«Thousand Years» is a significant project. It was primarily funded by the Lu Family’s elder brother’s company, with Lu Chenghe also personally investing some money. He even bought a supporting male role for Little Pudding. To Lu Chenghe, any issue that can be solved with money isn’t worth wasting time on climbing the ranks step by step. For some people, this journey of progress defines life’s value. But for him, the proper allocation of time holds greater significance.
Fortunately, Little Pudding doesn’t seem to mind such matters. Unlike some individuals with particularly strong pride, who might view obtaining things through financial means as an insult to their capabilities, Little Pudding doesn’t overthink it. In certain relationships, such feelings, especially involving monetary transactions, are taboo and extremely sensitive topics. Despite being the closest of companions, such relationships sometimes face a chasm created by pride.
Although Lu Chenghe understands some aspects of Little Pudding’s personality, they’ve never had a truly deep conversation. He’s tried several times but often feels that Little Pudding’s priorities differ from most people’s, with conversations frequently veering off-topic. Thus, when presenting this script to Little Pudding, Lu Chenghe was in part testing the waters.
If Little Pudding had refused, finding displeasure in receiving a role bought with money and secured through backdoor means, Lu Chenghe would have taken note of such sensitivities in the future. However, Little Pudding’s reaction surprised him, yet at the same time, it didn’t. This little guy didn’t seem to overthink it at all. Such a pattern of behavior appears to have become second nature to him.
After all, from childhood to adulthood, Lu Chenghe had taken care of all aspects of Little Pudding’s life—be it food, clothing, shelter, or travel. In Little Pudding’s perception, anything given by Lu Chenghe is entirely natural, without a hint of wounded pride. This complete acceptance and total sense of belonging bring Lu Chenghe immense satisfaction.
Although life in the Lu family household is simple, the people and circumstances surrounding the Lu family are anything but. Lu Chenghe is accustomed to navigating and analyzing various situations and individuals. Hence, his time with Little Pudding feels like his most relaxed moments. Still, now that Little Pudding has become human, certain things naturally can’t follow the old ways. But for now, it seems that even though Little Pudding’s outward form has transformed into a human, his essence remains the same as always—entirely Lu Chenghe’s Little Pudding, unchanged in spirit.
If Zuo Ning knew what Lu Chenghe was thinking, he would definitely feel insulted! Back when he was just a dog, he thought he’d never have the chance to become human in this lifetime. Naturally, he clung tightly to his owner’s leg, hoping to live out his doggy days comfortably, without overthinking anything. But now that he’s human, he’s much more reserved and thoughtful in his actions, at least trying to maintain some dignity as a person. In public, even when he’s in his dog form, he no longer fights Lu Chenghe for food. In private, though, it’s a different story.
At this moment, Zuo Ning, overwhelmed by the script he’s been studying, suddenly transforms from human to dog, collapsing on the bed like a lifeless puddle of dog-shaped exhaustion.
When Lu Chenghe returns to the bedroom, he sees scripts scattered all over the floor and a lazy dog sprawled on the bed. The dog barely opens its eyes to glance at him before closing them again. Picking up the scripts, Lu Chenghe lightly knocks Little Pudding on the head. “Is this how you work hard? You’re joining the production crew next week. Are you ready?”
Zuo Ning rolls over and lets out a weak bark. Even a script that isn’t particularly thick has drained him completely. He can’t imagine how he’d survive if he were cast as the lead in a TV drama.
He used to enjoy being human—it felt freer, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. But now, he prefers being a dog. He feels that being in dog form is like recharging. When reading scripts leaves him dizzy and exhausted, a nap as a dog restores him to full energy.
After asking his question, Lu Chenghe goes to make himself a cup of tea and sits back at his computer desk. Unable to resist, Zuo Ning scratches at the blanket with his paw. “Awoo!” Can’t you show me a little more attention? Is your computer more interesting than me?
Lu Chenghe, focused on his screen, ignores him. Zuo Ning climbs off the bed, trots over on his short little legs, and jumps onto Lu Chenghe’s lap, pawing at him.
Lu Chenghe picks him up and settles him on his lap. Seeing Zuo Ning place a paw on his hand and then lie still, it seems he doesn’t have anything to say—he just wants to stick close. Helplessly, Lu Chenghe squeezes his paw. “You’re about to join the production crew. Filming is hectic. At this rate, I doubt you’ll last three days before wanting to come home.”
Zuo Ning let out a hum of protest. Wasn’t that underestimating him a bit too much? He’d managed to endure half a month of military training in university, hadn’t he? Moreover, there was a perk to Lu Chenghan’s investment in this movie: a major production, and it was filmed close to home. His company categorizes investments by scale and rank. Small, low-tier projects could be filmed anywhere since Chu Hang wouldn’t care for such resources anyway. But any notable, high-ranking productions were bound to be shot locally. That way, Zuo Ning could benefit from the convenience. As long as he performed well, avoided mistakes, and didn’t drag anyone down or let himself be dragged down, he could go home every day without issue.
