Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 67 Wei Cheng's Price

The Yan'an Elevated Road was extremely congested during the morning rush hour.

Rain was splashing against the windshield outside the car window as Chen Yan pressed the answer button on his Nokia phone.

"The negatives have reached Mr. Yan's hands."

Wu Gang's voice came through the static, "But Qingqiu unplugged the room phone line. She used the front desk landline to call Wei Cheng back."

Chen Yan pressed his thumb against the edge of the phone: "What did you say?"

"We arranged to meet at 8 PM tonight in the old rehearsal hall of the dance theater. She bought a ticket for 2 PM to return to Shanghai, and I couldn't stop her."

"You go with her."

"She wouldn't allow it. She said it was her own problem."

Chen Yan looked out the car window at the windshield wipers swishing.

7:40 a.m.

"Let her go. You take the next bus and come over. Contact me as soon as you get there."

Hanging wire.

In the passenger seat, Su Wan turned around and asked, "Qingqiu is back in Shanghai?"

"She'll be there tonight. Wei Cheng is waiting for her at the dance theater."

Chen Yan knocked on the car door panel. "That's his home turf."

He tapped the back of the front seat.

"Zhang Yuan."

Zhang Yuan leaned out from the back seat and said, "Here."

Is the Panasonic DV battery fully charged?

Zhang Yuan opened the equipment bag, pushed in the battery, and turned it on.

The red light stays on.

"Dual battery fully charged."

"Go to the dance theater before six o'clock to scout the location. Memorize the locations of the lighting fixtures, fire exits, and electrical boxes."

……

7:45 PM.

The back alley of the Shanghai Dance Theater.

Chen Yanli stood outside the iron gate of the fire escape.

The door hinge turned, and Zhang Yuan squeezed out half of his body.

"We tried the second tier of the three rows of iron frames. We put the DV camera on it, shot from above, and it captured two-thirds of the rehearsal hall's frame."

"Distribution box?"

"At the end of the left-hand corridor backstage, an old-fashioned guillotine."

Zhang Yuan lowered his voice, "There are three exits. The main entrance, the fire escape, and a small, locked door on the side of the stage."

Chen Yan climbed halfway up the stairs.

The door to the old rehearsal hall was open.

Most of the overhead lights were broken, leaving only two work lights casting a pale white light that illuminated the central parquet floorboard.

Eight rows of folding chairs were stacked against the wall, covered in dust.

An old-fashioned Sanyo video recorder sits on the long table by the window.

Chen Yan walked to the three rows of light stands and checked the camera positions.

The DV camera body, wrapped in black duct tape, was stuck firmly to the crossbeam.

Within the viewfinder, the tables, chairs, and people are all clearly visible.

"Go back to the fire escape. Come in only after you hear me knock three times on the iron gate."

Chen Yan gave the instructions.

Zhang Yuan ducked and crawled out of the side door.

In the stairwell outside the main entrance, Wu Gang leaned against the wall with his hands tucked in.

Five minutes later, Lin Qingqiu climbed the steps.

She wore a black turtleneck sweater, the rigid outline of her medical protective gear clearly visible.

The rubber tip of the cane tapped on the cement ground, tap, tap.

Chen Yan stopped her: "Once we go in, don't interrupt. Let him speak."

Lin Qingqiu switched the cane to her left hand: "He wants to give a statement."

"That video camera on the table is a prop. He doesn't want you to admit it; he just wants you to sit across from him and remain silent. By cutting out the beginning and the end, it becomes irrefutable evidence."

Chen Yan looked at her and said, "You need to take the initiative to ask questions. Whoever asks the questions controls the flow."

Lin Qingqiu gripped the wooden handle of his cane tightly: "Understood."

"I'm backstage."

Chen Yan retreated into the shadows.

Lin Qingqiu pushed open the door and entered.

The hall reeked of cheap tobacco.

Wei Cheng sat behind the long table, his navy blue jacket hem wrinkled and his white shirt collar rolled up halfway.

His temples were gray, but his hairline was neatly trimmed.

He didn't get up, but instead hooked a folding chair with his toe and kicked it to the opposite side of the table: "Sit."

Lin Qingqiu rested his cane on the edge of the table and sat down.

Across the table, the Sanyo video recorder was in sleep mode.

"It's been so many years."

Wei Cheng stubbed out his cigarette on the metal armrest of the chair. "After you injured your back, I actually felt sorry for you."

Lin Qingqiu did not respond.

Wei Cheng pulled a brown paper envelope from his inner pocket and pushed it across the table.

Lin Qingqiu opened it.

Four black and white photos, and a handwritten medical record.

The photo shows a round table in a private room.

In the center of the picture, a young woman is holding a wine glass with her face turned to the side, while a middle-aged man next to her rests his hand on the back of her chair.

After looking at the photo, Lin Qingqiu turned it upside down.

"Is this our trump card?"

"Not really."

Wei Cheng lit a second cigarette. "Did you drink that glass of wine at the dinner in '91?"

"You call that a dinner party?"

"When provincial leaders come to inspect, the performing arts troupes receive them. Which troupe doesn't do it this way?"

"Who poured the wine?"

Wei Cheng exhaled smoke: "Back then, you drank the wine, and your name was definitely on the list recommended by the vice president. The solo dance for the national tour the following year was also yours. But you refused to drink."

