Volume Two: Shadows of the Past Chapter Fifty-Six: The Challenge to Prove Oneself!

Since the conversation had reached this point, Chen Jing naturally could not back down. With his masculine pride at stake, he had no choice but to bite the bullet.

Chen Jing said, feeling a bit guilty, "If that’s how you see it, Sister Lin Xi, I won’t deny it."

Lin Xi continued to look at Chen Jing with a half-smile, saying nothing. She wanted to see what exactly Chen Jing was trying to express.

Seeing her silence, Chen Jing assumed she didn't believe him. He couldn't hold back anymore and retorted indignantly, "If it had been me instead of Xu Ce back then, I definitely would have passed your test, Sister Lin Xi."

At these words, Lin Xi cast a sidelong glance at him. She looked at the confident Chen Jing, her phoenix eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment, she parted her lips: "Then, would you like a chance to prove it?"

"Huh? What chance? How?" Chen Jing asked, curious.

How could one even prove such a thing? No, wait! She’s giving me a chance to prove myself! Could it be... is Sister Lin Xi hinting at...

Considering that possibility, Chen Jing looked at Lin Xi with a stunned expression. "Sister Lin Xi, surely the chance you’re talking about isn’t... doing *that*?" He felt a bit embarrassed to say it out loud.

Seeing Chen Jing’s strange expression, Lin Xi realized he had misunderstood. She retorted sharply, "Where is your mind at? I’m saying, if you really want to prove yourself, then promise me that from now on, whether it's with Zi Tan, Xue Yue, or Ling Ruohan, you won’t have any intimate relations with them until a formal relationship is established or you intend to get married. Do you dare to accept this challenge?" After finishing, she looked at Chen Jing provocatively, waiting for his answer.

Only after hearing her explanation did Chen Jing realize he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. While he felt relieved, he also experienced a slight sense of disappointment. So, Sister Lin Xi didn't mean it that way after all. He had thought the queen was going to make a move on him; he had completely misread the situation. How embarrassing.

Chen Jing laughed sheepishly, "Oh, you meant them, Sister Xi. Haha, well, you can rest assured. I only think of them as sisters—it’s not the kind of relationship you’re thinking of."

"Heh," Lin Xi didn't believe a word of it. Even if it wasn't happening now, who could say what the future held? However, she didn't call his bluff. She simply said, "Whether you do or not is your business; I can't control that. I just want to know if you dare to accept my challenge."

Seeing that Lin Xi was insistent, Chen Jing sighed helplessly. "I told you, there’s nothing going on. This doesn't even count as a challenge, Sister Lin Xi."

"Just tell me if you dare to accept it or not," Lin Xi goaded.

Chen Jing rolled his eyes. "I accept. What’s there to be afraid of?"

"Fine. And what happens if you fail the challenge?"

"Uh..." Chen Jing realized then that Lin Xi had set a trap for him. But it didn't matter; he truly had nothing going on with Zi Tan or Ruohan, so he certainly wouldn't fail. Thinking this, Chen Jing vowed, "Whatever you say. You decide."

"Fine. Then the loser will have to grant the winner one request," Lin Xi said decisively.

"It’s a deal!"

"And no going back on your word!"

Chen Jing and Lin Xi exchanged looks, and both couldn't help but laugh.

Lin Xi was in an exceptionally good mood. It had been a long time since she had been able to chat, joke, and make bets with someone so comfortably; it felt like she hadn't done this since she graduated from college.

After the banter, Chen Jing signed the contract and was about to leave when he suddenly remembered one more thing. He turned to Lin Xi and said, "By the way, Sister Lin Xi, see if the company has a decent television production crew. I want them to film a TV series."

Lin Xi’s eyes lit up. "You want to adapt your novels into a TV series?"

"Yes. I wrote them with the hope of one day seeing them adapted. The timing is about right now, so it’s time to put this on the agenda."

Lin Xi continued, "Do you want to produce it yourself, or sell the rights to someone else?"

Chen Jing didn't hesitate. "Definitely give it to someone else to produce. However, I don’t intend to sell the film and television rights right now. I’d prefer to pay for a crew to film it for me, or at worst, co-invest with others to set up a crew. As for the rights, once I’ve produced it, we can negotiate if anyone wants to remake it later."

Lin Xi nodded. "Alright, I’ll talk to the company for you. They likely won’t agree to the first option, but the second one is definitely negotiable."

"Great, you handle the negotiations with the company, Sister Xi. I trust you." Chen Jing said with a grin.

