Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 20 A Glimmer of Light

In 2001, the morning wind in Yanjing was dry and cold, brushing against people's faces.

As soon as Chen Yan stepped out of the rented room, he shivered and turned up the collar of his faded overcoat even higher.

My Nokia 8210 vibrated twice in my pocket, and the screen took a beat to light up in the low temperature.

It's a text message from Lin Shufen. [Lu Haiming is inquiring about Pierre's private contact information. Is there any security issue with your short film?]

After Chen Yan finished reading, he turned off the screen.

Lu Haiming.

The hyena, which lunges at the smell of blood, did indeed move.

He wanted to use film ethics as leverage to condemn himself at Cannes.

ridiculous.

In my past life, someone like Lu Haiming wasn't even worthy of carrying my shoes.

But right now, he's just a poor student who's only made one short film, full of ambition but lacking a solid foundation.

To overthrow Lu Haiming, the secret card he held about the chairman of the judging panel, Pierre, is not enough.

He needs an actor.

A natural actor who can convince everyone and completely tear away the veneer of hypocritical film ethics.

A cold, broken face flashed through his mind.

Without further hesitation, Chen Yan raised his hand and flagged down a yellow Xiali that was zipping around the streets.

"Master, let's go to the Beijing Dance Academy."

The old rehearsal room at Beijing Dance Academy.

A smell of pine resin mixed with sweat hit me; the heating was broken, and the room was even colder inside than outside.

In the corner, a young man was squatting down, fiddling with an old Panasonic video camera, with half a cigarette dangling from his mouth and his nose red from the cold.

"Yuan'er."

Chen Yan called out.

Zhang Yuan looked up, paused for half a second, and immediately took the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Chen Yan, what are you doing here? Damn, I heard your film went all the way to Cannes. Instead of celebrating your success with a harem, you're here eating dust?"

"Drinking celebratory drinks too early can easily cause choking."

Chen Yan walked over and glanced at the scene in the lens; it was all about filming exam materials.

"We need someone to direct the camera, and then I remembered you're still doing that."

"Come on, yours is an international stage, mine is just trying to make a living."

Zhang Yuan chuckled self-deprecatingly, then lowered his voice.

"Honestly, is the Cannes situation secure? I've heard that Lu Haiming has said he's going to make you lose face abroad."

That's why I came to find you.

Chen Yan didn't explain much, his gaze passing over him and landing in the center of the field.

Sunlight streamed through the narrow window high up, illuminating the girl sitting by the window.

She wasn't wearing the standard gymnastics uniform, but a faded black vest and loose-fitting leotards, the cuffs rolled up to her knees, revealing her toned calves.

She didn't rehearse with the rest of the group; instead, she practiced her side kicks over and over again in front of a large, cracked mirror.

Once, twice.

Every time I lift my leg, it feels like I'm going to stomp through the floor.

Each time the leg is retracted, it carries a force that cuts through the air.

That's not dancing, that's risking your life.

With each exertion of her strength, the muscle contours from her thighs to her waist and abdomen were clearly taut, as if she were declaring war on the tireless self in the mirror.

Chen Yan stopped in his tracks.

The girls around me chattered away, taking a break to fix their hair and touch up their makeup, their faces showing the restlessness and hope for the future that are unique to their age.

Only her eyes held nothing.

There was no focus, no emotion, only a fierce determination to tear a hole in the sky.

"Who is this girl?"

Chen Yan tilted his head and asked.

Zhang Yuan was adjusting the focus when he heard this and curled his lip.

"Lin Qingqiu. A freshman, a real troublemaker, incredibly arrogant. I heard her family is extremely poor, and she's counting on dancing to make a name for herself, so she studies here until lights out every day. The teachers don't think much of her, saying she has no talent for dancing, only a murderous aura."

"murderous look?"

Chen Yan repeated it.

It was more than just murderous intent.

In her past life, this actress, known as the last abstinent actress in the Chinese film industry, won numerous awards at home and abroad at the age of thirty, enjoying unparalleled fame.

Even under the brightest spotlight, the fragile, precarious feeling deep within her cannot be hidden.

It turns out that this spirit of wanting to be at odds with the whole world was ingrained in his bones when he was eighteen.

Noticing the gaze directed at them, Lin Qingqiu stopped moving and stood firmly in place.

