The next day.
At the studio.
It was 9 in the morning when Yao Jiancai arrived wearing a down jacket.
"Teacher Yao, you're here?"
"Where's Director Zhang?"
"He's upstairs on the balcony basking in the sun."
"Heh, what sun can there be in the middle of winter?"
"The work progress for the Spring Festival Gala has been shelved, so there's nothing for Director Zhang to do at the moment."
"I'll go look for him."
Out on the balcony.
Zhang Ye really was basking in the sun in a chair.
Yao Jiancai said in a speechless manner, "Kid, aren't you cold?"
"Old Yao, you're here?" Zhang Ye crossed his legs and put on the demeanor of an artistic youth. "Of course I'm cold, but it can't be colder than what I'm feeling in my heart. In this cold wind, I can feel the loneliness of the world."
Yao Jiancai rolled his eyes. "Why are you quoting some essay?"
"Then what should I do?" Zhang Ye said idly.
