When Jiang Ruotang and Lu Guifan returned to China, it happened to coincide with the start of filming for The City of Sand.

Originally, Jiang Ruotang had planned to cover the 1 billion yuan investment gap himself. After all, over the years, with earnings from projects like Little Sweet Fruit, Xiaolan smartphones, and investments in Shan Hai Century, that amount wasn’t a huge burden for him.

But somehow Mu Xianqing caught wind of it and immediately called Jiang Ruotang. In a rare moment of sarcasm, he insinuated that Jiang Ruotang had grown wings and no longer needed him as an ally—he’d gone and added investment without even involving him, clearly trying to take the whole pie. Blah blah blah. The rant gave Jiang Ruotang a headache, and he could only patiently explain that since he couldn’t be sure the box office would recoup the costs, he didn’t want Mu Xianqing, as an ally, to take a loss.

Mu Xianqing laughed and said if there was a loss, Jiang Ruotang could repay him by selling some paintings—or even sell Muse. After all, several of Jiang’s works themed around Lu Guifan had fetched sky-high prices. He just refused to let them go.

Jiang Ruotang was both amused and helpless, so Mu Xianqing ended up increasing his investment.

Unexpectedly, after hearing the news, Qi Yanfeng and Chen Dan—siblings and old comrades of Jiang Ruotang—also expressed dissatisfaction. They believed they had been through thick and thin together, and even if the film flopped and was mocked, they wanted to face that ridicule together. And so, The City of Sand’s initial investment rose from 1.5 billion to over 3 billion.

This not only gave Jiang Huaiyuan and Fei Jinsong more room to showcase their talents, it also made them nervous—what if they messed up and the audience didn’t buy in?

They went back to the script and brought in many top screenwriters for another round of refinement. One of them was Jian Sha. Dialogue, plot, and character settings were all upgraded again, better aligning with modern audience tastes.

Aside from the story, what audiences worried about most was that the special effects might be cheap and visually unappealing.

At first, Jiang Huaiyuan and Fei Jinsong considered hiring top-tier foreign special effects companies, but after some communication, they found the prices exorbitant, the schedules long, the communication poor, and—worst of all—they couldn’t grasp the unique aesthetic needs of this film. The results they offered were just the same formulaic effects seen in other blockbusters.

Just as Jiang Huaiyuan was growing increasingly frustrated, Jiang Ruotang sent him a video: a CG animation of a flying fortress soaring through a meteor shower. The scale was vast and immersive; the ignition, defense systems, and the transformation of the fortress into a ring-shaped space city were breathtaking and full of imagination—stunning Jiang Huaiyuan on the spot.

“Ruotang, which special effects company did this? Overseas or local?” Jiang Huaiyuan asked, full of hope.

Jiang Ruotang smiled and replied, “It’s from Galaxy Genesis. It’s a promo for their new game.”

“You mean the company where Cai Ji works?”

“Yep.”

Jiang Huaiyuan sighed. “A game company doing movie VFX… that’s a stretch. A short video is fine, but a full-length film? I’m afraid they can’t handle it.”

Jiang Ruotang said, “Dad, several of the overseas companies you contacted actually started out doing game visuals. Whether it’s games or sci-fi movies, both rely heavily on CG. Many top game studios today can match film-level quality in both modeling and motion capture. And plenty of recent game-based movies even reuse in-game CG environments.”

“That’s true… But Galaxy Genesis alone isn’t enough.”

“Don’t underestimate Cai Ji’s influence in the industry. If he says the word, a bunch of studios will respond. Many are eager to support a homegrown sci-fi film, especially after Shan Hai Century was so well received both in China and internationally.”

“Then… should we let Galaxy Genesis have a shot?”

“Sure! Just reach out and chat. Let them complement other domestic VFX teams. Who knows? Maybe both quality and efficiency will improve.”

Following Jiang Ruotang’s advice, Jiang Huaiyuan and Fei Jinsong really did reach out to Galaxy Genesis. They sent over a scene description—the meteor crashing to earth. The imagination and execution that Galaxy Genesis delivered far exceeded expectations. The CG clip they returned was stunning in both detail and rendering smoothness, leaving both directors thrilled.