Lin Xi rolled her eyes at him. "Just admit you’re being lazy."

Chen Jing laughed out loud. "Haha, only you know me so well, Sister Xi."

Lin Xi pouted at him. "Tch! The nerve of you..."

Since Chen Jing admitted on Weibo that he was going to film a movie, the online discussion regarding his actions had never ceased.

Most people felt he shouldn't be making movies and should focus on singing and composing, believing that film work would be a waste of his musical talent. A small group felt that making a movie wasn't some heinous crime; it was his personal wish, and others had no right or reason to interfere or criticize him.

The two sides argued incessantly online. Whenever the controversy seemed to die down, it would spark up again from an unknown source, and the entire internet would resume the debate. Perhaps because there were too many criticisms of Chen Jing, and the reasons given were so bizarre—some of which no rational person would ever say—the casual onlookers eventually grew tired of it.

Consequently, the narrative shifted from "Chen Jing is just bored and looking for trouble" to "it’s his right to make a movie, and no one can say he’s wrong." In the end, the debate was no longer about whether Chen Jing should make a movie, but rather, why he needed everyone's permission to do so.

After a few more days of public discourse, the direction of the discussion changed again, shifting to whether or not people were optimistic about his film.

"I’m not saying this to be mean, but if Chen Jing’s movie is actually watchable, I’ll do a handstand while having diarrhea... actually, never mind, that’s impossible. I’ll just do a handstand while washing my hair."

"You don't need to change your bet, hero, it’s not going to happen anyway. Do people really think anyone can just make a movie?"

"I’m actually looking forward to Boss Jing’s movie. As an old fan who watched his journey through *The Voice of China*, I know he always manages to bring us unexpected surprises."

"Same here. These newcomers don't understand that you can't judge Boss Jing by conventional standards."

"Tch, in your eyes, Chen Jing is just the most handsome man in China and the greatest in the universe."

"Exactly. You guys are so blinded you can't tolerate anyone speaking ill of him."

"..."

Naturally, the comments remained mostly pessimistic about the film, but at least no one was still berating him for making it. This shift in public opinion was, of course, the result of Lin Xi deploying internet trolls to guide the conversation.

"Sister Xi, should we really keep using the trolls to maintain the narrative that people aren't optimistic about Chen Jing?" Lin Zi Tan asked Lin Xi, feeling a bit worried.

"Yes, keep it up." Lin Xi had her reasons. In the entertainment industry, there is a strange phenomenon: things often turn into their opposites when they reach an extreme.

In the industry, regardless of whether public opinion is overwhelmingly positive or negative, if it remains the same for a long time, it eventually causes "viewer fatigue" among the general public, triggering a contrarian impulse. Once the narrative shifts even slightly, the public quickly adopts that new perspective, creating a sense of resonance.

So, Lin Xi wanted everyone to be pessimistic about Chen Jing’s movie. If his film turned out well, the number of people praising it would be proportional to how many were pessimistic before. People are just like that; once you lower their expectations, if the movie is actually good, they will feel it far exceeded their anticipation. This contrast makes them shower the film with praise, voluntarily vindicating a project that was once looked down upon. With enough people doing this, the public sentiment would naturally reverse.

During the period when Chen Jing was focused on filming, Jingrun also announced a piece of news that was neither too big nor too small: Jingrun Entertainment had acquired the film and television rights to the bestselling novels *The Legend of the Condor Heroes* and *The Deer and the Cauldron* by the internet literary giant "Two Worlds Porter," and filming would begin shortly. Everyone was invited to look forward to the upcoming adaptations.

Once this news broke, while it didn't garner much attention from the general public, it caused quite a stir in the film and literary circles.

For the film industry, the most sought-after scripts are adaptations of bestsellers. Because these IPs have a massive fan base, as long as the production isn't unwatchable, the viewership ratings are rarely low.

Currently, the hottest properties were undoubtedly the works written by "Two Worlds Porter." However, what frustrated the three other major entertainment companies was that they had previously approached the author himself to buy the rights, only to be turned away. How did Jingrun manage to get the rights so suddenly?

There had to be something going on. For a time, the three companies secretly sent people to contact "Two Worlds Porter" again, hoping to buy the rights to at least one of his books.

But this time, the result was destined to disappoint them, as Chen Jing had already handed all his film and television rights over to Lin Xi to manage. As the manager and general manager of Jingrun, it went without saying that Lin Xi would prioritize cooperation with Jingrun.