Though he was only playing the third male lead—neither too prominent nor insignificant—the character was truly charming. Word had it that many people had competed for the role, yet he secured it without even attending an audition. A few days ago, Bei Xiao took him to meet the director. While he didn’t perform in front of the director, the moment the director saw his face, he nodded and said, “Just keep that face in good condition. As for the rest, we’ll polish it as we go.”
Bei Xiao had been slightly worried that Zuo Ning might overthink things. A director who couldn’t decide freely on the cast likely harbored some dissatisfaction. In this society, investors hold the ultimate power—without funding, nothing gets done. So while the director had no choice but to cater to the backdoor arrangement, a director capable of helming such a major movie certainly had some skill. While their words wouldn’t cross the line, subtle digs and jabs were inevitable.
For a young man like Zuo Ning, newly an adult, his age in the entertainment industry wasn’t considered too young, but he was ultimately a newcomer to society. Young talents like him are the hardest to manage. If their careers go smoothly, they might become overly arrogant. If not, they could crumble under setbacks.
Hearing the director’s remarks, Bei Xiao couldn’t help but reassure him: “Some directors have tough personalities. You need to be mindful of certain things. Don’t take everything to heart—let it pass. The entertainment industry is both simple and complex. On one hand, it’s all about connections; on the other, interpersonal relationships are a vast subject. If you ever feel uncomfortable or unhappy, talk to me. Don’t bottle it up. I’m your manager. Your success ensures my success. Understand?”
At the time, Zuo Ning listened while staring in the mirror, marveling, “Good looks really are a weapon. I’ve got the connections and the face—so as long as I don’t self-sabotage, I’ll definitely make it, right?”
At that moment, Bei Xiao felt there seemed to be generational gaps with the artist he managed, gaps he wasn’t sure could ever be bridged.
Recalling Bei Xiao’s indescribable expression back then, Zuo Ning couldn’t help but laugh. He rolled over onto Lu Chenghe’s body, lying on his back and looking up at him.
Lu Chenghe lowered his head to look at him, gave his fluffy face a pinch, then turned him around to face the computer screen. He opened a series of images and asked, “This is a planning map. Can you understand it?”
Zuo Ning studied the images one by one but seemed to struggle. They were all intricate architectural interior designs and three-dimensional network structures. Since he wasn’t an architect, his eyes blurred from staring at them, and he couldn’t make sense of much.
Seeing Zuo Ning’s puzzled gaze, Lu Chenghe chuckled and patted his head. “In Qingniao City, there’s already a small film studio. The land around it was acquired by the Lu family long ago, originally intended for building a large resort. That’s been the plan for years, but now there’s a decision to expand.”
Zuo Ning’s ears twitched. He wanted to ask what kind of expansion, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was barking. Looking down at himself, he debated whether to shift back to human form to chat. Before he could decide, Lu Chenghe continued, “Coincidentally, my elder brother had a similar idea. So during the recent bidding for land, we bought several more plots. Once all the projects are finalized, construction will begin on a new film studio. It will become the largest film studio in the country, encompassing all kinds of scenes—ancient, Republican era, modern, futuristic, and sea, land, and air settings.”
Zuo Ning listened in stunned silence, his heartbeat quickening uncontrollably. If not for him, Lu Chenghe wouldn’t have shown any interest in the film studio. It simply didn’t align with his primary business focus, which had always been in the hotel industry. But now, because Zuo Ning wanted to explore this development direction, Lu Chenghe was directly building a film studio for him. This left Zuo Ning feeling dazed.
Noticing that Little Pudding had frozen in place, Lu Chenghe fondly rubbed his ears and laughed. “If you can persevere in this career until the film studio is completed, your dreams will become a reality. You’ll get to act while staying close to home.”
Zuo Ning glanced at Lu Chenghe. This time, instead of pouncing on him, he leaned against Lu Chenghe’s chest and watched the ever-changing images on the screen. Up until now, it had always been Lu Chenghe giving him this and that, fulfilling his every wish. Even when Lu Chenghe didn’t fully agree, he still provided unwavering support. But as for Zuo Ning, aside from the overwhelming affection he felt for Lu Chenghe, he genuinely didn’t know what else he could offer him.
In that moment, Zuo Ning suddenly had a realization: Just take it as it is. Live each day wholeheartedly, loving with everything he had. Whether or not they reached the best possible ending didn’t matter as much. To have this chance to love someone with all his heart, Zuo Ning felt an indescribable sense of happiness.
In Lu Chenghe’s seemingly perfect life, Zuo Ning knew he couldn’t offer much. The only thing he could truly give was perhaps his deep, unwavering love.
Author’s Note:
Little Pudding placed his paw on Lu Chenghe’s hand, saying, “I heard that unequal relationships won’t lead to happiness!”
Lu Chenghe shot him a cool glance. “Whatever I eat, you eat. Whatever I use, you use. Whatever kind of life I live, you live the same. You tell me—what’s unequal about that?”
Little Pudding pondered for a moment. That logic seemed pretty solid. With a bright, angelic smile, he pounced on Lu Chenghe, covering his face with fluffy kisses.