The apocalyptic vibe burst from the screen—you could just imagine how epic it would be on the big screen.

Soon, the production team officially announced the special effects partners, with Galaxy Genesis topping the list. Several well-known CG companies from the gaming world followed. A project that had once been doubted suddenly gained traction among gamers, with many game influencers saying that if Galaxy Genesis was involved, they’d definitely go see The City of Sand in theaters—even if it turned out to be either a masterpiece or a mess.

Maybe it was because online discussion became increasingly positive, even previously hesitant investors…

Jiang Huaiyuan and Fei Jinsong, however, were famously strict. A-list actors didn’t automatically get roles. The actors had to match the character, avoid diva behavior, and not hold up production.

Before the shoot began, the cast list had already shocked the film industry.

Many netizens joked that if you wanted to know who’s in, just look at the The City of Sand cast list.

The hype was through the roof.

At the same time, Lu Guifan had also returned to China, and their new energy tech company was gaining traction. These young tech elites held so many patents and were so far ahead in innovation that investors swarmed them. Jiang Ruotang had hoped to become Lu Guifan’s boss—but that dream died.

Within two years, the company—named Huaxi Future—went public, and Lu Guifan’s valuation soared, making him one of the brightest young talents in the field.

Their technologies soon infiltrated various industries. They even collaborated across the strait and with the state on hydrogen and perovskite solar cell research.

Once, Lu Guifan had a late meeting. He was supposed to play badminton with Jiang Ruotang, but Jiang ended up waiting in his office. Bored, he wandered into the break room to find snacks.

There, he overheard some employees chatting.

“Hey, didn’t the break room used to only have coffee and tea? When did milk tea show up? Nice!”

“President Lu suggested it. Said brain work needs sugar for energy and it makes people happier.”

“Haha, never thought cold Mr. Lu would actually be so thoughtful.”

“I’ve heard him call his parents before—he sounds really gentle. He also dotes on his little sister.”

Hearing this, Jiang Ruotang felt a slight twinge of jealousy. After being together for so long, Lu Guifan didn’t seem to coddle him much anymore.

What a disappointing boyfriend.

“Yeah, he’s really nice to her. He still carries around a pink pen and this beat-up mini thermos!”

“I’ve seen that thermos—it’s got a sticker from a children’s art competition. Must’ve been a prize his sister gave him!”

“And that pink pen! Yang took it by mistake once, and President Lu chased him all the way to the underground garage just to get it back. Said his sister would be mad if he lost it!”

Jiang Ruotang’s ears turned red.

That thermos? He had given it to Lu back in high school. The pink pen? Lu had picked it out for him during their senior year.

Those two small objects had accompanied Lu Guifan through the college entrance exam, then across the capital, and even overseas. And now that Lu was successful and respected, he still treasured those little pieces of their youth.

Fine then—as a boyfriend, Jiang Ruotang would give Lu Guifan a 99/100. The last point, he’d save for when they were old and gray.

Just then, he felt something gently nudge his head. Jiang Ruotang shivered a little and smiled. He knew it was Lu Guifan.

“What are you eavesdropping on?” Lu Guifan whispered playfully.

“Just listening to your staff gossip about you,” Jiang Ruotang replied with a grin.

“What they think doesn’t matter.”

“What does matter, then?”

“Your opinion, of course.”

“Oh, fine. I give you a bad review.” Jiang Ruotang tugged on his tie. “I suspect this is revenge for me skipping morning runs with you. You always tire me out at night instead.”

“Is that so? Then tonight, I’ll take extra care of you.” Lu Guifan said shamelessly.

“Hey! Can you show a little restraint? You are a CTO!”

“I meant I’ll feed you shuttlecock after shuttlecock without letting it drop for an hour,” Lu said innocently. “But it seems like you had something less innocent in mind, Ruotang?”

He leaned in and peered at him through his glasses.

