dkrc Chapter 9 Shadows of Leaving the Capital
Chapter 9 Shadows of Leaving the Capital
Inside the Sculpting Time café, the air was stale, a mixture of cheap tobacco and burnt coffee beans that made one's head ache.
Pierre took a videotape out of his bag, but instead of commenting, he slowly pulled out a dark blue deerskin cloth and began wiping his silver-rimmed glasses.
His finger joints were large, bearing the marks of years of holding a pen.
"Chen, the aggression in your short film doesn't sound like that of a twenty-year-old."
Pierre's Chinese had a French accent, and the last syllables were drawn out somewhat indistinctly.
"Many young Chinese directors like to film suffering, drab alleyways, and the struggles of the lower classes."
"But what you're filming is a kind of illness, a kind of neuroticism hidden under the neon lights."
"I've seen this kind of rhythm in the works of Lucas or David Fincher, but yours is colder."
Chen Yan didn't reply, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the wooden table, the rhythm of which was the drumbeat he was used to when editing in his previous life.
"This is not simply aggression."
Chen Yan picked up the cold black coffee and took a sip, the bitter liquid rushing down his throat.
"This is absolute dominance over the material."
"As for the cold, it's because the Night Watchman's soul has frozen."
"To shoot with warm colors is a lie."
Pierre let out a muffled laugh.
He put his glasses back on and looked at the student in the faded jacket in front of him.
"Others use film as love letters, you use it as a scalpel."
Pierre pulled out a thin business card, the edges of which were frayed.
"I'm going back to Paris tomorrow."
"The Directors' Fortnight section needs your unique perspective."
"But I'm warning you, Chen, the application process is very complicated. Your school's seal, and that issuing department, the bureaucratic system, you know what I mean."
"Trouble is relative."
Chen Yan took the business card and ran her fingernail over the embossed lettering.
"As long as the work is enticing enough, the system will find an excuse on its own."
He knew that Pierre was just a stepping stone; the real battle was in that gloomy administration building.
At eight o'clock in the evening, the cold wind swept across Xueyuan Road, as sharp as a steel brush.
Chen Yan climbed up to the third floor in the dark, only to find that the motion-sensor lights in the hallway were broken.
Just as he was about to take out his keys, the door opened from the inside.
Su Wan was wrapped in a thick beige sweater, and the orange light in the room made her cheeks look pale.
She was holding an unpeeled apple in her hand, its peel hanging long.
"What did Pierre say?"
Su Wan's voice was strained.
"He took the master tape."
Chen Yan entered the house, closed the door behind him, and kept the cold wind out.
He noticed that when Su Wan put the peeler on the table, she frowned slightly and pressed her left hand against her stomach naturally.
This subtle movement made Chen Yan's heart skip a beat.
"Stomach ache?"
He walked over and took the half-peeled apple from her hand.
"It's an old problem. I rushed to the hospital this afternoon and didn't have time to eat."
Su Wan forced a smile, but her eyes were red.
"Xiaoyan, the doctor said the surgery should be done as soon as possible."
"I've thought about that 40,000 yuan. Tomorrow I'll go pick up those guys for interviews, even if it's just guys in stockings..."
"Nonsense!"
Chen Yan's voice was very low, but the weight of his words was so heavy that it was suffocating.
"I'll go back to Tianjin to get the money."
"My dad's demolition compensation is almost done, 400,000 yuan, which was originally meant for me to buy a house. I need it to save my life."
"But what about Uncle Chen..."
"He'll understand."
"More than a pile of bricks, he wants me to live a life without regrets."
Chen Yan pulled Su Wan to sit down on the edge of the bed and covered her cold hand with his palm.
In her past life, after Su Wan's father passed away, she also experienced frequent stomach aches. He simply assumed it was due to excessive grief and casually gave her a few stomach pills.
He didn't want to experience that feeling of helplessness, of being repeatedly slapped in the face by fate, until he received a call from the hospital late at night.
"You're coming to the hospital with me first thing tomorrow morning."
"My mom is looking after my dad..."
"It's not to see my uncle."
Chen Yan stared into her eyes.