She grabbed the towel draped over the pole and wiped her face haphazardly; sweat trickled down her slender neck and into her vest.

She glanced over here, didn't linger, and went straight to the corner to tidy up her water bottle.

"How is it?"

Zhang Yuan nudged Chen Yan with his elbow and teased him.

"This aura, can he make a movie? He's too stiff, he could shatter the lens."

"She just hasn't met the person who can break her down and then piece her back together, piece by piece."

Chen Yan pulled a crumpled piece of scrap paper from his pocket and used a nearly empty ballpoint pen to forcefully write a few words on it.

"That's it! Everyone, get out of here!"

Zhang Yuan shouted at the top of his lungs, and the girls scattered like birds.

After Zhang Yuan finished packing up the equipment, he turned around and found that Chen Yan was already standing in front of Lin Qingqiu.

Lin Qingqiu was bending down to tie her shoelaces when a shadow suddenly fell in front of her, completely enveloping her.

She stopped moving, didn't even raise her head, and uttered four words.

"No unauthorized personnel allowed."

Chen Yan ignored her order to leave, bent down, and gently placed the note next to her old, chipped kettle.

"Would you rather dance on the Cannes red carpet, or dance yourself to death in this practice room?"

His voice was low and hoarse, and it suddenly rang in people's ears in the spacious, echoing rehearsal room.

Lin Qingqiu clenched her fingers tightly as she tied her shoelaces, deforming the cheap cotton laces and almost breaking them.

Only the sound of breathing could be heard inside the room; even the distant footsteps sounded muffled.

It took her a full five seconds to slowly raise her head.

That face, untouched by any makeup, was so clean it was almost unsettling.

His eyes and brows were full of wariness and scrutiny; he was tense all over.

"Who are you?"

She raised an eyebrow, each word dripping with barbs.

Chen Yan didn't answer her question; his gaze fell on her rolled-up trouser legs.

The skin there, besides being covered in dust, also had several dark, old bruises.

He understood.

Then, he turned around, not even glancing at Lin Qingqiu again, and waved to Zhang Yuan in the distance.

"Yuan'er, bring your precious machine to my studio in Beidian Hutong at 10 a.m. tomorrow."

As soon as he finished speaking, he walked straight out of the rehearsal room, leaving the silence and the girl clutching the note behind.

The next morning, Xinghuo Films.

The so-called office was just a drafty side room in the alley of Beijing Film Academy. The wooden signboard of Xinghuo Film and Television at the door was swaying precariously in the wind, looking like it might fall down at any moment.

When Chen Yan arrived, Zhang Yuan was already squatting at the door smoking three cigarettes, with cigarette butts all around him.

"Director Chen, your company is really quite retro."

Zhang Yuan blew a smoke ring, looking disgusted.

"It will happen in the future."

Chen Yan pushed open the creaking wooden door.

Before we could even settle into our seats, we heard footsteps outside the door.

It was heavy and stable, landing with a substantial weight, unlike a girl's footsteps at all.

Chen Yan looked up.

Lin Qingqiu stood there in the light and shadow at the doorway.

She changed into a clean long-sleeved T-shirt, tied her hair into a high ponytail, and her bare face looked both beautiful and intimidating in the cold morning light.

Her hand was clutching the yellowed and wrinkled piece of paper.

"The red carpet you mentioned," she barged in, stopping in front of Chen Yan's shabby table, her eyes fixed on him, her voice strained and trembling slightly, "is it true?"

Zhang Yuan was stunned. Was this the same prickly girl from yesterday?

Chen Yan did not answer immediately.

He slowly took a cigarette from the cigarette pack on the table, didn't light it, but just twirled it between his fingers, as if he were playing with an interesting object.

The room was so quiet that only the breathing of a few people could be heard.

Only when the girl's face turned pale did Chen Yan put the cigarette down on the table with a soft thud.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands crossed and resting on the table, exuding an imposing aura.

"real."

He finally spoke, then pointed to the dilapidated wooden stool next to him.

"sit."

Lin Qingqiu didn't move, like a statue standing there, resisting with all her might, and waiting for an answer.

Chen Yan chuckled.

"However," he stared into her stubborn yet yearning eyes, then suddenly changed his tone, "before we talk about Cannes, we need to talk about your kidneys."