The old frames left by his grandfather had long since worn out. These new ones were lighter and more stylish—still large and black, but with more polish. He looked professional in public, but whenever he turned to Jiang Ruotang, his eyes gleamed with teasing mischief, enough to make Jiang’s heart race no matter how many times it happened.

“If you’ve got the guts, then don’t let a single shot drop in that whole hour,” Jiang Ruotang huffed and shoved him before walking off.

Lu followed him down to the parking garage and drove. As he started the car, he said casually, “I could hold you for an hour. I’m guessing you weigh more than a shuttlecock?”

Jiang Ruotang blushed so hard it felt like his skin would burn. “One more joke and I’m getting out.”

But on the drive over, Lu Guifan said seriously, “Once you’re in my car, there’s no getting out halfway. That’s a penalty.”

The two of them arrived at the badminton gym in their usual banter. Just as Lu parked, his phone rang.

He glanced at the number and sighed.

Jiang Ruotang saw the caller ID: “Third Auntie.” He sighed too, leaning back in the seat and looking at Lu.

“Are you answering? Or pretending you didn’t see it?”

Though in truth, Jiang was thinking, You can dodge the first, but not the fifteenth call.

Lu Guifan picked up. On the other end came the familiar voice from Chengjiang.

“Guifan, you’ve really made it big now, huh? So successful, you don’t even have time to visit your old auntie anymore!”

The old village had long since been absorbed by the provincial capital, and the villagers were relocated. Ever since Lu Guifan got into university in the capital, this Third Auntie had been obsessed with matchmaking for him. Every time, Lu had firmly refused.

This time, he didn’t bother with excuses like “I’ve been too busy.” He replied plainly, “That’s because I already have someone I love. And yet you keep trying to matchmake me. People say it’s better to demolish ten temples than to destroy one marriage. But you’ve worked so hard to break us up—of course I wouldn’t dare come visit.”

His third aunt was stunned. After a long pause, she finally snapped, “But… he’s a man! How can two men get married? That’s not breaking up a marriage, that’s— that’s…”

“When we were studying abroad, we already registered our marriage.”

“But… but… Auntie is only thinking of what’s best for you! You found a man—can he really take care of you? Will he do the cooking, the laundry? Will he know when you’re cold or hot, and treat you well?”

Jiang Ruotang leaned on his hand, watching Lu Guifan with amusement. He already knew what the aunt would say and silently mouthed along to her lines, making such exaggerated expressions that Lu Guifan couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

“Auntie’s talking seriously with you—what are you laughing at?”

“Auntie, what era do you think this is? We have washing machines, robot vacuums—worst case, we can hire a cleaner. Why should I trouble him with those? Am I missing arms or legs that I can’t cook for myself? My partner isn’t a robot; of course he knows when I’m cold or hot. In winter, he takes me shopping for sweaters and coats. In summer, he knows to turn on the AC. When I’m in the lab, he worries that I might skip meals, and he even visits my parents to keep them happy. Even Xiaowei likes him.”

“But… but your parents said he’s very successful, made it onto those rich lists… A man like that wouldn’t know how to back down. He must have a bad temper, and you’ll have to keep compromising. Things might be fine now, but wait till later, you’ll suffer…”

Lu Guifan sighed helplessly. Jiang Ruotang leaned in with a smirk and mouthed: “Did I make you suffer?”

Lu Guifan pinched his nose lightly and said calmly, “He and I share the same values, same goals. We understand and respect each other. There’s no need to compromise or bow to each other. Besides, Auntie, you just said he’s very successful. Well, so am I. We’re a perfect match.”

Jiang Ruotang couldn’t help but cover his mouth to hold back laughter. A perfect match? Anyone listening would think this was a historical drama.

“He definitely doesn’t know how to manage money. He must be wasteful! Sooner or later, he’s going to blow through all the money you’ve made!”

This time Jiang Ruotang truly couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Lu Guifan pulled him into his arms and nearly squashed his nose flat in the process.

