The next venue was not a cinema.
That should have made Yang Ruoqian happy.
Cinemas were already cursed. Old cinemas, storage halls, broken screening rooms, neighborhood map points, rejected sponsors, low prices, and manual ticket counters had formed one long road of humiliating accidental competence.
A theater was different.
A theater had stage lights, rehearsal rooms, actors, curtains, sound equipment, fire exits, props, and the kind of maintenance problems that multiplied in the dark.
It should have been worse.
Therefore, it should have been better.
Yang opened the file only because the subject line contained the words:
Rejected materials for filing only.
Rejected.
Filing only.
Two beautiful shields.
Then he saw the venue name:
Red Curtain Small Theater.
"Why is a theater sending materials to us?" he asked.
Lu Shuyuan checked the message chain. "The Dawn Street owner introduced them."
"Dawn Street is a cinema."