"You should also get a full body checkup, focusing on your stomach and endocrine system."
"I'm only twenty years old, what's the point of investigating? It's just a waste of money."
Su Wan muttered, trying to pull her hand back.
"Listen to me."
Chen Yan increased the pressure on his hands.
"Just to put my mind at ease."
"What's the point of me winning so many awards if you fail?"
The apple in Su Wan's hand fell to the ground with a thud.
Looking at Chen Yan, she always felt that there was something hidden in his eyes that she couldn't understand, as if he had walked through a very long desert.
She finally stopped arguing, buried her head in Chen Yan's neck, and breathed in the clean soapy scent emanating from him.
The next morning, at the Affiliated Hospital of Yanjing Medical University.
The laboratory corridor was filled with the smell of disinfectant and suppressed coughs.
Chen Yan queued for two hours before he could pay Su Wan's medical examination fee.
The 40,000 yuan surgery fee weighed heavily on everyone's mind.
Su's mother sat on the bench, looking ten years older overnight, constantly muttering about the mundane details of daily life.
Chen Yan stuffed the soy milk and steamed buns he had bought into her hand.
"Mom, please eat something first."
"I'll take care of the money when I get back to Tianjin this afternoon."
His change of address was natural.
Su's mother raised her head, her cloudy eyes brightened for a moment, and her lips moved, but she didn't say anything.
She simply lowered her head and took a big bite of the steamed bun, but tears streamed down her face and fell into the bowl of soy milk.
An hour later, Su Wan came out of the clinic with the test results in her hand.
"What did the doctor say?"
Chen Yan immediately went to greet him.
"It's nothing serious, just mild superficial gastritis and a bit of anemia. Just rest and don't worry."
Su Wan shook the form, as if she had breathed a sigh of relief.
Chen Yan took the order and read it word by word.
The indicators were indeed normal, but he knew that many lesions were as hidden as ghosts in the early stages.
"Keep this report safe."
He carefully folded the report and stuffed it into a compartment of his backpack.
"You need to have a check-up every six months for the next three years, without missing a single one."
"Chen Yan, you're just as long-winded as my dad now."
Su Wan tugged at his sleeve, her tone playful with relief at surviving a close call.
Chen Yan didn't respond, but simply tightened the straps of his backpack a little more.
In the afternoon, Chen Yan stood at the door of the department office and heard Qi Feng's high-pitched voice coming from inside.
"Old Yan, this isn't something I'm doing to him."
"The Night Watch is too dark at its core; it doesn't align with the principle of serving the people!"
"If we send them to Cannes and let foreign media exploit our dark side, who will bear the political responsibility?"
"Alright."
Yan Huaizhong's voice was dry and hoarse, as if it had been over-smoked.
"The essence of art is truth."
"Students are adventurous and want to try new things, so we teachers can't always be thinking about labeling them."
"He snatched all the negatives back yesterday. Do you think he can't do anything about it if you don't stamp it?"
"He's robbing state property!"
Qi Feng's voice rose eight octaves.
"He stole the negatives that he had bought with his own money, and he also paid for the developing and printing himself."
Yan Huaizhong sneered.
"There's no point in keeping that form pressed down."
"Chen Yan has already talked to me. He not only wants to apply for Cannes, but also wants to apply for an outstanding graduation project."
"When the grand prize winners are announced, you'll see whose face is being slapped."
Chen Yan stood outside the door for a while, then turned and left.
He doesn't need to go in and make a scene now.
Pierre took the tape with him, and whenever there was a commotion in Europe, the schools would beg him to stamp it.
In the world of fame and fortune, when you are weak, the rules are a noose; when you are strong, the rules are a red carpet.
At Beijing Railway Station, a green train was puffing out white smoke, and the carriages were filled with the smell of instant noodles and sweat.
Chen Yan squeezed onto the southbound platform, his pocket containing a hundred yuan in change that Su Wan had forced into his hand.
"Chen Yan!"
Su Wan came running up, panting, her scarf askew.
She shoved a plastic bag into his arms; inside were a few hot boiled eggs and a bottle of water.
Come back soon.
She stood on the platform, her eyes shining brightly.