“Auntie, I think you’re forgetting that my partner is actually really rich. He can’t even spend all of his own money, let alone mine. He’s not interested in what I earn.”

“You should let me spend it! I’ll spend it all! Let’s see if I can use it up!” Jiang Ruotang wriggled his way out of his embrace.

“Sure. Didn’t you complain that we had too many winter clothes? I bought the place next door—we can store all our winter coats there.”

“That doesn’t count as spending on me.” Jiang Ruotang pouted.

“I also bought an art studio. It’s near home.”

“I like painting at home.”

“Hmm… I also promised to buy a gallery to exhibit your work. It’s being renovated and will be ready next month. Want to go see it?”

“Just renovated? No way. The air is probably toxic.”

“And… I plan to invest in a movie next year. I’ll invite Jian Sha to write the script—it’s about a modern artist, based on you. It’ll be our seven-year anniversary gift. How’s that?”

“What? Just me without you? Is this a solo film?”

“Whoever you want in it, we’ll include. You can pick the whole cast, alright?”

“Now we’re talking. But that’s an investment of over 100 million. You’re really willing to do that? I’m so touched.” Jiang Ruotang’s tone was increasingly dramatic.

As they bantered back and forth, Lu Guifan tried to say more, but Jiang Ruotang grabbed the phone and cheerfully announced:

“Auntie—Lu Guifan and I will be just fine! We’re a perfect match, we eat well, we have more money than we can spend, so don’t worry! And if you ever want to set Lu Guifan up again, call me! I’ll screen the candidates for you! Let’s see if anyone’s better than me!”

As soon as the words were out, the phone call ended abruptly.

They looked at each other—and suddenly burst out laughing.

“You really sound like… one of those foolish emperors who throws money around…”

“It felt good! If we really have to visit her someday, I’m using that as my routine act.”

Lu Guifan rarely laughed that freely. Seeing his shoulders shake and lashes flutter from laughter made Jiang Ruotang laugh along too.

---

The City of Sand took a year and a half to shoot and post-produce. With additional approvals and review, it finally locked in the Spring Festival release two years later.

The promotional clips were jaw-droppingly intense, featuring explosive effects, sweeping scenes, and rich expressions from the cast, setting the audience’s expectations sky-high.

Originally, the industry had predicted the film would struggle to break even with its 30-billion budget.

But once the trailer dropped, The City of Sand instantly became the most anticipated Spring Festival movie. Pre-bookings skyrocketed.

On opening day, the word-of-mouth exploded like a nuclear bomb. Theaters kept adding screenings, and even 2 a.m. showings were sold out. It broke box office records on day one.

When Ling Song’s male lead reunited with the young photographer in The City of Sand, the audience broke into spontaneous applause.

What impressed audiences—beyond the powerful performances and vast scope—was the film’s hardcore sci-fi aesthetic.

The flying fortress, the massive hydrogen energy cells—these elements left a strong impression. Many experts confirmed the tech design was extremely detailed and entirely possible in the near future.

Online sleuths quickly spotted Lu Guifan’s name in the credits as technical consultant and traced it to his company, digging up detailed info about its innovations and patents.

Even a famous foreign professor on vacation in China saw the film and was blown away by the hard science embedded in its story.

The film’s popularity even drove up stock prices of Lu Guifan’s company.

This prompted Jiang Ruotang to gleefully say while lying on Lu Guifan’s back, “I invested in this movie, and this movie promoted your company. So basically, I invested in you.”

Lu Guifan bowed, “Thank you, President Jiang.”

“No need to thank me. This counts as both of us achieving success through each other.”

Though they came from different industries, a single film had intertwined their worlds—like some inescapable twist of fate.

---

The film’s success shocked companies like Qilin and Yunfeng Group, who had withdrawn their funding. They could only scramble to negotiate streaming rights with Huanyu Pictures after the theatrical run.

This was a massive comeback for Huanyu Pictures.

From being underestimated, to getting huge investments from the Xiaotianguo faction, to the backing of major game and VFX studios—The City of Sand transformed the entire industry landscape.

