Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 58 She is not a victim

Chen Yan's voice disappeared in the echoes of the screening room.

The black background with white text on the projection screen was still flashing, and the last line of the cast and crew list had already scrolled to the end.

Zhou Hong stood at the door, the corridor lights behind him casting an extremely long shadow.

His fingers gripped the document with the red seal, his fingertips slightly stiff from pressing down hard.

"Director Chen, you have a good speaking ability."

Zhou Hong turned around, his leather shoes making a heavy thud on the wooden floor.

"But this is a society governed by law. This medical record was issued by the First Central Hospital of Tianjin. During the filming process, you did indeed cause serious damage to the health of actress Lin Qingqiu. In the eyes of the Shanghai Film Association, this act of depriving someone of their health for the sake of so-called art is a typical stain on the industry."

The professors in the screening room exchanged glances.

The elderly professor from the performing arts department took off his reading glasses and slowly wiped the lenses with a piece of chamois cloth.

"Representative Zhou."

The old professor spoke, his voice low and calm.

"An accident during filming falls under the category of production safety. But if you want to classify it as abuse, you need to provide evidence of intent."

Zhou Hong raised his hand and pointed to the big screen.

"The footage just now is evidence. Chen Yan, do you dare say that before the explosion in that scene, you didn't know the clock tower would completely collapse? Do you dare say you didn't know the half-ton bronze bell would crash down less than two meters from the actor?"

Chen Yan walked down the steps and stopped in front of Zhou Hong.

The two were one meter apart.

"I know."

Chen Yan uttered these three words very slowly.

Zhou Hong turned to look at the middle-aged people from the project office.

"Everyone heard that, he admitted it. This is risking an actor's life for fame. If this kind of film were sent to Venice, it would be a disgrace to the Chinese people."

"If this morbid aesthetic is not stopped, future generations will follow suit. They will disregard their lives for the sake of making films."

A thick, quiet silence fell over the screening room.

Su Wan stood in the corner, her palm pressed against the videotape, her fingertips rubbing against the rough plastic casing.

Lin Qingqiu, who was originally sitting in the second row, slowly stood up, supporting herself on the back of her chair.

Due to a lumbar spine injury, her movements were slightly sluggish.

She didn't look at Chen Yan or Zhou Hong, but walked straight to the bright spot in front of the projection table.

She pulled a stack of folded A4 papers from her coat pocket.

"Mr. Zhou."

Lin Qingqiu spoke, her voice a little hoarse, but her enunciation was exceptionally clear.

"I am Lin Qingqiu."

Zhou Hong narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the woman in front of him.

Lin Qingqiu did not avoid his gaze; she spread the paper in her hand on the table.

"This is a supplementary agreement I signed with the production crew. It was signed a week before the accident. The content states that I was fully aware of the danger of the scene and voluntarily gave up my stunt double, choosing to film it live."

"This is my training record from the three years at the municipal sports school, as well as the diagnosis of a chronic lower back injury caused by dance training."

She stretched out her hand and pointed to a red mark on the paper.

"When I retired, no one asked me if I could still dance. My teacher told me that I was a consumable item, and that I should be removed once I was broken. That day, I was standing on the clock tower of the cold storage, and Chen Yan only asked me one question."

Zhou Hong looked at her. "What did he say?"

Lin Qingqiu looked up at the chandelier on the ceiling, the light reflecting in her pupils, making them appear as two cold white dots.

"He asked me whether I wanted to be a disabled person waiting to die in a hospital, or an actor remembered by the world. I chose the latter."

She paused for a moment, then pushed the stack of papers toward Zhou Hong.

"I am not a victim. I am a creator. If you want to use this medical record to ban this film, then you are erasing the only professional achievement I have ever made."

Zhou Hong glanced at the stack of documents, his face turning extremely gloomy.

"Ms. Lin, you may not understand. Mr. Shen is protecting you; he's helping you get compensation."

"I don't need compensation."

Lin Qingqiu interrupted him.

"All I need is for this movie to be released. I need people all over the world to see that hand reaching for the sky on the screens in Venice. If you ruin it, then I will really sue you."

The acting professor, who had been silent, suddenly stood up.

He walked up to Lin Qingqiu and bent down to examine the stack of documents.

"Lin Qingqiu".

The professor called out.

"exist."

Lin Qingqiu stood ramrod straight, her back forming a resilient arc.

"In that scene just now, when you were in the mud, the trembling of your fingers wasn't a physiological reaction, it was the character's struggle, right?"

Lin Qingqiu nodded.

"It was instinct. But I controlled the frequency. I didn't want to die, but I wanted the character to live."

The professor turned to look at Chen Yan, then at Zhou Hong.

"Old Liu, this child's performance has transcended the technical level. She has successfully transformed from a dancer's body into a film character. This is something we can't teach in the classroom."

"This kind of explosive power, let alone in China, would be extremely impactful at any film festival in Europe. This is not just art, it's a miracle."

Zhou Hong sneered and slammed the document with the red seal on the table.

"Say what you will. Procedures are procedures. The Shanghai Federation has already submitted a blockade letter to the Ministry. As long as this letter is not withdrawn, your copies will not be able to leave Beijing. Not to mention Venice."

Just then, the computer monitor hanging on the wall emitted a series of urgent beeps.

Vincent's face reappeared in the center of the screen.

His background is a French-style office with a view of the spire of Notre Dame Cathedral.