"I'll wait for you to come back and sign the papers for the surgery."
"wait for me."
Chen Yan reached out and ruffled her hair through the car window.
As the train started moving, he opened the all-English "Cahiers du Cinéma" and, on the back of the page with Pierre's business card tucked inside, carefully wrote two words in pencil:
Lu Haiming.
Chen Family Old House in Tianjin.
The stairwell was plastered with locksmith stickers, and the smell of cooking oil was pungent.
Chen Yan pushed open the door, and Chen Jianguo was wearing a blue work apron, making a clattering noise in the kitchen.
"You brat, you finally decided to come back?"
"Is your graduation project finished?"
Chen Jianguo poked his head out, picked up a spatula, cursed, but his face was full of smiles.
Chen Yan looked at his father's hair, which wasn't completely white yet, and his nose tingled with emotion.
In his past life, he squandered his father's demolition compensation money to make that damned movie, causing the old man to die in a dilapidated old house.
"Dad, I won the top prize for my graduation project, and I want to apply to Cannes."
Chen Jianguo was stunned. He put down the spatula and vigorously wiped his hands on his apron.
Cannes?
"From overseas?"
"That must have cost a lot of money, right?"
"There's no rush regarding the award."
Chen Yan poured a glass of water.
"Dad, Su Wan's dad is sick, he has cancer and needs surgery immediately."
The smile on Chen Jianguo's face vanished instantly.
He silently went back into the house, took out a cigarette, lit it, and buried his entire face in the smoke.
After a moment, he asked, "How much do you want?"
"The surgery and post-operative care will cost at least 40,000."
In Tianjin in 2000, 40,000 yuan could buy half a new house.
Chen Jianguo silently finished the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.
"I haven't received the demolition compensation yet."
"I have 20,000 in my savings account, it's for your graduation."
"I'll ask your uncles for the rest."
"Human life is of paramount importance. Money can be earned back, but once a person is gone, everything is lost."
Don't worry about it.
Chen Yan felt a sense of relief, but he knew things weren't that simple.
"Dad, let me see the demolition agreement."
Chen Jianguo hesitated for a moment, then pulled a crumpled piece of paper from an old leather bag at the bottom of the wardrobe.
Chen Yan took it and glanced at it; the air in the room seemed to cool down.
The compensation in the agreement was a full third less than he remembered.
In the section for the appraiser's name, he saw a familiar name: Haiming Consulting.
It's Lu Haiming again.
"Dad, this...you signed it?"
"not yet."
"They're pressuring us, saying if we don't sign this week, we'll have to pay according to the old standards. I was thinking of waiting for you to come back so we can make a decision."
Chen Jianguo rubbed his hands together, looking somewhat uneasy.
Chen Yan slammed the paper down on the table with a loud thud.
He laughed, a cold and heavy laugh.
"Dad, we're not in a hurry to take this money."
"Not only should they not take it, they should also be forced to give it back in double measure."
Meanwhile, in Yenching, in the vice-principal's office.
Qi Feng's face was gloomy.
"Old boss, Chen Yan is too arrogant. He's contacting foreign film companies without authorization; this is a matter of principle!"
"What if he talks nonsense outside..."
The vice principal held the covered bowl, blew on the tea leaves, and didn't even lift his eyelids.
"Pierre's sample photos have arrived in Paris."
"They just called and said they hope to see something new at Cannes this year."
He put down his teacup.
"Qi Feng, momentum is more important than rules."
The cup lid in Qi Feng's hand fell to the ground with a clatter and shattered.
"That...that stamp?"
"I will cover it myself."
The vice principal looked at him.
"He won the award, which is a source of pride for Beijing Film Academy."
"If you can't get it, you're just a student who acted on his own initiative."
"Do you understand?"
Qi Feng nodded awkwardly, but a venomous fire ignited in his eyes.
He took a business card out of his bag and handed it over.
On the business card, below a prominent VCD disc logo, is printed a line of text:
Haiming Film & Television Media.
"Chen Yan, since you insist on taking this path," Qi Feng's voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth, "then let's see if your film is stronger, or other people's resources are stronger."