Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 202 Dark Clouds Over Tianjin, A One-Way Ticket to Milan

In front of the No. 1 blast furnace, hundreds of workers were making final adjustments to the robotic arm, the roar of the hydraulic pumps drowning out the wind in the factory area.

Chen Yan stood on the inspection platform, circled a few places in the storyboard, rolled up the script, and tapped the iron railing.

Wang Yuanchao climbed up the oil-stained iron ladder, his forehead covered in soot, and he was still clutching a walkie-talkie in his hand.

"Director Chen, all gears in the No. 1 combustion chamber are engaged. We've converted the motion capture data from Vita into a robotic arm control program using a makeshift method, with an error within two millimeters."

Chen Yan handed over the script.

"During the few days I was away, we continued filming on location."

He pointed to the red circle.

"For the Dungeon Riot scene, don't wait for me, you take Team B and film it."

"The camera is shoulder-mounted, the focal length is set to 35mm, the extras are not scheduled to move around, let them fight for real, and the medical team is on site."

Wang Yuanchao turned two pages, his brows furrowing.

"Really? There are many laid-off workers from Shougang here, they don't know their own strength, what if blood comes out..."

"What I want is to see blood."

Chen Yan interrupted him.

"The underground city has no sunlight and scarce resources; even half a compressed biscuit can drive someone to fight desperately."

"Cut off the main light source, leaving only the red strobe light in the emergency lane. Leave the underexposed areas black, don't add any fill light."

Wang Yuanchao closed the script.

"You can rest assured that you've entrusted this factory to me."

Chen Yan descended from the maintenance platform.

Below the blast furnace, a black Santana is parked in an open space.

Su Wan stood by the car door, holding a silver Palico security case in her hand.

The enclosure is waterproof and shockproof, and inside is a rough cut of the master tape of "The Wandering Earth" (20 minutes).

Wu Gang sat in the driver's seat, holding the steering wheel with one hand.

Chen Yan pulled open the back seat and got into the car.

Su Wan sat down next to her and placed the safety box between them, the metal lock making a crisp sound.

"Passport and visa have been processed."

Su Wan handed over the brown paper bag.

"Lin Shufen used her connections to get a special flight to Milan Malpensa Airport at 3 p.m.

Chen Yan took out the plane ticket, glanced at it, and then put it back.

"What about Li Jianguo?"

"Quiet."

Su Wan opened her notebook.

"Since the behind-the-scenes footage was released, the boycott order from the five major cinema chains has been lifted. General Manager Han of China Film Group stepped in and suppressed several distributors who wanted to break their contracts."

"Li Jianguo has not spoken out, and the Oriental Cinema's film scheduling system is suspended."

Chen Yan looked out the window at the receding factory buildings.

"His word doesn't count anymore."

His gaze fell on the silver security box.

"If a dog can't bite a person, the owner should get a new dog."

The Santana drove out of Shougang and onto the highway leading to the Capital Airport.

Tianjin, on the banks of the Haihe River.

Inside the teahouse with a sign that read "Undergoing Interior Renovation," incense burned in a Xuande incense burner, while two men in black suits stood guard at the top of the stairs, their waists bulging with hard lumps.

On the second-floor stage, a young woman in a blue dress was singing "The Embroidered Purse".

Lu Haiming sat at the rosewood tea table, pouring boiling water over the toad-shaped tea pet, and the dark red color slowly rose to the surface.

Li Jianguo stood two meters away, his suit back soaked with sweat, his gaze fixed on the peony pattern on the carpet.

"President Lu, public opinion is out of control. China Film Group has issued an administrative order, and major portals have withdrawn their press releases."

His Adam's apple bobbed.

"The behind-the-scenes story about Chen Yan exceeded expectations."

Lu Haiming put down the purple clay teapot, picked up the aroma cup with tea tongs, and poured the remaining tea into the wastewater container.

"Exceeded expectations."

He pronounced those four words slowly.

"In 1992, when I was building the clock tower in Tianjin, I used steel bars from small factories and the cement grade was not high enough in order to meet the deadline."

"The supervising engineer told me that the building has a problem with its load-bearing capacity and will collapse."

Li Jianguo's knee swayed slightly, but he didn't dare to make a sound.

Lu Haiming rarely brought up the past.

Every time it's brought up, it has to involve bloodshed.

"I didn't listen to him."

Lu Haiming took a sip of tea, and the bottom of the cup fell onto the table.

"Later, the building collapsed, killing seven workers."

"That supervising engineer went to the safety supervision bureau to report the incident, but he got into a car accident on the way and fell into the Haihe River with his car."

