Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 61 The First Night of the Inkstone Girl

The black sedan maintained a constant speed at the edge of the thick fog, its dark red taillights swaying in the rearview mirror.

"Shake it off?"

Wu Gang gripped the steering wheel and tentatively pressed the accelerator with his foot.

"No need. If they like to follow, let them see clearly."

Chen Yan stuffed the unlit cigarette into the cigarette case and tapped his fingers lightly on the leather surface of his briefcase.

The van drove into the courtyard of the printing factory's dormitory area.

The black sedan behind me turned off in the shadow of a streetlamp fifty meters away, disappearing completely into the darkness.

Chen Yan pushed open the car door and got out. His leather shoes made a crisp sound as they stepped onto the wet cement ground.

The lights were on in the office on the second floor.

Su Wan stood by the window, holding a cell phone in her hand.

When Chen Yan pushed the door open and came in, Su Wan immediately handed him the phone.

"The email from Venice, which Vincent received there, has just been forwarded."

Chen Yan pulled up a chair and sat down, his gaze fixed on the laptop screen.

The email was in both Italian and English, and the sender was identified as the Technical Committee of the Venice International Film Festival.

He dragged the slider, reading line by line.

"Confirm receipt of the original copy of 'Thunder'; preliminary review approved."

Chen Yan read aloud, speaking slowly.

Zhang Yuan leaned closer, craning his neck to stare at the foreign letters on the screen.

"You passed? You can move on to the competition?"

Chen Yan did not answer; his finger remained on the last paragraph.

"The committee is of great interest to the lead actress's performance. She has demonstrated an exceptional ability to tell a story through her body. Please provide additional information on her artistic background and injury recovery reports for use in the compilation of the off-screen manual."

Chen Yan closed his laptop and turned to look at Lin Qingqiu, who was standing in the shadows.

Lin Qingqiu leaned on her crutches, her back ramrod straight, the spinal brace creating a stiff outline under her shirt.

"Additional resume information."

Chen Yan said.

"They remembered your body."

Lin Qingqiu tightened his grip on the cane, causing the metal bar to pause briefly on the concrete ground.

"Are they looking at the character, or at a madman?"

Chen Yan stood up and walked to Lin Qingqiu.

"In Venice, there is no difference between the two."

The next morning, the news crept into the Beijing Film Academy campus via long-distance telephones and fax machines.

In the cafeteria, several photography students were gathered around an old newspaper.

"Have you heard? Venice specifically requested information about the female lead for Chen Yan's film."

"Is she aiming for the Best Actress award?"

"Don't be ridiculous. A dancer with a broken back, how could she act?"

Zhang Yuan happened to be walking by carrying a tray when he slammed it heavily onto the table.

A few drops of porridge splashed out of the stainless steel bowl.

"Whether it can be acted in or not is up to Venice. The tighter Shen Congzhou and his group control it, the stronger the film is."

Zhang Yuan straightened up and patted his chest.

"The way people talk about her has changed. Outside, everyone calls Lin Qingqiu 'Yan Girl.' She's the first one Chen Yan promoted; isn't that a prestigious title?"

The students exchanged glances, but no one said a word.

In this circle that values ​​mentorship and seniority, a third-year college student who hasn't even graduated yet already has his own label.

Lin Qingqiu walked down the corridor of the experimental building.

She heard those comments.

The words "Yan Nulang" (砚女郎) were like a thorn stuck in her eardrum.

She pushed open the door to the editing room.

Chen Yan was bending over, processing film. The room was filled with the pungent smell of chemicals and the acrid smell of burning film.

"Director Chen, I don't want to be called that name."

Lin Qingqiu stood by the door, her voice very low.

Chen Yan didn't look up; the scissors made a soft sound as they cut the film.

"Your name doesn't matter. What matters is that you stand tall on the red carpet."

"I need to train."

Lin Qingqiu walked to the rotary film machine.

"How should I respond to questions from overseas reporters? Should I play the victim? Say I broke my back while filming?"

Chen Yan put down the scissors, turned around, and pinched a piece of scrap metal between her fingertips.

"Three rules. Remember them."

Lin Qingqiu stopped.

"First, no playing the victim. That's a fig leaf for the weak. Your injuries are part of the creative process, not a bargaining chip to gain sympathy."

Chen Yan threw the film into the wastebasket.

"Second, no talking about sacrifice. In this industry, getting paid and doing the work is considered professional. The word 'sacrifice' is too heavy; you can't carry that weight, and neither can the film."

Lin Qingqiu bit her lip.

"Third. Don't treat injuries as medals. When reporters ask you if you're in pain, talk about body memory, about which muscle you felt screaming on the clock tower. Transform physical pain into artistic terms."

Lin Qingqiu took out a small notebook from his pocket and quickly made notes.

Chen Yan looked at her.

"You should give them an idol, not a critically ill patient."

"I understand. We talked about the role, the body, and the clock tower."

Lin Qingqiu closed the notebook, turned around and walked out of the editing room.

Su Wan walked in carrying several poster samples, just as she brushed past Lin Qingqiu.

She looked at Lin Qingqiu's tall and straight back, then turned to look at Chen Yan, who was cleaning the machine.

"Have you been practicing your lyrics?"

Su Wan placed the poster on the table.

"She's a knife that's about to break."

Chen Yan took out another roll of film and put it on the gear.

