Do you even know what kind of bird you are?

Having finally finished reading the script for "Unlucky Bear," Feng Dong let out a breath and gently tossed the manuscript onto his desk. It slid forward, stopping at the other end of the desk, within Zhang Tan’s reach.

Feng Dong leaned back in his leather office chair, rubbed his eyes, and stared silently at a lucky bamboo plant on his desk.

Zhang Tan did not offer any further explanation. He sat quietly in his chair, waiting for his team leader to deliberate. As a veteran screenwriter, Feng Dong needed no extra commentary; having read the first few episodes, he already had a firm grasp of the story’s essence and style.

After a while, Feng Dong turned his head to look at Zhang Tan. "There are eight people writing scripts for this project, and every team is required to submit one. Once you submit this script, it no longer just represents you; it represents our Screenwriting Team Three. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Zhang Tan replied. "I have given 'Unlucky Bear' careful thought, and I believe it is solid."

Feng Dong had already made up his mind. "I can't judge how this script will fare. It might fail at the first hurdle, or it might stand out simply because it is so unique."

For the 50th anniversary celebration, turning the studio's mascot into an "Unlucky Bear" required not only confidence from the film studio but also an open-minded acceptance from the television station.

"So, what is your decision, Team Leader?"

"We’ll submit this one," Feng Dong said. He added, "What else can we do? We have no other options at this point, and we can’t exactly be the only team not to submit a script."

It sounded as if he were convincing himself, reaching a final resolution. Indeed, hesitation was useless; without an alternative, he had no choice but to submit Zhang Tan’s "Unlucky Bear."

"Leave the script with me. I’ll turn it in later," Feng Dong said.

"Thank you, Team Leader."

After Zhang Tan left, Feng Dong sat up and pulled the script back to the edge of his desk. He leafed through it casually. *This Zhang Tan really has some nerve,* he thought. *Isn’t he afraid of failing even at this stage?*

Seeming to look for reassurance, he read through the script again, focusing solely on its strengths. Once he felt sufficiently bolstered, he stood up, took a hearty gulp of tea, walked out of the office, and handed the script to the supervisor.

At two in the afternoon, the supervisor gathered all the team leaders to discuss the submissions. The titles had been sealed so that the authors remained anonymous.

Feng Dong was the first to arrive. A stack of manuscripts sat before him. He flipped through them—the eight scripts submitted for review. When he reached the penultimate one and saw "Unlucky Bear," his heart skipped a beat. He felt a flicker of anxiety, wondering how the others would receive it.

Once all eight team leaders had gathered, the supervisor said, "Let's wait a moment. I’ve also invited Old Liu from the Evaluation Group."

As if on cue, Old Liu arrived. With everyone present, the supervisor emphasized the importance of the project. The Pujiang Film Studio and Pujiang TV were sister organizations, and this celebration required special care.

"Director Ma said that while we don't necessarily need to make a profit on this project, it must be a masterpiece," the supervisor stated. "You have eight scripts in front of you. We are here to discuss them. We will narrow it down to three, talk to the authors, and then select the final two to hand over to the television station."

The supervisor glanced at the clock on the wall. "Everyone, start reading. We’ll go through them one by one in half an hour."

The room, initially noisy, soon fell silent. The only sound left was the rustle of pages being turned.

Back at his desk, Zhang Tan found it hard to focus on anything else. That afternoon, Jiang Rong dropped by and mentioned that Old Liu, the head of the evaluation group, had gone to review the scripts. She had heard it from him personally before he left.

Old Liu was easygoing and popular with the younger staff, so it was entirely possible he had told her.

Jiang Rong didn't know Zhang Tan had submitted a script. When he told her, she was filled with a mix of envy and frustration, lamenting that even though they were classmates, she was still a "junior" while Zhang Tan was already a university graduate. She decided she would talk to Old Liu later and ask to be given more responsibility, hoping he would stop teasing her during every evaluation meeting by pointing out a laundry list of flaws.