Lu Haiming stood up, walked up to Li Jianguo, and patted him on the shoulder.

"In business, there's no need for so many predictions."

"If something wasn't done well, it wasn't done well. Making excuses only lowers your standing."

Li Jianguo gritted his teeth.

"Mr. Lu, please give me another chance. I still have a few local cinema chains under my control..."

"No."

Lu Haiming withdrew his hand.

"The cinema alliance will be handed over to Lao Zhou."

"You went on vacation to Hainan during this time."

"Don't go back to the North without me."

Li Jianguo bowed deeply, then turned and left the teahouse.

He understood that being able to go to Hainan was already the best possible outcome.

If he said even half a word more, he might not even be able to find the bottom of the Haihe River.

Lu Haiming sat back down at the tea table.

A gaunt man emerged from behind the screen, wearing an ill-fitting leather jacket, with short hair and a scar on his right cheek that stretched from the corner of his eye to his chin.

Wang, the comprador.

"Boss."

Lu Haiming opened the drawer, took out a white envelope, and pushed it to the side of the table.

"Chen Yan went to Milan."

He wiped his hands on a tea towel.

"Take the master tape of that movie and go to the copyright trading market to find overseas distribution."

Wang, the comprador, picked up the envelope.

Inside was a bearer draft from a Swiss bank.

Half a million dollars.

"The tape cannot be kept."

Lu Haiming looked at the stage.

"If that film sells well in Europe and wins awards, Chen Yan's momentum in China will be unstoppable."

"His film 'Thunder' will attract that policeman surnamed Liang from the Laochang Street Police Station."

"The story of the clock tower from back then must not be brought up again."

Wang, the comprador, stuffed the envelope into the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

Where are they?

Milan has a bad reputation for crime.

Lu Haiming picked up his teacup.

"It's common to encounter robberies and unexpected incidents."

"Do it cleanly, don't leave any loose ends."

Wang, the comprador, nodded and left.

Paris, France.

In an office building next to the Champs-Élysées, Pierre Durand stuffed documents into his briefcase, while the ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts.

The chairman of the film selection committee pushed open the door and handed over the itinerary.

"Pierre, the flight to Beijing is booked. It's tomorrow morning at 10:00."

"Go see Chen Yan and make sure you get the premiere rights for 'The Wandering Earth' in Cannes."

Pierre took the itinerary, tore it in half, and threw it into the wastebasket.

"I'm not going to Beijing."

The chairman frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"Chen Yan wasn't waiting for us in Beijing."

Pierre put on his trench coat.

"He took a rough cut of the master tape to the Milan copyright exchange market."

The chairman stood there, stunned.

"Milan? That's a trade market, not a film festival. What's he doing there?"

"Selling movies."

Pierre buttoned up his trench coat.

"He didn't wait for the official procedures in Cannes; he wanted to put the film in front of buyers from all over the world in Milan."

"If we can't stop them, the premiere rights might be snatched away by Venice or Berlin, and those Hollywood studios will also get involved."

He grabbed his car keys and hurried out the door.

"Prepare the checkbook."

"This will be a tough battle."

2:50 p.m.

Beijing Capital International Airport, Terminal 3.

Chen Yan, Su Wan, and Wu Gang passed through security and headed towards the boarding gate.

Wu Gang carried the silver safety case, never leaving its side.

Fifty meters away in a coffee shop, Wang, the comprador, held a cup of black coffee and watched the three enter the covered bridge.

He put down his cup, took out his old Motorola, and dialed a number.

"Mario, this is Old Wang."

He spoke in English.

"I'm going to Milan tonight with four clean-cut men who have seen blood."

Music and Italian curses came from the other end of the phone, followed by a hoarse male voice.

"Prices have doubled; Milan police have been cracking down hard lately."

Money is not a problem.

Wang, the comprador, hung up the phone and summoned three men in tattered jackets.

All three were undocumented immigrants with murder charges against them.

"Walk."

He slammed three plane tickets to Milan on the table.

"After you pull off this job, you won't have to worry about the rest of your lives."

The four picked up their luggage and headed to another boarding gate.

Above the clouds, the Boeing passenger plane flew smoothly.

Wu Gang tucked the silver safety box under the seat, his toes bracing against the edge of the box.

Five rows away, Wang, the comprador, pulled down the sunshade, peeled off the foil wrapper of his chewing gum, and popped the gum into his mouth.

He chewed slowly, his gaze passing through the aisle and landing on the half of Wu Gang's exposed heel.