Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 46 Cold Table and Tough Nuts

The Lu family's lawyer stared at Chen Yan's retreating figure, clenching the lawyer's letter tightly in his hand.

The paper twisted between his fingers, and his knuckles turned a bloodless pale from the force he exerted.

Chen Yan stepped across the threshold of the experimental building, exerting force with his right shoulder.

"Bang."

The heavy oak soundproof door springs back into its slot.

The lights in the corridor were cut off.

Yan Huaizhong walked ahead, leaning on his cane, his shoes slapping against the floor tiles with rhythmic thuds.

He pushed open the door to the No. 2 computer room.

"Lu Haiming has quite a few 'friends' inside."

Yan Huaizhong stood still, pressing his palm on the rounded end of his cane.

"He's in jail, but those who took his money and slept with the minor celebrities he gave them are still in jail."

Chen Yan placed the film canister on the control panel.

"They want to hold onto their plate."

"No."

Yan Huaizhong looked out the window. "They want to make you a dead man in the Yanjing circle."

Chen Yan opened the box and took out the stack of specially protected negatives.

He didn't look at Yan Huaizhong.

"Su Wan, contact the First Photo Printing and Printing Factory in Yanjing."

Chen Yan looked at Su Wan.

"I'm going to develop the first batch of working prints there."

Su Wan nodded, opened her handbag, and took out her phone book.

Half an hour later.

Chen Yan and Zhang Yuan appeared in the office of the logistics director of the Yanjing First Printing Plant.

The room was filled with the smell of developing powder.

Director Li Kaiping sat behind a large lacquered table, with a bowl of bright red fried noodles in front of him.

He picked up a mouthful of noodles with his chopsticks, stuffed it into his mouth, and puffed out his cheeks.

"The camera is broken."

Li Kaiping spat out a thin piece of vegetable scrap without looking up.

Chen Yan stood in front of the table.

Which camera is broken?

"all."

Li Kaiping placed his chopsticks on the rim of the bowl and took out a dirty rag to wipe his mouth.

"Director Chen, if you win an award in Cannes, we'll welcome you with open arms. But in Beijing, we have to follow Beijing's rules."

Zhang Yuan took half a step forward, his shadow falling into Li Kaiping's bowl.

"Triple printing fee, cash only."

Li Kaiping rummaged through the drawer and pulled out a Red Plum cigarette, lit it, and exhaled a puff of white smoke.

"Director Chen, this isn't about the money. It's about the chemicals. This batch of developer was imported from Germany, but the wind picked up at sea, and the goods are stuck in port."

He glanced at Chen Yan sideways and threw the lighter on the table.

"Your 'Thunder' project hasn't been approved yet, has it? Without the film's production license, whoever develops the film for you is engaging in illegal production. Our factory can't afford that responsibility."

Chen Yan stared at Li Kaiping's collar.

There was an old oil stain there.

"Whose call was that?"

Chen Yan asked.

Li Kaiping stopped moving.

"Director Chen, I don't understand what you're saying. Our printing plant operates according to procedures."

Chen Yan didn't reply, but turned to look at Zhang Yuan.

"Walk."

The two walked out of the office, and the door behind them made a soft thud.

The heater was on full blast inside the bread cart.

Su Wan held the receiver, her fingers drawing black lines on the phone book.

"Zhang Dengdeng took a job in the suburbs of Yanjing and won't be back for three months."

"Team Leader Zhao's equipment warehouse is leaking, and all the tracking lights are short-circuited."

"Master Wang from the props department... he just blocked my number."

Su Wan put down the receiver and placed her hands on her knees.

My palms were soaked with sweat.

"Chen Yan. The news of Lu Haiming's downfall has only been back for half a day, and these people are reacting faster than police cars."

She looked up and saw her somewhat pale face reflected in the rearview mirror.

"All the local bigwigs in Beijing's film and television industry are waiting for us to bow down. They want you to hand over the tape you got back from Cannes, or give up half of your share of 'Thunder'."

Chen Yan looked out the window.

The Beijing Film Academy's flag was whipping against the flagpole in the wind.

"Since their warehouse is leaking, let them leak."

Chen Yan's voice was completely flat.

"Su Wan, go to the train station and book ten tickets to Shanghai."

"Going to Shanghai?"

Zhang Yuan turned around abruptly, "Go and join those Shanghai factions?"

Chen Yan didn't explain, and opened the car door.

"Go back to school first. Some things are still in the dorm."

Beijing Film Academy dormitory.

Chen Yan stood in front of room 502.