Zhang Tan, knowing the evaluation was happening that afternoon, felt restless. He spent the whole afternoon waiting. When the clock struck five-thirty and the workday ended, he figured the results would come tomorrow. Just then, his phone rang; it was Feng Dong calling him over.

Knowing the results were in, Zhang Tan felt a surge of nerves as he walked to Feng Dong’s office.

Feng Dong was standing by the window, sipping tea from a gray thermos, looking out at the heavy traffic below.

"You're here? Sit," Feng Dong said. He didn't sit himself, but paced back and forth, his body weary from sitting all afternoon.

"Team Leader?" Zhang Tan asked.

"We reviewed the scripts this afternoon. Two were chosen, and yours was one of them," Feng Dong said, his tone casual, showing none of the anxiety he had felt earlier.

Zhang Tan tightened his hands into fists at his sides, then slowly relaxed them.

"At nine-thirty tomorrow morning, go see the supervisor," Feng Dong continued. "You'll likely be meeting with representatives from Pujiang TV. Whether or not you’re ultimately selected depends on them, so be well-prepared."

Zhang Tan nodded to show he understood. The company had selected two scripts to give the station a choice. He imagined the other script must have a completely different style from "Unlucky Bear."

"Thank you, Team Leader. I will be ready."

"Go on back. Keep working hard. You've done a great job."

As Zhang Tan drove down West Chang'an Avenue, he saw a small electric scooter turn into the entrance of the Little Red Horse Academy and come to a stop.

A chubby man in dress trousers and a white shirt was shielding a little girl wearing a ladybug backpack. She looked adorable and bewildered, on the verge of tears—it was Meng Chengcheng.

"Don't cry, baby. Go on inside; it's hot out here. Daddy has to go to work."

Meng Chengcheng’s father gently wiped the sweat from his daughter's forehead, seemingly indifferent to the sheen of sweat on his own face or the large wet patch on the back of his white shirt.

As the scooter pulled away, Zhang Tan parked his car in the underground lot of the urban village and walked through the alleys back to the academy.

Heading upstairs, he stopped by the play area to take a look. The children were all playing there. Xiaobai was shouting loudly, demanding to know who would be her "little chicks."

*What’s going on?* Zhang Tan had intended to just take a glance, but he stopped. The children were playing "Eagle Catches the Chicks." This time, Xiaobai wasn't the eagle; she was the mother hen, protecting her brood.

Meng Chengcheng, who had just arrived, was standing blankly to the side. Xiaobai was busy recruiting chicks while simultaneously instructing Meng Chengcheng on how to play the eagle.

*So she’s making Meng Chengcheng the eagle?*

Was she trying to tire the poor girl out? Meng Chengcheng was so timid and muddled; besides catching her own tail, who could she possibly catch?

"You have to be fierce, you know?" Xiaobai was passing on her wisdom. In her view, regardless of whether you’re playing the eagle, a child has to be fierce so that others won't bully them.

Meng Chengcheng stared at her blankly, as if listening to a foreign language.

"Do you understand? ...Chengcheng?! Say something, don't just stand there like a wooden stick... nod your head."

Meng Chengcheng finally nodded, her eyes full of fear as she gripped Xiaobai’s shirt and wouldn't let go.

Xiaobai pulled her little hand away and encouraged her: "Don't just grab me! You’re supposed to want to eat me! I’m the mother hen, and you know what kind of bird you are? You’re the eagle!"

The chicks behind her started whispering, questioning how such a tiny eagle could possibly catch them.

Xiaobai turned around fiercely and shouted in her Sichuan-accented Mandarin: "You bunch of silly kids! You don't know anything! This is a baby eagle! Even big eagles start as baby eagles. If you want a big eagle, I'll go call the director auntie! She'll be the big eagle and eat you all! Do you like that? Are you scared?"

The chicks fell silent instantly, then began chirping again, but none dared to question whether Meng Chengcheng was too small to be the eagle anymore.

Zhang Tan found the scene amusing. Feeling hungry, he headed back to his room to make dinner.