Chapter 40: White Rose Studio

Han Jiayi retreated into her room, while Bai Renzong returned to his own, dealing with the "resumes" sent to his email.

Bai Renzong was recruiting for post-production, someone who would add subtitles, special effects, background music, and voice-over narration to his videos after he finished editing them. But what troubled him was that he suspected many applicants were simply causing trouble: he clearly needed short videos, yet some sent clips several hours long—what else could that be but mischief?

Among the rest, many videos were not even as good as his own. It seemed as if they’d learned video editing that very day, threw together some random cuts, and sent them over to try their luck.

These resumes gave Bai Renzong a headache. Impatient, he copied and pasted refusals to one troublemaker after another.

At last, he found a video edit that truly caught his eye.

What defines an excellent video? The background music and visuals complementing each other perfectly, evoking resonance, and conveying the creator’s intended emotion precisely.

The video Bai Renzong watched now was remarkable: a simple scene between a five- or six-year-old girl and a young woman, but through skillful editing, filters, and the choice of background music, it became extraordinarily warm and touching.

The editing was quite impressive.

Of course, this “quite impressive” was relative—compared to the earlier troublemakers, this stood out. Bai Renzong wasn’t about to let this post-production specialist slip away, so he immediately replied to the email.

About five minutes later, the applicant added him as a friend and began chatting with him on WeChat.

Naturally, Bai Renzong hoped for an in-person conversation, but the other party was reluctant.

“Can’t we work online?” asked the person named “Paradise Bird” on the other end of WeChat.

Bai Renzong considered and replied, “Online work is fine, but at least you need to show up when signing the contract, right? I’m planning to set up a studio.”

After a brief silence, the other responded affirmatively: “Alright, when can we sign?”

“As soon as possible,” Bai Renzong replied. “If you’re ready to sign, I’ll go register the studio this afternoon.”

“Then sign after you’ve registered,” Paradise Bird replied simply.

Finding this post-production specialist was a huge relief for Bai Renzong. In his work, replying to private messages and handling video post-production consumed the most time—almost the bulk of each day.

His schedule had been packed recently, including tasks like completing the “Lightning Reaction” achievement. It was complicated, yet simple in its own way.

But aside from making videos, Bai Renzong had to deal with fan messages on D Channel and respond to business inquiries—tasks that ate up much of his time.

If all his hours went to chores, he’d never be able to make videos, let alone attempt achievements. So he needed someone for post-production, and another to handle backend messages.

The studio was an urgent mission.

Bai Renzong had his eye on Han Jiayi’s assistant, Wang Bei—a girl with strong work capabilities, and frequent collaboration with Han Jiayi would be necessary...

With that thought, the studio’s framework was already set.

If Wang Bei could handle private messages, Paradise Bird do post-production, and Han Jiayi supply abundant materials, Bai Renzong would gain at least eight hours daily to tackle achievements and seek new content.

Of course, more people meant a share of the video earnings, but it would boost both volume and quality.

Most importantly, he’d have time to acquire those “Appraisal Gold Fingers”—abilities whose improvement was clearly visible.

Having made up his mind, Bai Renzong immediately pushed open his door. At that moment, Han Jiayi was chatting with Wang Bei.

Seeing Bai Renzong, Han Jiayi instantly fumed, ready to settle accounts with this annoying critic who had ruined her persona.

But Bai Renzong greeted her excitedly, “I found a post-production specialist!”

He placed his hand on Han Jiayi’s shoulder, “Let’s set up a studio together—the four of us!”

“With me?” Han Jiayi’s beautiful eyes widened in surprise, instantly forgetting the issue of her ruined persona.

“Yes,” Bai Renzong nodded, “I have little experience in this, and you’ve been pretty free lately.”

He briefly explained his plan: split video earnings three ways—when collaborating with Han Jiayi, they’d each take three-tenths, while the remaining three-tenths would be split between Xiaobei and Paradise Bird. The extra tenth would be kept as studio funds, for future trips or gourmet expenses.

It seemed Bai Renzong’s share was greatly reduced, but the increased video output meant profits would actually rise.

Most crucially, Bai Renzong would gain popularity.

The spotlight would focus on “Old Bai”—he was the studio’s core. Wang Bei and Paradise Bird, working behind the scenes, would not receive the same attention.

In other words, even if others were replaced someday, as long as “Old Bai” remained, the studio would stand firm.

Money was trivial compared to traffic—once you had the audience, money would naturally follow.

Such vision was essential.

For Han Jiayi, Bai Renzong’s idea for a studio perfectly matched her own intentions.

She didn’t want to simply ride Bai Renzong’s popularity; she hoped to strive alongside him.

Thinking this, Han Jiayi nodded and agreed readily, “Alright. But is it right for me to take three-tenths of the earnings? It feels shameless to split profits equally while riding your fame.”

“Better to settle it now, to avoid unnecessary disputes later,” Bai Renzong frowned.

Though Han Jiayi seemed to be just leveraging his popularity, she also provided food content and professional culinary advice—a valuable asset.

“Let’s go, to the Bureau of Industry and Commerce!” Bai Renzong said. “Once we’ve applied, we still need to sign with the post-production specialist this afternoon!”

The three set out: Wang Bei stayed home to prepare contract templates, while Bai Renzong and Han Jiayi went to register the studio.

Filling out the paperwork, the first task was to choose a name.

“Old Bai, what should we call the studio?” Han Jiayi asked, pen in hand.

“White Rose Studio,” Bai Renzong answered without hesitation.

Hearing this, Han Jiayi lowered her gaze, a touch dissatisfied. “So I’m the rose and you’re the white?”

“Isn’t it good?” Bai Renzong smiled slightly.

Han Jiayi murmured quietly, “Makes it sound like I’m pricking you.”

But as she wrote “White Rose Studio,” she was actually delighted—the last time she’d been so excited was founding Yijia Pavilion, when she was ambitious and eager to make her mark in the city through her culinary skills.

Now, leaving behind past failures and regrets, it was a new beginning once more.

(Thanks to Mystical Unicorn, Big Sister Will You, Taeyeon's Little Sun for their monthly tickets, thanks to Autumn Shepherd for two monthly tickets, and thanks to Xi Yan of White and I Love the Governor for their rewards.)