Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 166 The Undercurrents of Water City: Searching for the True Villain

Nine o'clock in the evening, at the Yanying Cultural Screening Room.

The lights were not on.

Chen Yan sat alone in the first row, with a poorly made VHS videotape playing on the screen.

This is an underground rock documentary from the early 1990s, documenting the lives of a group of marginalized musicians in the suburbs of BJ at that time.

The video is shaky, noisy, and the audio quality is poor.

Chen Yan's gaze was not focused on the hysterical lead singers in the center of the screen, but rather on the background.

The scene cuts to an underground bar.

The camera pans across the bar.

"pause."

Chen Yan pressed the remote control in his hand.

The image freezes.

In the darkest corner of the bar, sat a man.

He was wearing a cheap leather jacket and his hair was a mess.

There was a bottle of the cheapest Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor) in front of him.

Even in the blurry image, the man's eyes still pierced through everything.

It was a deathly, violent gaze, one that showed utter indifference to everything around it.

It's like a wolf that has had its teeth pulled and has been locked in an iron cage for ten days without food.

Chen Yan pressed the fast forward button, and the scene flashed by rapidly.

Whenever the camera panned across that corner, the man's posture remained almost unchanged.

He stood out from the noisy bar, as if he carried a tangible chill.

Chen Yan took out his phone and dialed Wu Gang's number.

"Angkor, come to the screening room."

Five minutes later, Wu Gang pushed the door open and came in.

He was wearing a black training uniform and holding a roll of unfinished bandage in his hand.

Chen Yan pointed to the man frozen on the screen.

Do you know him?

Wu Gang approached the screen, squinted, and examined it carefully for a while.

His expression changed.

"Zhao Xiao".

Wu Gang uttered a name, "Director Chen, how did you come up with this guy?"

Tell me about it.

Chen Yan leaned back in his chair.

Wu Gang pulled up a chair and sat down, reminiscing about events from ten years ago.

"In the early 1990s, there was a coal mine owner in Shanxi. This guy was crazy."

Wu Gang's voice was deep. "Others mine for money, but he mines for lives. Back then, in order to compete for a mineral vein, he led a group to blow up a competitor's mine, burying more than a dozen people. Later, the matter escalated, and the higher-ups cracked down hard. He shifted all the blame to his subordinates, used his own money to bribe his way into a five-year sentence."

Wu Gang paused for a moment.

"After he got out, times had changed. His mine was nationalized, and his partners ran off with his money. He went completely bankrupt, and everyone in the underworld avoided him. I heard he eventually ended up in Beijing, where he ran a scrap metal recycling station on the outskirts of the city, making a living by collecting scrap metal. This guy has a murder on his hands, and he's got a sinister streak in him. Director Chen, why are you looking for him?"

Chen Yan stared at Zhao Xiao's lifeless eyes on the screen.

"The male protagonist of 'Thunder' is named Zhao Xiao."

Chen Yan stood up. "The character in the script is based on people like him. Hollywood spends three million dollars to buy a fake martial artist, so I go to the junkyard and bring out the real devil."

Wu Gang was stunned: "Let him play the male lead? Director Chen, he has no acting experience, and this kind of person is uncontrollable. It could cause a big problem."

"Film is about control."

Chen Yan picked up his coat from the back of the chair. "Prepare the car. We're going to the outskirts of Beijing."

It's 11 p.m. in the DX district, outside the South Sixth Ring Road.

A black SUV was parked at the end of the bumpy dirt road.

Ahead was a large scrap metal recycling station enclosed by rusted iron sheets.

The air was filled with a pungent smell of engine oil, rust, and rotting garbage.

Chen Yan pushed open the car door and got out, his leather shoes stepping on the muddy ground.

Wu Gang followed closely behind, his hand habitually placed on his lower back, where a baton was hidden.

The gate to the scrap yard was ajar.

The roar of heavy machinery could be heard coming from inside.

Chen Yan pushed open the iron gate and went inside.

The huge searchlights illuminated the area in a stark white light.

Piles of old car shells and scrapped machine tools were stacked up like small mountains.

In the center of the venue, a huge hydraulic press is in operation.