On the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, many people tried to call Grandpa Qin to pay respects, but he declined them all. He was only waiting for Jiang Huaiyuan and his family.

Since Qin Zhanchao bought shares of Linmodong Media, the two families hadn’t dined together like this in years.

Grandpa Qin was aging, his health no longer robust. After a few drinks with Jiang Huaiyuan, the two families gathered to hear him recall the old days—how he and Jiang’s grandfather built their company from scratch.

Though they had heard these stories many times, this time the mood was different—calmer, more grounded, more appreciative.

After a while, Grandpa Qin turned to Jiang Ruotang, his gaze warm and far-reaching.

“Ruotang, you’re a very capable young man.”

Jiang Ruotang was surprised. He was just about to invite Grandpa Qin to see the gallery Lu Guifan had bought him—but he suddenly realized that the “capable” Grandpa Qin spoke of wasn’t referring to his art.

“I hope you’ll keep an eye on Zhanchao for me. He’s got drive, but he tends to get fixated. His vision isn’t broad enough.”

Qin Zhanchao bowed his head. Throughout the investment negotiations for The City of Sand, he had interacted frequently with Jiang Ruotang—and gradually realized that Jiang’s insights were indeed more far-reaching than his own, and that he had stronger industry connections than expected.

Grandpa Qin smiled faintly. “Or maybe I should say—keep an eye on Huanyu Pictures. Don’t let it fade. That company carries the dreams and ideals your grandfather and I fought for… Don’t let it lose its soul.”

He tapped his chest lightly with his fist.

There were too many temptations in this industry. When the spotlight shines, it’s easy to lose your sense of self—and your original purpose.

Qin Zhanchao looked puzzled, unsure why Grandpa was entrusting this to Jiang Ruotang.

But Jiang Ruotang understood. Grandpa Qin had already realized he was the real owner behind Zheng Huasheng Media.

---

After dinner, Jiang Ruotang stayed to drink tea with Grandpa Qin. Qin Zhanchao sat nearby, listening with calm interest.

“Grandpa Qin, how did you find out?” Jiang asked playfully, like a mischievous child.

It reminded Grandpa Qin of years ago when this boy asked him for red envelopes.

He chuckled. “Once or twice is coincidence. Too many coincidences—and it becomes inevitable.”

Qin Zhanchao suddenly realized what Grandpa meant. It all made sense now.

Jiang Ruotang looked down, finally understanding: from Drunken Immortal Platform to Strange Tales by the Western Window, and now The City of Sand—with Grandpa Qin’s sharp instincts, of course he had noticed something.

“Grandpa Qin, don’t worry. Maybe I didn’t inherit your filmmaking talents, but your craftsmanship and passion—I’ll always carry that with me.”

Qin Zhanchao looked at him in awe.

So he had been the shallow one all along.

While he was struggling not to be “a servant to the Jiang family,” acquiring Linmodong’s shares out of pride—Jiang had already stepped beyond the game, calmly watching him chase after fame and profits.

While he teamed up with the likes of Han Ming, scrambling for traffic—Jiang had already predicted how that road would collapse.

While he leaned heavily on foreign productions and directors—Jiang had long since seen the potential in local filmmakers.

“Brother Zhanchao, what are you thinking?” Jiang clinked his teacup gently against his.

“I was just thinking… I kept trying to outshine the Jiang family in Huanyu Pictures, as if supporting them was shameful, humiliating even. I thought I was a great warrior who’d rise to power. But now I realize—I was just a small figure, trapped.”

Jiang Ruotang looked at him seriously. “Brother Zhanchao, your grandfather and my grandfather’s era is passing. This is our time. I think we can still unite, carry forward their craftsmanship, and create something even greater than The City of Sand. As long as we hold onto that spirit—there’s no such thing as who’s above or below, who’s supporting whom.”

Qin Zhanchao took a deep breath and clinked his cup again.

“To craftsmanship.”

Grandpa Qin watched the younger generation with a smile.

Their era had truly begun.