Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 102 The whole city heard the thunder

A black Santana drove through Jianguomen and stopped in front of Yanwenhua Media Building.

Su Wan stood at the entrance of the lobby, wearing a black suit skirt.

She was holding several reports that had just come out of the printer, the edges of the papers still warm.

Chen Yan pushed open the car door and stepped onto the curb.

"data."

Su Wan quickly stepped forward and handed the report to him, her voice slightly hoarse from suppressed excitement.

"The opening day box office was 15.6 million yuan, breaking the single-day record of 'Hero'."

She pointed to a red line on the report that rose almost vertically.

"In 32 key cities across the country, cinemas owned by Stellar Media, New Film Union, and China Film Holdings have all increased their screenings to over 50%. Screenings at 2 a.m. have maintained an occupancy rate of 85%."

Chen Yan took the report and glanced at the numbers.

"not enough."

Su Wan looked up at him, somewhat puzzled: "This is a number that has never been seen before in the history of Chinese films."

"Lu Haiming has fallen, and we can't let any of the territory he vacated slip by."

Chen Yan shoved the report back into her arms. "Make the printing plant continue printing more copies. I want all the cinemas in the country to hear only one voice."

He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor.

The three-story conference room was filled with smoke.

Zheyan, Shaowan, and Moyuan, some of the most powerful people in the Beijing film and television industry, were sitting at the table.

In the center of the table lay a newly signed agreement.

"Zhao Minghai signed it."

Bai Zhen pushed the agreement in front of Chen Yan, "The operating rights of the three core cinemas are now yours. The transfer price is one yuan."

Chen Yan picked up the agreement and turned to the last page.

In the transferee section, the three characters "Yan Culture" were still wet with ink.

"You cut Zhao Minghai's carotid artery with that knife."

Shao Wan exhaled a smoke ring and tossed a red invitation onto the table. "It's a call from the Film Bureau. This is your 'reward'."

Symposium on the Development of Directors in the New Century.

Tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM, Film Bureau Auditorium.

Mo Yuan stood by the window, his voice deep and heavy: "I've seen the list. He Ping, Zhang Yifei, Liang Huai... not one is missing. This is a trap."

Shao Wan chimed in, her tone laced with sarcasm: "They want you to admit in front of the national media that you risked human lives to make a film, that you broke the rules of the industry, and that you have to bow your head and admit your mistakes."

Chen Yan picked up the gold-embossed invitation and ran her fingertips over the words on it.

He smiled.

"It's still uncertain whose home ground it is."

The next day, at nine o'clock in the morning.

The Film Bureau's auditorium was packed.

The audience was a sea of ​​black, filled with veterans of the film and television industry.

In the center of the first row, He Ping leaned on his cane, his eyes closed as he rested.

Liang Huai, who was standing next to him, was writing something in his notebook with a pen.

The murmurs that filled the hall ceased abruptly when the heavy doors of the auditorium were pushed open.

Chen Yan walked in, wearing a simple black trench coat.

Instead of going to the empty seats in the back row, he walked straight through the aisle and, under the watchful eyes of countless people, headed for the first row.

He stopped in front of He Ping, next to the empty chair that had originally been labeled "Speaker".

Then, he pulled out a chair and sat down.

The air in the entire auditorium was tense.

He Ping opened his eyes, turned to look at Chen Yan's profile, and squeezed out his voice through clenched teeth: "Director Chen, this is a seminar, not your victory celebration."

Chen Yan placed a brown paper bag on the table, making a dull sound.

"To me, it's a memorial service."

Minister Wang raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the room before finally settling on Chen Yan.

Who is Chen Yan?

Chen Yan stood up: "That's me."

Minister Wang nodded: "I've seen the movie. I didn't move an inch during the three-hour film."

He put down his newspaper and looked at the veteran directors in the audience: "Today's meeting will not discuss abstract art theories, but only one thing—for whom should movies be made?"

Liang Huai stood up, his voice righteous and stern: "Minister, what we are discussing today is the egregious behavior of the film 'Thunder,' which, in pursuit of spectacle, has harmed the actors' bodies and corrupted the industry! This is a desecration of art!"

"Well said."

Before the minister could speak, Chen Yan spoke first.

He pulled a thick stack of reports from the brown paper bag and waved it around.

"This is the box office data for 'Thunder' after 48 hours of release: 28 million. This is a sample of audience members from 30 cities across the country, 70% of whom are workers and students. This is an interview with audience members after the screening; they said they saw themselves in Lin Qingqiu."

Chen Yan walked up to the podium and projected the documents onto the big screen.

"Professor Liang, you say I'm corrupting public morals. May I ask, where are the audience members for your last film? What did they say after watching it?"

"Director He Ping, you co-authored an article accusing me of using the suffering of the lower classes for commercial extortion. Your film 'Spring Returns' last year had an investment of 80 million yuan and a box office of 6 million yuan. Who were you extorting? And where did you hide the suffering?"

He glanced around the audience, his voice not loud, but every word was piercing.

"My esteemed predecessors, your lenses haven't been focused on the true faces of this land for ten years. You're not afraid I'll break the rules; you're afraid the audience will discover that movies can be made this way! You're afraid that an era that belongs to you will be struck down by a thunderbolt!"

"Your art is dead."

"I'm here today to hold a memorial service for it."

The entire room fell silent.

Liang Huai's face turned a deep purplish-red, and he pointed at Chen Yan, stammering "you, you" for a long time without being able to utter a single word.

He Ping stomped his cane heavily on the ground.

Minister Wang watched all this and slowly began to applaud.

The applause was soft, yet it sounded like a command.

The young directors and reporters in the audience hesitated at first, then joined in the applause.

The applause grew from sparse to dense, eventually forming a tidal wave that flooded the entire auditorium.

The seminar ended two hours later.

As Chen Yan walked out of the auditorium, he was surrounded by reporters.

"Director Chen, does your statement today signify a full-scale declaration of war against the Fifth Generation directors?"

"Director Chen, do you consider yourself a leading figure of the seventh generation of directors?"

Chen Yan remained silent and walked towards his car by the roadside under the escort of security guards.

Su Wan waited by the car.

Before he got into the car, Su Wan stepped forward and her fingertips gently touched Chen Yan's shirt collar.

"Your tie is crooked."

With her head bowed and her expression focused, she pushed the Windsor knot upwards little by little until it was pressed against Chen Yan's Adam's apple.

Chen Yan didn't move, staring at the whorl on the top of her head.

Under the shade of a tree not far away, Lin Qingqiu, wearing a thin long-sleeved shirt, held a movie ticket stub soaked with sweat in her hand.

She watched as Su Wan straightened Chen Yan's collar and watched Chen Yan bend down and get into the car.

The car window rolled up, separating the two worlds.

The wheels rolled over the withered leaves on the road and drove away silently.

Lin Qingqiu stood there for a long time.

She looked down at the crumpled ticket stub in her hand.

It has five characters printed on it.

Director: Chen Yan.

She stuffed the ticket stub into her pocket, turned around, and walked towards the crowded subway station.

inside the car.

Chen Yan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Wu Gang looked at him in the rearview mirror: "Old Chen, what's the next step?"

Chen Yan gently pressed his finger on his chest.

There, hidden, is a yellowed letter from Tianjin.

"Inform Lin Shufen that the celebration banquet can proceed."

He opened his eyes and looked out the window at the buildings rushing past.

"In addition, in the name of Yan Culture, we hereby announce the official establishment of our first cinema chain."

"As for the accounts..."

A cold smile appeared on Chen Yan's lips.

"We've only just received the interest."