Su Wan walked behind him and reached out to straighten the collar of his shirt.

"Chen Yan, you're going to promote a lot of actresses, right?"

Chen Yan's hand stopped on the crank handle, and the only sound in the room was the "click-clack" of the rotary machine.

"The film will have many female leads. My camera will pan across many faces."

He turned his head and looked into Su Wan's eyes.

"But in life, I only choose one partner."

Su Wan lowered her head.

"Vincent is pressing us hard. The blockade of Shanghai continues. Shen Congzhou is looking for that brick."

"The bricks beneath the bronze bell have been smashed to dust."

Chen Yan sneered.

"He wants evidence, so I'll give him the best evidence I can find."

Su Wan leaned on his shoulder, her eyes fixed on the rotating exhaust fan on the ceiling.

"Without the dragon emblem, the Venice trophy is just a piece of scrap metal. If it's not allowed to be displayed in China, we won't get a single penny back."

"Then let the Venice trophy smash that door open."

Chen Yan grasped Su Wan's hand in return.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried running could be heard in the corridor.

Zhang Yuan pushed the door open abruptly, his breathing becoming erratic from the violent movement.

"Brother Yan! Something's wrong!"

Zhang Yuan was holding a blue file bag in his hand, the edges of which were worn.

"What happened?"

Chen Yansong opened Su Wan's hand and stood up.

"It was given to me by the security guard, Old Wang. A deliveryman just stuffed this into the mailbox and ran off."

Zhang Yuan slammed the file folder onto the editing table.

"It was supposed to be for Director Chen. It's full of incriminating material about Lin Qingqiu before he retired."

The document folders were scattered.

Several secretly taken photos slid out.

The photo is dimly lit, like a private room in some kind of nightclub.

Lin Qingqiu, dressed in a dance costume, was surrounded by several men in suits.

In one photo, a man's hand is on her shoulder, and Lin Qingqiu's face is hidden in the shadows.

"And a medical certificate."

Zhang Yuan pulled out a piece of paper and ran his finger across it.

"Abortion surgery. The date was the summer of 1991."

Chen Yan stared at the medical certificate, her fingernails digging deep into her palm.

"Wei Cheng's methods?"

Su Wan took the photo, her face turning very pale.

"If this kind of thing were sent to Venice, Lin Qingqiu's 'divinity' would be completely destroyed."

Zhang Yuan looked at Chen Yan.

"Brother Yan, if this gets out, our plan to make her the Best Actress will be completely ruined. People outside will say she's..."

"Shut up."

Chen Yan's voice was very soft, but it stopped Zhang Yuan from speaking.

He took the so-called medical certificate and glanced at it at the fluorescent light tube.

"The paper is too new. The official seal has a double image around the edges."

He tore the paper into pieces and threw it into the wastepaper basket.

"That was Shen Congzhou forcing me into the game."

Outside.

Lin Qingqiu was standing in the shadows at the end of the corridor, clutching the bag containing the cheongsam she had just bought.

Because of the close proximity, the conversations in the editing room reached her ears intermittently.

She didn't move.

They didn't go in.

She glanced down at her cheongsam, a deep purple silk fabric embroidered with Chinese knot buttons.

She originally wanted to ask Chen Yan if he could support his spine while wearing this dress on the red carpet.

The motion-sensor lights in the corridor went out.

Lin Qingqiu disappeared into the darkness, her fingers tightly gripping the plastic rope that held her cheongsam in place.

The rope left a purplish-red mark on her finger.

Chen Yan walked out of the editing room.

He saw that shadow.

"Lin Qingqiu".

He shouted.

Lin Qingqiu turned around, the bag in her hand making a rustling sound.

"Director Chen, the cheongsam is ready. Would you like to take a look?"

Her voice was unusually calm.

Chen Yan walked over and stood three steps away from her.

"Starting tomorrow, Zhang Yuan will be in charge of all the information regarding those joining the production team."

"Those photos are real."

Lin Qingqiu interrupted him.

She looked up and stared directly at Chen Yan.

"The man is real, the bottle is real. But child, Shen Congzhou has mistaken the person."

Chen Yan didn't say anything.

"Wei Cheng took me to a dinner party back then, and I drank three bottles of red wine in order to stay with the dance troupe. The hand in the photo belongs to the theater's vice president."

Lin Qingqiu released her grip.

The cheongsam bag fell to the ground.

"Director Chen. This is what you called the skeletons beneath the altar."

Chen Yan stepped forward, bent down, and picked up the bag from the ground.

He patted the bag into Lin Qingqiu's arms.

"Only when bones are too hard will they crack."

Chen Yan turned around and looked at the window at the end of the corridor.

A black Audi was slowly driving into the school gate.

The car lights flashed three times.

That was Shen Congzhou's provocation.

"First thing tomorrow morning."

Chen Yan's voice echoed in the corridor.

"Zhang Yuan, send the last three minutes of the sample footage to the Shanghai Film Studio."

"Didn't Shen Congzhou want my trump card?"

"I'll give him a card he can't catch."

The northern night wind blew in through the cracks in the window.

The film was silently wound up indoors.

Chen Yan took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it this time.

The Mars glowed intermittently in the darkness.

This game of chess has transformed from an art form into a matter of life and death.

Angkor.

Chen Yan stubbed out his cigarette.

"Get the car ready. We're going to meet the 'fish' that Shen Congzhou sent."

Freeze.