A shirtless man stood in front of the control panel, holding a thick iron rod in his hand.

He was covered in grease, his muscles were bulging, and a long scar ran down his back from his left shoulder to his lower back.

With the roar of the hydraulic press, a scrapped Santana was crushed into a flat iron disc.

The man turned around and saw Chen Yan and Wu Gang walking in.

He is Zhao Xiao.

He looked ten years older than in the videotape, his hair was gray, but the ferocity in his eyes had not diminished; instead, with the passage of time, it had transformed into a chilling calm.

He didn't speak, but just stood there, gripping the iron bar, like an old wolf eyeing its prey.

Wu Gang stepped forward and stood in front of Chen Yan.

Chen Yan patted Wu Gang on the shoulder, signaling him to step back.

He met Zhao Xiao's gaze and stopped three meters away from him.

"Zhao Xiao".

Chen Yan spoke, his voice echoing in the empty junkyard.

Zhao Xiao slammed the iron rod into the ground, making a dull thud.

"Are they collecting protection money? Or are they here for revenge?"

Zhao Xiao's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against rust. "All I have here is scrap metal. If you want your life, come and get it yourself."

Chen Yan took a rolled-up script out of his coat pocket and casually tossed it into the oil stains at Zhao Xiao's feet.

"I've come to ask you to make a movie."

Chen Yan looked at him.

Zhao Xiao glanced down at the script on the ground and suddenly smiled.

The smile tugged at the muscles in his face, making him look ferocious.

"Making a movie?"

Zhao Xiao raised his head. "When I was killing people, you little brats were still wearing open-crotch pants. You want me to be your clown?"

He raised the iron rod and pointed it at Chen Yan's nose.

"Get out. Before I lose my temper."

Chen Yan did not dodge the iron rod pointed at his nose; he even took a step forward.

The tip of the iron rod was less than an inch from his brow.

"You're scared."

Chen Yan looked into Zhao Xiao's eyes, his tone as calm as if he were stating a fact.

Zhao Xiao's eyes turned cold, and he gripped the iron rod in his hand slightly tighter.

"You're afraid of others seeing you like this."

Chen Yan continued, "The mining tycoon who once wielded immense power in Shanxi is now reduced to dealing with scrap metal in this garbage dump. You think hiding here will preserve your last shred of pitiful dignity? You're wrong. You're a loser, a piece of trash discarded by the times."

"You're asking for it!"

Zhao Xiao roared and swung the iron rod in his hand fiercely at Chen Yan's head.

Wu Gang was shocked and was about to pull out his baton and rush forward.

Chen Yan stood still, without even blinking.

The iron rod, carrying a strong wind, stopped less than a centimeter from Chen Yan's temple.

A strong wind blew Chen Yan's hair.

Zhao Xiao stopped what he was doing.

Looking into Chen Yan's deep, emotionless eyes, he felt a strange sense of unease for the first time.

This young man was not afraid of him.

"Why did you stop?"

Chen Yan asked, "Didn't you used to love throwing disobedient people into the mines? Go ahead and do it."

Zhao Xiao retrieved the iron rod and threw it on the ground.

"Provocation won't work on me. Get lost, I have no interest in playing with you."

Zhao Xiao turned and walked towards a tin shed next to him.

One million.

Chen Yan said to his retreating figure.

Zhao Xiao did not stop.

"Plus, there's a chance to be 'Zhao Xiao' again in front of the whole world."

Chen Yan's voice rose a few decibels.

Zhao Xiao stopped.

"The male protagonist in the script is a coal mine owner. To cover up a mining accident, he buried fifty miners alive. He is cold-blooded, cruel, and in control of everything."

Chen Yan watched Zhao Xiao's stiff back and said, "You don't need to act. You just need to do what you didn't finish back then in front of my camera again. I want to etch your evil onto the screens of the three major European film festivals."

Zhao Xiao turned around.

The searchlight shone on his face, half of it bright and half hidden in shadow.

He bent down and picked up the oil-stained script from the mud.

"When will you turn it on?"

Zhao Xiao patted the dirt off the script.

"tonight."

Chen Yan glanced at his watch. "Within two weeks, I'm going to take your face to Venice and flip Hollywood's table."