Because it's graduation season, the hallways are filled with piles of old books and washbasins.

He inserted the key and turned it.

The lock cylinder got stuck halfway through its rotation.

Chen Yan lowered his eyes and looked at the bottom of the crack in the door.

A silver blade was stuck diagonally in the gap between the wooden door and the floor.

The blade was coated with a layer of dark red liquid that hadn't completely dried.

Chen Yan did not catch it with his hands.

He pulled a ballpoint pen from his pocket, poked the tip into the hole in the blade, and applied force.

"bite."

The blade struck the tile with a crisp clang.

There was a piece of transparent tape stuck to the back of the blade with three words written on it:

"Give me my money back and get out."

There was a slight tremor at the edges of the text.

Chen Yan stepped over the blade and pushed open the door.

The dormitory was empty.

His pillow was cut open, and white duck down was scattered all over the floor like a moldy snow.

Chen Yan walked to the desk and picked up the only group photo on it.

It was him and Su Wan.

In the group photo, Su Wan's face had a black hole burned by a cigarette butt.

He placed the photo face down on the table.

Fingertips trace the wood grain.

"Zhang Yuan, take all the negatives. We'll be staying in the editing room tonight."

Chen Yan walked out of the dormitory.

They didn't deal with the bloodstained blade.

The playground of Yenching Film Academy.

The streetlights were dim.

The plastic running track was frozen solid.

Chen Yan took off his coat, leaving him in only a thin long-sleeved sweatshirt.

He began jogging at a steady pace around the track.

The exhaled white breath quickly dispersed in the air.

Three men were standing on the grass inside the track.

The man leading the group was surnamed Jia, a tough guy among the sixth generation of directors, and he was wearing a faded military overcoat.

He was carrying a bottle of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor), and his eyes were somewhat cloudy.

As Chen Yan ran past him, Director Jia coughed.

"Xiao Chen, stop for a moment."

Chen Yan's pace remained unchanged.

"Xiao Chen!"

Director Jia raised his voice.

Chen Yan slowed down and stood three meters away from him.

There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

"Is something wrong, Director Jia?"

"I heard. You got Lu Haiming arrested in Tianjin."

Director Jia took a sip of his drink, the pungent aroma filling the air.

"That takes skill. But there's a way of life in every circle. Lu Haiming and his old buddies have been rooted in Shanghai and Beijing for twenty years. With this, you've cut off a lot of people's path to wealth."

A man wearing black-rimmed glasses took a step forward.

"Director Chen, we're all making art films. Take my advice and hand over those negatives that Lu Haiming has. Offer them a cup of tea to the bigwigs up there, and this matter can be dropped. Otherwise, you won't even be able to buy film for your 'Thunder'."

Chen Yan looked at the man wearing glasses.

I prefer to drink my tea by myself.

Chen Yan started anew.

"Your 'rules' do not include letting my actors sleep in other people's beds, nor do they include my movies becoming someone else's money laundering tool."

Chen Yan ran ten meters and then looked back.

"Director Jia, were your 'bones' buried beneath Lu Haiming's clock tower twenty years ago?"

Director Jia stood there, the bottle trembling slightly between his fingers.

He didn't reply.

He simply watched coldly as Chen Yan's figure disappeared into the distance on the track.

Two o'clock in the morning.

Laboratory building.

Chen Yan sat in front of the editing table, the light from the screen illuminating the bridge of his nose.

Su Wan was sleeping on the bench.

My phone suddenly vibrated on the table.

"Buzz—Buzz—"

A dull sound echoed in the empty room.

Chen Yan picked up her phone.

A text message from Zhang Yuan was displayed on the screen.

The content is very short.

Chen Yan pressed his thumb on the directional keys and scrolled down.

"Brother Yan, I just received news that all five major film and television equipment rental companies in Yanjing have received 'suggestive notices' from higher-ups."

"No company can rent us guide rails, rocker arms, or even cables."

"In addition, the key to the Nortel film processing room has been taken away."

Chen Yan closed his phone.

He turned around and looked at the map on the wall.

Shanghai.

The "X" written with that ballpoint pen still seemed to linger in his mind.

He opened the drawer, and inside lay the razor blade that he had burned half of.

He put the razor blade into an empty film canister.

Close the lid.

"Click".

A crisp, satisfying bite sound.

Chen Yan glanced at the sleeping Su Wan, then looked out the window at the inky sky.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the last ray of light to shine in before dawn.

Freeze.

Chen Yan pressed the emergency stop button on the editing console.

That was the last blank sheet of paper before filming began for the feature film "Thunder".