"So you locked me in the practice room?"

Wei Cheng paused, his hand holding the cigarette still: "Old Liu was the one who locked the door."

"Whose orders does Lao Liu take?"

Wei Cheng leaned back: "There's no point in bringing up old grievances. I'm here today to leave a way out for Director Chen and you."

He tapped the envelope.

"I can crush all this stuff by tomorrow morning. On the condition that you hand over control of the domestic distribution and promotion of 'Thunder'."

Lin Qingqiu looked directly at him.

"Mr. Shen doesn't care about your movie; he cares about the market."

Wei Cheng leaned forward, "When Chen Yan returned from Venice with the award, all the domestic film scheduling and promotional events had to go through President Shen's hands. That's real money."

"Chen Yan will not sign."

"Then let me put it another way."

Wei Cheng patted the envelope. "Tomorrow morning, three major newspapers will publish the article simultaneously. I've already decided on the headlines—'Yan Girl's Past Rise to Power at a Dinner Party Exposed.' Venice is investigating your resume. Once this article comes out, you won't be able to walk the red carpet."

The overhead lights in the rehearsal room cast slanted shadows of the two people.

Wei Cheng fiddled with the gears of his lighter: "Back then, we were all just pawns. The vice president was transferred and promoted, and I couldn't stay in the regiment, so I had to go south. I thought I could turn my life around by following President Shen, but he wouldn't even look at me."

"So you hate me."

Lin Qingqiu spoke.

Wei Cheng twitched the corners of his mouth, not showing his teeth: "If you had just lowered your head back then, I wouldn't be where I am today."

Lin Qingqiu lifted the upside-down photos and pointed her finger at one of them.

"This one. The hand pouring the wine is wearing a jade thumb ring. The vice dean doesn't wear a thumb ring."

Wei Cheng's face hardened.

"You poured the wine. The vice dean gave the order, so you did it. If I didn't drink it, you were afraid you wouldn't be able to explain yourself, so you locked me in the training room overnight."

"That's enough!"

Wei Cheng suddenly stood up, walked around the table, and pressed the switch on the Sanyo video recorder.

The recording light comes on.

"What you just said is all on the tape. You said the vice dean instructed me to do it—that's tantamount to admitting the dinner party existed."

He reached out to untie the belt, saying, "Thank you for your cooperation."

despair.

A slight metallic scraping sound came from the top of the three rows of lamp holders.

Wei Cheng looked up.

Above the beam, a black Panasonic DV camera was pointed directly at him.

Wei Cheng's gaze lingered for three seconds before he turned and rushed backstage.

The rehearsal hall was plunged into darkness.

The power switch at the back office was pulled off.

"Block the door!"

Wei Cheng's shouts echoed on the left.

The sound of a heavy object being dragged came from outside the main gate.

The door panel was forced shut by force.

Lin Qingqiu leaned forward to grab his cane.

The folding chair overturned, and the cane rolled to the ground.

A figure darted out from the backstage area.

Zhang Yuan shouted, "The DV camera is on the shelf!"

The sound of chairs being overturned came one after another.

The main gate was kicked several times, splinters broke off the wooden frame, and it bounced open.

Wu Gang bumped into the corridor, casting long shadows on the floor in the light.

Two men in black short-sleeved shirts were blocking the passageway.

A person is holding an iron pipe.

Wu Gang blocked the attack and twisted his wrist, causing the iron pipe to slip from his hand and smash to the ground.

He struck another person on the back of the neck with a backhand elbow.

The man fell to the ground.

Wu Gang stepped on the back of the man picking up the pipe: "Stay put."

The second half remained gloomy.

Chen Yan walked out from backstage and slid open a windproof lighter.

The manila envelope on the table was empty.

The photos and negatives have disappeared.

Wu Gang used electrical tape to tie the two people up and went backstage to investigate.

"The hidden door on the side opened, leading to the freight alley. The people have escaped."

Chen Yan extinguished the lighter.

Zhang Yuan approached, holding the DV camera, his cheeks stained with rust.

"The whole scene was captured. His face, the envelope on the table, his statement while pouring the wine—all were in the viewfinder."

Chen Yan turned on the DV playback, and his mouth movements and voice matched perfectly.

"Keep them safe. He took his plate, and we took ours."

Lin Qingqiu bent down to pick up her cane, her fingertips brushing against the seams of the wooden floor.

A hard object is stuck in the gap.

She pried it out.

An oxidized bronze badge.

The front is engraved with a swan with outstretched wings and the words "Shanghai Dance Theatre".

Turn it over, and you'll see two initials on the back: GH.

Chen Yan lit the lighter again.

The halo illuminated the badge.

"GH" Chen Yan put it into his pocket, helped Lin Qingqiu up, and said, "Let's go."

The incandescent lights in the hallway flickered.

Chen Yan dialed the phone.

"Sister Lin. I need to check someone's information. The vice president of the Shanghai Dance Theatre in 1991, whose initials are GH. I need to know his current position."

The pages inside the receiver were turning.

Are you sure it's these two letters?

"Sure."

Lin Shufen paused for a moment on the other end of the line: "I'll give you an answer tonight."

The call was disconnected.

Lin Qingqiu stood in the shadows, holding his cane.

The smell of rust still lingered on my palm.

The safety sign at the end of the corridor flashed twice and then went completely dark.