Chapter 9 – Ask the Chef to Be the Director
Song Zhibai didn't care about fame.
All he wanted was enough money to afford his mother's surgery.
The good news? Xu Youyou kept her word—she transferred ten million yuan to him on the spot. He no longer had to worry about hospital bills.
The bad news? Liu Shengchao, the only doctor in the country capable of performing the surgery, was nearly impossible to book. Every patient in the country with a case like his mother's was desperate to get on Liu's schedule. The earliest available slot was six months away.
But the doctors had made it clear: Song Zhibai's mother couldn't wait more than two months.
He stared at her pale face, anxiety curling in his chest like smoke.
"I'll find a solution," Xu Youyou said.
She had big plans for Song Zhibai. She needed him alive, grateful, and loyal—and to ensure that, she was willing to pull out all the stops.
[Congratulations to the host! You've completed the task of picking up the bargain. Reward received: Three custom-tailored, top-level film and television scripts.]
Xu Youyou's eyes sparkled as the system alert popped up.
It was like a pillow offered to a dozing head—perfect timing.
In her previous life, Song Zhibai had started off as a nobody, only to be discovered by a major entertainment company. He debuted through a talent show and quickly skyrocketed to fame, surpassing all other contestants. Within six months, he was a top star.
But Xu Youyou couldn't compete with the resources of an entertainment giant—not with their connections or their shows.
This system reward changed everything. With it, she could enter Song Zhibai's name and generate scripts precisely tailored for his strengths.
There were three: a short web drama, a television series, and a full-length movie.
She looked at the short drama script first—and even as an outsider, she could tell how perfectly it fit him.
Right then, the contact she'd been waiting for got back to her.
"This is the script. Filming starts in three days. It'll be wrapped in a month. Before that, I'll get him a coach. Intensive training begins immediately."
Xu Youyou handed the printed script to Song Zhibai outside his mother's hospital room.
He didn't open it right away. Instead, his voice was tense.
"What about the doctor?"
"Liu Shengchao is fully booked," Xu Youyou replied.
The light in his eyes dimmed—but then she added:
"But he's not the only one who can perform this surgery."
"I've asked around. Everyone said he's the only one in China," Song Zhibai insisted.
"He is," Xu Youyou said. "But we're not limited to China."
His eyes lit up like stars.
She smiled faintly. It was almost funny—how he hadn't thought of that himself.
"I hired a top-tier medical agent. They've already scheduled surgery with a renowned overseas team. The operation is set for the end of next month. You'll need to apply for passports and visas for both you and your mother immediately. Visas are tough, so it'll help if you charm the interviewer a little."
Song Zhibai nodded with fierce determination.
He clutched the script in his hand. "I've never acted before. But... I'll study hard."
Xu Youyou gave a perfunctory nod.
[New bargain-finding task activated. Please proceed to the designated location.]
As dazzlingly beautiful as Song Zhibai was, Xu Youyou was more focused on profit. After offering a few words of encouragement, she left with her driver, Xu Fang.
[Host, it's advised you apply for a passport as well—it may be useful soon.]
Xu Youyou, usually skeptical of random tips, made a mental note. If the system said it might be important, it probably was.
"Got it. I'll take care of it," she murmured.
Xu Fang was now her full-time driver. Xu Youyou felt like she had returned to her past life—roaming the city with no clear destination.
But this time, instead of turning down a back alley for gossip magazines, they drove into the university district.
Xu Fang parked the car, then followed like a loyal assistant.
It was Monday. Class was in session, so the streets were quiet.
Following the system's guidance, Xu Youyou walked into a dingy roadside restaurant.
The place was filthy. Greasy tables, grimy floors—it looked like it hadn't been thoroughly cleaned in months.
A young man in his early twenties sat with his back to her, eyes glued to the dusty TV mounted on the wall.
"Breakfast's sold out, lunch ain't ready yet. We also don't do student part-time jobs," he said without turning around.
Xu Youyou glanced at the screen.
It was showing Cinema Paradiso.
She scanned the licenses posted behind the counter. Both the business and food licenses listed the owner as Ouyang Ouyang.
A name you wouldn't forget after hearing it once.
Then it clicked.
The system had led her here for him.
In her past life, Ouyang Ouyang had been a nobody until age 25—just a bad cook running a grimy food stall. Then he found success making short films on social media. With investments, he pivoted to directing and quickly made a name for himself in the film industry.
No formal training. Just raw talent.
In fact, her second brother Gu Shuangbai owed his career revival to one of Ouyang's films. It transformed him from washed-up idol to serious actor.
Right now, Ouyang was completely absorbed in the movie. He didn't even notice Xu Youyou's presence.
Only after Cinema Paradiso ended did he reluctantly turn off the TV. He scribbled something down in a notebook, deep in thought, until his phone alarm snapped him out of it.
"Time to prep lunch," he muttered.
He finally turned—and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Xu Youyou sitting there.
Instincts kicking in, he asked politely, "What would you like to eat?"
"I'm not here for food," she said.
He looked puzzled. "You walked into a restaurant and don't want food? Don't tell me… you're here for me?"
Xu Youyou nodded.
Ouyang immediately became suspicious. He knew he wasn't attractive, and Xu Youyou was clearly out of his league. It screamed scam.
"Listen, I run a dumpy joint, and I don't have any money," he warned.
Xu Youyou didn't waste time.
"I want to hire you to direct a short film."
Ouyang's heart skipped a beat.
He had dreams of becoming a director—dreams he'd never spoken aloud.
He stared at her, stunned. Then his eyes narrowed.
"Are you seriously asking a chef to be a director?"
He snorted. "Sorry, I don't have time for jokes."