finishing the fish easily, Irene set down her chopsticks, wiped her mouth, and returned to the topic.

"Since Mr. Chen has agreed to join my plan, I should clarify some things. I trust that a gentleman’s word holds, and you won’t back out." Irene’s expression turned serious.

"Please go ahead, Director Irene." Chen Shiyu set down his chopsticks, sat straight, and met Irene’s gaze openly.

"How familiar are you with the internet?"

Chen Shiyu looked surprised. He thought, then answered,

"Somewhat. The internet connects computers and phone lines. We can send email, browse news portals, and use chat rooms. I think it will change how information spreads." His answer matched a media professional’s instincts, but stayed within current understanding.

"Correct, but it will change the world faster than anyone expects." Irene’s voice held certainty about the future.

"Soon, it will be the ’fourth medium’ after newspapers, radio, and television. No, it will surpass them, becoming a new world—a virtual ’New World.’"

Chen Shiyu asked carefully,

"Director Irene, you’re very optimistic about the internet?"

"Yes. Information won’t be one-way. It will be a web, interconnected and interactive. Everyone will receive and publish, and that will create significant influence." Irene spoke with confidence, as if she’d seen what’s coming.

Chen Shiyu had a realization.

"So you mean we need to build influence in advance."

"Exactly. After you join, your first task isn’t to promote me in print," Irene stated her core intent,

"but to quietly assemble a small, capable team to build one or more independent-seeming film forums or sites online."

"Subtle influence..." Chen Shiyu grasped the point.

"It seems Mr. Chen understands my plan." Irene appreciated his media instincts. She could entrust this to him.

She explained: "When my film releases, your team must generate positive, interesting topics immediately. Analyze highlights, interpret intent, even ’uncover’ behind-the-scenes stories to spark discussion.

If negative reviews appear, counter with rational voices at scale, not just deletion. We want reputation that resonates."

"This isn’t only for the current film’s box office," Irene said, looking out the window,

"it’s groundwork for the future. When our sites gain credibility through quality content and activity, they’ll shift from ’promotion’ to trusted review and information platforms. Then we’ll hold influence over industry evaluation and, to some extent, audience choice."

She looked back at Chen Shiyu. "This needs secrecy, and deep understanding of the internet and operations. I believe you’re the right person. Use your Bridge Journal experience with the rules of this ’New World’ to build this first public opinion base for our cause."

Chen Shiyu felt his pulse rise, and pressure. He understood Irene wasn’t offering a job, but a strategic task with risk and opportunity.

He breathed deep to focus.

"I understand. Rest assured, I’ll find people who understand technology, the internet, and entertainment to build this team."

Talking to sharp people was efficient. Irene nodded, satisfied.

As excitement faded, Chen Shiyu sipped tea. The bitterness helped him regain composure.

"Director Irene," his tone was steady, now with familiarity,

"your blueprint and trust leave me no reason to refuse. It’s my honor to join. But before I start, I should clarify practical matters. That’s responsible to our future work."

"Of course," Irene nodded, appreciating his restraint.

"I assume you mean compensation. Nothing wrong with asking. To make the horse run, you feed it, right?"

Chen Shiyu nodded, a bit embarrassed, thinking: This director uses more Chinese idioms than I do.

Irene took a concise letter of intent from her bag and pushed it to Chen Shiyu.

"Base annual salary is this figure." She pointed to $200,000—a number that would solve his financial issues.

"This covers living expenses. Also, based on project benefits from your intelligence and analysis—whether avoiding risk, securing deals, or future success in the Pacific market—you’ll get bonuses, roughly 20% to 40% of annual salary."

She paused, emphasizing:

"Most importantly, I’ll give you symbolic but meaningful ’founder’s equity.’ Not in a single project, but in the parent company I plan to form to oversee all operations. This means you’re not staff, but an early partner in our cause."

Chen Shiyu looked at the terms, especially "equity," stunned. This exceeded a "job." It was commitment, and ultimate trust.

"I need to sign a strict confidentiality agreement, right?" he asked.

"Without question." Irene’s eyes sharpened.

"In our industry, information is power, and a risk. Your work touches core secrets. Loyalty is the only prerequisite. Any betrayal ends a career. I believe you understand."

His role was critical; no errors allowed.

Chen Shiyu breathed deep, folded the letter carefully, and put it in his inner pocket.

"I understand. This trust outweighs any salary. I’ll prove it’s worth more."

"Good," Irene smiled, raising her glass again.

"You have one week to review it and consult your lawyer. Questions go to my assistant, Vera Cecil. You have her contact. Contact me when ready."

"Thank you for your understanding." Chen Shiyu raised his glass in response.