"Chen, we got it."

Vincent spoke Chinese, though his intonation was strange, but his tone was unusually excited.

"The legal department of the court has already replied. The letter from Shanghai is a risk warning within the civil sphere and does not have cross-border legal effect. Moreover, because Shen Congzhou is involved in multiple unexplained transfers, the French side has initiated a credit review process."

Chen Yan walked back to the control panel and pressed the intercom button.

"Vincent, tell everyone the results."

Vincent produced a document bearing a French seal.

"The Paris headquarters has officially announced that the French side will fully assume all legal risks associated with 'Thunder.' Meanwhile, due to the huge response the sample film has generated within the industry, Mr. Marco Müller, the selection consultant for the Venice Film Festival, has extended an informal invitation to the French side."

Zhou Hong's face turned from green to white, and then from white to green again.

"Impossible. President Shen has already given instructions. The film selection process hasn't even started yet."

"That's for you."

Chen Yan looked at Zhou Hong, his eyes showing no emotion.

"In the face of true genius, the rules can be changed."

He pointed to the screen.

Vincent continued, "Mr. Muller believes that the scene of the bell tower collapsing just now is the most powerful audiovisual language in Chinese-language films in the last five years. He requests to see the complete technical sample within 48 hours. If it meets his expectations, Venice will provide official expedited processing."

Zhou Hong suddenly turned around and bumped into the wooden door.

"You're dreaming. The negatives are still in the hands of the censors."

Zheng Jian walked over and brushed past Zhou Hong.

He held a black satellite phone in his hand and handed it to Chen Yan.

"It's Mr. Yan on the phone. The ministry's review results are in."

Chen Yan answered the phone.

Yan Huaizhong's voice sounded tired, but it also carried an undeniable strength.

"Chen Yan, I'm at the ministry. The report regarding 'Thunder' has been verified as malicious competition. The letter from Shanghai has been invalidated. The review team will leave the experimental building in an hour. Ownership of the film negatives belongs to the Beijing Film Academy research group and you personally."

Chen Yan held the phone, his gaze fixed on Zhang Yuan in the projection window.

Upon hearing these words, Zhang Yuan slammed his fists heavily on the control panel, shaking several reels of film off the table.

"Did you hear that, Representative Zhou?"

Chen Yan put his phone in his pocket.

"You can go back to Shanghai now. Tell Shen Congzhou that he can withdraw his paid online trolls and newspapers. Because from now on, film media all over the world will help me promote my work. That's called the premium of art."

Zhou Hong stared at Chen Yan, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Chen Yan, don't get too cocky. Going to Venice requires a long distribution chain. President Shen has connections in European cinemas."

"I have movies."

Chen Yan replied simply.

"As long as I have these five shots, I won't need any connections. They'll come begging to me on their knees."

He stopped looking at Zhou Hong and turned around, bowing to the professors and the middle-aged man from the project office.

"Everyone, the sample session is over. Now we need to get back to work."

Zhou Hong gritted his teeth, grabbed the official letter on the table, and rushed out of the screening room without looking back.

The heavy sound of leather shoes gradually faded away in the corridor, finally disappearing at the doorway of the experimental building.

Applause erupted again in the screening room.

Lin Qingqiu sat back down in her chair, her forehead covered in sweat.

Su Wan walked over quickly and wrapped her tightly in the down jacket.

"Qingqiu, we won."

Lin Qingqiu closed her eyes, a transparent line passing through the corner of her eye.

"Sister Su, what I just said is true."

"I know."

Chen Yan walked to the two women, placed his hand on Lin Qingqiu's shoulder, and lingered for three seconds.

"This is just the first step. Venice is not the end."

He looked up at the projector.

The beam of white light continued to travel through the air, and dust particles danced wildly within its halo.

That was the fire he lit himself in his second life.

Zhang Yuan ran out of the projection room, panting, carrying several metal boxes in his arms.

"Brother Yan, the delivery truck is already downstairs. Should we go directly to Jinmen Port?"

"No."

Chen Yan looked at the big screen.

"Go to Shanghai. We want to develop the films ourselves at the film processing plant there. Shen Congzhou won't open the door, so we'll carry the ministry's orders and have him personally oversee the chemical concentration for me."

His tone was calm, but every word was like a nail driven into the ground.

At this moment, the projection screen suddenly lit up again.

That's the automatically refreshed email interface.

An email bearing the official lion head logo of the Venice Film Festival lay quietly at the top of the inbox.

Sent: 1 minute ago.

Chen Yan opened the email.

The concise Italian text was translated using software and presented to everyone.

[Dear Mr. Chen: Please deliver the final sample of "Thunder" to the Venice Film Festival Organizing Committee office within forty-eight hours. We will reserve the last spot for you in the competition section. —Marco Müller]

The screening room was deathly silent.

Chen Yan clicked the mouse and closed the page.

"Zhang Yuan."

"exist!"

"Let Wu Gang start the car."

Chen Yan straightened the collar of his coat.

"Full speed. Even if it means crashing through the ice ahead, we must get the film into the boiler room of the Shanghai Film Studio before dawn tomorrow."

He walked out of the screening room.

The motion-activated lights in the corridor gradually lit up, illuminating his silhouette as he strode forward.

Behind him.

The images on the screen started looping automatically again.

The mud-covered hand, facing the pale void, suddenly clenched.

Freeze.